2011 saw the Royal Opera give its very first performance of 
                  Cendrillon. Massenet wrote his version of the Cinderella 
                  story in 1895 but it has only ever had a marginal place in the 
                  operatic repertoire, particularly outside France. Laurent Pelly’s 
                  production had premiered in Santa Fe in 2006 and I was in the 
                  audience on the first night of its run at Covent Garden. In 
                  the days afterwards many critics were quite sniffy about it, 
                  and it’s true that as an opera it’s about as substantial 
                  as a piece of candy floss - and, some would say, about as memorable 
                  - but there is something lovely in the way it works its magic. 
                  Its music, often gossamer-light, creates a very distinctive 
                  world, sugary sweet with a glint in its eye. Often it’s 
                  delightfully French, particularly in the ball scene of Act 2 
                  with its character dances and swinging rhythms. The so-called 
                  “Magic Oak” scene in the second part of Act 3 is 
                  a real treat too, with an off-stage chorus of fairies weaving 
                  its spell around the coloratura of the Fairy Godmother herself, 
                  as Cinderella and the Prince look for each other in the enchanted 
                  wood. The “March of the Princesses” at the end, 
                  as they queue up to try on the glass slipper, sums up the opera 
                  very well: a light-as-a-feather march which twinkles and sparkles 
                  with a knowing glint in its eye. At the very end the whole cast 
                  turns to the audience and sings its “happily ever after” 
                  conclusion, as if to admit that we’ve been in on the fantasy 
                  all along. It’s probably true to say that if you’re 
                  not keen on Massenet’s oeuvre then Cendrillon 
                  won’t convert you, but if you want to go beyond Manon 
                  and Werther then there’s a lot here to enjoy. 
                    
                  The only other readily available Cendrillon is Julius 
                  Rudel’s CD version for Sony, but that has a tenor (Nicolai 
                  Gedda) in the breeches role of the prince, which should rule 
                  it out for most on the grounds of authenticity. So if you’re 
                  going to experience Cendrillon then there is no better 
                  way than through this DVD, which takes the work as it is and 
                  makes no apologies for doing so. Pelly, ever the master storyteller 
                  himself, admits to everyone that he is retelling a fantasy by 
                  having an enormous storybook page dominating the stage. It has 
                  the Perrault’s Cinderella story (in French) printed all 
                  over it, thus embracing the meta-narrative of the production. 
                  An aspect of this reappears on almost every piece of furniture 
                  in the set, even on the horses which draw Cinderella’s 
                  carriage. Pelly dresses up Madame de la Haltière (the 
                  not so wicked stepmother) and the (not so ugly) sisters in ill-fitting 
                  bonbon costumes to make them more objects of humour than instruments 
                  of suffering. He punks up the fairy godmother by giving her 
                  dyed hair and a bag full of attitude. He also uses lots of garish 
                  reds to characterise the royal court and the long line of eligible 
                  ladies that queue up for the prince’s hand. If you’re 
                  prepared to buy into it then you’ll love it. It’s 
                  a knowing yet innocent way of telling the story with enough 
                  references to keep the grown-ups involved while keeping the 
                  innocence of the story alive. I couldn’t quite see why 
                  he set the Magic Oak scene among a series of smoking chimneys, 
                  but he handles the other magical scenes so well that I could 
                  happily forgive any minor quibbles. 
                    
                  The singers also embrace the opera for what it is and seem to 
                  have a good time doing so. Joyce DiDonato has just the right 
                  voice for Cinderella, though I suspect that as her voice develops 
                  she’ll soon lose the air of innocence that the role needs. 
                  She hasn’t lost it yet, though, and the strong colour 
                  of her distinctive mezzo comes into its own in this role. She 
                  is good at evoking sympathy for the neglected child who sits 
                  among the ashes, and her wide-eyed delight at her magical transformation 
                  is lovely to see and hear. Her voice blends beautifully with 
                  that of Alice Coote who sounds lovely as the Prince, though 
                  she doesn’t look at all comfortable in the role. She spends 
                  most of the opera grimacing or sulking and, truth be told, she 
                  hasn’t been made up to look like a particularly convincing 
                  boy. This is one advantage that the theatre has over the DVD, 
                  but it’s one you’ll probably get over fairly quickly. 
                  The pair’s duets have a luxurious quality that works very 
                  well. Ewa Podles hams it up wonderfully as Madame de la Haltière, 
                  making the most of her plummy low registers and milking the 
                  character’s humour as much as its musical values, praise 
                  which could just as well go to the two sisters. As Cinderella’s 
                  father, Jean-Philippe Lafont is rather uncomfortably good at 
                  conveying the desiccated weariness of the character; a little 
                  more musical strength might have stood him in better stead. 
                  The finest singing, however, comes from Eglise Gutiérez 
                  as the Fairy Godmother. This is a stratospheric coloratura role, 
                  something Gutiérez is already famed for, but she manages 
                  to sing the coloratura with a dark, almost husky edge to it. 
                  She creates a spellbinding sound that goes beyond the merely 
                  childlike innocence of the music Massenet writes. The chorus 
                  are fully signed up to the tongue-in-cheek humour of the piece 
                  and de Billy conducts the orchestra with all the lightness of 
                  touch that the piece needs, injecting just the right amount 
                  of pathos into Act 3. 
                    
                  Like the theatrical event, this DVD might appeal to a rather 
                  narrow market, but if you’re tempted in the least then 
                  you’ll find plenty to enjoy. A series of bonus films features 
                  interviews with Joyce DiDonato, Alice Coote, Bertrand de Billy 
                  and Laurent Pelly. 
                    
                  Simon Thompson