Created by Pitch Perfect's Kay Cannon, this film's very much in the traditional musical realm - camp in its aesthetic, looking like a Broadway set rather than an historically accurate recreation of a 15th century village. I've seen both the original Disney animated version of Cinderella, and the 1997 remake of the Rodgers and Hammerstein version (1957), starring Brandy and Whitney Houston, but you won't hear any of that music in this film. The soundtrack is mostly covers of seminal pop songs including Somebody to Love, Perfect, Material Girl and Let's Get Loud. I particularly enjoyed the big dance number at the Prince's ball, set to Whatta Man by En Vogue and Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes. The choreography was superb - interesting, quirky and humorous.
Perhaps what Greg and I enjoyed most about the film was the script. Of course, I'm here for the singing and dancing too, but the movie is surprisingly funny. There are a number of talented comedic performers in the cast, in particular Billy Porter as the gender-fluid Fab G (aka Fairy Godmother), plus Idina Menzel, Minnie Driver, Pierce Brosnan, James Acaster, Romesh Ranganathan and James Corden (an executive producer on the film). Cabello is charming in the title role, does a commendable job with the comedic elements and Greg hasn't stopped asking Google Home to play her anthem A Million to One all week.
Despite us watching it on a microscopic screen, Cinderella was the mood-enhancing content our whānau needed in lockdown. If you're going to remake a stale old misogynistic fairy tale, then this is the way to do it.
HE SAW
In a crowded field (Jack and the Beanstalk anyone?) Cinderella is the worst fairy tale of all time. Sexist, pathetic, not a very good story, overly long, not funny, and full of plot holes plastered over with "Magic", its ongoing omnipresence in the culture is an indictment on us all. That I even suggested we watch the latest movie adaptation indicates where I was at mentally on a stormy Sunday afternoon nearly two weeks into lockdown with three children. What happened next will shock you.
I once had a friend who made the claim he was able to predict with close to 100 per cent accuracy whether the All Blacks would win a test match based on how they looked when they ran on to the field. By the end of that season, his claim had been thoroughly debunked, but I was reminded of it barely five minutes into Cinderella when I realised, based on nothing more than a couple of jokes and the general aesthetic, that this was going to be a great movie. I can also pinpoint the moment I established it beyond doubt, 13 minutes in, during the town cryer's brass band-backed rap that begins: "I'm the new town cryer / Yeah I took over from Barry / I know you miss him / But he died of dysentery."
That line was indisputably funny, and I like funny, but what made it especially appealing was that it was more than funny. The costumes, the dancing, the playing of the brass band, the reaction shots of the extras following the revelation of Barry's demise: the success of both this bit and the movie as a whole was about confluence, a word Malcolm Gladwell is almost certainly in the process of trademarking for an upcoming book.
Since marrying into a family for whom musicals are considered an essential service, one of the most surprising things I've learned about myself is that, after a lifetime of considering them inferior to Steven Seagal movies, I've realised I'm actually a great big fan. I've spent a lot of time reflecting on the source of this change and I've come to the conclusion that it's probably my love for my wife reflecting on, and illuminating for me, the things she loves, in which case I guess I should be concerned that self-love is something that largely continues to elude me.
Cinderella is now streaming on Amazon Prime Video.
