Four Fairy Tales That Bite

Fairy tales come to life at Shaking the Tree Theatre’s production of Caryl Churchill’s Glass. Kill. Bluebeard. Imp. But don’t expect a cutesy, Disney-esque bedtime story. These tales have bite. Each word in the title is its own short, surreal play and, as in most of the famed British playwright’s work, reality is subverted and toyed with throughout, encouraging the audience to question what is story and what is truth—and if it matters.

The first act consists of the first three plays, each performed by an ensemble of eight. Glass, about a girl made of glass, is an original story with hints of the Snow Queen legend. The actors stand feet from the audience in front of a sky blue foldable partition wall. Pieces are cut out from the top, making it look simultaneously like water, a castle and, maybe, Disneyland’s It’s a Small World. If, like most folklore, there is supposed to be a lesson to impart, Glass’ is that it’s “evident how precious our young kids are and how easily it is to break them—literally,” says Shaking the Tree’s founding artistic director, Samantha Van Der Merwe, who is directing the show.

After the tragic story of the fragile, magical girl and the even more fragile boy who loves her, the partition folds away, like a puppet show set piece, to reveal a dark teal foldable wall and a dining room table, the setting for Kill. Kill is primarily a monologue spoken by one person, a god. This god, played by Sami Yacob-Andrus, stands on the table and rambles off the events of violent myths like Tantalus and Orestes while the other gods share a meal and laugh at the stories of foolish humans. It’s an impressive feat to get through this text, which has repetitive phrases that move at astonishing speed. The litany of killing and revenge feels pointless in the end, even to the gods who once welcomed bloody sacrifices.

The wall doesn’t fold again as we shift into the third short play, Bluebeard, which riffs on a much-adapted story: In every variant, a man brutally murders his wives and stores their bodies in a room, which his final victim uncovers before defeating him. In Churchill’s version, Bluebeard’s bougie friends lounge about and discuss how surprised they are that their closest friend turned out to be a serial wife killer. One brags that she “went into the story” and got the wives’ dresses, and as the dress thief opens the partition, red light spills forth as each character gapes in what should be horror, but what is actually astonishment.

Then the wall peels away to reveal our deepest level, the most horrible level, where we come to understand these characters as culpable and complacent. They have turned a blind eye and profited from Bluebeard’s awfulness.

“It’s so gross,” Van Der Merwe says. “They’re so disgusting and diabolical.”

Of the four plays, Bluebeard most clearly speaks to our current world, full of real people more monstrous than any in a story and the not so innocent bystanders who perpetuate terrible acts.

Finally, after intermission, is the longest play of the bunch, Imp. At first glance, it’s not a fairy tale at all. Van Der Merwe says it reminded her of a Samuel Beckett play because not much happens. Characters come and go and talk, but “the magic is kind of woven in it.” However, the characters are archetypal and the magic needs to be believed to be seen. Imp centers on four people, all of whom have wishes; some of their wishes would help those around them and some would do them harm.

“Doing a Caryl Churchill play is always like trying to decode a big puzzle,” Van Der Merwe said. “She’s always 10 steps ahead of you. If you can keep up you’re lucky.”

Glass. Kill. Bluebeard. Imp. is a fascinating puzzle to watch play out. The actors lay the pieces on the table gracefully, avoiding the didactic tone of many folk tales and myths while retaining the lessons in each of these four short plays—about the darker side of humanity, the side on which we hurt each other pointlessly and relentlessly.

SEE IT: Glass. Kill. Bluebeard. Imp. at Shaking the Tree Theatre. 823 SE Grand Ave., shaking-the-tree.com. 7:30 pm Thursday–Saturday, 5 pm Sunday, through Nov. 7. $13–$49. 16+.