There is a vivid moment in Shared Experience’s contemporary retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s story of the Little Mermaid, who sacrifices her voice for the love of a prince, when she drinks the potion given to her by the Sea Witch. As the mermaid begins to transform into human form, blood gushes from her gaping, silent mouth and spots her dress, like the sudden arrival of menstruation.
What the image really evokes is Lavinia in Titus Andronicus, mutilated and silenced by the vengeful power of men, but the Little Mermaid has done this to herself, a self-mutilation and self-sacrifice in the name of love. Polly Teale’s reimagining – a show definitely not for younger members of the family – constantly questions what women do to themselves and each other in a culture where you can never be too thin, too smooth or cosmetically enhanced. The image offered up here is of a mute woman, her voice removed so she has nothing but beauty to speak for her. After all, men have always feared the siren song.
Sadly, there is far too much going on and a lack of focus in a show whose two-tier design offers worlds both below the waves and above them. It aims for timelessness as the contemporary bullied and ostracised teenager Blue finds her voice through the awkward device of retelling the story of the Little Mermaid. There is a participatory cast of teenage singers, and they are lovely, though oddly sidelined in the staging as if their voices are not quite important enough to be heard.
The whole thing has a dreamy moistness that is undeniably seductive, but which, like Andersen’s original tale, becomes slightly queasy. There is a similar preachy earnestness as it piles on the woes: bulimia, anorexia, war and post-traumatic stress disorder. It lacks the lightness of touch of Emma Rice and Kneehigh’s feminist reclamation of another misogynistic Andersen tale, The Red Shoes.
The initial exchange between teenage daughter and appeasing mother, where dumb insolence speaks volumes, is powerful; Blue’s experience of being bullied rings true, and fun is had with a scene where the Little Mermaid is primped and poured into a princess gown by palace staff. But the show lacks stillness and clarity: there is so much physical movement that sea sickness never seems far away. The intention to reclaim the Little Mermaid’s voice and change her ending from self-obliteration to self-determination is a fine one, but Teale’s production so muddies the waters that we can never see or hear her story clearly.
• Until 11 April. Box office: 0844 871 7633. Venue: Richmond theatre, London. Then touring.
