Cinderella

Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella holds a unique place in the musical theatre canon. Originally written for television in 1957, it was a groundbreaking event, captivating an audience of over 100 million with its then-unprecedented blend of star-studded Hollywood glamour and the sophisticated musical storytelling that defined the legendary duo’s Broadway work. Unlike their stage classics such as Oklahoma! or The King and I, Cinderella was crafted for the intimacy of the small screen, a fact that gives its score—featuring gems like “In My Own Little Corner” and “Impossible”—a particularly warm, character-driven quality. Subsequent stage adaptations have allowed the piece to evolve, with the version we see today, first produced for Broadway in 2013, adding new songs and a sharper, more contemporary focus on the themes of kindness and social justice. It was this iteration, with book and lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II and music by Richard Rodgers, that Fusion Youth Theatre brought to vibrant life with their production at the Island Arts Centre in Lisburn on 5 March 2026, directed and choreographed with evident passion by Michael McEvoy.

From the moment I arrived at the Island Arts Centre, the evening promised something special. The world of community theatre often succeeds or fails on the quality of its welcome, and here Fusion Theatre excelled. I received a wonderfully warm greeting from Sam and Angela at the front of house, setting a positive, inclusive tone that continued into the auditorium. As I settled into my seat, it became immediately clear that this would be no ordinary youth production. The production values were impressively high, anchored by a fabulous eleven-piece orchestra under the secure and sensitive musical direction of Keith Pyper. From the first notes of the overture, it was evident that Pyper had drilled his players to a high standard; they navigated the beautiful, classic Rodgers and Hammerstein score with considerable skill, bringing out the longing in “Ten Minutes Ago” and the sparkle in the waltz sequences. Crucially, the sound balance was expertly managed throughout the evening. In many amateur productions, the orchestra can overwhelm the singers, but here every line of dialogue and lyric was crystal clear over the lush instrumentation—a technical achievement that cannot be praised highly enough.

Visually, the production was anchored by a composite set that was both practical and charming. Featuring four versatile archways with moving trucks, the design allowed for fluid transitions between the kitchen, the palace, and the woods. I particularly loved the quirkiness of the parlour set, which felt lived-in and appropriately cluttered, a stark contrast to the elegance of the court. A separate throne room positioned downstage left was a clever use of the available space, allowing for fluid split scenes that kept the narrative momentum driving forward. A permanent clock feature above the set served as a constant, silent reminder of the story’s central tension; its presence loomed over every romantic interlude and every cruel dismissal, a ticking heart beating just beneath the magic. A true showstopper, however, was the carriage—a fabulous piece of stagecraft that travelled beautifully across the stage, controlled by two footmen and four dancing horses, with the imposing figure of the horse “Buttercup” adding a delightful, whimsical layer of theatrical magic. It was the kind of moment that draws an involuntary gasp from an audience, and on this night, it deserved every one.

Director Michael McEvoy, who also served as choreographer, clearly possesses a deep and sympathetic understanding of his young company. The choreography was well thought out, creating interesting, eye-pleasing patterns that suited the abilities of the cast perfectly while still offering moments of genuine flair. The ensemble handled the lively opening number with grace and energy, filling the stage with bustling life that established the kingdom’s social hierarchy in minutes. The Stepsisters’ Lament in Act II was a particular highlight, executed with both sharp comedic timing and surprising vocal skill; the trio of stepsisters and stepmother moved as a single, grotesque unit, their physical comedy never descending into caricature but remaining rooted in character. The lighting design was generally effective, adding warmth to the fairy tale moments and a colder, harsher glow to Ella’s domestic drudgery. However, on a few occasions, cast members drifted momentarily into shadow during key lines—a minor technical quibble in an otherwise polished visual production. Costumes, by contrast, were a resounding success, always in keeping with the period while allowing each character’s personality to shine. The transformation of Ella’s simple dress into her ballgown and the Fairy Godmother’s outfit were genuinely magical, executed with such smooth timing that the audience applauded spontaneously. The costumes for the masked ball were particularly impressive and opulent, a riot of colour and texture that made the palace scenes feel genuinely celebratory. Scene changes were mostly efficient, but a few transitions were momentarily distracting; for future productions, a note might be to move a principal into a separate pool of light or have cast members themselves move the set pieces, thereby keeping the audience’s focus firmly within the world of the play.

