As we approach Beltane next week, we also approach the day on which much of the story of Welsh horse-goddess Rhiannon plays out. A fae woman initially characterised by her cunning ability to out-manipulate the men attempting to define her life, she ends up harrowed by a punishment for a crime she did not commit. Poignantly forced to habitually carry guests upon her back, the goddess was falsely accused by her negligent midwives of eating her newborn baby. To the contrary, he was snatched when her attendants fell asleep on-duty. Nevertheless, the Rhiannon that leaves the written record is a fireless, heavy-hearted shadow, quietly relieved to eventually confirm that her son is still alive.

In Rhiannon Unbridled, Jackie Singer seeks a more fortifying end to the goddess’ tale. Hoping to ‘change the energy’ of the patriarchy, Singer gave a solo performance which danced between her own personal memories and the Rhiannon myth, culminating in a raging call to protect and celebrate the strength of womankind. Joy, lust, violence, shame – these are the themes which bring the two women together in a show that examines how those who once galloped free are shamed into silence. Beautiful, striking silhouettes of the horse-goddess riding with her powerful birds were intermittently created by Singer, who also sang and chanted to cleanse Rhiannon’s story of its voiceless end.

Midwives in the audience later noted that bearing witness to the performance felt redemptive, as if they themselves stood-in for Rhiannon’s betrayers – to watch the metamorphosis of a myth from one of defeat to one of continuing female strength felt like being part of a ‘rebirth’. Indeed, the interactive session at the end of the performance appeared to be an ode to the oral tradition of myth, the sense that stories are always evolving.

And yet - that the bridling of Rhiannon is initiated by the lies of midwives upsets any neat equation to the show. Are women meant to be reclaiming their voices from the men who put them in scold’s bridles or are we pledging to be decent, brave individuals who don’t throw each other under the bus? The midwives feared for their lives within a monarchical context, framing Rhiannon because she was ‘other’ – this seems more a story about the consequences of xenophobia and ancient custom rather than misogyny.

Indeed, director Matilda Leyser admitted that the stark difference between the Rhiannon who outwits her enemies at the beginning of the tale and the Rhiannon who seems incapable of extricating herself from punishment at the end is not simply an incongruity which can be put down to the sexist changes of Christian scribes (despite Singer’s wish that this were true). The scribes might even have liked the pagan Rhiannon - we simply don’t have alternative versions to confirm either way. Despite these inconsistencies, the way the interactive and informal air of the show encourages questions makes such mismatches appear part of the plan to produce discussion at the end.

At times, Singer’s delivery stumbles or ventures into a empty, performative version of a much deeper, primal emotion, but the sincerity in her mission is admirable and ensures the show is engaging. Singer wishes her series of shows and sessions on the topic of Rhiannon to deliver women into a new era of uninhibitedness, and from the sold out theatre and engaged, thoughtful responses of the (mainly female) audience, she has succeeded in this task. But it could have been done without devolving into pantomime stereotypes of ‘wild women’ and the ‘divine feminine’. It is worth a watch if you are interested in feminist retellings of myth or enjoy supportive explorations of what it means to be a woman emerging from the bridles of the past.