On the ashes of innocence

Visit of the sets of La Cenerentola seen by Guillaume Gallienne

By Anne-Claire Cieutat and Jo Fishley 06 July 2017

© Isabelle Debreuille

On the ashes of innocence
Guillaume Gallienne directs Rossini's Cenerentola, exalting goodness, and opens the doors of the set. Visit in images and sounds. 

A big house of fire rises. It is dressed in a Pompeian fresco red, a beautiful rosso pompeiano shaded by browns and ochres that could well be the shades of the yellow of Naples from the lava of Vesuvius. Eric Ruf's set - the administrator of the Comédie Française has become a scenographer - erects this majestic house, a Neapolitan palace with a flamboyant mineral façade on a rugged bed of black lava and ashes.

La Cenerentola belongs to a consumed world, this volcanic Cinderella of Guillaume Gallienne celebrates the end of innocence, in a universe that has collapsed. This lost innocence is at the wedding with goodness. Cinderella is a young girl who loves and forgives, virtues that are missing in our time and that the director from the French department exalts.

This Cinderella of Italy, this Angelina of Rossini, hangs on our days its ideal benevolence. Light as the airy harp that plays her music, she has escaped in Guillaume Gallienne's Italian comedy, with its despicable and touching monsters, its boasts between frivolity and gravity, its joyful and cheerful creatures.

Here is a ball with a joyful story, a love story full of fantasy, which makes you want to believe in fairy tales and fairies. So much the worse if there is no good fairy, no slipper, no pumpkin, but a philosopher and a bracelet, we still find the evil sisters, the very young naive girl who goes from abused childhood to triumphant happiness, the decomposed family with its neuroses. It is no longer a tale, but its essential moral vibrates, goodness prevails over cruelty.








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