Cinderella (1950) — PICK
Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella (1957) — PICK
Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella (1965) — PICK
The original Disney 1950 Cinderella is by far the best-known version of the story, though it’s not my favorite. Although it more or less follows the fairy-tale template laid down by Charles Perrault, it falls short of the brilliance of the earlier Snow White, Bambi and Pinocchio, as well as the later ambition of Sleeping Beauty.
The tunes are mostly forgettable, the animation is pretty blandly generic, and the cute animal sidekicks, for the first time in Disney history, don’t just play a supporting role, they practically take over the film for long stretches. It’s the first stages of Disney-itis.
Despite these drawbacks, it’s still an honorable and charming take, with strong background work and at least one classic song, Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo.
Better, though, are the two small-screen productions of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella, both of which feature better songs and fewer irrelevant subplots.
The first, from 1957, is comparatively little known, despite starring no less than Julie Andrews as Cinderella, in part because it survived only in a black-and-white kinescope (a film recording made directly from a television screen).
The 1957 version opens on a strong note, with a rousing rendition of The Prince Is Giving a Ball, and benefits from charming material involving the Prince’s royal family cut from later versions. But Edith Adams’ baton-twirling fairy godmother-as-cheerleader dates poorly, and moving the glass-slipper scene from Cinderella’s house to the palace (almost making her a sort of royals stalker) is a bad idea.
On the other hand, I like the way the denouement of this version softens Cinderella’s stepfamily and their ultimate fate.
The 1965 version starring Lesley Ann Warren has been, until now, my favorite of these three takes on the story, partly because it’s the only one to include an early Meet Cute between Cinderella and the Prince and handle the glass-slipper climax correctly.
Nineteen-year-old Warren has a wide-eyed ingénue quality that Andrews, who was 22 in 1957, couldn’t quite pull off. It’s lovely to see Ginger Rodgers as the Queen, though it’s a terrible tease when the King (Walter Pidgeon) leads her onto the dance floor and it turns out to be only a stately procession.
CAVEAT SPECTATOR: Nothing objectionable. All fine family viewing.