Written by Michael Claxton
I got my ticket as soon as they went on sale. Like every Harding musical I’ve seen, I’m sure Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Cinderella” will be delightful.
Did you know that there are thousands of variations of this classic rags-to-riches story? They exist in every era and in every culture. A folk tale from the 7th century B.C. recounts the story of a Greek servant girl who marries the king of Egypt. It seems that one day an eagle snatches one of her sandals and flies far away with it, dropping it in the king’s lap. He is so mesmerized by the shape of the shoe that he conducts a nationwide search for its wearer, and they live happily ever after.
Or consider the Chinese story from the 8th century A.D. about a girl who cares for a pet fish until it grows to over 10 feet long. One day, her wicked stepmother kills the fish. The girl is inconsolable until an old man tells her to hide the bones and pray to them. When she does, whatever she asks for is granted. She receives beautiful clothes and a pair of golden shoes. Sadly, she loses one of the shoes, but, as always seems to happen, the missing one ends up with the king. Take a wild guess what he does next.
A West African version of the story has a maiden whose stepmother dislikes her. She is only given tiny scraps of food, which she shares with the frogs. Soon, a festival is announced, and the maiden yearns to go, but she has nothing to wear. So a frog vomits up clothes for her, and jewelry and a pair of shoes — one silver and the other gold. That night, she dances with the chief’s son, and wouldn’t you know it, she leaves a shoe behind.
The Algonquin tribe of North America calls her “Oochigeaskw, the Rough-Faced Girl.” She gets her name from the scars on her face inflicted by her cruel sisters. As she wanders through the village, Oochigeaskw encounters a woman, who is the guardian of her wealthy but invisible brother. The legend is that the person who can see him will marry him. Many women have claimed to do so, but the sister can always tell they are lying. You won’t believe who finally sees him for real and ends up as his bride.
In 17th century France, Charles Perrault wrote what has become the basis for all Western versions of the fairy tale. Cinderella, mistreated by her family, gets her name from sitting near the fireplace among the cinders, exhausted by her daily chores. Until, that is, a fairy godmother gives her the means and the wardrobe to attend the prince’s ball. A pumpkin turns into a coach, rats become coachmen and Cinderella, wearing her glass slippers, steals the prince’s heart. But at the stroke of midnight, everything changes back, and the heroine leaves her breakable shoe behind and runs straight into legend.
Everyone knows the macabre version written by Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm in 1812. They call her Ashputtle, and her stepmother and stepsisters abuse her and taunt her about not being able to go to the ball until she completes her endless chores. But the birds come to help, finishing her work and providing a gold-and-silver ensemble for her to wear. Ashputtle dances with the king’s son all evening.
When she leaves a glittering shoe behind, things take a dark turn. The prince conducts a search for the girl whose foot will fit, and when the stepsisters try it on privately, their feet are too big. Their mother tells them to slice off a toe or a heel, noting that queens don’t have to do much walking anyway. The prince is not fooled and soon finds his bride. On the wedding day, the birds peck out the eyes of the hobbling stepsisters as punishment for their blindness.
You will not be shocked to learn that Walt Disney did not go with that version. And neither did Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein when they wrote their play for television in 1957 (which originally starred Julie Andrews). And the story keeps getting told, from “Pretty Woman” to “The Bachelorette.”
Why do we find this story everywhere? Everyone has a theory. Freudians see it as a tale of sibling rivalry. The Jungians note the archetypes of daughters yearning for a father’s love. Feminists point to the Brothers Grimm and the lengths to which society pushes women to make themselves beautiful for men — slicing toes and whatnot.
It may not be wise to turn every secular tale into a spiritual parable. But is it wrong to find hope in the story, to see ourselves as the lowly servant — mistreated by the world — whose value is revealed when we finally meet the Prince of Peace?
Something to think about as you enjoy the show.
