CINDERELLA
The Wilmcote Players
Wilmcote
Village Hall *****
La Scala in Milan; the Marinsky Theatre in St Petersburg;
the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden… I have reviewed in all these prestigious
venues, and countless more, but never have I enjoyed myself so much as I did on
Friday in Wilmcote’s compact, welcoming Village Hall.
Wilmcote Players’ Cinderella was a genuine community effort,
with seemingly half the village involved, whether as performers, backstage
helpers, front of house, chief hecklers – or simply as the willing,
appreciative audience. We all had a wonderful time.
No clapped-out TV personalities dominating the cast here.
This was a team in which everyone starred, from the little dots performing so
charmingly as fairies and elves, through the remarkably versatile and well-choreographed
chorus, and up into the principals, each a vital cog in an energetically
turning wheel.
Melissa Nesbitt’s continually lively script provided a context
for joyful, lively banter between cast and audience, and was peppered with village
references in this Wilmcotonia setting (the Mary Arden inn, the Village Vine
monthly) and topical allusions, not least giving the US President a bit of a
roasting.
Nesbitt herself played the Fairy Godmother, slightly
scatterbrained as usual, but certainly spreading the magic. Aby Hawker was a
Cinderella more feisty than we generally see, and Sarah Carrington-Gull was a
truly sympathetic, engaging Buttons. Cinderella’s pet mouse was a silent role,
but the eloquence of Kate Whyman’s eyes and body-language conveyed worlds of
emotion.
Pete Long’s King was suitably bumbling, led along by Lynne
Shakespeare’s devious, malevolent Lady Hardup, Cinderella’s stepmother, despite
the stuffed-shirt concerns of the Lord Chamberlain (Helen Douglas).
This was a show brimming with the traditional but ever-fresh
spirit of pantomime, conveyed most markedly by Prince Charming and his equerry
Dandini. Carolyn Robinson was the quintessential Principal Boy, long legs
ending in thighs eloquently slapped, and Jane Batchelor a Dandini smart and
naturally correct (except when having enjoyed too much champagne). The
continual to-ing and fro-ing as the pair conversed, so hated on the purist
stage, was perfect for pantomime which turns the straight theatre so much on
its head.
And so we come to the Ugly Sisters, and gorgeously ugly they
were, too. Martyn Gull was Ivana Hardup, resplendent in a Marge Simpson-style
skyscraper-high purple wig, and Vince Holley was Ivanka Hardup, complete with
lugubrious Brummie accent, and problems whenever she had to introduce herself
(think about it – the nearest we came to doubles entendres --, and, too, the
Trumpian significance of these given names).
Singing and dancing were backed by recorded well-known pop
songs, expertly marshalled by the backstage sound team to complement the
splendidly inventive costumes. Among these numbers were “Big Spender”, “We Go Together”,
and whenever mention was made of village people, “YMCA” exploded in front of
us.
Christopher Morley