A Stage Lit by Obsession, Beauty and Brilliance.
There’s a particular electricity when Matthew Bourne arrives at the Liverpool Empire Theatre. Not polite anticipation. Expectation. Bourne doesn’t do decorative ballet; he does storytelling with teeth. And The Red Shoes remains one of his most psychologically loaded works.
Inspired by the 1948 Powell and Pressburger classic, Bourne strips away any lingering romantic haze and gets to the bruise beneath the beauty. This isn’t a fairy tale about artistic destiny. It’s about compulsion. Control. The seductive, slightly toxic idea that greatness demands sacrifice.
From the outset, the production refuses to sit quietly. The rehearsal room dynamics snap with tension. Ambition is visible in the shoulders, the spine, the way dancers watch each other. Bourne’s choreography has always prioritised narrative clarity over technical exhibitionism, and here every movement feels motivated. Nobody dances just to look impressive — they dance because they need to. And not even an enforced break in the proceedings due to a technical issue could hinder the momentum…
Visually, it’s rich and stunning. The period glamour, the Riviera sheen, the theatrical reds that bleed across the stage — it’s cinematic without being indulgent. Much kudos must go to the production team – the set, costume, lighting sound and projection are absolutely outstanding. When the central ballet sequence explodes into life, it still delivers that gasp moment. You can feel the audience lean forward. Bourne understands spectacle, but he also understands restraint; the quieter scenes backstage often cut deeper than the grand set pieces.
The score — adapted from Bernard Herrmann’s brooding film compositions — surges and coils around the dancers. There’s a restless energy running through it. At times it feels romantic; at others, faintly ominous. It mirrors Victoria’s trajectory perfectly.
Speaking of Victoria: the role is a marathon. On this occasion, Cordelia Braithwaite doesn’t just play her as a wide-eyed ingénue. There’s steel in her ambition. The transformation isn’t sudden; it creeps. That makes the eventual spiral all the more unsettling. Opposite her, Dominic North and Andy Monaghan shape the central triangle with just enough nuance to avoid caricature. The charachter of Lermontov, especially, only works when he’s magnetic rather than monstrous – and tonight Monaghan is majestic. Indeed, this is a production to cherish.
What gives The Red Shoes its staying power isn’t just the design polish or Bourne’s brand recognition. It’s the uncomfortable question at its core: what are you willing to give up for the thing you love? In a city like Liverpool — built on fierce creative identity and graft — that lands. We understand ambition here. We also understand its cost.
By the final moments, the glamour fractures. The applause feels slightly stunned before it turns thunderous. That’s Bourne at his best: he entertains you lavishly, then leaves you sitting with something darker as you spill out into Lime Street. This isn’t safe ballet. It’s muscular, theatrical storytelling that trusts its audience to lean in. And on this opening the night the packed out theatre rose to its feet and roared its collective adulation. At the Liverpool Empire, The Red Shoes doesn’t just sparkle — it smoulders. Unmissable.
Matthew Bourne’s Production of The Red Shoes
25 – 28 February 2026
Liverpool Empire
Tickets