The cast, a mixed-ability group demonstrating great experience and professionalism (they quickly recovered a dropped prop with such ease that many audience members may not have noticed), was led by a strong central performance. Ella was beautifully performed by Ella Matthews, embodying the character's inherent kindness without ever tipping into saccharine sentimentality. Matthews possesses a warm, clear singing voice that suited “In My Own Little Corner” perfectly, and she conveyed Ella’s quiet resilience—the active choice to be kind in the face of cruelty—with genuine emotional depth. Opposite her, Aizan Martin made for a charming Topher, the conflicted prince searching for meaning and connection. Martin’s vulnerability in scenes with his character’s royal advisors was touching, and his growing chemistry with Matthews gave the romantic duets real stakes. The standout performance of the evening, however, came from Olivia Pyper as Marie/the Fairy Godmother. She was simply fabulous. Pyper showcased a superb singing voice, impeccable comic timing, and wonderfully expressive facial features that could communicate a whole paragraph of subtext in a single glance. Her performance was exceptional; as the Fairy Godmother she was utterly perfect, radiating a celestial brightness and sly wit. Yet she was equally convincing as the downtrodden Marie, a duality that speaks to her remarkable versatility. Indeed, she almost looked too bright and pretty for the bedraggled Marie, which is a testament to her ability to transform her physicality and energy between the two identities. Mason McLoughlin brought enthusiasm and passion to the role of the revolutionary, Jean-Michel, though he occasionally shouted his lines when a slight reduction in volume would have preserved both his voice and helped his diction. As the stepsisters, Mollie Rodgers gave an endearing interpretation of Charlotte, finding unexpected moments of vulnerability beneath the vanity, while Aimee Brennan brought great physicality to Gabrielle, making her the more awkward but strangely more sympathetic of the pair. Their duet, “Impossible,” was a vocal delight, showcasing beautiful harmonies that wove together in a genuinely pleasing blend. Ché Brennan played Sebastian with enthusiasm and conviction, anchoring the palace scenes with a broad, comedic energy. Gabrielle Millar as Madame was wholly committed to the role, radiating a believable contempt for Ella, though some of her lines were unfortunately lost due to occasional diction issues—a small flaw in an otherwise strong supporting turn.

What elevated this production beyond mere entertainment was its clear thematic focus. The production’s emphasis on the theme of kindness was a constant and powerful thread, brought into sharp relief by the strong diction and clarity from the performers in both song and dialogue. Director McEvoy ensured that the famous line about kindness being the truest magic was not just a throwaway sentiment but the moral backbone of the entire evening. I also loved the creative use of puppets and the seamless transformation of actors into these puppets, which added a whimsical layer to the storytelling. These interludes felt fresh and inventive, demonstrating a willingness to take risks that paid off handsomely. The costume reversal back to Ella’s simple dress at the ball worked effectively, underscoring her true identity not as a princess of fancy but as a girl of substance and integrity. It was a poignant, understated moment in the midst of so much spectacle, and it landed perfectly.

In conclusion, Fusion Youth Theatre’s production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella was a triumph of community theatre. It was a night filled with magical moments, from the beautiful score delivered by a superb eleven-piece orchestra to the talented young cast who brought this timeless story to life with skill, enthusiasm, and a clear understanding of its powerful message. Under Michael McEvoy’s assured direction and with Keith Pyper’s musical leadership, Fusion Youth Theatre has proven that youth theatre, at its best, is not a rehearsal for the professional stage but a vital, thrilling art form in its own right. It was a joyous and heartwarming evening that showcased the very best of what youth theatre can achieve: storytelling that is inclusive, ambitious, and deeply, genuinely moving. I left the Island Arts Centre with that rarest of theatrical gifts—the feeling that I had witnessed not just a show, but a community discovering its own best self. 

Congratulations to the cast, creative team and everyone involved.

 

The views in this report are solely of the author.

 

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