You’ve heard the tale: A loyal and attractive young woman is harassed by her wicked stepmother and hideous stepsisters somewhere in a realm, but she flees thanks to a fairy godmother, a crystal sandal, and a lovely king. But what if Cinderella’s nasty stepmother (Idina Menzel from Frozen) was more like a Jane Austen parent, anxious that getting rich is the only way to heaven for a female? What if the stepsisters are neurotic rather than ugly? What if Cinderella’s rescue comes from her own creative impulses rather than some aristocratic prince? On paper, this appears to be a good idea. Cinderella on Amazon is barely watchable in terms of execution.
Ella is played by Camila Cabello, a pop singer who aspires to be a fashion icon from her own boutique after left behind her downstairs nook and overbearing step-family. Her attire is unattractive, filled with ruffles and flourishes yet lacking in elegance. Even the enormous gown, which is supposed to be a fashion extravaganza and is characterised in the film as “wishful thinking,” appears like an expensive graduation gown at best. More worrisome is Cannon’s substitution of the justification of catching a prince for the legitimacy of business prosperity. The spotlight on Ella’s fashion design isn’t on the satisfaction she takes in it, but on how she may profit from it.
But don’t worry, Ella still has a thing for the prince, despite the fact that he isn’t all of that. Prince Robert (Nicholas Galitzine) is uninterested in diplomacy, being king, or anything else than “strolling with his jolly pals.” He hears Ella, at the very least. Then he transforms into a pick-me-boy, badgering to please and purchasing a dress from Ella to entice her. Is he genuinely interested in her job, or is he merely lusting for her? Who am I to say? He’s as undeveloped as he is unappealing. He has no ambitions other than to marry Ella, which, by contemporary standards, isn’t exactly a fairy-tale romance.
When she isn’t prowling around the palace, scavenging for a real “place at the table,” his sister Princess Gwen (a feisty Tallulah Greive) is always spewing liberal suggestions (Sustainable energy! Welfare programmes!). But that is all she does. She’s a one-note humor, but the fact that she’s supposed to be inspirational makes it more funny.
Cannon’s screenplay is full with feminist platitudes, including monologues about conscience, social equity, and standing up to males in positions of authority. However, the plot undermines these clichés. Cinderella’s ability to succeed as a seamstress is due to her proximity to money. Even her “Fabulous Godmother” (Billy Porter), who declares, “Rich people… will alter your life!” He also insists on her wearing painful high-heeled glass slippers, claiming that “women’s shoes are what they are.” Magic, too, has its bounds.” It’s hilarious since fighting or simply disagreeing with unpleasant social standards is difficult!
Furthermore, the orchestral moments are dreadfully underwhelming. The dancing is unimaginative, without anything fascinating or remarkable to give. The pre-existing music selections are frequently uninspired, with lines that have nothing to do with what’s happening. (“Seven Nation Army” performed by a grumpy royal at a ball is an especially odd choice.) The songs created for the film score higher, especially when they allow Menzel to flash off her Theatrical glitz. However, the cinematography is sloppy, with inadequate illumination and exposure that frequently casts shadows over the actors’ eyes.
Plainly said, this film is atrociously terrible. It’s littered with half-baked ideas, drab clothes, and tired tropes. Cannon throws in tracks by Ed Sheeran, Madonna, and Janet Jackson, along with colloquialisms lines like “girls enjoy it,” “bro,” and “that’s how old people say ‘poppin'” in a clumsy effort to make it sound current. The writing also lacks a feeling of flow. Scenes slam into one another without elegance, which stands out much more in a musical.
Cinderella gains greater autonomy, but at what price? Strong music isn’t enough to maintain the Essence of a masterpiece; an annoying narrative undermines the true charm of the cherished storey.