With a witty if imperious narration by Sarah Parish, penned by former Poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy MBE, this is a tale suggested for family audiences, but perhaps older children. It gets dark extremely early on in the storyline, and more than a little twisted, inspired by the original un-Disneyfied Brothers Grimm texts.

Caroline Reece, absolutely pin-sharp throughout, is the Queen, a spoilt and vain figure simply bursting with entitlement. Her choreography is vivacious and graceful, until she loses her husband and spirals into rage and depression. This she conveys with a numb expression as though hollowed out, and resigned, wearied limbs. Upon the birth of her daughter, Snow White, (a luminous Virginia Scudeletti), she is initially charmed, doing an enmeshed duet with her with red ribbon signifying an  umbilical cord. Until of course, the child grows into a beautiful young woman, and tensions build.

Her home, a revolving set engagingly designed by Phil Eddolls, has the vast vintage trappings of wealth and glamour, festooned with trinket boxes and fabulous frippery—until it spins round, revealing on the other side, a verdant and earthy forest with ropes and canopies. As she enquires of the talking mirror, “who is the fairest?” its response is wonderfully catty: “Queen, your beauty is a gift . . . from scissors, surgery and facelift.”

Local children, who dance admirably in ensemble,  are contrasted with older dancers, providing a folksy commedia dell'arte. Their exuberant athleticism reinforces the notion of innocence and immediacy—an affront to the jealous Queen.