REVIEW: La Cenerentola – Opera Queensland at QPAC

Braving Cyclone Alfred’s best efforts to shut Brisbane down, I had the privilege of attending the opening (and only) night of Opera Queensland’s La Cenerentola before the city ground to a halt. And what a dazzling night it was—three hours (including intermission) of sumptuous bel canto, glorious orchestrations, and some seriously wonderful wigs and costumes. Composed when Rossini was just 25 in post-Napoleonic Italy, the opera brims with dazzling melodies, incisive satire, and a hopeful vision of a better world. La Cenerentola is a celebration of goodness triumphing over status, a theme that rings as true today as it did in Rossini’s time.

The audience, adorned in our finest floral cocktail attire, were greeted by delicate decor and a stunning set. A sheer white curtain concealed the Concert Hall's pipe organ, while flowers adorned the surtitles (which, fortunately, were easy to read once I remembered to wear my glasses, as I don't speak Italian). Although minimal, the set was swathed in greenery and blooms, evoking a fairy tale world where grandeur and whimsy intertwined.

Director Laura Hansford, like many millennials raised on Disney, was enchanted by fairy tales and now wonders how they fit into our chaotic modern world. Originally, these stories served as cautionary tales—warnings wrapped in fantasy. Nowadays, you don’t need a bedtime story to get your daily dose of doom; just flick on the news or check your phone. “Reality itself feels like a cautionary tale, with all of the warnings and none of the magic.” Rather than a passive heroine waiting for Prince Charming to show up, this Cinderella story celebrates strength through compassion. As Hansford puts it, “Choosing to be kind—actively, deliberately, and against all odds—is an act of strength.”

La Cenerentola takes a slightly different approach to the familiar Cinderella tale—gone are the glass slippers and fairy godmother, replaced instead with a clever (and slightly convoluted) case of mistaken identity, an opportunistic stepfather, and an ending that prioritises kindness and forgiveness over retribution. Angelina, unwavering in the face of cruelty, serves her stepfather Don Magnifico and her spoiled stepsisters, Clorinda and Tisbe. Prince Ramiro, seeking a virtuous wife, swaps roles with his valet, Dandini, to observe the true nature of his potential brides. Disguised as a beggar, the Prince's tutor Alidoro visits Don Magnifico's home, where the stepsisters dismiss him, but Angelina offers him food. The sisters fawn over Dandini (posing as the Prince), while Angelina—enchanted by the valet (actually the real Prince)—pleads with her stepfather to let her attend the grand ball. Don Magnifico refuses, threatening her if she dares challenge her place. However, Alidoro assures Angelina that her kindness will be rewarded and arranges for her to attend the ball—no fairy godmother required.

At the ball, Angelina’s true nature shines beneath her masked allure. She turns down Dandini’s advances, declaring her love for the valet, unaware that he is the real Prince. When the charade is finally dropped, Ramiro professes his love, but Angelina insists that if he truly cares for her, he must find her and accept her for who she really is, leaving behind a bracelet. Ramiro finds her, declares his love, and despite Magnifico and his daughters' continued belittlement, Angelina forgives them, showing true strength through compassion.

Bel canto—the Italian art of beautiful singing—was on full display, with the cast showcasing exquisite technique: legato phrasing, effortless agility, and impeccable breath control. The result? A masterclass in vocal artistry. At the heart of it all was our Cinderella—Angelina, played by the luminous Mara Gaudenzi. She was everything one could desire in a leading lady: vocally divine, endlessly graceful, and utterly enchanting. Her voice soared through the hall with impeccable bel canto, glowing with warmth and effortlessly navigating Rossini’s fiendishly difficult coloratura. Her final aria, Nacqui all’affanno, was a stunning exhibition of vocal precision and emotional depth, leaving the audience in stunned silence before bursting into thunderous applause. She depicted Angelina with an endearing sincerity, making her journey from mistreated servant to triumphant princess all the more gratifying. Her costumes elegantly reflected her character, featuring a wig reminiscent of Rapunzel, with a long, delicate braid cascading over her shoulder.

