Birmingham Royal Ballet – Cinderella: Review

If I were to begin this review by telling you the stars of Birmingham Royal Ballet’s revival of Cinderella are John Macfarlane’s design and David Finn’s lighting (here honoured and adapted by Peter Teigen), you might infer that I was being dismissive of the dancing and choreography. Not a bit of it.

My intent is more to acknowledge that, under the direction of Carlos Acosta, it is possible that the company has chosen to embrace, most warmly, the reality of main house theatre productions – that dance, like drama, is a profoundly collaborative art form.

From the opening tableau vivant, a graveside gathering for the funeral of Cinderella’s mother, silhouette and monochrome (like a Dickensian scene of David Lean’s creation), to the comfortless, shabby basement kitchen where Cinders lives out her daily life, to the nebula-spangled Wonderworld heralding the arrival of the Fairy Godmother and her helpers, all is strikingly visualised and evocatively lit.

The ballet proper begins with Cinderella now fully orphaned and in the clutches of her wicked stepmother and her two cruel daughters (the Ugly Sisters of legend). Shoeless and shabby, living a life of deprivation and drudgery, Cinders nevertheless has her secret comforts. Hidden beneath a cupboard is a red velvet box containing precious memories of her mother – a framed silhouette in her likeness and a pair of sparkling, silver slippers.

David Bintley’s choreography aims to break away from the pantomime tradition (and specifically Frederick Ashton’s version) by eschewing travesty and using ballerinas (instead of males in drag) for the cruel stepsisters. Bintley’s concern that the usual comic grotesquery of the stepsisters is prone to displace Cinderella’s centrality is well-founded. That said, Olivia Chang Clarke’s ‘Hungry Hippo’ sister (slurping breakfast straight from the bowl) and her long, lean and mean sibling (Eilis Small) are in no danger of being upstaged by anyone. Nevertheless, the balance between their comic brutality and Cinders’ oppressed gracefulness is well struck.

When a needy stranger appears in her kitchen, Cinderella not only feeds her but gives her the precious silver slippers for her bare feet (a particular kindness since Cinders herself is shoeless).

She is the Oliver Twist of fairy tales, her heart unhardened by the harshness of her fate, her refined sensibilities beautifully evidenced in the elegant sweep of her solo dances when no one is around. Beatrice Parma, in the title role, wins us over with her delicate grace.

Receiving invitations to the royal ball, the wicked stepmother, eager for her offspring to marry well, hires dresses, wigs and even a dance master. The clueless stepsisters cavort hilariously, much to the exasperation of their tutor (danced with panache by Gus Payne). Before he departs in dudgeon, there is a brief opportunity for Cinderella to dance a few steps. He nods his approval, then goes. Nice touch.

Distraught at the realities of her life, Cinderella lies prone on the cold, stone floor. Her kindness, however, will not go unrewarded. The needy stranger was, of course, her Fairy Godmother (regally played by Isabella Howard) who now returns to ensure that our little heroine shall go to the ball. The transformation of set and lighting here is lovely: against a beautiful nebular sky, the Fairy Godmother’s helpers, Spring (Reina Fuchigami), Summer (Céline Gittens), Autumn (Amelia Thompson) and Winter (Rachele Pizzillo), each making the most of her brief solo, transform the ragged Cinderella into a princess-in-waiting.

The act closes with the arrival of a delightful silvery fairy coach, complete with a frog and two lizards for coachmen.

As act two, the ball scene, begins, the entry of the two stepsisters deserves an ovation of its own. Neither they nor their rather sumptuously dressed mother (Daria Stanciulescu must adore wearing that outfit) have the slightest idea how to behave or who to bow to. Whilst one sister yearns to eat her weight in royal cake, the other seems desperate to jump the bones of anyone who’ll stand still long enough. The Major Domo, (Rory Mackay, all flourish and pomp) hardly knows what to do.

The prince himself is amused and confused, but not tempted, until, of course, Cinderella appears. The pas de deux here is not the highlight of the evening’s choreography. Though impressively athletic, there is little sense of a young couple experiencing a moment of magic. As Prince, Enrique Bejarano Vidal’s solo moments are strong and secure. He looks like the master of all he surveys. At this point, however, he and Cinders are not quite conjoined.

The climax of the act, with a backdrop of the workings of a giant clock, mercilessly calling time on Cinderella’s adventure, is memorable. The Prince is left holding a single tiny slipper. The search is on.

Act three opens with another set piece: a mound of slippers supporting a chair. Eager young women climb the steps of the mound to try (and fail) to fit a foot into the slipper. The curtain descends again and we see a harassed prince, hurrying stage left to right, pursued by hopping women, each holding aloft a single slipper. Lovely stuff!

Back in the basement kitchen, the prince and his lackeys arrive to put the stepsisters to the slipper test. When they fail, even their desperate mother demands to be given a chance.

Will Cinderella, lurking forlornly in the background, be overlooked? Suffice to say, the finale grants us another pas de deux, and this one exudes romance.

Conductor Paul Murphy keeps the Royal Ballet Sinfonia perfectly aligned with the dancers. Bravo!

A fine effort by the whole company. Eilis Small may be one to watch.

Birmingham Royal Ballet – Cinderella is at Lowry, Salford from 6-8 March 2025.