Mara, at Theatre Works

I couldn’t be more excited about a new work, which is really something special.

This is the Cinderella story like you have never seen it before – taken from the stepmother’s perspective.

She didn’t exactly have the perfect upbringing. Bad things happened to her.

She tried to turn things around. For a while it looked like she had, but then jealousy and paranoia got in the way, which sealed her fate.

Photos (except that of Ania Reynolds) by Sarah Clarke

The idea for Mara took shape in a conversation that playwright Hanna Pyliotis had with a friend.

The Australian had been working with fairytales since moving to France more than 20 years ago.

Being a stepmother herself enabled her impetus to turn to the bad rap the stepmum in Cinderella had.

So here we have a new narrative with free-flowing music to tell the real story.

Mara’s father walks out on her hardworking mother and her.

Her mother isn’t kind to Mara and derides her choices, which include “devouring” books and learning other languages.

Against her mother’s advice, Mara marries a horse and cart driver, with whom she has two children, daughters Eliza and Lena.

Then, a tragic accident claims Mara’s husband’s life, and she and the young girls move back in with her mother, until an opportunity to better herself arises.

With a heavy heart, she leaves Eliza and Lena with her mother to become tutor to the daughter of a well-to-do family, living in a beautiful “doll’s house”.

Annabelle Harrison is a socialite, whose husband, Nathan, is a sailor, and their daughter, Ashlyn, immediately takes to Mara.

Mind you, the housekeeper, Jane, with whom Mara shares a room in the basement, does not. Jane warns Mara to mind her place.

It is after Mara rescues Ashlyn in a storm that she tries to capitalise on Annabelle’s gratitude, but oversteps the mark.

Still, the real start of Mara’s demise comes after she seizes the day, following Annabelle’s untimely death, marrying Nathan.

Ashlyn’s attitude towards Mara shifts. Ashlyn calls her “Step”, even after Mara moves Eliza and Lena into the doll’s house.

Mara, the musical play, is a searing conflagration of hope and hopelessness. 

It is about attitude and class, persistence and pain.

A recurring image of Mara and her family’s unseemly “toad’s feet”, like those drawn from a swamp, as distinct from Ashlyn’s delicate tootsies, persists.

Mara is a glorious reimagining of the Cinderella story.

Bravo to Hanna Pyliotis for crafting and composing such compelling prose and music with poise and alacrity.

In an inspired, bravura showing, performer Aurora Kurth plays all the roles, switching seamlessly from one to another, and singing all the songs.

Her vocal range and strength are quite something to behold – melodic, lyrical, superlative. 

Put simply, I am in awe of her talents.

On stage throughout, she brings distinct personalities to each of the characters, changing costumes as the script calls for it, without missing a beat.

The original, mood defining music, arranged and magnificently played by Ania Reynolds in striking circus attire, is also triumphant.

Ania is the consummate professional who brings passion and enthusiasm to bear from when we first encounter her at the keyboard, as we enter the theatre.

So it is that I was utterly captivated by Mara, which will undoubtedly go down as one of the finds of the year.

Director and set designer Megan Jones is enthralling with her artistry too, doing much with little in an evocative set divided into three. Think circus, desk and spiral staircase with chandelier.

Visual imagery, a heady mix of monochromatic and colour photography, and video on a giant canvas backdrop at the back of the stage, enhance and enliven the offering. Jacques Cooney Adlard is the vision designer.

The costuming is a further source of situation and place, be it a simple black slip, a plain, shapeless, working dress, an elegant green number or a glorious red gown. 

The soundscape and lighting design help catapult us into a world of make believe that feels oh so real.

I remained intrigued and dismayed throughout, yearning to hear, see and learn more about the grand adventures of Mara, whose life is hardly a bed of roses.

I felt like a wide-eyed child again. I was deeply moved by the magic of storytelling, spoken and sung with such distinction.

Eighty minutes without interval Mara is a glorious production on at Theatre Works until 2^nd May, 2026.