I watched the film adaptation of Cinderella yesterday. While watching Lucifer trying to catch Jaq and Gus and crashing into the chest of drawers under which the mice scurried, I got transported almost 20 years back, to the first time I had seen Disney's 1950 Cinderella.
I had been completely enthralled. Since then I have watched the first adaptation many times, more than I care to count. I have always loved stories and over time I grew to love animated movies as well, but Cinderella stayed my favourite.
Firstly, the story. The quintessential fairy tale where a girl reduced to a servant in her own home catches the eye and the love of the Prince of the Kingdom. While the Prince did not slay any dragons or break anything (or anyone) to rescue her, he presented her with the opportunity to prove her identity, through the famous glass shoe.
Secondly, the animation. For 1950, the animation was definitely one of the best, not to mention the grandeur of the sets at the palace, Cinderella's home, her dresses and the wonder of her night at the ball. The effects blended with the story beautifully and became more than just a medium - they became the only medium through which the magic of the story itself could be felt.
I have often tried to dismiss my (irrational) love for this fairy tale, which I will admit has some regressive overtones. I pride myself on being logical and am fiercely protective of my independence, so submitting to the charms of such a tale is hypocritical.
My counter argument to the claim of hypocrisy is that seeing it so many times did little to change my world view of my destiny and the role I can play in shaping it. I am definitely not Cinderella. I would not have just sat there, slogging my life out for ungrateful people and then singing in happiness because I was too pure to feel otherwise.
This brings me to the third and possibly the last reason - the beauty. I think Cinderella was my first real brush with beauty. If we were to notice everything around the central characters, we would see perfect proportions, understated elegance and royal colours. It was the seed of my belief that for one to create beauty, one had to first experience it. I can, therefore, understand the lure of Paris and Venice, high costs and stinking canals notwithstanding.
From today's perspective, the taste of the decor featured in 1950's Cinderella would be called 'traditional' but for a 9 year old girl who spent most of her time reading books and creating alternate universes in her head, Cinderella gave my imagination glorious wings to spread and fly.
Like the Fairy Godmother says: "Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo!"
I had been completely enthralled. Since then I have watched the first adaptation many times, more than I care to count. I have always loved stories and over time I grew to love animated movies as well, but Cinderella stayed my favourite.
Firstly, the story. The quintessential fairy tale where a girl reduced to a servant in her own home catches the eye and the love of the Prince of the Kingdom. While the Prince did not slay any dragons or break anything (or anyone) to rescue her, he presented her with the opportunity to prove her identity, through the famous glass shoe.
Secondly, the animation. For 1950, the animation was definitely one of the best, not to mention the grandeur of the sets at the palace, Cinderella's home, her dresses and the wonder of her night at the ball. The effects blended with the story beautifully and became more than just a medium - they became the only medium through which the magic of the story itself could be felt.
I have often tried to dismiss my (irrational) love for this fairy tale, which I will admit has some regressive overtones. I pride myself on being logical and am fiercely protective of my independence, so submitting to the charms of such a tale is hypocritical.
My counter argument to the claim of hypocrisy is that seeing it so many times did little to change my world view of my destiny and the role I can play in shaping it. I am definitely not Cinderella. I would not have just sat there, slogging my life out for ungrateful people and then singing in happiness because I was too pure to feel otherwise.
This brings me to the third and possibly the last reason - the beauty. I think Cinderella was my first real brush with beauty. If we were to notice everything around the central characters, we would see perfect proportions, understated elegance and royal colours. It was the seed of my belief that for one to create beauty, one had to first experience it. I can, therefore, understand the lure of Paris and Venice, high costs and stinking canals notwithstanding.
From today's perspective, the taste of the decor featured in 1950's Cinderella would be called 'traditional' but for a 9 year old girl who spent most of her time reading books and creating alternate universes in her head, Cinderella gave my imagination glorious wings to spread and fly.
Like the Fairy Godmother says: "Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo!"
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