In the interest of transparency, let me admit upfront that I love Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, made in 1991. I mean, what’s there not to love about the movie?
There’s its (richly deserved) Oscar-winning music--every song, up until the last extremely romantic waltz number is joyous and bursting with life. This was an animation movie made before the era of CGI and yet, can there be a more satisfying enchanted castle? Just watch the spoons doing synchronized swimming in the soup!
Disney’s Belle is a bookish, kind hearted girl with an easy ability to make friends--be it the Beast or his enchanted minions. And she can sing like a lark. The Beast is more like Ebenezer Scrooge--ill tempered, cantankerous, and achingly lonely.
But the most fun is the Disney staple of absolutely endearing supporting characters, be it the charming Lumiere (the candelabra with an evil eye for a duster); the uptight clock, Cogsworth; the buxom teapot, Mrs. Potts; her chipped cup of a son, Chip; or the footstool which uncannily behaves like a dog. They want to be “human again,” so they set out to entertain the hell out of Belle and drop not-so-subtle hints about the Beast.
Now what would a frothy, happy Disney musical have in common with a French film made in 1946 by the poet and surrealist Jean Cocteau?
A lot more than I expected. The Disney team seemed to drawn visual inspiration for their enchanted castle and creatures entirely from this film. The scene where Belle’s father first enters the castle seems completely modeled after the Cocteau’s classic. The ramparts of the castle, which are guarded by sculptures of ferocious animals is another instance.
But no, Cocteau’s film is no children’s film, although he asks us to believe in the tale in a childlike manner and be drawn into its magic, right at the beginning of the film. It is a visually stunning film, a triumph of expressionism, full of light and shadow, texture, mood, and trick shots.
There are two distinct worlds of the film. First, the everyday prosaic world where Belle lives with her shrewish sisters, a wastrel brother and her beloved pere, who seems to have the rottenest luck in business. This is a beautifully detailed world, created for us with wry humor. Check out that scene where Belle’s vain sisters, putting on airs, depart in their chairs carried by footmen. Unkempt, drunkard footmen with hay clinging on their backs--the only type that they can afford.
There is also Avenant, the wastrel brother’s friend, who proclaims love for Belle and wants to marry her. Belle seems to be attracted to him, but wouldn’t leave “mon pere” for the world. Things are normal here, with scrubbing and washing and sewing and bickering.
The second world is that in the enchanted castle. Nothing is normal here. It has a dreamlike quality: things are slower and movements seem suspended as if in space. Night is day, day is night. Candelabras are dismembered human hands and all statues seem alive, following the character’s movements with their eyes.
Belle, the pure maiden with a good heart and unwavering sense of duty, seems as curious as she is scared. In the stunning scene when she first enters the castle, after sneaking away from home, she seems to be rushing forward. In slow motion. Her clothes billowing behind her. To meet a beast she’s never seen before, but who owns her now.
She runs up a flight of stairs and is in a corridor lined with windows, on which diaphanous curtains are fluttering in a breeze. She is not running anymore. She is not even moving. She seems to be inexorably drawn.
Is this a dream?
Enough and more has been written about the sexual subtext and the bold Freudian motifs of this movie. I had read them all before watching it. But still, I found this scene jaw-drop-worthy. So was almost every scene that ensued.
Take what happens next. Belle comes face to face with the Beast and crumples down in a faint. The Beast kneels over her, his hands hovering over her body briefly. He then lifts her, turns and walks up a flight of stairs that is bathed with light from above while the rest of the room is in shadows. It is not clear where he is taking her. He is a Beast, after all. It looks like he is taking her to his den to devour her.
Turns out that he was just taking her to her enchanted bedroom. In a shot unbelievable in a 1946 movie, as he carries her over the threshold, her commoner’s clothes turn into finery. The Beast seem to have only one request: he will meet her everyday at 7:00 p.m. for dinner. She will not see him otherwise.
Which brings us to the much celebrated scene of the movie. Belle is sitting on a high-backed chair near the fire place, dressed in her finery and waiting to meet the Beast for the appointed dinner. He emerges out of the shadow from behind her. She immediately senses him. They talk and she looks--orgasmic. Even without seeing him. Or was that fright?
Much has been made about the knife that she toys with in this scene, but I shall leave it to your judgment. The Beast asks her to marry him, and she refuses. “Because you are a Beast, la bete!” she tells him.
The Beast, some critics say, is our Id. Primal, wild, and unsophisticated. Given to natural urges. Although he walks on two legs, he is more animal than human. Carcasses of his kill are strewn on the castle grounds. Belle sees him returning from his nightly kill, his hands smoking, and she doesn’t seem too disgusted or frightened. She is fascinated.
