The Red Shoes Woking cost of Ego and When to step away

Last night we saw The Red Shoes on a cold ,rain soaked evening in Woking  and the atmosphere felt uncannily aligned with the production itself alongside its Ceccehti style which awakes the musicality and flow of music unlike traditional styles of ballet 🩰 which tend to be more classic as I was once thought many moons ago and now actually learning Ceccehti myself I felt swept away ..

 

The darkness outside mirrored the shadowed world on stage: 1940s London shaped by war, ambition and survival. Beneath the traditional proscenium arch and sweeping follow-spots, Victoria Page’s entrance from the auditorium on stage in the historic Royal opera house as she travels downstage stepping forward..felt symbolic the aspiring performer stepping toward her dream and like us all in them first steps …We’ve all stood in that moment at some point. Wanting something bigger. Not yet knowing the cost and wondering later is it too late to go back?

What struck me most was the contrast between beauty and brutality.

Red — fire — passion- Seduction 

But also burning.

The glamour of performance sat against the cold reality that follows when the lights come up. The rain sequences felt like an air raid — urgent, physical, bodies moving with controlled panic. Later, the physical theatre of the bombs carried an echo of a train: relentless, building, impossible to stop.

By the time the train becomes literal in the final moments, it doesn’t feel sudden. It feels inevitable the collision of ambition and self but also the determination the fame- tale in the blitz of St Paul’s Spire standing tall in the Bombed city (Lucy Wolsey Documentary talks of this night).. and Echos softly in the background with a spire of you look closely and also how during this period multiple diaries record a ‘beauty in a most dangerous site’ as we see flickers from what I image be of a fire from a incendiary bomb in black and white but our leading ladies outfit red but torn like coming out of rubble highlights the spirt of the times, I also noticed in the chorus in the fishnets a line to on ladies legs very iconic of the time for glamour and fitting in alongside the red lip where ladies would be known to drawn a line to look like real stockings due to short supply. 

Matthew Bourne’s choreography remains abstract yet profoundly truthful. The Cronetti Ballet sequences were deliciously dark — gothic glamour laced with ego and control. The pas de deux moments weren’t simply romantic; they were charged with power dynamics, with artistry entwined in expectation and like a puppet and a master inc a Easter egg I won’t spoil on theme bringing a light humour. 

As an autistic audience member, I felt something deeply personal too. The choreography at times mirrored racing thoughts — rumination building in tempo, repetition spiralling, the inability to step off the track. The bombs moved like intrusive thoughts. The train felt like burnout after a meltdown the needing the stop normally for me that’s having a reset a self care moment but feeling the weight too and signs of when we need to step back.. 

The red shoes became more than costume. They symbolised applause. Validation. The need to be exceptional… award winning and Viral which seems to be the Morden outlook in some ways and no it’s not the only path .

And the question lingered long after curtain call:

What is the cost of being brilliant,Viral and in front of a magazine after being on reality Tv? 

The moment when the shoes were removed felt particularly powerful. It read as more than exhaustion — it felt like agency being taken away. As someone navigating disability, it resonated deeply. How often boundaries are framed as weakness. How intensity becomes “too much.” How society decides when someone has gone far enough and sometimes makes choices and assumptions about individuals but also the desire to become a image to prove wrong.

The staging reinforced this. Visible crew. Mirrors , audience Visible in them mirrors in interval (for the stalls) Performance within performance. It echoed J.B. Priestley’s idea that ‘we are members of one body’ — Suited aswell to the era .. audiences shape performers as much as performers shape audiences. Applause feeds ego. Comparison fuels insecurity.

The audition scenes felt painfully modern. Social media lives in that choreography. The cost of viral. The cost of being seen… sometimes how it can feel in a gym, class or even in a train carriage or bus.. Which weather it’s from a audition room to everyday life we’ve all been a boat of imposter syndrome and desire to compare others in a room feeling under the spotlight or search light which the follow the spot marks beautifully in the show, alongside marking of key moments such as the start of the show it’s not a soft overture it’s a command to the moment Victoria is giving the shoes first time.

Yet this isn’t a story condemning ambition. It’s a warning about losing yourself inside it. The Parts the Filters and Glam doesn’t want us to see.. a reminder to ground ourselfs and stay true to who we are ..

Passion is powerful. Art is powerful.

But identity cannot survive if it becomes only performance when the lights come back up it’s not all that it seems..

On a rain-soaked night in Woking, The Red Shoes felt timeless and urgently current with Morden life..

And perhaps that is what powerful theatre does it entertains, unsettles, and quietly holds up a mirror.

As someone who runs a small creative business rooted in ritual and storytelling, evenings like this remind me why art matters. Why we create. Why we pause. Why we reset.

Sometimes the most radical act is not chasing the red shoes  but choosing when to take them off take a step away from the phone, the Tik tok .. and focus on what matters self care time, talking to loved ones, reaching out for support when we are need, Mental health matters..🥀