Welcome to everyone at The Ensemble Theatre working on Cinderella!
On this site, you will find my research on Cinderella. I will be adding more info as our production progresses. Let me know if you have questions or topics that I should add.
I look forward to meeting and working with you!
Cinderella at The Ensemble Theatre
Monday, October 11, 2010
In Houston: Houston Ballet (2008)
from Molly Glentzer's review in the Chronicle:
Do not leave your sense of humor at home when you head to Houston Ballet's bodacious new Cinderella. Even with your eyes closed — which is not recommended — you'd know there was something funny going on with Stanton Welch's version, created in 1997 for The Australian Ballet. The audience chuckles continuously.
Welch is so confident of this response, he's choreographed a moment when the corps de ballet issues a big, bossy "Sssshhhh." Which of course gets another laugh.
This offsets the sinister undercurrent. Welch ditches the sugary, Charles Perault-inspired treatment Houston audiences know from Ben Stevenson's traditional Cinderella (which pays homage to Frederick Ashton's standard 1948 version).
His jumping-off point is the much darker Grimm Brothers' Ash Girl. Forget that fairy godmother and pumpkins. In one of the best scenes, Cinderella's mother, risen from the dead, orders her corps of ghosts to weave a ballgown from spiderwebs.
Welch also incorporates Dandini, the Prince's valet, from Rossini's opera La Cenerentola; and Buttons, Cinderella's faithful companion-servant, from English pantomime. Throw in a little Tim Burton, a little Thriller-era Michael Jackson and a little Cirque du Soleil, and you begin to get the picture.
In spite of the Houston Ballet orchestra's nimble rendering, some of this made me think, "Is this really Serge Prokofiev's score?" I'm not complaining; it's entertaining to hear the music from a fresh perspective.
Welch's Cinderella is a cartoon, although where it matters most — in lush pas de deux sections — the romantic emotion is sincere. There are also some Welch trademarks — notably, the sexually aggressive, near-naked dancers of Act 3. (Bulls and some quasi-Indian-harem princesses.)
I love the surreal elements and the late Kristian Fredrikson's sumptuous costumes: statues and mannequins that move; tattered ghosts; carnival characters with balloons, and a winged unicorn wagon.
I'm not sure I buy the notion that Welch's pixie-haired, scrappy Cinderella harbors any ambition to land a prince. Her first impulse when she's upset is to throw a punch. But she's ultimately lovable.
Amy Fote, a little dynamo of exuberant sweetness, danced Thursday's opening with such Leslie Caron-ish charm, I wanted to pinch her on the cheeks. She was rapturous in the two big pas de deux with Ian Casady, her endearingly geeky true love, Dandini.
Welch offers some wicked class commentary: Everyone from the cheerful, spoiled egomaniac of a Prince (Connor Walsh has a blast in this role) on down the social ladder is better than someone else. The haughty, gossipy and slightly debauched court are buffoons; but the message is more cutting, and subtle, when Dandini fails to notice Cinderella after she's lost her finery; or when Cinderella, even in her patched britches, brushes off Buttons.
Welch fills the stage with swiftly moving bits full of dazzling jetés and spins. (Waltz, what waltz?) He doesn't miss a beat, literally: When percussion instruments or violins punctuate the score, there's always an emphatic gesture to match: A hip circle, wide and low. A pelvic thrust or two or three. A shoulder shimmy. A clawed, grabby hand. A head tic. Make that lots of head tics. These shenanigans, while fun, sometimes distract from simultaneous, more straightforward choreography. The final pas de deux is thrillingly romantic, especially after the empty stage fills with a starlit sky.
The sets begin sumptuously. Act 1's graveyard is the yummiest, a dreamlike cave dripping in softly-lit moss. Act 2's flat peacock-themed curtains aptly reflect the shallow court personalities. We're expected to let our imaginations take over in Act 3, much of which is danced in a black void and begins with a militaristic scene that reveals the Prince as a despot.
Thursday's performances were lively and crisp. Oliver Halkowich (Grizabella) and Steven Woodgate (Florinda) danced gamely en pointe (pique turns and arabesques, even!) as the stepsisters; James Gotesky's domineering Stepmother commanded the stage. Ilya Kozadayev was a warm, loveable and high-flying Buttons. Barbara Bears was an elegant Mother, and Christopher Coomer was a tender, vulnerable Dad.