And yet she turns him out of her bedroom night after night. One night he turns up at her bedroom door, fresh from a kill, splattered with blood, mad with jealousy because she had told him about the handsome Avenant, his entire body smoking. When she tells him off, he staggers away, with his flailing hand briefly cupping the naked breast of a statue.
Oh boy!
Despite her growing friendship with the Beast, Belle is bored and longs to be with her family. She begs him to let her go back. He lets her go for a week, warning her that he will die if she doesn’t return.
Now we are thrust back into the regular world. Belle’s darling pere is ruined and on his death bed. Creditors have taken away all the furniture. When Belle returns, nobody but her father seems to be genuinely happy. Her siblings and Avenant plot to kill the Beast and usurp all his wealth. The real world now is ugly and too human.
Belle is unaware of all the roiling conspiracies around her. She is perhaps torn by her emotions. She keeps denying that she is in love with the Beast, but nobody, not even herself, is convinced.
The Beast sends his magical horse with the magical mirror to get her back. The conspirators hide the horse but give Belle the mirror. Which takes us to another brilliant, bold scene. When Belle gets the mirror, she doesn’t look into it. Instead she caresses it and holds it close. Then she sets it on the side table and lies down. We see her face through the mirror. I have never seen a scene so potently sexy when all the woman is doing is lightly touching the mirror with one hand.
While Avenant and the brother gallop away on the magical horse to kill the Beast, Belle decides it is time to return to him and uses the magical glove. She finds him dying near the pool. She pleads him to fight death but it seems like a lost battle.
This is where the plot twists in a brilliant way.
Avenant and Belle’s brother are trying to rob the Beast’s treasure trove. Avenant gets killed and turns into a Beast. The Beast comes alive as the Prince and looks like--Avenant! She doesn’t seem too thrilled with this new face of the Beast. She loves the Beast, she says. She loves Avenant too. She is just, well, complicated, the Prince concludes, before taking her away to his kingdom.
Photography and Direction are the real heroes of this film. Jean Marais kills as the Beast. I found Josette Day "naka", as the Bengalis would call it and reminded me of Sharmila Tagore a little.
Many many great directors have interpreted the medium of cinema in many many ways, but to me, European expressionism and film noir would always remain the zenith of the form. This genre and era celebrates cinema as no other time can. There was a boldness, a willingness to explore, and a focus on visuals without distracting colors that do it for me. And this Jean Cocteau’s classic is a shimmering example of this.
There’s its (richly deserved) Oscar-winning music--every song, up until the last extremely romantic waltz number is joyous and bursting with life. This was an animation movie made before the era of CGI and yet, can there be a more satisfying enchanted castle? Just watch the spoons doing synchronized swimming in the soup!
Disney’s Belle is a bookish, kind hearted girl with an easy ability to make friends--be it the Beast or his enchanted minions. And she can sing like a lark. The Beast is more like Ebenezer Scrooge--ill tempered, cantankerous, and achingly lonely.
But the most fun is the Disney staple of absolutely endearing supporting characters, be it the charming Lumiere (the candelabra with an evil eye for a duster); the uptight clock, Cogsworth; the buxom teapot, Mrs. Potts; her chipped cup of a son, Chip; or the footstool which uncannily behaves like a dog. They want to be “human again,” so they set out to entertain the hell out of Belle and drop not-so-subtle hints about the Beast.
Now what would a frothy, happy Disney musical have in common with a French film made in 1946 by the poet and surrealist Jean Cocteau?
A lot more than I expected. The Disney team seemed to drawn visual inspiration for their enchanted castle and creatures entirely from this film. The scene where Belle’s father first enters the castle seems completely modeled after the Cocteau’s classic. The ramparts of the castle, which are guarded by sculptures of ferocious animals is another instance.
But no, Cocteau’s film is no children’s film, although he asks us to believe in the tale in a childlike manner and be drawn into its magic, right at the beginning of the film. It is a visually stunning film, a triumph of expressionism, full of light and shadow, texture, mood, and trick shots.
There are two distinct worlds of the film. First, the everyday prosaic world where Belle lives with her shrewish sisters, a wastrel brother and her beloved pere, who seems to have the rottenest luck in business. This is a beautifully detailed world, created for us with wry humor. Check out that scene where Belle’s vain sisters, putting on airs, depart in their chairs carried by footmen. Unkempt, drunkard footmen with hay clinging on their backs--the only type that they can afford.
There is also Avenant, the wastrel brother’s friend, who proclaims love for Belle and wants to marry her. Belle seems to be attracted to him, but wouldn’t leave “mon pere” for the world. Things are normal here, with scrubbing and washing and sewing and bickering.
