The Glass Slipper

You switch on the dressing room lights, the mirror brilliant as the bulbs dazzle. 

The transformation begins. 

Little by little, the spell is cast. 

The hair is on, the face rearranged. You slip into the clothing, a little uncomfortable, and finally slide into the shoes. A touch of lippy and a glance in the full length.

She’s taller. More confident. She’s someone else.

A piece of history, a fairy tale, a warrior, a trouble-maker, a princess.

A good costume can perform miracles and the change can be truly fantastical. But is a bit of make-up, a tight corset and a fancy wig enough to fool an audience? Can they really be fooled at all? What does it take to ‘look the part’? And are there parts you simply cannot play because you don’t look right?

In community theatre it can be really hard to find the perfect person for a role.

It’s often the case that directors will choose plays they know they CAN cast. No point doing a traditional version of Cinderella if all of your female members are in their 60s. After all, part of the fun is getting to dress up and give it a go. We can’t expect our members to do all the work and not get to go to the Ball.

But the slipper does need to fit.

Looks can be deceiving, but there is a limit with the suspension of an audience’s disbelief.

A few years back, a friend took her 11 year old daughter to see a community production of Beauty and the Beast. This child had watched the Disney film dozens of times; she clung to every word, every note sung. Yet, when the Beast is saved by Belle’s desperate tears of affection at the very end and he rises up to be magically transformed into a handsome Prince, she let out an audible scream, “Why is he still the Beast?!” 

The actor, who had obviously done a marvelous job singing and playing the masked monster, was not the Prince she had required.

She was horrified. 

What had Belle done? She’d faced a town of hatred and ostracism for a frumpy, middle aged, balding man?

Run Belle! Run for the hills!

Now this poor guy obviously possessed the talent for the role. 

But everyone knows the dwarves don’t get to kiss Snow White. 

And having been the auditionee rejected for a role you really want, I can understand the frustration. Too tall, too old, too fat, too pale. Nothing to do with talent. 

The spinning wheel can be tremendously sharp and the sting can linger for years. 

The confidence of a well trained singing voice and the talent to really feel and empathise with a role is sometimes just not enough. 

Maybe the man you’re to play opposite is younger or shorter than you. Or both.

Maybe all the other girls are skinny and you’ll stand out too much. 

Directors have their own vision and we must allow them that. You simply weren’t what they were looking for. Or someone else was better.

But I think there are certain expectations that are really more difficult to overturn, particularly when the play has been a well loved film or television show.

Our company has put on the likes of The Vicar of Dibley, Dad’s Army and Mother and Son - all iconic programmes. The directors knew they had to be strategic in the casting - the pumpkin needed to be ripe enough to turn into a carriage. Characters like Jonesy and Alice come with a certain sparkle that is absolutely necessary. The look, the accent, the demeanor all require perfection so that audiences can revisit the show and be taken away on that magic carpet of their imaginations. Without these icons, the performance simply falls flat.

 And Disney is certainly no exception. 

The whole world recently bit into the poison apple over a Snow White without snow white skin and CGI dwarves to avoid stereotyping.

The pendulum can certainly shift the other way and strike midnight on a production instantly. 

It’s easier to make necessary changes with new material.

That old ‘rope of hair’ of tales needing reinvention probably needs the chop.

With the rise of new tales like Bridgerton, that promote blind casting and body positivity, audiences are becoming more accustomed to seeing things differently. We’re certainly becoming less afraid of stirring the cauldron of gender and race.

But there is still a long way to go in planting those magic beans.

Unfortunately, beauty is either skin deep or in the eye of the beholder.

As for Princes, we do want them to be young and handsome. But they also need to be able to perform.

It’s a fine thread.

There is no magic wand.

I guess we keep dressing up. Donning those glass slippers and tiara.

And hoping we’re young and beautiful enough to not be preferred for the Ugly Stepmother.