Weber's opinion was that practically every piece in this opera was 'routine', but that did not stop it winning widespread popularity. Nicolas Isouard's Cendrillon, first performed at the Opera-Comique in 1810, took Europe by storm and captivated public affection until the arrival of another and rather stronger Cinderella opera, Rossini's La Cenerentola. What was the attraction? Probably the simplicity of the opera, which is content to tell the fairy-tale without giving itself operatic airs. At less than 90 minutes, Isouard's Cendrillon is only half the length of Rossini's similar treatment of the story, or of Massenet's more magical confection. There are no sub-plots, no interludes in enchanted forests, not even many showpieces for the singers. Strangely, it is the ugly sisters who get the best music, first with Clorinde's lively Bolero, then Thisbe's elaborate aria, which for a few minutes makes her, rather than Cendrillon, the focus of our sympathy. These solos are the only two numbers that exhibit enough personality to have a life of their own, so why Adolphe Adam should have cut them from his revival of the opera in 1845 is a mystery.
On this set the most appealing member of the cast is the lovely soprano Ludmilla Shilova, who does what she can with the meagre opportunities afforded to the title-role. It is a pleasant surprise to find Richard Bonynge travelling further afield to record his rarities these days, but the live recording, made in Moscow, leaves Ensemble XXI Moscow sounding rather subdued. If the spoken dialogue had been cut, little would have been lost (except the Baron's unintentionally hilarious French accent) and the opera would have fitted onto a single disc. Still, this long-neglected Cinderella has at last had her invitation to the ball.'