★★★½
Mara is a modern cabaret style retelling of the familiar story of Cinderella, a prequel of sorts, chronicling the woman who will eventually become Cinderella’s stepmother. Written by Hanna Pyliotis, Mara steers away from many of Cinderella’s original themes of superficiality and the underdog, but digs its teeth further into class, motherhood and feminine madness.
The title role and supplementary cast are all portrayed by the captivating Aurora Kurth, a one woman show with a stage-hand style supporting actor and beautiful on-stage keys played by Ania Reynolds. Reynolds has crafted a stunning score and soundscape, oftentimes providing a romantic twinkle that glimmers beneath Kurth’s performance.
The show acts as a sort of villain origin story, crafting this character with depth and complexity, not necessarily justifying her actions, but explaining them. Her actions are softened here, the cruelty of her treatment of her own daughters and stepdaughter are strictly aligned with Mara’s view, despite her playing all characters.
Kurth’s performance is empathetic, primarily as Mara, but shows incredible range. Her voice soars over Pyliotis’ and Reynolds’ original music. The songs are a slightly abstract diversion from the plot at times but offer interesting narrative solace.
My favourite song talked about the power of a name, with the lyrics “the first word I learnt to spell, put a spell on me.” This was a poignant moment, especially for a story about a character whose name is typically forgotten, or not rendered as relevant.
It had some of the best lyrics of the night. There was a line about carving your name into the tree you had your first kiss by to claim it, which I thought was really special.
The set realisation is dramaturgically functional for the story, providing a really lovely world for Kurth to play in. Costume plays an interesting role, creating characters for Kurth to disguise herself in and other times bounce off of, acting as the outline of her daughters.
There’s a lovely double meaning here in the empty dresses, a physical emptiness, through Mara’s eyes, her lack of connection to her daughters all these years later, an inability to connect, a physical distance created between mother and children.
Director Megan Jones has a strong vision executed here. My favourite part of the set was the transparent curtain at the back of the stage, which allowed Jason Bouvaird’s clever lighting to bounce and create interesting levels.
Jacques Cooney Adlard, the vision designer provides spellbinding projections. I love the depth this provided to the stage, also complimenting the story’s hallucinatory quality as Mara starts to unravel in the third act.
There’s a few offbeat moments of humour, that I think take away from what is otherwise a deeply unhumourous central character. She’s playful at the start, but some of the intended comedic beats threw me out of Mara’s world, which I sometimes struggled to jump back into.
Although a bit tonally confused at times, Mara is a new spin on a classic fairytale, a descent into insecurity, madness and cruelty. Mara is a modern, nuanced exploration of a character neglected of empathy, often clouded by sexist stereotypes of selfishness.
Mara is presented by Theatre Works and Machination Theatre Ensemble and runs to 2 May at Theatre Works. 14 Acland Street St Kilda Vic 3182.
Tickets: https://www.eventbrite.com.au/e/mara-tickets-1976069316520
Website: https://www.theatreworks.org.au/2026/mara
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/theatreworksstkilda/ and https://www.instagram.com/bytheatreworks/
Photo credits: Sarah Clarke
