It's so, so wonderful to get lost in the magic of Kenneth Branagh's "Cinderella." For 100-ish crucial minutes, we let our various real-world problems melt away as a story of true love, kindness, and enchantment makes us believe in the power of optimism and dreams.
... And then the lights turn on, and we're once again forced to grapple with the real-life implications of Lily James and Richard Madden's Cinderella story. Like, you know, how various iterations of "Cinderella" have ruined polite party-going for all of eternity. Rolling up hours late with a squad full of literal rodents, then peacing out early and leaving your shoes?!
Tell me you'd invite Cinderella to your birthday party. You wouldn't. You're lying.
Here's why she's actually the worst:
Rolling up at the last possible minute is so polite!
Sure, Cinderella had her reasons for showing up late -- her stepmother and stepsisters did everything they could to prevent her from attending. But "Cinderella" glamorizes this lateness to an extreme degree, and now making a grand entrance has become the bread and butter of vain party-goers. It's rude to your host, who is probably already having a mini-nervous breakdown over the fact that she wrote 9 p.m. on the invitation, and it's 9:45 already and no one is showing up. We can definitely blame Cinderella, the OG late chick, for this unfortunate trend.
You can violate the basic rights of animals if you need a ride.
One thing that floored me about Cindy's story is how her poor animal friends were transformed into drivers, footmen, and horses without their permission. Everyone's body is their own, and using magic to contort animals to serve your own purposes merits a call to PETA for sure.
Lie about your identity. Sure, why not.
Unless you're a secret agent, you should tell the truth about who you are. Cinderella is not, to my knowledge, a secret agent.
Monopolizing the host's attention is a fine thing to do.
Oh sure, Cinderella, hog the Prince's attention all night even though he threw a bash for thousands of people -- some of them traveled from made-up, far-off kingdoms just to be there! And because of you, they never even got a "hello!" The host of a party needs to acknowledge all of his or her guests, but thanks to Cinderella, this practice has largely been eliminated from modern society.
... As a matter of fact, just make the whole thing about you.
It was the Prince's party, Cinderella. You could have at least pretended that it wasn't "your" magic ball.
Sure, go ahead, rock that Irish Goodbye.
Real talk: what did the poor Irish ever do to deserve the practice of leaving a party hella early without saying goodbye being attributed to their honest name? It should be called the Cinderella Goodbye, as homegirl straight up ran from that party without saying goodbye to a single party guest, let alone the host, whose time she so rudely monopolized.
You can totally leave your footwear all over someone's house if you want to.
What if you hosted a party out of the goodness of your own heart, then woke up the following morning ready to clean, only to find your guests' shoes strewn about all over the place? You'd be mad, justifiably. But Cinderella DGAF, because she's rude.