By Mama Natalie
The name Mara has deep roots in multiple strands of myth and folklore. In Norse and Germanic traditions, a “mara” was a malevolent spirit believed to sit on a sleeper’s chest, causing nightmares. In Hebrew, the name itself means “bitterness” or “sorrow,” while Slavic folklore features the mara as a haunting female entity associated with the soul of a restless or wronged woman. Across cultures, the name consistently evokes a shadowy presence that exists between worlds, influencing human experience through fear, illusion, or spiritual challenge.
Thus, we are drawn into the world of Mara – the woman who would become the “evil stepmother” in the beloved fairytale Cinderella. First conceived by writer/creator Hannah Pyliotis while living and working in France, and featuring original music and songs, Mara draws on the creator’s emotional experience as a stepmother and the social pressures from society on women in that role – particularly when attempting to assimilate into a blended family.
The beating heart of this production and the jewel that makes it work so well is Aurora Kurth. Going on 25+ years within the entertainment industry in everything from cabaret and burlesque to circus and theatre, Kurth absolutely shines as the titular character, the actor’s own emotional range, talent and charm infusing what would have been a decidedly unlikeable woman with the depth and childlike wonder needed to carry 80 minutes of performance flawlessly. Mara is engaging because Aurora makes her so, easily carrying us across the sea of the woman’s emotions from tragedy to tragedy and place to place. We believe her naive innocence, her desire to escape the humdrum of her impoverished existence, her need to be loved, because Aurora believes it. Watching Kurth perform is ever a delight, and here once again she reminds us why she is one of the most talented and versatile darlings of the Australian entertainment industry – her easy shift from character to character throughout the narrative (complete with accent and stylised physicality), and her soaring crystalline vocals make the experience well worth the price of a ticket and then some.
Musically, the production is hit and miss. Kurth’s stunning vocal talents aside, many of the songs seemed ill fitting for the moment, almost stealing from the narrative rather than enhancing it. For a normal juke-box musical or cabaret, where one has to work with what is already on offer, this is common and usually forgivable – but for a show possessed of original music and lyrics it becomes almost an oversight not to have chosen more nuanced fare, or at least tailored it a little better to what was happening around it. The songs themselves are very beautiful, but they almost deserve a space of their own away from the tale they are being wedged into – I found the shift from the magic of the spoken word into song more often than not unnecessary, particularly when the script and the words cast their own kind of spell well enough alone. It must be said, however, that Ania Reynolds’ instrumental pieces and the mood music throughout the show was sublime, and it was wonderful to see a musician thoroughly enjoying her part in the weaving of this tapestry.
Visuals and set design by Megan Jones are stunning and complimentary (though I am sad we did not make more of that carousel horse), and lighting by industry legend Jason Bovaird is flawless as always. Thematically the show seems unsure of what it wants to be – the choice of cabaret as the narrative style leading to jarring moments of fourth wall asides and random humour that yanked me out of the dreamlike enchantment of the tale. Kurth handles them with skill and aplomb of course, because that’s what she does, turning costume malfunctions into a masterclass on audience interaction, but beyond this there is very much no need to break the mood…the story is more than enough to sit in its own space.
Reviewing a show such as this one always seems a little anathema to the purpose of the telling – being presented with an alternate version of a story about a woman we have all judged since childhood and then casting further judgment via review hardly seems fair to poor Mara. Her tale is one of tragedy and grief, innate classism and internalised self-loathing. The choices she makes throughout this tale are, to my mind, questionable and self-serving – bound by rank and reputation, Mara often comes across as a less victim of circumstance and more a monster of her own making, stumbling between perceived duty and a giant black hole of need to be loved dressed up as self-sacrifice. It’s not entirely her fault – patriarchy has groomed all of us into jealousy and insecurity, pitting women against women since the dawning of its dark reign, but Mara does herself no favours throughout the course of this tale to change the narrative that is ultimately woven around her. What any of us would do differently in her place is, of course, left for the viewer to decide.
Taking a well-worn fairytale and reshaping it for younger generations is certainly not new – a plethora of retellings and deep dives into popular fiction and folklore have existed for decades, and the second golden age of the Romantasy genre has given us a veritable feast of fodder across Goodreads and Booktok, with even the newest season of Netflix’s Bridgerton dipping its proverbial toe in the Cinderella pool. Despite its flaws, Mara is a worthy addition to this collection, with gorgeous visuals and music, and a performer that is always worth watching. It may not go so far as to alter one’s opinion of the ‘evil stepmother’ trope entirely…but it does allow us to begin to understand her a little better, and that is more than enough.
Mara is playing at Theatreworks until Saturday 2nd May.
