The Red Shoes at the RSC’s Swan Theatre – review

If you thought Scandi-noir was a recent phenomenon, you’re only a couple of hundred years or so out: Hans Christian Andersen was doing dark and bleak way back in the 19th century.

In fact, the history of what we know as fairytales has a long tradition of shock and gore, from Struwwelpeter to the Brothers Grimm, and Andersen’s scores of stories often featured unpleasantness and horror, usually designed as cautionary tales against a variety of vices. The Red Shoes was no different.

Nowadays, the title brings to mind the classic 1948 Powell and Pressburger film as frequently as the fairytale, although its plot departs significantly from the Danish original. Here, in this reworked revival of Nancy Harris’ version written for the Gate Theatre in Dublin in 2017, the material combines elements of both its predecessors, drawing on Andersen’s darkness for its narrative and the movie’s iconic ballet backdrop for its dance themes.

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Indeed, directed and choreographed by Canadian Kimberley Rampersad, it is shot through with ballet-infused contemporary dance, even to the point of starring ballerina Nikki Cheung as Karen, the young orphan whose life – and feet – are taken over by the eponymous footwear.

With the emphasis firmly on her movement, Cheung is totally up to the challenge, and the imagery she creates to Marc Teitler’s enchanting score is among the highlights of the production. Colin Richmond’s richly elegant design and Ryan Day’s lush lighting do sterling work, too, with everything coming together beautifully in service of the production.

There’s some confusion around the storytelling in places, and the moral (such as it is) feels rather crowbarred into the proceedings – it is a fairytale, after all – but at a pacy two hours plus interval, there’s no opportunity to get fidgety, although its gloomier and more gruesome moments definitely do not recommend it to young audiences.

Dianne Pilkington and James Doherty make a superb pair of pantomime villains as Karen’s adopted parents, accompanied by a fabulously creepy Joseph Edwards as their weird son Clive. Meanwhile, Sebastien Torkia’s delightfully sinister shoemaker/priest/narrator carefully inveigles the audience into culpability for the ‘crimes’ of vanity and hubris for which Karen becomes the sacrificial lamb.

But the whole ensemble is universally strong, with effectively spare vocal and visual involvement adding just the right amount of depth and shade without ever overpowering the Swan’s intimate stage. Rampersad is equally capable at handling both dialogue-heavy scenes and some sublime dance routines, while Paul Kieve’s illusions are also sensibly restrained to add judicious impact when they do appear.

Musically, the show treads a delicate line between festive-tinged underscore and full-on dance numbers, and the decision to resist actual songs for the most part is another example of the less-is-more success of the creative team. It’s hardly a ‘joy to the world’ Christmas treat for all the family, but as a piece of well-made, magical theatre, The Red Shoes barely puts a foot wrong.