Love, Longing, and Rejection in Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake
A Reflection on Care, Belonging, and Identity
Last night, I had the privilege of watching Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake at the Theatre Royal in Newcastle. It’s a production that has reshaped the landscape of contemporary ballet, not just in its bold reimagining of Tchaikovsky’s classic but in its deep psychological and emotional resonance. Beneath the striking choreography and haunting score lies a story of love, vulnerability, and the desperate search for belonging—themes that extend far beyond the stage and into the lived realities of many young people, particularly those who have grown up in care.
At its core, Swan Lake is a narrative about love in all its forms: romantic, maternal, conditional, and unconditional. But it is also a study of the pain that often accompanies love—jealousy, rejection, and the deep ache of loneliness. The Prince, a figure trapped in a cold and loveless world, yearns for connection. His mother, distant and emotionally unavailable, offers no solace. The court around him is performative, governed by duty rather than affection. In his search for love, he finds the Swans—a force that represents both liberation and destruction.
Attachment Theory and the Prince’s Struggle for Love
From a psychological perspective, the Prince’s journey mirrors what attachment theorists like John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth have explored for decades. Bowlby’s attachment theory suggests that early relationships with caregivers shape our ability to form and sustain emotional bonds throughout life. Secure attachment fosters confidence and resilience, while insecure attachment—marked by neglect, inconsistency, or rejection—can lead to anxiety, avoidance, and an overwhelming fear of abandonment.
The Prince’s emotional turmoil is a textbook example of insecure attachment. His mother’s coldness leaves him unmoored, desperate for affection yet unsure how to receive it. His attachment wounds make him vulnerable to both the tenderness and the cruelty of the Swan, who at times appears to embrace him, only to push him away. This oscillation between love and rejection is deeply familiar to many young people in care, who often experience multiple placements, broken attachments, and an unstable sense of belonging.
The Role of Jealousy and the Fear of Replacement
Jealousy is another central theme in Swan Lake. The Prince’s longing for love is not just about finding someone to care for him—it is about exclusivity, the deep-seated need to be chosen. This mirrors what many care-experienced young people feel when they enter new placements or form relationships with foster families. The fear of being replaced, of being temporarily loved but ultimately discarded, is ever-present. In the ballet, this dynamic plays out through the tension between the Prince and the Stranger—a darker, more menacing version of the Swan who seduces and betrays.
Psychologist Melanie Klein’s object relations theory suggests that jealousy often arises when individuals fear losing the love and attention of those they are attached to. For children who have faced early separation or neglect, this fear can be heightened, manifesting in behaviors that may seem erratic or overly intense. The Prince’s emotional unraveling when he feels the Swan slipping away is not just about romantic loss—it is about the existential terror of being alone, unseen, and unwanted.
A Reflection on the Experience of Young People in Care
Watching Swan Lake through this lens, I was struck by the ways in which the Prince’s story parallels the struggles of many care-experienced young people. Like him, they often navigate a world where love feels conditional, where stability is fleeting, and where rejection leaves deep scars. The ballet serves as a powerful allegory for the psychological toll of searching for belonging in a society that does not always provide it.
But Swan Lake is not just a tragedy—it is also a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Even in its darkest moments, the ballet reminds us that love, however painful, is at the core of what it means to be human. And for those who have ever felt lost, alone, or forgotten, it offers a poignant and powerful reflection of their struggles—one that demands empathy, understanding, and action.
Leaving the theatre, I found myself thinking about the importance of ensuring that every young person—especially those in care—feels seen, valued, and loved. Because, like the Prince, all they really want is what we all do: to be held, to be chosen, to know they matter.
