Belvoir’s ‘Cinderella’, currently playing downstairs, is a
contemporary retelling of a tale we’ve seen in many different forms, many
different times. But Matthew Whittet’s version, directed by Anthea Williams and
starring Whittet and Mandy McElhinney, is a nicely crafted combination of
loneliness, hope, strength, fantasy and humour.
Taking the submissive heroine of the popular fairytale, our
Cinderella, Ashley (McElhinney), is now a feisty middle-aged orphan and
custodian of rescue cat, Pumpkin. Braving on-line dating, she goes to meet
face-to-face with Richard (Whittet), gets spooked, runs off, leaving a shoe which
is returned to her by Ash (Whittet) and thus the awakening of romance in its
full sweet awkwardness from snorting rice, daggy dancing and their first
physical encounter, is all wrapped up in a soundtrack from Hall and Oates.
Whittet’s ‘Cinderella’ is not afraid to subvert the genre by
taking it back to some of the more interesting interpretations of the tale that make it far less Disney and more grief-stricken
vigilante. There are lovely moments that remind us that women of all ages are
as far-removed from the traditional stereotype as you can imagine. When Ashley
confronts Ash about his preconceptions of what movies women like to watch or as
she reimagines for us the story of how she rescued Pumpkin from the ugly
step-mother and step-sisters, reinvented as local crazy lady and her two bully
cats, we are taken on a new journey of the familiar but told as a gentle edict to
pro-actively empower more than a passive wait for rescue.
But underlying this comic awkwardness of love- real and imagined,
we witness a permeating sadness of loss, of trying to fill that gap, of fragility
and the fear of embracing change and vulnerability with someone else. Williams
manages to extract all of this from her cast and as Whittet playfully dances
for the audience whilst removing his clothes, it certainly added to the
delightful dagginess of the show. Both Whittet and McElhinney capture the
dimensions of these characters and make us feel both warmth and pity for their
plight.
Elizabeth Gadsby’s set, a carpeted transformative space,
complete with cushions, gutter, falling leaves and a constantly ticking clock
taking us closer and closer to midnight, manages to convey the romance, the
reality and the tension of time. Kelly Ryall’s sound plays with nostalgia and
the present, merging a soundtrack of a time long gone with the harsh realities
of a time out of place now. Once I hear Hall and Oates, I know I’m in good
hands.
There is a deceptive depth to this seemingly simple play. It’s
lovely to watch and finishes on a note of hope. Its endearing cast offer us a
piece of contemporary romance aimed squarely for all ages but allows the focus
to resonate most with its demographic.
This was a very pleasant way to spend an evening.
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