Cinderella Review
by Jennifer Stripe
Over the last five years, Walt Disney Studios have dedicated
a considerable amount of time and money to recreate their animated classics as
live-action feature films. Capitalizing
on their enduring appeal and decades of well-honed mass marketing of the Disney
Princess empire, each of these movies successfully performed at the box office,
but was critically regarded as one dimensional, lacking in creativity. The critical difference between Cinderella and prior “golden-age”
remakes is its perfect synergy of classic cinematic elements: well cast talent,
seasoned guidance and rich visuals.
Consequently, in its straightforward telling of a familiar tale, the
intrigue isn’t the story, but how well this fairy tale is imaginatively told.
Critically acclaimed and Oscar-nominated director, Kenneth
Branagh, shepherds a screenplay that most closely follows the version authored
by Charles Perrault in 1697. Best known
for his big screen reincarnations of “Hamlet” and “Henry V,” Branagh has earned
a reputation for infusing Shakespearean period pieces with modern realism and
relevance. This talent, unique among
current directors, made him an unexpected, but smart choice for the underrated Thor and an even better selection for a
movie that could have easily been reduced to a pricey marketing ploy from
Disney’s consumer products division.
Branagh’s natural feel for the emotions that underlie the heart of such a
whimsical storyline pair well with his classic, if not timeless directorial
style, yielding cinematic gold even in the absence of a swashbuckling princess
or anti-hero protagonist.
Despite general adherence to the original plot, Branagh and
screenwriter Chris Weitz take some intriguing departures from the storyline, adding
nuanced details that provide weight and color to otherwise vaguely defined
principle characters. Beginning with an
expanded backstory in the opening sequence, great efforts are made to highlight
the loving relationship between a young Ella and her mother (a nearly
unrecognizable Hayley Atwell). Combined
with a love for animals and the family’s country home, Ella’s mother instills
in her a remarkable kindness that later grows to blindly support her pure
heart. After her untimely death, Ella
and her father (Ben Chaplin) become even closer.
Having raised a daughter almost single-handedly, Ella’s
father approaches his now grown daughter (Lily James), asking for permission to
remarry. He then weds recently widowed
socialite Lady Tremaine (Cate Blanchett), a manipulative and calculating woman,
accompanied her two spiteful, nitwit daughters, Anastasia and Drizella (Holiday
Granger and Sophie McShera). Showcasing
the depth of her well honed acting chops, Blanchett offers a classic
interpretation of the wicked stepmother with a wonderful (and beautifully
dressed) Joan Crawford inspired façade.
However, in a very intentional, yet arguably bold move, the penultimate
antagonist is portrayed from a more sympathetic angle than one might
expect. In an early, deliberately staged
scene, Lady Tremaine is positioned just within earshot of a conversation
between Ella and her father, where in fondly reminiscing the past, his lack of
affection for his new wife is inadvertently revealed. His words, while not intended to be
slighting, are just enough to plant a seed of resentment between Ella and her
new stepmother that soon evolves into uncontrollable jealousy.
Following the death of her father, the Tremaine clan quickly
diverge from exhibiting cold condescension to unabashed cruelty, as they appeal
to Ella’s people pleasing nature, using peer pressure to turn her into an
attic-dwelling servant. What’s made
clear in this sequence is that Lady Tremaine’s harsh behavior is an emotionally
multifaceted response. Beyond obvious
interpersonal drama, Lady Tremaine seems to be more acutely affected by the
financial instability and frustration of finding herself once again a
widow. Admittedly, the filmmakers could
have expanded on this interesting notion, but thankfully chose to retain the
film’s fantastical atmosphere and not muddle its intentions.
Lily James does her
best to convey some level of dissatisfaction and disappointment in her
portrayal of the lowly cinder-girl, conjuring longing, tearful, puppy dog eyes
in a couple notable close ups. The
limiting factor here is arguably the screenplay. As written, Ella’s strength comes from her
inherent optimism and belief in kindness, so much so that she seems resigned to
grin and bear the abuse inflicted by her stepmother and stepsisters. It could also be argued that her actions stem
from some misguided sense of obligation to her deceased parents, but whatever
the reason, the overall effect is that Cinderella ultimately becomes someone
who suffers beautifully, a character struggling to find a meaningful story arc
until she serendipitously and unknowingly meets Prince Charming (Richard
Madden). After a few quick, playfully
flirtatious exchanges, they part, with Cinderella believing she had a chance
encounter with young apprentice and the prince immediately and expectedly
smitten. It’s nearly impossible for any
actor or director to believably pull off love at first sight, but fortunately
for everyone involved, James and the sweetly charismatic Madden have just
enough genuine on-screen chemistry to entice you to believe that it’s at least
plausible.
Much of the movie proceeds predictably, but no less
magically. With his father, the King
(Derek Jacobi), in declining health, the Prince agrees to host a ball where he
can entertain all potential marital prospects, both royal and common, hoping to
meet the enchanting girl from the woods.
Seeing her daughters and this current opportunity as her best chance to
escape looming misfortune, Lady Tremaine works to present her girls in the most
favorable light possible, one that certainly doesn’t include a dowdy
stepdaughter. Forbidden from attending
the ball, Cinderella is left in despair until her fairy godmother suddenly
appears, right on schedule, waving her magic wand, creating the iconic pumpkin
coach and glass slippers literally out of thin air.
The resulting interplay of computer-generated special
effects is completely anticipated, yet equally mesmerizing and truly
magical. Much of what works and “feels
right” about this Cinderella, is that
it doesn’t rely on any flashy trickery to compensate for fundamental weaknesses
and with its opulent costume and production design there’s enough textbook eye
candy that it doesn’t need to. The
wondrous details brought to life at the Prince’s ornate ball, the sense of
majesty and scope displayed in the elaborate dance sequence where the Prince
and Cinderella meet, it all gives realistic roots to this surreal
experience. True, it’s pretty cool when
a lizard is seamlessly transformed into a footman and the most breathtaking of
ball gowns spun into existence by a kaleidoscope of butterflies, but these
transformations believably work because they present a special contrast to the
depicted reality, not just added visual gimmicks. 
Still, despite its brilliant execution, there are certainly
moments that question if this is the right kind of Cinderella, a passive heroine
that little girls should admire? Other
recent addition to Disney’s repertoire, including Brave and Frozen, offer
wonderfully contemporary takes on otherwise classic princess tales that empower
their heroines with aspirations beyond life as a princess. It’s slightly disconcerting, maybe even a
discussion point for some parents, but sitting in the theatre, it’s hard to
resist the film’s intrinsic charm and not get swept up in some old-fashioned
cinematic magic.
All things considered, Cinderella
feels real enough, both in visual presentation and character development, to be
sincerely touching while at the same time offering enough visual inventiveness
and imagination to convey that captivating, otherworldly quality that can only
be described as magical. It’s a story
we’ve all seen and read about, but told this effectively, the familiar tale of Cinderella seems brand new.
Highly recommended family feature: 5/5 stars
0 comments:
Post a Comment