Review: SNOW WHITE: THE SACRIFICE, Sadler's Wells East

Snow White: The Sacrifice is not (as it could very well be) a reference to the heritage of the iconic story and the new Disney remake with those seven hideous CGI humanoids, but the title of balletLORENT’s captivating retelling of the tale of the vain Queen, the daughter who is the prettiest of them all and the truth-bombing mirror.

Initially, your reviewer’s heart sank a little. A narrator is usually a red flag signalling an intrusive fix for faulty storytelling -  the medium is dance not words after all. But Sarah Parish’s unanchored, unseen voice and Murray Gold’s swooping, soaring music, brings an edge of malevolence that complements Carol Ann Duffy’s 21st century interpretation wonderfully well. Warned already that this is the 16+ version of the show, we’re soon exploring the dark psychological hinterland of so many fairytales, scary, sexy and just a bit sordid - as it should be.

We open on some wonderfully staged sex (something the dismal Midnight Cowboy across town could learn from) that results in the girl with the raven-black hair, the palest complexion and the ruby red lips - 19th century German norms of beauty unapologetically upheld right there. The girl grows up - literally so - popping out of Phil Eddolls’ ingenious set at different ages, a dresser topped by a mirror that can rotate into the miners’ rural retreat. 

Soon The Mirror (a writhing Aisha Naamani in all-enveloping metallic bodysuit you might find under the counter at Ann Summers) is telling the Queen what she already knows - that Snow White is the more beautiful - and a murderous jealousy seizes the monarch, her already hard heart turning to stone. The daughter escapes, finds shelter deep in the forest with the work hard, play hard hewers of the monarch’s jewels and survives the poisoned apple. And they all live happily ever after? Well, a delicious denouement leaves that question hanging…

Liv Lorent, taking on directing and choreography duties, is a born storyteller, so clear is her interpretation of the classic narrative. If the dancing is a little short on precision, it more than makes up for it in joy and fear, hope and hate, sensuality and anger. It’s a perfect example of transferring from one discourse to another with the New Medium adding to the power of the mythos.

She’s rewarded by a brilliantly expressive Caroline Reece, supremely narcissistic as the Queen (although, like all ballet dancers, she appears far more Eloi than Morlock to my eyes). She works well with Virginia Scudeletti’s Snow White, a sexier, more worldly version than others, especially after witnessing the nightly bacchanalian delights of the miners with their wood nymphs, a compensation for days spent in stygian gloom.

Reece’s best work is done dancing with The Mirror, the reflection a representation of her id’s raging against the ageing process, driving her to evil in pursuit of a dream that can never be - eternal youth. 

I recall being told the difference between advertising directed at girls and advertising directed at boys - the former is all about identifying flaws and faults and then selling the insecure kids a quack remedy. The Queen, fawned over all her life, is stuck in a permanent adolescence, paralysed by an arrested development (no midnight orgies in the palace are there?) and pays the price that soul-destroying lack of experience and perspective exacts. 

As such this female-led company do not just deliver a tight 80 minutes to delight eyes and ears, but they get to the heart of why this specific story can provoke such strength of feeling in kids and adults alike. It tells an inconvenient truth, it unmasks false, but seductive, gods and it slithers in a moral that unless we continue to work hard to value the person and not the appearance, the cycle will only repeat.

The expression “Never judge a book by its cover” is a demand for intellectual work many would rather avoid - hence glossy mags sell more than learned journals. Nevertheless, it’s a message best heeded, as too much vanity is as poisonous as the apple Snow White bites.