THE 1997 Rodgers and Hammerstein's CINDERELLA is the only live-action DISNEY remake that matters

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Typical of most people my age (you know, millennials), I grew up in front of cable television. My siblings and I would sometimes disagree about what to watch, but Disney content was the great equalizer, and anytime there was a good movie on, our weekend nights were set. One film that never failed to get us lit was Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella, and I’m happy to report that over two decades later, this gem holds up. 

For the sake of honesty, I should name now that I did not bother to see the 2015 remake because, quite frankly, it looked boring as hell. Furthermore, who needs it? Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella is a trippy fairy-tale, packed to the brim with punchy colors and a score to match. Both existing in the past but a vision of the future, R+H’s 1997 adaptation (originally performed in 1957) takes everything you love about the classic story and adds feminism, interracial love, and, most importantly, Whitney Houston. 

We have Ms. Houston to thank for countless contributions to pop culture—“I Wanna Dance With Somebody” is at the top of my karaoke repertoire—but this film stands out as one of the most important, at least to this ’90s baby. R+H’s Cinderella was produced by Ms. Houston, who actually aimed to star as Cinderella until production got pushed back enough to the point that she felt she had aged out of the role. Cue her brilliant casting of Brandy, at the time best known for her work on Moesha (another pop culture gem that deserves a revisit) but otherwise a newcomer.

Brandy’s performance shines, which is especially impressive considering the all-stars that comprise the rest of the cast: Whoopi Goldberg (just a few years after her turn as Guinan on Star Trek: TNG) and Victor Garber (who will never not be creepy Professor Callahan from Legally Blonde) as the king and queen, Jason Alexander as a bumbling Italian (?) valet, and Bernadette Peters as the stepmother (basically reprising her Miss Hannigan role from Annie, but with a better wardrobe). CGI sparks fly when Brandy shares the screen with Paolo Montalban, who really should have gotten more work after this, even if only by the merit of that jawline.

As a little girl, I didn’t even realize how this film was broadening my worldview, but I truly believe in its positive impact on my generation. Seeing multiple multiracial families on screen with no need to explain how or why, watching a Black girl go from peasant to princess, with a Black fairy godmother and a Black queen and a Filipino prince and townspeople of myriad races and everyone in these intensely bright costumes and sets—exposure to this kind of intentional but effortless diversity really should be more common. 

I was pretty surprised to read that critics received this film poorly, especially when I learned that I was not the only child totally enamored with the film: at the time, this was the most-watched Sunday evening program in over a decade, and when it was released on home video, it broke sales records for all television movies. It really makes one question why Disney waited so long to diversify their live-action casting: of all of the remakes we’ve seen in the past few years, only The Little Mermaid has a multiracial cast that differs from the original, and we’ve all seen the backlash that a Black Ariel has brought on. R+H’s Cinderella was truly ahead of its time, and it’s a shame that it didn’t have a ripple effect into other mainstream media. 

In fact, the fact that this film was made at all now seems pretty impossible. But hey, you know what? A really rad fairy godmother once told me that impossible things are happening every day.