Article from Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
http://www.post-gazette.com/magazine/20010517cinder5.asp
Thanks to Noel for this information!
Eartha Kitt a hit, but 'Cinderella's' shoe
doesn't fit 'Sopranos' Sigler
Thursday, May 17, 2001
By Christopher Rawson, Post-Gazette Drama Critic
This is not, make that NOT, your mother's "Cinderella."
How could it be, with Eartha Kitt playing the
Fairy Godmother with feline growl, turning her
hapless goddaughter into an empowerment
project? Kitt is no Glinda the Goody-Good, but
a Godmother you'd expect to pair with a
Godfather -- a woman who's Been Around
more than once and isn't going to let her young
charge wimp out.
The miracle is that she puts her stamp on the
show in just one and a half scenes. But she
never wholly succeeds in putting spine in
Cinderella, as played by Jamie-Lynn Sigler,
better known as Meadow Soprano on HBO's
"The Sopranos."
Sigler has moments of youthful charm, mainly when playing with the friendly
puppet animals. And though her voice isn't Broadway beautiful, it has a
pleasing light pop sound. But her Cinderella must be the dourest ever --
essentially WAP (whiny American princess), retaining her pout even when she
ought to express joy.
I'm certainly happy to see a Cinderella out of the usual golden girl mold. There
is a gritty reality to Sigler's bedraggled waif. She's at her best expressing
familial deprivation (a la Meadow) or tucked into her chimney corner singing
with the toy pets. But I don't see her grow or blossom. Even when paired
with the Prince, she's abashed and morose. I'd recommend more
self-improvement sessions with that gutsy gutteral Godmother.
In short, the Godmother remains Eartha Kitt, which is great; that Cinderella
seems like Meadow Soprano isn't.
Fortunately, Cinderella's depression is well motivated by the comic villain,
Everett Quinton, who stiffens the comic stepmom with moments of steely
denial. The stepsisters are less villains than victims and fools -- Leslie
Becker's Joy is joyless and NaTasha Yvette Williams' brawny Grace is an oaf
(and especially funny).
Up at the palace, Paolo Montalban's Prince sings well and emotes pleasingly
within his allotted range. He's also a handsome fellow, which director Gabriel
Barre knows, since he has him strip off his shirt to show his admirable biceps.
Ken Prymus' pudgy King and Leslie Becker's slip of a Queen are a nice
contrast, more comic than coercive, and Brooks Ashmanskas does a lively
Nathan Lane turn as the palace steward.
These families are multi-ethnic and the kingdom, as designed by James
Youmans and Pamela Scofield, is of no particular place or time, a vague cross
between Arabian Nights and Teutonic. Call it Somethingstan. But it's hard for
any town bazaar to be truly bustling when there are just a dozen ensemble
members. At the ball, it seems no one showed up and the footmen are
pressed into service instead.
Though Eastern puppet techniques have become common on our stages, the
six animals manipulated with sticks by black-clad handlers are audience
favorites as they chatter, advise and sing backup.
Just as Godmother's tough sergeant mode makes it seem Cinderella will have
to hitch-hike to the ball, the show relents and gives us the magical
transformation we expect. The midnight switch back into rags is even more
magical.
At times, Tuesday, the orchestral sound was coarse, perhaps because of
over-reliance on synthesizers, perhaps because opening night on the road
lacks fine-tuning. Although the score is by Rodgers and Hammerstein (written
first for TV), it's about as minor as R&H get, its two standards being "In My
Own Little Corner" and "Do I Love You Because You're Beautiful."
In the curtain call, Kitt, 70-plus, touches the floor. Why? Because she still
can! Give us more Kitt!