A zany feminist riff on ‘Cinderella’ (with a side of potatoes)

Enter the doorway leading to “Cinderella at the Theater of Potatoes,” a world premiere adaptation by The Hypocrites, and you are immediately part of a topsy-turvy fairy tale world — one that bears hints of artist Frida Kahlo’s vividly painted house in Mexico City. At the same time it suggests a small-scale amusement park with a touch of the absurd, with a baby grand piano, a white metal kitchen stove and a clothes rack bursting with colorful dresses all part of the mix.

As is often the way at The Hypocrites, you also will find the actors strolling around this wildly imaginative set by Regina Garcia, either chatting up the audience as they show off their fanciful 19th century floral gowns with massive bustles (the wonderful work of the ever-whimsical costume designer Alison Siple), or, in one case, as an actor in a wheelchair careens around the ramped and curving stage at high speed.

To be sure, you are about to be treated to a zany, unorthodox, wholly unfamiliar rendering of the Cinderella story — one very loosely based on “Cendrillon,” a 1904 chamber opera (with added songs), all by Pauline Viardot-Garcia. A once-fabled opera singer, composer and teacher with many famous friends, Viardot-Garcia ran a salon throughout the many years she lived in France and other parts of Europe. The “Theater of Potatoes” part of the show’s title refers to the playful “admission ticket” to her salons (one potato), where a bowl of potato soup was offered as a final concert treat. The tradition is reborn here, with hot cups of soup (for which I am pursuing the recipe) waiting for audiences as they leave the performance.

Adapted by veteran music director Andra Velis Simon (with the actors accompanying themselves on a slew of instruments, including piano, guitar, banjo and more), and directed by Sean Graney, this “Cinderella” makes a few things clear from the start: There will be no Prince Charming, no ball, no wedding — just an audition for a chance to star in a new opera by a composer in search of an unusual young talent.

The Cinderella here (the beguiling Amanda Martinez, who possesses quite the coloratura), is a sweet 17-year-old orphan adopted by a wealthy and tyrannical Baron (a droll turn by Joel Rodriguez), a music coach determined to turn his two daughters — played by Aja Wiltshire and Elle Walker — into accomplished singers, even if their mediocre talent is obvious. Meanwhile, Cinderella, who possesses a naturally beautiful voice, lives like a caged bird — forbidden to sing at all, although she lets fly when the Baron and his daughters leave the house in which she works tirelessly as their maid.

After the composer (played by Dana Omar) becomes captivated by the sound of Cinderella’s voice — she is not visible, but only heard through an open window — she announces a competition in which all the entrants must wear masks. Cinderella, encouraged by a fairy godmother of sorts, finally decides to rebel and she heads off to the audition. But when she is chosen she flees in terror, dropping her sheet music along the way. The composer sets off in search of her.

Swirling in and around the story are Viardot-Garcia herself (the charming Leslie Ann Sheppard), along with her friends: George Sand (a zesty turn by Gay Glenn), the great novelist and lover of Chopin who repeatedly reminds us that she is a feminist hellbent on “community, equality and the party of the people”; Louise (Wiltshire), daughter of the Russian novelist Ivan Turgenev, who adores Viardot-Garcia, and Fanny Mendelssohn, talented sister of the more famous Felix (Omar).

The show’s play-within-a-play structure could use a bit of sharpening. And Graney’s direction often veers off into a surfeit of campiness. But there are moments of great loveliness and humor here, too, along with a very funny little homage to Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Cinderella.” And of course who needs a prince when you can have a starring role in an opera?

One final note: The Hypocrites makes its home in one of the several spaces that comprise that Wicker Park “multiplex” known as The Den Theatre. Constantly being upgraded, The Den now features an elaborate antiques-filled lobby and concessions area. Take a few minutes to stroll around. Viardot-Garcia herself might have felt right at home in the place.