Cinderella IV
Thanks for joining! We're going through Cinderella by Charles Perrault and having as much fun as much as possible -- providing funny commentary and helpful tips for the author's general improvement. Quick legend: We refer to the original author by several nicknames, including CP, Chaz, or, simply, Charles.
LAST TIME, we left Cinderella as she was fleeing the ball...
Well, that was quick. She ran home. NOTICE ANYTHING MISSING? Note to self: Figure out when the VERY IMPORTANT glass slipper got added to canon, because it’s NOT PART OF THE OG STORY WHAT. I’m actually very interested to see how the story gets resolved, now. It had better not be a silly deus ex machina sort of thing, like when Captain Marvel just happens to find Tony Stark suffocating on a ship in a remote universe ten seconds before he dies. (Spoilers! But also not really, because what is that statement really spoiling? RDJ didn’t die ten minutes into the movie? Please.)Okay, she’s home, her godmother is still there, and apparently this is a multi-day party. (This feels like a How I Met Your Mother gag.) (Actually, I think I remember this being a part of one of Gail Carson Levine’s retellings?) Cinderella wants to go to the party the next night, too. Maybe that’s when the glass slipper shows up?
In the middle of Cinderella’s convo with her FG, the stepsisters burst in the room. Cinderella stretches as if she’s just been asleep, and acts surprised that her sisters stayed out so late. It might have been a better cover-up if she’d actually pretended to be asleep, IMO. Also, it must be past midnight? Her clothes must have reverted back to their rags? (Note to CP: As we most unfortunately do not live in a magical world, it is often helpful for continuity and general understanding if magical promises and premises are followed up-upon.) Her sisters don’t instantly recognize her, so we’re going with that.
Mystifyingly, CP does feel the need to tell us that – despite Cinderella’s cleverly acting like she’s been asleep – “she had not, however, had any manner of inclination to sleep while they were away from home.” WAIT WHAT? Charles, buddy, we’ve been reading the story along with you. Obviously. Is this funny in French? (Probably.)
One of the sisters begins to regale Cinderella with tales of the ball. She notes that “the finest princess was there,” thus horribly mispronouncing “a very beautiful and mysterious woman in ruby-encrusted armor,” and that said very pretty lady fed them oranges. What a weird world.
Cinderella arguably plays things a little too cool and coy, asking them the lady’s name. The sisters didn’t know, which is okay. No-one has any names in this story. They couldn’t have known. They do report that the “’king’s son’ (when was he demoted?) was very uneasy on her account.” Ah, jealousy. Cinderella draws an accurate but illogical conclusion from all this. “She must, then, be very beautiful indeed.” Okay, girl, we get it, you looked great.
Ah, another flex from Cinderella: “I’d like to see this princess! CHARLOTTE, can I borrow a dress tomorrow?” So one of the stepsisters gets a name? Okay, then.
Charlotte replies: “Hah! Nope.” It would have been tough to tell whether Charlotte was the older or the younger, but her reply includes the Cinderwench moniker, and I think it was the less cool of the sibs to come up with that (the older one).
Oh, but it turns out that Cinderella’s really kind of okay with that response, because she expected it all along and was just using it as a ploy to make sure that the sisters knew she was desperate to go. Look at you, Cinderella. Good … acting.
We skip over the next day and a bunch more magic, because in the next sentence, Cinderella’s at the ball again – but she’s even prettier than she was before. (Platinum C-3PO.) King’s Son is fawning (Note to CP: Modern readers may not understand mechanics of seventeenth-century French royalty/nomenclature. May be simpler to just go with one title instead of fluctuating). Cinderella’s drinking it in, and she’s having such a great time being the center of everything that she forgets her godmother’s presumably re-issued warning about the midnight deadline. Suddenly—the clock strikes twelve.
Quick update: Cinderella Character Traits: Very Nice, Good with Mice, Questionably Good Actress – and Quick Runner: up she leapt from the ball and “fled, nimble as a deer”. The prince couldn’t catch up with her, which—hey, “Prince”, we’ve got to talk later about your endurance, because she was wearing a heavy dress and probably another bulky hat and I think high heels, and you were likely wearing pants and flat shoes, although iamsosorry Chaz didn’t describe your lewk, so it’s hard to be sure. Anyway, what’s done is done.
Aha! She dropped a glass slipper. Thanks, CP! The prince picked it up most carefully. Instead of running after her. Priorities, prince.
