Emma Rice’s Blue Beard adapts the well-known French folktale of the same name, ‘Blue Beard’ by Charles Perrault, with an assortment of live music, dance, magic and storytelling that characterises her work.
The first half of the performance lures the audience into a false sense of security. The multitalented cast mesmerise the audience with sultry voices, enchanting harp playing, acrobatics and showy costumes designed by Vicki Mortimer.
As with the conventional magic show, moments are obscured and revealed with dramatic curtains, and boxes opening up as refrigerators, wardrobes, and entrances for characters.
In this production, the story begins with a boy, Lost Brother (Adam Mirsky), seeking help from the Order of the Three F’s—the Fearful, Fucked and Furious—led by a Mother Superior (Katy Owen) who wears a blue beard. Mother Superior is overly protective while being suspicious of Lost Brother, leading both characters to take turns sharing their stories in order to gain mutual trust.
Mother Superior shares the story of Bluebeard, which carries a combination of several themes. It is a cautionary tale about the consequences of women’s curiosity, and also their disobedience to towards men.
Blue Beard’s new wife—in this version, named Lucky and played by Robyn Sinclair—is handed the keys to every door in the mansion. Lucky is encouraged to explore her marital home but is instructed to stay away from one room, accessible with an extravagant key. When her husband (Tristan Sturrock) returns and discovers she has defied him, he punishes her by taking her life.
Luckily for Lucky, her mother and sisters burst in at the last minute, killing Blue Beard and saving her life. This twist, also in the original folktale (albeit with brothers not sisters), introduces the concept of a mother’s love and the collective support of women in triumphing over adversity.
Rice takes these ideas and connects them to the contemporary experience of women navigating their own safety. Rather than a modern tale of homicide or male-driven domestic abuse, Rice stretches the story even further to explore the helplessness of female solidarity against the violent tendencies of male aggressors.
It is only in the second half of the production, that the rug is yanked from under the audience’s feet. From this point onward, danger and horror permeate the rest of the experience. The plot twist at the end is delivered through surveillance-style footage and a heart-wrenching character reveal.
Without spoiling the show, Blue Beard is quite the journey. Audience members go from laughing, applauding and cheering in the first half, to holding in sobs and gasps of horror by the end.
A monologue delivered at the end is loaded with immense grief. Blood-chilling wails echo throughout the theatre, while the audience sits helplessly, unable to turn back time. This is masterfully achieved, bearing in mind that 90% of the show is overtly stylised, with no attempts whatsoever to deny the theatricality and fictitiousness of the whole affair.
Blue Beard is a furious stance against femicide, and a production that will render many speechless.
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