In 1997, Whitney Houston materialized on our television screens in a shimmering, golden gown fitting for the peerless superstar and told us all something very important: “It’s possible.”
For many millennials, members of Gen Z, and parents of both, Wonderful World of Disney‘s spectacular interpretation of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella quickly became a staple. The telecast aired in 60 million households, making it the most-watched television musical in decades, and earned a second life on home video when it became the highest-selling home video release of any made-for-television film to date.
In the 25 years since Cinderella, the project, which was co-produced by Houston, has taken on an almost mythic quality. Many things about the production felt revolutionary: The first Black woman to play Cinderella arrived with a dazzling, timely performance by Brandy. Her prince, played by Filipino-American Paolo Montalban, is presented as the child of Victor Garber and Whoopi Goldberg. The cast is rounded out by an equally diverse array of performers, including Broadway icon Bernadette Peters and Jason Alexander (in the full swing of Seinfeld‘s heyday). And, of course, Houston anchors the cast with her appearance as the Fairy Godmother, also the first time the role had been played onscreen by a Black woman.
At the time, this was framed as “color-blind” casting, but a recent interview on The Root with the film’s executive producer Debra Martin Chase reframes many of these decisions simply as diverse. They were intentional in their casting choices, weaving together a portrait of characters with which viewers from so many different backgrounds could connect.
Children of the ’90s might have had a passing moment of head-scratching at how a Black queen and white king may have produced an Asian son, or how one silly stepsister could be Black while the other was white, but the reaction from most young people watching was that it simply didn’t matter. The tapestry of 1997’s Cinderella was so rich, so vibrant, and so welcoming that we all moved past it. Most of us, even, would have given anything to be part of it ourselves.
There have been many interpretations of the classic tale of Cinderella, including Disney’s own 1950 animated version and a 1957 television adaptation starring Julie Andrews. In many ways, 1997’s take is incredibly faithful to the version that preceded it by 40 years: The orchestration is lush and full, in places lightly peppered with keyboards and drum beats that provided the barest hint of modernity. Many moments, like Cinderella and Prince Christopher embracing after a dance, are almost painfully romantic in a classical sense.
In other places, though, the film challenged longstanding beliefs about how the character of Cinderella ought to be presented. While always a dreamer, 1997’s title character is more three-dimensional, imbued with stubbornness and perseverance while retaining her tenderness. She cries, she mourns, and she’s hopeful for a brighter future for herself.
And never forget: In her first conversation with the prince, Cinderella posits that rather than be dolled up like a princess in a traditional sense, a woman should be “treated like a person, with kindness and respect.”
With sets reminiscent of soundstages, energetic choreography, and room for comedy and levity (Garber’s dynamic with Whoopi Goldberg is wonderful), the musical takes its time with the characters but doesn’t feel overstuffed. Houston’s take on the Fairy Godmother, meanwhile, is cheeky and funny, and so, so magical. “If impossible things are happening every day, then why shouldn’t I have impossible hopes and dreams? Even something as impossible as going to the ball?” Cinderella asks.
“Then go to the ball, Cinderella, go. No one’s stopping you but you,” Houston’s Fairy Godmother replies.