The scene-stealing stepsisters, Clorinda (Sarah Crane) and Tisbe (Hayley Sugars), made their grand entrance in gowns of hot pink excess—exaggerated hips, floral embellishments, and wigs so enormous they could have walked straight out of the Capitol in The Hunger Games. These two were deliciously ridiculous, with every absurd movement and wide-eyed expression delighting the audience. Even from my seat towards the back, I noticed every smirk, pout, and ridiculous pose. Their voices were as remarkable as their comedic timing, blending flawlessly while also vying for sole attention.

James Roser’s Don Magnifico, the gloriously garbed patriarch, was a masterclass in buffo baritone brilliance. His floral suit and cape matched his flamboyant personality and comedic flair. Whether scheming for his daughters' rise to royalty or bumbling through social embarrassment, he captivated the audience, and his patter singing was outstanding. An Italian opera wouldn't be complete without an entire number devoted to drinking wine, and Roser's performance made it one of the evening's standout moments.

As for the Prince, Petr Nekoranec as Ramiro exuded charm and charisma, his golden tenor soaring through Rossini’s demanding passages with ease. His chemistry with Mara Gaudenzi was beautiful, and their duets shimmered with playful energy and romantic tenderness. One of the show’s most crowd-pleasing moments featured him dramatically stripping off his disguise mid-aria as he and Dandini swapped clothes. Speaking of, the dynamic between Prince Ramiro (Petr Nekoranec) and his valet Dandini (Samuel Dundas) was pure delight, their witty exchanges and role-swapping antics infusing the opera with even more warm, joyful charm.

Dundas, in particular, milked every ounce of comedy from his masquerade as the prince, revelling in the regal persona. These shenanigans as the Prince's bestie (who is always rooting for him) made him a personal favourite. His growing exasperation with Magnifico's obliviousness, believing Dandini's confession was just a delay tactic for choosing which daughter to marry, was hilarious—I swear, no one gets to the point slower than in an Italian opera. The storm scene drew chuckles from the audience, its timing almost too perfect given the real cyclone brewing outside. The Prince and Dandini even took their floral umbrellas into the front row, playfully trying Cinderella’s bracelet on audience members.

Shaun Brown as Alidoro, the “fairy godfather,” was a delight in his striking purple attire. His character, a benevolent mentor rather than a magical entity, added much warmth to the ensemble of larger-than-life characters. A memorable moment was his argument with Magnifico—witnessing two men engage in an operatic debate in Italian was something I never expected to experience.

One of the more curious visual choices was the male ensemble’s costumes, which had them looking rather like sentient shrubbery. While I’m sure there was a deeper artistic meaning behind this, I was far too engrossed in the leads’ dazzling costumes to unravel it. Costume designers Karen Cochet and Bianca Bulley created a visual feast with their lavish and whimsical creations. Angelina's transformation was subtly magical. Instead of a dramatic costume change, she emerged at the ball in a modest, long-sleeved white gown—a fitting choice for a Cinderella who succeeds not through spells, but through inner strength. Her grand pink coat added a touch of drama, and her intricate hairstyle and mask enhanced the elegance. The lighting design bathed the stage in ethereal hues of pink, purple, and blue, with twinkling lights illuminated behind the dramatic curtain.

Rossini’s music was performed by the Queensland Symphony Orchestra and conducted with verve by Richard Mills. The melodies tumbled over each other like an unstoppable cascade of joy, perfectly mirroring the opera’s effervescent charm. Sure, at times the pacing could have benefited from a little editing, but when the music is this good, who’s really complaining? And of course, Narelle French’s chorus direction ensured that every moment of ensemble singing was as rich and precise as the score demanded. The instances when the entire ensemble sang together at breakneck speed—especially during the Act One finale—were electrifying.

And then there was the ending—no dramatic comeuppance for the wicked stepfamily, no poetic justice served cold. Instead, Angelina chooses to forgive them, proving once and for all that kindness is not a weakness but a strength. As petals rained down from the high ceiling, I found myself swept up in the magic of it all. Opera Queensland’s La Cenerentola was a perfect combination of musical virtuosity, and humorous and heartfelt theatricality. As my first opera experience, I couldn’t have wished for a more magnificent introduction. Let's hope the next one won’t be rudely disrupted by a cyclone.