Blue Beard

Our Own bloody chamber

In traditional versions, the heroine is rescued by her sister or a page or her brothers – emotionally however, each of us must rescue ourselves, and this means not only accepting the key, but choosing to use it even as we know it will become indelibly stained with loss, regret, remorse. From a Jungian perspective, it is in courageously opening the door to our darkest places, that we claim the life energy, the libido, that emerges from the integration of self and shadow. When we are able to enter our own bloody chamber, our own forbidden rooms, then – through gentle yet persistent investigation – we can integrate and become whole.

Further, when we have the courage to admit our fearful secrets and darkest desires, we open the possibility of seeing the humanity in the perpetrator. In demonising the abuser, we make them other. But abuse is all too human and, in acknowledging our own shadow, we acknowledge the fullness of our own humanity. In this way, we become more able to reach out to and support change in perpetrators and abusers. I do not suggest that this should be the task of victims or survivors, but I do believe it is work that is desperately needed on a large scale. It is the work that allows restorative justice, making amends, hope.

Perrault’s story of Blue Beard, first published in 1697, and likely based on a variety of folk tales from many different lands, has traditionally been interpreted as a warning to women not to disobey their husbands. Further, it cautions against the dangers of curiosity, especially in women. The good wife then, is obedient and satisfied with her lot – or she is dead.

Retold often in film, novels, and theatre, Blue Beard lends itself well to adaptation – it can take the tenor of the time, be that the feminism of the 1970s, the #MeToo movement, or our alarming rates of domestic violence, becoming a vehicle for addressing complex relational and cultural issues of economic freedom, personal autonomy, and familial connection, all within the realms of the fantastic, along with a juicy helping of grand guignol.

As a writer and theatremaker turned psychotherapist, I am curious about what we don’t know. Our heroine is usually called Blue Beard’s wife rather than named. Like the second Mrs de Winter, she is the protagonist, yet remains a cipher to her eponymous husband. While we might understand that Blue Beard killed his previous wives because of the bodies revealed in the forbidden room, what did the first wife’s curiosity uncover? Could there have been something even worse than a pile of bodies? And what about the avarice of the sisters themselves? In the folk tale, they are initially disgusted by the blue beard of their potential suitor, yet quickly won over as they enjoy his wealth and position.

Enjoy the show, revel in its complexity, thrill to the potential for making change. And then become curious about your own forbidden rooms, that’s where possibility lies.

Stella Duffy, Psychotherapist and Writer

January 2024