Lloyd Evans Lloyd Evans

A puzzling spectacle: The Secret Life of Bees, at the Almeida Theatre, reviewed

Plus: a play about a former Labour cabinet member whose childhood feels like something out of Tintin

The cast of The Secret Life of Bees in their exquisite cotton blouses, matching skirts, fancy hats, silk stockings, high heels and picture-perfect hairdos. Photo: Marc Brenner The cast of The Secret Life of Bees in their exquisite cotton blouses, matching skirts, fancy hats, silk stockings, high heels and picture-perfect hairdos. Photo: Marc Brenner
issue 22 April 2023

The Secret Life of Bees is a fairy-tale set in the Deep South in 1964. Lily, a bullied white girl, befriends a plucky black maid, Rosaleen, and they escape together from Lily’s tyrannical dad. After various adventures they take sanctuary at a honey farm run by a commune of astonishingly successful African-American businesswomen.

This story clearly wants to expose the cruelty of whites and the oppression of blacks but the details suggest the opposite. This is a tale of black self-confidence and white failure. Spineless Lily could never have fled her abusive dad without the intelligent and combative Rosaleen to spur her on. And the all-female honey corporation is a fantasy of African-American empowerment. The women sell a homemade brand of ‘Black Madonna’ honey using a label that shows a dark-skinned Virgin Mary. And they rake in huge profits despite doing very little work in the beehive meadows.

White Londoners would sooner die than utter a racial slur and yet they’re keen to hire actors to say it for them

They pass their ample leisure hours gossiping about love affairs and strutting around in exquisite cotton blouses, matching skirts, fancy hats, silk stockings, high heels and picture-perfect hairdos.

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