I went to see The Wild Bride last night and it was, as expected, absolutely wonderful. I know I’m supposed to really look deep into a work and (*yawn*) search for its heart and soul and everything, but chuck some glitter about and sing me some blues and you’ll have my knickers off in a flash.
The Wild Bride is classic Kneehigh, with its pretty lights and sleazy onstage music and macabre fairy tale narrative. While I adored it for all the same reasons I adored The Red Shoes and The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg, I can’t help wonder if the impact of their visual tricks is fading. Last night I found myself thinking “aaah, it’s the body paint thing” and remembering fondly how I felt when I saw them use that technique in The Red Shoes, when it took me by surprise. There were a couple of rows of teenage boys in front of me in the Lyric yesterday, on a school trip, and they were completely bowled over by everything. Wolf-whistling and cheering for every sexual thrust, and yelling to each other about making a return visit as soon as it was over.
They say junkies spend years of addiction attempting to recreate the buzz of that first hit. I think the Kneehigh formula will always delight me, but I don’t know that they will match that first viewing of The Red Shoes again.
If you, like me, are looking for ways to rekindle the passion and heady romance of your first encounter with Kneehigh, why not join me in a game of Meg’s Kneehigh Bingo… First one to yell ‘house’ wins a shaved head.