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

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.

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. JFK’s wife never lavished so much attention on her appearance. And their finery is on view all day, every day, even in the heat of a South Carolina summer.

As for the story, it grinds to a halt once Lily and Rosaleen reach the honey haven. A few random things happen. Lily’s dad tries to kidnap her. A black boy gets savagely beaten by cops. One of the rich black women marries a needy local creep. And the final scene includes an impenetrable revelation about Lily’s mother who died in odd circumstances, but this hardly affects the characters.

The show looks pleasant enough and the action is interspersed with forgettable songs played by an off-stage band.