Review: Cinderella – Royal Lyceum – Edinburgh

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The first question audiences at the Royal Lyceum’s festive offering, Cinderella, will ask themselves is: where are we? For, despite the grounded mix of Scots and English accents from the cast, they walk a land populated by an exceedingly tropical selection of birds. It is a brave, if baffling, creative decision in what is otherwise a rather safe – if highly competent – re-staging of Sally Cookson and Travelling Light’s universally praised production. While the aesthetic is distinct, the immediate impression is one of disorientation—a splash of the Amazon in the heart of Midlothian.

A Cleaner Shade of Grimm

Narratively, Director Jemima Levick steers closer to the Brothers Grimm than the House of Mouse. There are no pumpkins or fairy godmothers here; instead, we have hazel twigs, mother’s graves, and fantastic avian assistance. However, the production scrubs away the grime associated with the source material. It’s a lovely looking production, not least due to Francis O’Connor’s lovingly created storybook set complete with a broomstick forest framing, and epic circularly arrayed, silhouetted townscape backdrop.

But, there is no dirt, never mind cinders, in this Cinderella; consequently, our heroine is known simply as ‘Ella’. It is a distinction that matters. Without the ash, and any slavish drudgery, the character loses the defining struggle of her identity. This sanitisation sets the tone for the evening: a story that follows the template of the folk tale while sanding down its rough edges. Jon Beales’ lovingly recorded soundtrack (it’s a pity not to have a band, but heyho) and Emily Jane Boyle’s lively choreography elevate matters, but we need struggle – we need to touch despair.

A Heroine Without a Struggle

Even so, Olivia Hemmati is a redoubtable Ella, possessing the necessary poise and stage presence, but she is written as a heroine with almost zero vulnerability. Victory requires the believable threat of failure; here, confident and capable, Ella virtually strolls to success.

She mourns her father for moments before returning to perkiness, taking all of five minutes to dupe her “ugly” (or rather, psychologically abused) step-siblings into scrubbing the floor for her. It is difficult to root overmuch for a protagonist who overcomes machinations with such pre-possessed ease.

Comedy With Teeth

If the drama lacks bite, the comedy is surprisingly sharp. The show’s humour is one of its strongest assets, driven by a supporting cast working hard to inject energy into this friction-free world.

Sam Stopford makes the best of the Prince, a role offering little depth beyond social anxiety, ornithology, and general decency. While the script renders him neutral to the point of ineffectiveness, Stopford wrings humour from the part, particularly when confusing romantic symptoms for a nasty viral infection. He is matched by castmate Carly Anderson, who hams it up nicely as the slightly sozzled Queen—think a drunken King George from Hamilton—and delivers the production’s vocal highlight during the central love ballad.

The step-siblings offer additional mirth. Far from traditional pantomime dames, Matthew Forbes and Christina Gordon play amusing, yet rather tragic figures of warped ambition fostered by their grasping mother. Forbes is particularly good as the brother who warms to Ella—though why he is forced to dress as a dog for the royal ball is anyone’s guess—while together they paint a picture of a demented crusade driven by maternal /lovefear.

Villains and Wallflowers

The source of that fear, Nicole Cooper’s Stepmother, is played with vanity and avaricious ambition, but lacks depth. She is a Wily Coyote figure; continually attempting, yet failing to inflict much suffering. It is a pity, dear reader, Levick and co. shy away from the story’s inherent darkness. A solitary, jarring flash of gore involving a toe amputation late in the second act just isn’t enough to counterbalance the generally low stakes.

On top of this, the central romance feels procedural; there is no chemistry between our leads, and simply being nicer than one’s horrid family isn’t enough to make a love match sizzle. If Cinderella’s home life were more horrid perhaps he’d shine brighter as an alternative – but most of all he could just be a little less wet behind the ears.

Technical Proficiency

Looking past the human dynamics, the director’s philosopy crystallises well enough. Levick’s intent to ground the show in natural wonder is manifested with technical expertese. Matthew Forbes’ puppet design yields creatures that are organic extensions of the scene, piloted with skill by the cast—including Richard Conlon, who, after dying as the Father, returns as a spirit-bird guide in place of a fairy Godmother (OK, it’s a sentimental choice, but heyho). The opening shadow puppetry gilding a set-piece montage of Ella’s journey from babe to teenager is particularly enchanting.

Crucially, for all the puppetry and prop-enhanced set-pieces, the show runs smoothly. Despite the narrative lightness, Levick ensures the storytelling is lucid and the pace brisk. No scene overstays its welcome, and the narrative thread remains crystal clear throughout, a testament to a tight directorial hand ensuring the younger members of the audience are never left behind.

Narratively, however, the avian intervention acts as a magical safety net, completing impossible tasks in Snow White fashion. Ella’s dismay at broken plates is fleeting before the birds effect repairs. They are less talented tailors, however; the ball-worthy dress is a slightly sparkly smock—underwhelming given the magical buildup—and the glass slipper is traded for a practical red boot.

Verdict

Ultimately, this is a first-class production of a rather tame story. Thanks to a talented cast, loving design, and sharp comedy, it is a pleasant watch. However, it forgets that light shines brightest in the dark. By shying away from the inherent darkness of the story—be it Ella’s abject misery or a villain deserving of a gruesome fate—Levick and co have created a safe, family-friendly tale where everything is easy, and therefore, nothing matters quite as much as it should.

Featured Image: The Royal Lyceum Theatre Cinderella A Fairytale_Olivia Hemmati as Ella_Image Credit Mihaela Bodlovic

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Cinderella will run at the Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh until the 3rd of January, 2026. For tickets, or more information, click here.

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