La Cenerentola begins with a radical act of kindness. In the opening scene, Alidoro, tutor to the prince Don Ramiro, knocks on the door, dressed as a beggar and asking for food. While her stepsisters want to send him away, Angelina (Cinderella) gives him bread and coffee. In the fairytale world, we’d all do the same. But what does this act look like in our modern world? If a stranger knocked on your door, begging for something to eat, what would you do?
Set in modern-day Boston, our new production of La Cenerentola allows us to explore the traditional themes in Cinderella – selflessness, social status, wealth inequality – through a different lens.
Setting the scene
This production will highlight two iconic Boston neighborhoods, Beacon HIll and the Seaport, exploring the rich, complex history of our beloved city.
Beacon Hill, situated just north of Boston Common, is one of the city’s oldest—and most beautiful—neighborhoods. Some of the city’s greatest luminaries have called the neighborhood home, including author Louisa May Alcott, former US Senator and Secretary of State John Kerry, actress Uma Thurman, and poets Robert Frost and Sylvia Plath. Known for its charming cobblestone streets, row houses, and gaslit street lamps, it’s considered to be one of Boston’s most desirable (and expensive) residential areas. Prince Ramiro and his family call this neighborhood home.
It’s a far cry from the largely uninhabitable industrial zone that was built on landfill during the 1850s, now called the Seaport. For the better part of the 20th century, the area consisted mostly of parking lots and abandoned wharfs. Though two signature restaurants—Jimmy’s Harborside and Anthony’s Pier 4—lured diners to the waterfront during the 1960s and ’70s, the neighborhood was pretty desolate, save for a few fishing piers and smoke-filled dive bars. But you’d never know that today. The Seaport has undergone a rapid transformation of late, with glittery condos and high-end retail popping up seemingly overnight. Don Magnifico, Angelina’s stepfather, and her two Kardashian-wannabe stepsisters reside in the newly-renovated Seaport (but wish they were in Beacon Hill).
Class complications
The Cinderella story exists in many cultures across the world, dating back over 2,000 years to China and Greece, and the trappings of wealth and class have always been a major theme. Most western adaptations of the story are based on the Charles Perrault version of the story. In it, Cinderella is the daughter of a wealthy family, but her position in the family is as a servant. With her beauty and kindness, Cinderella earns herself a better life through a marriage that lifts her to a different social class.
The organizing principles of class have shifted over generations, and social hierarchy can be affected by factors like education, religion, race, or a perceived adherence to social norms. However, in most societies, social standing still comes down to income and accumulated wealth. Today, as it was when Cinderella was written, the luxury of money lures us in. While most of us know rationally that wealth doesn’t necessarily make someone “better” or more ethical (the opposite is often statistically true), we want the comfort and security wealth brings. In our modern world, we try to hold on to what we have, even when we have enough, which is what makes Cinderella’s first act of charity so radical.
The real magic: kindness
In Rossini and Ferretti’s La Cenerentola, the emphasis on selflessness, kindness, and generosity is pronounced. Unlike most adaptations of the tale, there is no magic here. No fairy godmother, no pumpkin carriage, and no glass slipper. Instead of a fairy, it is Alidoro, the prince’s tutor who has disguised himself as a beggar, who makes Angelica’s wish come true. He was sent by the prince, who sought to uncover the real personalities of the women of his kingdom before he chose a bride. The prince (disguised as his valet, Dandini) and Dandini (disguised as the prince) arrive at the house to invite the whole family to the ball. When Angelica’s family tries to prevent her from attending the ball, telling the prince she is dead, Alidoro returns her kindness and takes her to the ball. The prince was drawn to Angelica’s sweet nature when they first met, but he doesn’t recognize her out of her servant’s garb. Still, her voice and gentle manner strike him as familiar. The next day, he is overjoyed to find that the kind woman who captured his heart is real. She even wins over her not-so-kind family, asking them for only one thing: to be recognized as Don Magnifico’s daughter. It’s her generous heart that propels her forward, not magic.
Our world isn’t the same as Rossini’s, but many of its problems are universal. Poverty and wealth inequality still plague us, and many in our society see the needy as “undesirables,” or don’t even see them at all. There are many families like the Magnificos, attempting to climb the social ladder by stepping on others. Influencer culture, which plagues the two stepsisters, encourages “me-me-me” instead of “us.” La Cenerentola shows us—through laughter and beauty—a path forward that leaves that all behind, challenging us to choose kindness, generosity, and love, even when it’s difficult.