The Beginning, Not the End

The Executioner's Song

“Help me,” she whispered into the sooty, black air, “Help me!”

Her legs lay as bloody pulp.

He watched helplessly, too far away to stop her jumping, and rushes to where she will never rise again. He leans over her and cradles her upper body in his arms, wiping the pouring sweat from her face, listening to her gentle gasps for breath. His eyes brim and overflow with tears as he holds her knowing shock is beginning to claim her inexorably.

Her hands flutter at her sides. She motions with them of her need and whispers with her weak and broken voice, “Take them off. Please, just take them off.”

Sobbing now, he knows what she means; he knows what she has always wanted but was afraid to try to do. He lays her softly back down, tearing off his own jacket to fold it so it will cushion her head.

His hands move to the red ribbons of the Red Shoes. They are already torn and broken, the blood seeping around the bony shards poking from her flesh. With the deepest of sadness he loosens the bits of ribbon and carefully slips off each of the damnable Red Shoes.

As he has done his entire lifetime with her, he unconsciously wraps the tattered ribbon around the pair of slippers to hold them together as a pair. He moves to look closely at her face again and to show her he has done as she has asked.

Her Farewell

She takes the slippers from his hands and rests them between her breasts as if they are a child who will suckle. She folds both her hands over the Red Shoes. Her eyes flicker. He panics for a moment until she opens them again; unlikely as it is there is a deep and mysterious satisfaction in her eyes and a beatific smile takes her lips.

She sighs and reaches one icy hand to his face and cups his cheek, pulling him to her for the last kiss.

Imprinting Of A Fairy Tale

As long as I have memory, that scene and most every detail of the 136 minute movie, “The Red Shoes” with Moira Shearer wil remain burned into my life -- imprinted so deeply I no longer realise they are there. But they are.

The original story was written in 1845 by Hans Christian Anderson and, having never actually remembered reading it, I just did (you can find it here) . It seems like a warning for all little girls to be in church every Sunday actually.

Yet, when made into this powerful movie, the theme changed to a backstage look at the fascinating world of ballet. Moira Shearer plays a lovely, yet somewhat fierce looking ballerina, who is given no choice by her dominant and single-minded impresario, Lermontov and gives up everything in her life, especially a romantic involvement, in favour of her illustrious career.

So she dances. The red shoes become her symbol of success from a special ballet that is written for her. Yet, the shoes enchant her life just as deeply as those in the original story and her career is blessed on every side.

Her love life does not exist for want of time to nurture it and as her success grows her heart grows increasingly sad and cold from the pressure of practicing and performing for her ballet director and Master.

Her Last Choice

One day her love comes to her and asks her to choose between him and the Red Shoes. Of course she does not know how to take the Red Shoes off. So he leaves her standing in her dressing room, about to dance a special performance.

She hears the curtain call by the stage manager and trembles. She looks slightly mad, enhanced by her stage makeup. She glances in the mirror of her dressing table, straightens her hair, pinches her cheeks to add colour and then walks slowly out of her dressing room.

She turns to walk to the Green Room to await her curtain call but stops and slowly turns the opposite direction. She begins to run toward the tall French doors leading out to a luxurious balcony. She runs right to the edge of the railing and stands still, listening for something.

She hears it in the distance and carefully climbs onto the top of the stone railing, balancing there carefully and waiting. Waiting for her executioner, as the little girl in the fairy tale finally did.

There poised on the railing, her hands raise above her head as if to dive into a lovely pool of refreshing water. She raises up on her tip toes, still encased in the controlling Red Shoes and watches her timing as the train begins to pass under the balcony. She leaps in perfect harmony with the train’s approach and lands precisely under the engine, yet between the rails, all except her legs.

Not a Simple Film

Many books have been written about the hidden meanings in this film and for me it remains my dilemma. But who can help me take off these shoes? Or will I have to dance forever until I find the executioner for release?