“Cinderella”
Company XIV
Minetta Lane Theatre
New York, NY
October 13, 2015
by Leigh Witchel
© 2015 by Leigh Witchel
From the beginning of Austin McCormick’s Company XIV, it has straddled many worlds: baroque and modern, dance and burlesque, concert and commercial. It’s now making a serious com-mercial push, with a long run at the Minetta Lane Theatre presenting a season of fairy tales re-imag-ined for adults: “Nutcracker Rouge,” “Snow White” and currently his new “Cinderella.”
Allison Ulrich and Davon Rainey in “Cinderella.” Photo © Mark Shelby Perry.
The story was more or less the one we know, told in silent movie style with placards. The old girl and her roving slipper were given new brocade and sparkles in a mashup of the roaring ‘20s and baroque eras. Allison Ulrich’s Cinderella was short, acrobatic and plucky; her first appearance was as a domestic servant/footstool. With both parents dead, she was at the mercy of a raving bitch of a step-mother who strapped wings to her back and imprisoned her in an enormous birdcage. Davon Rainey, tricked out in a million wigs, stiletto heels, and outfits of straps and boning, played the Step-Mother as an over-the-top drag queen villainess: Part Joan Crawford, part Maleficent.
The Prince, Steven Trumon Gray, made his entrance at the usual spot in the second act, but in a golden bathtub. Where else would you sing an aria? Outfitted in a petit-point bustier and a generous codpiece, he then did an acrobatic act on an aerial hoop.
The Fairy, Katrina Cunningham, was no one’s Godmother – a good thing since she made several passes at Cinderella. She arrived with her head swathed in tulle that was suspended above her by golden balloons. These moments, reminiscent of Martha Clarke, were McCormick at his most rich. The horse for Cinderella’s carriage was formed by a couple in bondage gear, including a leather horse mask. It wasn’t just for shock value; later on the idea was echoed more whimsically when the Step-Mother wore the same horse’s head as a hat – only made from balloon sculpture.
McCormick was more of a conceptualist than a choreographer; his modern vocabulary was perfunctory and he can ramble. The group numbers were at their most interesting when they were more baroque – the weaving lines and decorous circles gave them form.
He took Ashton’s staircase and gave The Prince and Cinderella their love duet on it – with a curve. It was a spiral staircase. But God help us, the pas de deux was set to “Spiegel im Spiegel.” You’d think McCormick would have been flunked out of his composition classes at Juilliard for using Arvo Pärt.
McCormick is a magpie who mixes baroque and burlesque, as well as anything else that catches his eye. The score was in bits and pieces; Prokofiev showed up; so did a version of Lorde’s “Royals” sung as a coloratura duet in French. Sometimes it felt ADD. The flip side of his magpie tastes is that the range of talent in the company is stunning. Seemingly everyone can dance, sing and do acrobatics. It was at its most awe-inspiring when Step-Sister Marcy Richardson sang a coloratura aria hanging upside down in a split while pole dancing. You better work, mademoiselle.
If nothing else, you'd be happy to mate with anyone in the cast. They were all hot. All the chorus, ladies and gentlemen alike, wore silk robes and rhinestone pasties. McCormick favored the makeup, bustier and whiskers school of androgyny. Within the group, Jakob Karr created a wryly miserable persona as a totally-over-it chorus boy, stealing focus in a kick line by doing the absolute minimum possible.
“Cinderella” – and most of McCormick’s work – would be better if he could harness some of his eclecticism. Sure, it’s a burlesque review, but McCormick seemed to let everyone do their specialties, whether it made sense in context or not. Cunningham’s low sultry voice was arresting but her number had nothing to do with the plot.
The burlesque setting also gave McCormick a shot at redefining the characters. Sometimes he took it; The Prince was a sexual adventurer who happily fooled around with The Step-Mother when it got him what he wanted.
But Cinderella felt like a cardboard cut-out. The weakest moment was when The Prince returned her slipper. Cinderella mounted the aerial ring, but The Prince couldn’t quite fasten the shoe for her so she had to dismount, put the shoe on and remount. Just give the poor lass a chair. The evening closed on a bittersweet note as all the players packed up and left, leaving Cinderella prince-less.
McCormick’s decadence isn’t transgression, but naughtiness for the young and starry-eyed, where luxury is opulently sleazy and sleaze is opulently luxurious. His real talent lies in his stage pictures: a soprano hanging upside down from a pole, or Cinderella meeting The Prince in silhouette illuminated only by the dim, smoky glow of a row of crystal chandeliers.
His rich and hallucinatory aesthetic is the reason to head to the Minetta Lane, and it hints at just how good an opera staged by McCormick might be. Mark your calendars; he’s choreographing “Rusalka” for The Metropolitan Opera in 2017.
© 2015 by Leigh Witchel
Middle: Allison Ulrich and Steven Trumon Gray in “Cinderella.” Photo © Phillip Van Nostrand.
Bottom: Marcy Richardson in “Cinderella.” Photo © Phillip Van Nostrand.