Melody Herrera, Mireille Hassenboehler and Bears will dance the lead on other nights, with Walsh, Simon Ball and Coomer also alternating as Dandini.
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ent/5602556.html
Do not leave your sense of humor at home when you head to Houston Ballet's bodacious new Cinderella. Even with your eyes closed — which is not recommended — you'd know there was something funny going on with Stanton Welch's version, created in 1997 for The Australian Ballet. The audience chuckles continuously.
Welch is so confident of this response, he's choreographed a moment when the corps de ballet issues a big, bossy "Sssshhhh." Which of course gets another laugh.
This offsets the sinister undercurrent. Welch ditches the sugary, Charles Perault-inspired treatment Houston audiences know from Ben Stevenson's traditional Cinderella (which pays homage to Frederick Ashton's standard 1948 version).
His jumping-off point is the much darker Grimm Brothers' Ash Girl. Forget that fairy godmother and pumpkins. In one of the best scenes, Cinderella's mother, risen from the dead, orders her corps of ghosts to weave a ballgown from spiderwebs.
Welch also incorporates Dandini, the Prince's valet, from Rossini's opera La Cenerentola; and Buttons, Cinderella's faithful companion-servant, from English pantomime. Throw in a little Tim Burton, a little Thriller-era Michael Jackson and a little Cirque du Soleil, and you begin to get the picture.
In spite of the Houston Ballet orchestra's nimble rendering, some of this made me think, "Is this really Serge Prokofiev's score?" I'm not complaining; it's entertaining to hear the music from a fresh perspective.
Welch's Cinderella is a cartoon, although where it matters most — in lush pas de deux sections — the romantic emotion is sincere. There are also some Welch trademarks — notably, the sexually aggressive, near-naked dancers of Act 3. (Bulls and some quasi-Indian-harem princesses.)
I love the surreal elements and the late Kristian Fredrikson's sumptuous costumes: statues and mannequins that move; tattered ghosts; carnival characters with balloons, and a winged unicorn wagon.
I'm not sure I buy the notion that Welch's pixie-haired, scrappy Cinderella harbors any ambition to land a prince. Her first impulse when she's upset is to throw a punch. But she's ultimately lovable.
Amy Fote, a little dynamo of exuberant sweetness, danced Thursday's opening with such Leslie Caron-ish charm, I wanted to pinch her on the cheeks. She was rapturous in the two big pas de deux with Ian Casady, her endearingly geeky true love, Dandini.
Welch offers some wicked class commentary: Everyone from the cheerful, spoiled egomaniac of a Prince (Connor Walsh has a blast in this role) on down the social ladder is better than someone else. The haughty, gossipy and slightly debauched court are buffoons; but the message is more cutting, and subtle, when Dandini fails to notice Cinderella after she's lost her finery; or when Cinderella, even in her patched britches, brushes off Buttons.
Welch fills the stage with swiftly moving bits full of dazzling jetés and spins. (Waltz, what waltz?) He doesn't miss a beat, literally: When percussion instruments or violins punctuate the score, there's always an emphatic gesture to match: A hip circle, wide and low. A pelvic thrust or two or three. A shoulder shimmy. A clawed, grabby hand. A head tic. Make that lots of head tics. These shenanigans, while fun, sometimes distract from simultaneous, more straightforward choreography. The final pas de deux is thrillingly romantic, especially after the empty stage fills with a starlit sky.
The sets begin sumptuously. Act 1's graveyard is the yummiest, a dreamlike cave dripping in softly-lit moss. Act 2's flat peacock-themed curtains aptly reflect the shallow court personalities. We're expected to let our imaginations take over in Act 3, much of which is danced in a black void and begins with a militaristic scene that reveals the Prince as a despot.
Thursday's performances were lively and crisp. Oliver Halkowich (Grizabella) and Steven Woodgate (Florinda) danced gamely en pointe (pique turns and arabesques, even!) as the stepsisters; James Gotesky's domineering Stepmother commanded the stage. Ilya Kozadayev was a warm, loveable and high-flying Buttons. Barbara Bears was an elegant Mother, and Christopher Coomer was a tender, vulnerable Dad.
Melody Herrera, Mireille Hassenboehler and Bears will dance the lead on other nights, with Walsh, Simon Ball and Coomer also alternating as Dandini.
