Directed and Choreographed by Matthew Bourne

Orchestrated by Terry Davies

Review by Dominic Corr

The King’s Theatre

For a tale draped in crimson and ruby, the overwhelming shade of The Red Shoes tale has always been that of a symbolic sharpness of emerald: a green with envy that cuts through any of the gorgeous warmer tones present in the production’s visage. And while that shade of green stretches no further than the odd blazer or décor, it’s symbolic presence is eternal; a richly theatrical pulse runs through Matthew Bourne’s The Red Shoes as it returns to Glasgow’s King’s Theatre, a production that arrives in 2026 with the assurance of a work that has lived several artistic lives and still finds new ways to seduce its audience.

This revival, marking a decade since its original premiere, leans into the meta nature of its storytelling with renewed confidence, blurring the lines between performance and obsession in a way that feels both intoxicating and unsettling. The result is an evening of sumptuous craft, exquisite movement, but with a few structural blemishes which prevent it from reaching the heights it brushes.

What strikes first is the sheer visual splendour of the staging. Lez Brotherston’s designs remain a marvel, the rotating proscenium arch still functioning as the production’s beating heart, a frame within a frame that constantly reminds us of the porous boundary between art and life. In this iteration, the transitions feel even more fluid, the shifts between backstage grit and onstage glamour gliding with a cinematic ease that suits the production’s heightened theatricality. The colour palette is lush, the textures decadent, and the costuming continues to be one of the show’s greatest triumphs. Brotherston’s costumes do more than clothe the dancers, they articulate character, ambition, and emotional fracture with a clarity that complements the choreography.

The movement vocabulary, unmistakably Matthew Bourne, is at its most potent in the ensemble sequences. The New Adventures company brings a muscular precision to the choreography, their bodies carving through Bernard Herrmann’s score with a fervour that captures the story’s spiralling intensity. The meta quality of the piece, a ballet about a ballet, is sharpened here, the dancers embodying both the characters and the machinery of the theatrical world that consumes them. The storytelling is clean, the emotional beats clear, and the physicality often breathtaking.

Among the rotating cast of Victoria Page, this evening’s performance came from Hannah Kremer, whose interpretation balances fragility with fierce ambition. Shaw’s Victoria is a woman pulled taut between desire and duty, her movement imbued with a yearning that feels almost painful. Opposite her, Leonardo McCorkindale as Julian Craster offers a grounded counterpoint, his choreography shaped by a restless creative energy that mirrors the character’s artistic turmoil. While Reece Causton’s Boris Lermontov remains a commanding presence, his stillness as eloquent as his movement, the character’s possessive grip on Victoria is rendered with chilling restraint.

Yet for all its strengths, this revival is not without its soft touches. The pacing occasionally slackens in the midsection, where repetition in the narrative beats softens the dramatic tension. Some transitions, though visually striking, linger a touch too long, diluting the urgency that drives Victoria’s descent. There is also a sense that the production, in its tenth anniversary form, leans heavily on its established iconography, sometimes at the expense of deeper emotional excavation. The spectacle is undeniable, but the emotional core occasionally feels just out of reach.

Still, the company’s professionalism is unquestionable. The precision of the lighting by Paule Constable, the atmospheric sound design by Paul Groothuis, and the orchestral sweep of Terry Davies’ musical direction combine to create a world that envelops the audience completely. The production’s meta-theatricality remains one of its most compelling features, a reminder of the seductive danger of art that demands everything from those who serve it.

In Glasgow, the audience responds with palpable enthusiasm, swept up in the piece’s glamour, tragedy, and feverish beauty. The Red Shoes remains a masterwork of theatrical storytelling, a production that continues to evolve while honouring the legacy that has made it one of Bourne’s most beloved creations. It continues as a testament to the enduring power of movement, design, and narrative obsession, a richly crafted experience that tingles the audience’s toes, encouraging them to pick up a step or two on the jaunt home.

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