The second world is that in the enchanted castle. Nothing is normal here. It has a dreamlike quality: things are slower and movements seem suspended as if in space. Night is day, day is night. Candelabras are dismembered human hands and all statues seem alive, following the character’s movements with their eyes.
Belle, the pure maiden with a good heart and unwavering sense of duty, seems as curious as she is scared. In the stunning scene when she first enters the castle, after sneaking away from home, she seems to be rushing forward. In slow motion. Her clothes billowing behind her. To meet a beast she’s never seen before, but who owns her now.
She runs up a flight of stairs and is in a corridor lined with windows, on which diaphanous curtains are fluttering in a breeze. She is not running anymore. She is not even moving. She seems to be inexorably drawn.
Is this a dream?
Enough and more has been written about the sexual subtext and the bold Freudian motifs of this movie. I had read them all before watching it. But still, I found this scene jaw-drop-worthy. So was almost every scene that ensued.
Take what happens next. Belle comes face to face with the Beast and crumples down in a faint. The Beast kneels over her, his hands hovering over her body briefly. He then lifts her, turns and walks up a flight of stairs that is bathed with light from above while the rest of the room is in shadows. It is not clear where he is taking her. He is a Beast, after all. It looks like he is taking her to his den to devour her.
Turns out that he was just taking her to her enchanted bedroom. In a shot unbelievable in a 1946 movie, as he carries her over the threshold, her commoner’s clothes turn into finery. The Beast seem to have only one request: he will meet her everyday at 7:00 p.m. for dinner. She will not see him otherwise.
Which brings us to the much celebrated scene of the movie. Belle is sitting on a high-backed chair near the fire place, dressed in her finery and waiting to meet the Beast for the appointed dinner. He emerges out of the shadow from behind her. She immediately senses him. They talk and she looks--orgasmic. Even without seeing him. Or was that fright?
Much has been made about the knife that she toys with in this scene, but I shall leave it to your judgment. The Beast asks her to marry him, and she refuses. “Because you are a Beast, la bete!” she tells him.
The Beast, some critics say, is our Id. Primal, wild, and unsophisticated. Given to natural urges. Although he walks on two legs, he is more animal than human. Carcasses of his kill are strewn on the castle grounds. Belle sees him returning from his nightly kill, his hands smoking, and she doesn’t seem too disgusted or frightened. She is fascinated.
And yet she turns him out of her bedroom night after night. One night he turns up at her bedroom door, fresh from a kill, splattered with blood, mad with jealousy because she had told him about the handsome Avenant, his entire body smoking. When she tells him off, he staggers away, with his flailing hand briefly cupping the naked breast of a statue.
Oh boy!
Despite her growing friendship with the Beast, Belle is bored and longs to be with her family. She begs him to let her go back. He lets her go for a week, warning her that he will die if she doesn’t return.
Now we are thrust back into the regular world. Belle’s darling pere is ruined and on his death bed. Creditors have taken away all the furniture. When Belle returns, nobody but her father seems to be genuinely happy. Her siblings and Avenant plot to kill the Beast and usurp all his wealth. The real world now is ugly and too human.
Belle is unaware of all the roiling conspiracies around her. She is perhaps torn by her emotions. She keeps denying that she is in love with the Beast, but nobody, not even herself, is convinced.
The Beast sends his magical horse with the magical mirror to get her back. The conspirators hide the horse but give Belle the mirror. Which takes us to another brilliant, bold scene. When Belle gets the mirror, she doesn’t look into it. Instead she caresses it and holds it close. Then she sets it on the side table and lies down. We see her face through the mirror. I have never seen a scene so potently sexy when all the woman is doing is lightly touching the mirror with one hand.
While Avenant and the brother gallop away on the magical horse to kill the Beast, Belle decides it is time to return to him and uses the magical glove. She finds him dying near the pool. She pleads him to fight death but it seems like a lost battle.
This is where the plot twists in a brilliant way.
Avenant and Belle’s brother are trying to rob the Beast’s treasure trove. Avenant gets killed and turns into a Beast. The Beast comes alive as the Prince and looks like--Avenant! She doesn’t seem too thrilled with this new face of the Beast. She loves the Beast, she says. She loves Avenant too. She is just, well, complicated, the Prince concludes, before taking her away to his kingdom.
Photography and Direction are the real heroes of this film. Jean Marais kills as the Beast. I found Josette Day "naka", as the Bengalis would call it and reminded me of Sharmila Tagore a little.
Many many great directors have interpreted the medium of cinema in many many ways, but to me, European expressionism and film noir would always remain the zenith of the form. This genre and era celebrates cinema as no other time can. There was a boldness, a willingness to explore, and a focus on visuals without distracting colors that do it for me. And this Jean Cocteau’s classic is a shimmering example of this.
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