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ent/5602556.html
In Houston: Houston Ballet (2003)
Choreography by Ben Stevenson
(originally set in 1970 for the National Ballet in Washington, DC)
Review by the Houston Press for the 2003 Houston revival:
http://www.houstonpress.com/2003-03-20/culture/slipper-magic/
SYPNOPSIS
Act I: Cinderella's stepmother is busily
embroidering a scarf she will wear to the Palace
Ball that evening. The Father is also in the
room, and the Stepsisters tease him
unmercifully. Cinderella enters and stops them.
They turn on her furiously and the Stepmother
orders her to clean the room. The Stepsisters
drag the Father from the room. Cinderella picks
up the broom, commences to sweep, then takes
a portrait of her dead Mother from its hiding
place and gazes at it longingly. Her Father
returns and is overcome with remorse when he
sees the resemblance between Cinderella and his
first wife. His daughter lovingly tries to reassure
him, but they are dragged apart by the
Stepsisters, who also snatch away the
picture.
Suddenly, the door opens and an old woman enters,
begging. The Stepmother gives her the picture of
Cinderella's mother to get rid of it, but the beggar
woman sees the resemblance to Cinderella and
hands it to her. Cinderella offers the woman some
bread, which she accepts and then
departs.
A dressmaker and wigmaker arrive to adorn the
Stepsisters for the Ball, followed by a dancing
master, who attempts the impossible task of
teaching the Stepsisters the rudiments of dancing.
The family departs for the Ball, with the exception of
Cinderella, who remains behind. She tries to assuage
her loneliness by pretending that the kitchen broom
is her partner at the Ball, but the pretense is too
much for her, and she bursts into tears. At this
moment, the beggar woman returns and changes
into a beautiful fairy Godmother, who transforms
the kitchen into a forest, complete with Dragonflies
swooping amongst the
trees.
The Fairy Godmother gives Cinderella a pair of glass
slippers, and the Fairies of Spring, Summer,
Autumn, and Winter perform for her, changing the
seasons as they dance. Cinderella's rags become a
beautiful gown, but the Fairy Godmother shows her
a clock, and warns her that at midnight, the magic
gown will change back into rags. She then
transforms a pumpkin and four lizards into a coach
and horses, and Cinderella is driven to the Ball like a
princess.

Act II: At the Palace, a Jester welcomes
the arriving guests, who are all somewhat taken
aback by the Stepsisters. The Prince enters and
greets the assembly, then gallantly invites each of
the Stepsisters in turn to dance with him, much to
the amusement of the guests. At this moment, the
Ball is interrupted by the arrival of Cinderella in her
coach, and the Prince immediately falls in love with
her. The guests are offered oranges -- the rarest food
to be had -- and when one of the Stepsisters is left
without one, Cinderella gives up her own, without
the Stepsister realizing her identity. While the Prince
and Cinderella are dancing together, the clock strikes
midnight. Cinderella's clothes turn to rags and she
rushes from the ballroom. The Prince cannot restrain
her, but finds one of the glass slippers which she has
lost in her
haste.

Act III: Back in the kitchen, Cinderella
remembers the Ball as if it were a beautiful dream,
but finds the remaining glass slipper in one of her
pockets. She quickly hides it as the Stepsisters
return, proudly displaying the oranges the Prince
gave them. The Stepmother announces the arrival
of the Prince with his Jester and courtiers in search
of the owner of the glass slipper they bear with
them. Each of the Stepsisters in turn vainly tries to
squeeze an oversized foot into the tiny slipper. When
the Prince notices Cinderella sitting shyly by the fire,
he asks her father if she may try it on. As she moves
to do so, the second slipper falls from her pocket.
The Prince is overjoyed in spite of Cinderella's
ragged appearance, and asks her to marry him.
Cinderella forgives her Stepmother and sisters for
their previous cruelty to
her.
As the Prince returns the glass slipper to the Fairy
Godmother, the kitchen is transformed into a magic
glade where Cinderella and her Prince dance a
romantic pas de deux. The guests return to acclaim
their new Princess at her
betrothal.
(originally set in 1970 for the National Ballet in Washington, DC)
Review by the Houston Press for the 2003 Houston revival:
http://www.houstonpress.com/2003-03-20/culture/slipper-magic/
SYPNOPSIS
Act I: Cinderella's stepmother is busily
Suddenly, the door opens and an old woman enters,
A dressmaker and wigmaker arrive to adorn the
Act II: At the Palace, a Jester welcomes
Act III: Back in the kitchen, Cinderella
As the Prince returns the glass slipper to the Fairy
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