Dark Fairy Tales

“Dark Fairy Tales” is a performance for adults who were once children. It is a return to the forgotten, repressed, and brutal versions of the Brothers Grimm fairy tales, in which there is no room for the illusion of a “happy ending.” The performance was inspired by the collection Żyli długo i szczęśliwie, aż nie umarli, selected and translated by Eliza Pieciul-Karmińska.

Violence does not cease to exist when we pretend it isn’t there.
It does not disappear if we close a child’s eyes.
It does not vanish if we remain silent about it at home, at school, in Church, or in the theater.
On the contrary – violence thrives in silence.
It will always find a place under the carpet, in the closet, beneath the collar, in a child’s room.

In this sense, the performance refers to the archetype of the forbidden chamber from the tale of Bluebeard.
What is forbidden is truth.
And that truth is this: the stories meant to protect us were often instruments of oppression.
The point is not to discard them.
The point is to return to them – consciously, as adults, with responsibility.

That is why “Dark Fairy Tales” is not for children, but for former children who want to finally understand what they were “fed” – what seeped into them when they were young. It is an act of courage to open the door to the chamber where the past hides, and not to look away.

On stage, we see stories of parents who harm, children who remain silent or take revenge, bodies that are violated but not forgotten. Each story is a separate episode – formally and aesthetically distinct – connected through live music and physical choreography. Mirek Kaczmarek’s set design and Hashimotowiksa’s choreography create a world on the border of dream, ritual, and childhood nightmare.

The performance does not shock for its own sake. Its purpose is to confront what has been repressed. As in the tale of Bluebeard, the forbidden chamber hides what we were not meant to know. But adulthood means opening these doors, facing the truth, and confronting it. Violence does not disappear when we pretend it isn’t there. Silence is its greatest ally. This performance is an attempt to break that silence. It is an invitation to be adult and responsible.

P.S. As a child, whenever I spent the night at Grandma Halinka’s, I would always ask her to tell me a “scary story” before bed. It was our nightly bedtime ritual.

Wrapped in white, fluffy sheets, in my grandmother’s arms, I imagined myself as a brave knight, fighting all the monsters my grandmother invented and protecting us from them. I never felt safer than then. I long for those times, and for Grandma Halinka.

Shall I tell you a scary story?

Marcin Liber