Red Shoes; the horror of self-destruction and achieving one’s dreams

I have to say right off the bat that I quite enjoyed the Red Shoes.  We started watching it in class and immediately after I had to pick it up from the library.  What intrigued me about the film was the fantastical, dreamlike sequence that took place while the ballet was being performed.  I cannot say if this was similar to many other horror films of the time, but in my limited experience it reminded me of black and white horrors such as The Carnival of Lost soles.  The horror is less about the fear of disfigurement and viscera, but more with much more tangible and relatable fears such as the loss of identity, fear of unknown, and terror of the mundane.  The music and execution of the film also presented a fresh viewpoint, as I have watched a very limited selection of films predating the 1970’s.  This, however, made the design and effects of the movie much more relevant and impressive to me.  The set designs was beautiful and imaginative, and reminded me to some extent of the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.

            Straying from my praise of the film, I’ll look at the work’s thematic contents, and similarities to modern films such as The Black Swan, and The Wrestler.  The thematic content in which I can most relate to this film is the idea of suffering for your art, or the question of what will one sacrifice to be great.  The film’s protagonist plays a prima ballerina starring in an immensely popular ballet; one who portrays a character who dons ‘the red shoes’, and dances to her death.  Following the initial showings of the ballet, the ballerina takes a hiatus with her love interest, before being beckoned back into the red shoes.  Confronted with the notion that she will have to chose between being happy, and being a great artist, her character consumes her, and she mirrors the girl in the red shoes by dancing to the death of her career, breaking her legs.  She finds herself unable to ever dance again, but relieved of the curse of playing the character, and the price to pay for greatness.

            The self destruction necessary to compete reminded me greatly of both The Black Swan, and the Wrestler, where character’s destroyed their personal lives, their minds and their bodies in the pursuit of fulfilling their potential in their professional endeavors. I am reminded once again, that every day I must make the same choices, and acknowledge that their exists very little consolidation between my what I wish to achieve in my artistic pursuits, and what I wish to experience as a human being over the course of my lifetime.