Critics reviews

The mechanism embed in the constitution of a fairy-tale (or even in the parables of Jesus Christ, as G.K. Chesterton notices) is remarkably simple, and this is why they are so valuable even after infancy—and maybe this is why they are despised when we get to be adults. And by keeping this simplicity, Cinderella becomes so moving.

The film is worth watching for its pleasurable frills and fripperies – it boasts an outsize romanticism with visual design to match – but also for the cooler, crueller character study Blanchett is etching within it.

The film features an array of elaborately decorated sets, costumes, and props, which it relishes to the point of fetishism. Told in voice-over, storybook narration, the whole thing feels like a reminiscence, making the film nearly without tension; it's as if at every moment it consoles you that it will all turn out like it should. Enjoyable but forgettable, like a Werther's Original caramel hard candy, Cinderella will make you smile without making you think.

It's actually as if Branagh and screenwriter Chris Weitz have opted to remake Disney's 1950 version, along with talking mice, a glittering sky-blue ball gown and the casting of Lily James as the title character, an eerie dead ringer for the hand-drawn rendering. TV's Downton Abbey is also a clear touchstone, due in part to the early/mid-century décor of the main house, but also the fact that there are significant casting overlaps and a stolid sense of aristo-inspired English reserve.

It's more fun to speculate on why Cinderella exists than to talk about the film itself, which is handsome to look at – the cinematography is by Our Man in Hollywood, the Cypriot DP Haris Zambarloukos – but shockingly unimaginative, and no less cartoonish than Frozen Fever.

Disney has attached an animated Frozen short to the front of this movie. It's cruel, like starting a long, overcooked dinner with dessert. The Frozen world is new to us, underexploited. It's got an energy and personality that Branagh tries to give to Cinderella, but Branagh's is excessive.

I'm not sure if children are going to enjoy Disney's new live-action version of Cinderella, which opens in wide release today. It's a subtle film, marked by greater consideration for psychology and decor than one typically finds in children's entertainment... The average shot length, moreover, is decidedly longer than that of most recent Hollywood spectacles—at times the movie feels like a guided tour of a museum. This is unmistakably the work of Kenneth Branagh...

The cynical side winks, knowing smirks, throwback references and dead-pan jokes that are hallmarks of post-modern culture are being ever so politely nudged aside by an emerging re-appreciation of old-fashioned sincerity and the pleasures of simply playing it straight... Instead of letting go of the essence of "Cinderella," Branagh boldly chose to embrace every familiar detail of this romantic fantasy.

Shot in a stately widescreen that has none of the eccentric flourishes of Branagh's other director-for-hire work... Cinderella is essentially a portfolio-style showcase for the work of Dante Ferretti and Sandy Powell, Martin Scorsese's regular production designer and costumer, respectively... [But] unlike the duo's work with Scorsese or their fruitful first collaboration, on Neil Jordan's Interview With The Vampire—it never tantalizes. Without a unifying vision, it's just stuff.

Mr. Branagh's ascension into big-budget studio directing largely remains a mystery, and there's little in "Cinderella" beyond its faces and gowns that captures the eye or the imagination. His one interesting directorial choice is to fold in different performance styles, which tend to fall into exaggerated, almost-burlesque mode or a more familiar naturalistic expressiveness.

Were it not for Branagh's brio, this version of the story might have been merely briskly intelligent rather than enchanting (as was The Golden Compass, under Weitz's own direction). This eclectic, unpredictable filmmaker is in peak form here. At the start he seems addicted to high spirits, but as in Much Ado About Nothing (93), there's heart as well as hardiness in his work with the ensemble.

There's a noticeable absence of risk in Chris Weitz's script as well as in the overall way that Branagh depicts the classic story. The gowns are vibrant in color and the set design is teeming with detail, but the director, working with editor Martin Walsh, cuts the film to emphasize the story's familiar plot points, rather than highlight any instances of personal visual artistry.