On the surface, Andy Tenant's Ever After, a decidedly feministic
version of the Cinderella story starring Drew Barrymore, is the umpteenth
cinematic rendering of a tale that people never seem to get tired of
hearing. But umpteen, if it were actually a number, wouldn't begin to cover
it. Lots of different stories have been told in lots of popular movies via
the same structure that drives Cinderella, even if, on the surface, they
seem to have nothing in common with the fairy tale.
Years ago, the novelist Kurt Vonnegut designed a template explaining
exactly what happens in a "Cinderella Story." Roughly speaking, a
down-and-out character rises to unexpected heights, only to be once again
knocked down to a lower rung of existence. Once she (or he...or, as we'll
soon discover, "it") is viewed as having completely bottomed out, an
astonishing event occurs that catapults the character to an almost limitless
degree of acceptance. One could even argue that the story of Christ
operates in exactly this manner. So maybe many of us are culturally and spiritually
wired to embrace it.
Cinderella, of course, starts out scrubbing floors for her mean ol'
step-sisters, has glitz and glamour bestowed upon her by a fairy godmother,
then tumbles down to her ashes again at the stroke of midnight. Ah, but
then Prince Charming comes along to whisk her off to Happily Ever After. If
you're in tune with the character, and care about what's happening to her,
there's a lot of drama to be experienced in that kind of plot.
Perhaps the most obvious movie alteration of the Cinderella Story is the
Julia Roberts picture, Pretty Woman (1990). Director Garry Marshall
is never one to under-sell an idea when he can drive it through your skull
with a mallet, so it's not particularly difficult to find the
parallels.
Roberts, plays a broadly grinning hooker, so at least that element is
several steps removed from its inspiration. But Richard Gere's squinty,
Armani-clad Prince Charming is quickly ready to bestow jewelry upon our
downtrodden heroine. She then gets to eat in fancy restaurants, wear nice
dresses, and be treated with something resembling respect. Later, just when
all seems lost and her world is once again collapsing...well, you know how
it goes. Roberts is great and all, but it's still sort of unnerving that,
in this case anyway, the lady is very much a tramp.
Then again, that might not be such a big deal, since there's a wildly
popular film where Cinderella literally pounds the snot out of a guy. Take
an analytical look at Rocky (1976), and you might even start viewing
Burt Young's Paulie as a beer-guzzling ugly step-sister. Sylvester
Stallone's script (he used to write, and, in this case, very well) marches
in virtual lockstep with the basic Cinderella paradigm.
The major difference here is that nobody sprinkles magic dust on Rocky. To
begin with, he lives in Philadelphia, so there's a distinct lack of magic
available. But Rocky has to do tons of sweaty sit-ups and push-ups -- and
drink raw eggs -- before he's even able to attend the ball. When he decides
that he can't possibly beat Apollo Creed the night before the big fight, it
looks like the fairy tale is over. But then the whumpa-thump beating takes
place, and Rocky is finally frozen in the freeze-frame amber of hard-won
dignity. That is, until the next four installments of the movie make him
look utterly ridiculous.
Although Rocky made a lot of money, and, like Pretty Woman,
was something of a pop cultural event, we haven't even gotten to the Big
Kahuna of Cinderella adaptations. E.T (which introduced little Miss
Barrymore), plays like a fairy tale with a pronounced savior stance thrown
in for good measure. After a white-skinned collapse into what appears to be
actual death, E.T., whose glowing finger can bring flowers back to life and
cure assorted boo-boos and heartaches, actually rises to the heavens in a
glowing spaceship. His heart glows, too, in case you don't get the
point.
Never let it be said that Steven Spielberg doesn't understand archetypes
when he sees them, and he's not above mixing them together for bigger
impact. In the movie industry, real storytellers inherently know what
works, and mass audiences want narratives that take them for an ultimately
comforting ride. That, as much as anything, is the transaction that takes
place in a darkened theater, and Cinderella easily fits the bill.