She reached home, but quite out of breath, and in her nasty old clothes, having nothing left of all her finery but one of the little slippers, the mate to the one that she had dropped.
Cendrillon, Charles Perrault
When her sisters arrive home much later, Cinderella’s ready to dish. The story of the dropped slipper whipped its way around the court like wildfire, helped along by the fact that the prince was acting obsessive about a) the person wearing the slipper, and b) the reclaimed slipper itself, once the original wearer left. Everyone knows the prince is in love with the slipper-wearer…whomever that may be.
Three days (THREE DAYS) later, there’s a royal proclamation accompanied by trumpet: The prince is going to marry the girl whose foot fits the slipper. Important side note: The only adaptation of this tale (of which I’m aware) that addresses this is the live-action Cinderella…one of them (citation needed). The idea that the slipper is magique and will shrink/grow so it won’t fit anyone’s foot but Cinderella’s? That’s a REALLY IMPORTANT tidbit. Because, if we don’t have that idea, we’re left to believe that Cinderella had some impossible foot size (your brain naturally goes to tiny, but I’m thinking it’s funnier to imagine Cinderella with huge clown feet) or wondering what happened. If the slipper was a size 9, you know, it should have fit anyone with a size 9 foot. ButIDigress.
Everyone tries it on. It doesn’t fit. The stepsisters try it on. They try really hard, anyway. Doesn’t fit.
Cinderella’s amiably chuckling in the background—no tension, no danger, no last-minute slipper breaking (which was a clutch plot twist in the OG Disney film). She steps into the light and asks to try it on. Her sisters laugh; a pity—they might have learned by now (brief moment to weep for the lack of a character arc for the stepsisters). The guy carrying the shoe from home to home looks at Cinderella, realizes that she’s very pretty, and decides that that’s a good reason for her to try on the shoe. Okay.
Shoe fits! Huzzah! (Note to CP: “it fit as if it had been made of wax” is not a helpful reference for a 21st century audience)
Everyone’s astonished; but even more so when Cinderella pulls the other shoe out of her pocket. Gasp! Why wasn’t that liquidated along with the dress and the coach and the horses?
Enter FG, who decides that now’s a good time to tippity tap with her wand and re-issue Cinderella’s luxe clothing for the next eight hours or so. Everyone’s astonished, take II. But wouldn’t that just beg more questions? Is there any rule about whom the prince can marry? (I know this has been touched upon in adaptations, but I mean in this one?) Because, I mean, if you see a pretty sorceress/pretty girl with sorceress friend, generally speaking, you run; or at least, you do a background check before inviting her to share a last name and a bedroom? Maybe I’m just old-fashioned that way?
The sisters recognize Cinderella as the Cool Citrus Lady (and supposed princess) and prostrate themselves, asking for forgiveness. Cinderella, who is Very Nice, forgives them. The shoe guy takes Cinderella to the prince. They get married three days later. Cinderella, whom Chaz tells us once again is Very Nice, invites her sisters to live in the palace with them, and even gets them two svelte royal dudes to marry. The end!
Notably lacking in this version: the stepmother? I mean she was there…but not really…i miss her and her wonderful heart-shaped hair.
Aha, there’s a moral to the story. This should be good. Moral 1: Beauty is good. Graciousness (=Being Very Nice) is better. Apparently Cinderella’s godmother brought her up to act like a queen, which is why Cinderella was classy at every turn. (Note to CP: This lands better as a moral if this is at all mentioned in the story.)
Okay, this doesn’t need any changing up. “Young women, in the winning of a heart, graciousness is more important than a beautiful hairdo. It is a true gift of the fairies. Without it nothing is possible, with it, one can do anything.” How many pillows shall I embroider this on? Also, it’s funny, I was just getting my hair cut the other day, and there was a motivational poster on the wall of my salon that said something very different.
Get ready for Moral II: “I mean, it’s great to be smart and courageous and sensible. These talents come only from heaven. But even if you’re equipped with these talents, you might still fail, if you don’t have the blessing of a godmother or godfather.” Personally, I think this is less helpful, and will be embroidering this on zero pillows.
That’s a wrap on the English translation of the OG Charles Perrault Cinderella! I think I’ll need to go back in and read the Greek/Chinese ancestors of this tale, and then zip through the French version to see if anything was lost in translation. Stay tuned, stay tuned.