I should clarify that I actually love "Cinderella" stories. I think what I really love is the challenge of how each subsequent version is going to differ from (or somehow outshine) the last one. Each Cinderella story is infused with new things, old things, and just plain bizarre things. In this telling, there is much more emphasis on the prince- after all, Richard Chamberlain is top billed. Unfortunately, the characterization of his prince Edward is no different from any other fictional depiction of royalty: born of privilege, but hating it and wanting to live like 'regular people.' (If these were actual royal figures, such a wish would never commence.) The story also expands roughly a half hour beyond the glass slipper finding its rightful owner, and for me this dragged the film out considerably. Nevertheless, it's still the quintessential fairy story.
Yet I am amazed that so many posters hail it as some sort of Kirousawa-like masterpiece. Is this because it's a British film? We always seem to rate European films just a little higher than American ones, calling them high art and so forth. And as critical as so many are especially about musical films recently- RENT, CHICAGO, THE PRODUCERS, and perhaps most acerbically and nastily, DREAMGIRLS- they all seem to turn a deaf ear on this one. I did like the costumes and set pieces, but was not thrilled with most of the Sherman Brothers' score- save two rather exquisite songs. It paces a bit sluggishly and, at 143 minutes, is about 43 minutes too long.
There are two saving graces: One is in the name of Annette Crosbie. Her fairy godmother is a dream and a scream at the same time. Possessing incredibly dry wit and very sly on the subject of magic, it appears that she works with other famous fairy tale heroines (some of whom are referenced throughout the film). Her introduction to Cinderella as a simple, practical woman who shuns the "sparkle and glitter," and seems to want to unionize fairies worldwide, is hilarious. And the rags-to-riches sequence built around the song "Suddenly It Happens" is magical indeed. (How could it not be, with mice that turn into ballet dancers even before they turn into horses?) The other saving grace is the ball: easily some of the most exquisite costumes ever assembled for a period film, all in an amazing rainbow of sherbet-like pastels. The ball sequence is climaxed by a glorious grand waltz, which begins with two dancers on an empty floor, then adds other couples- two and four at a time- joining into the swirling and spinning choreography, until all are waltzing in the same direction and having a marvelous time. A truly breathtaking sequence. I almost wished the film had ended right there.
Yet I am amazed that so many posters hail it as some sort of Kirousawa-like masterpiece. Is this because it's a British film? We always seem to rate European films just a little higher than American ones, calling them high art and so forth. And as critical as so many are especially about musical films recently- RENT, CHICAGO, THE PRODUCERS, and perhaps most acerbically and nastily, DREAMGIRLS- they all seem to turn a deaf ear on this one. I did like the costumes and set pieces, but was not thrilled with most of the Sherman Brothers' score- save two rather exquisite songs. It paces a bit sluggishly and, at 143 minutes, is about 43 minutes too long.
There are two saving graces: One is in the name of Annette Crosbie. Her fairy godmother is a dream and a scream at the same time. Possessing incredibly dry wit and very sly on the subject of magic, it appears that she works with other famous fairy tale heroines (some of whom are referenced throughout the film). Her introduction to Cinderella as a simple, practical woman who shuns the "sparkle and glitter," and seems to want to unionize fairies worldwide, is hilarious. And the rags-to-riches sequence built around the song "Suddenly It Happens" is magical indeed. (How could it not be, with mice that turn into ballet dancers even before they turn into horses?) The other saving grace is the ball: easily some of the most exquisite costumes ever assembled for a period film, all in an amazing rainbow of sherbet-like pastels. The ball sequence is climaxed by a glorious grand waltz, which begins with two dancers on an empty floor, then adds other couples- two and four at a time- joining into the swirling and spinning choreography, until all are waltzing in the same direction and having a marvelous time. A truly breathtaking sequence. I almost wished the film had ended right there.