PeterDavid.net

Tale as old as time

December 13, 1991

(Warning--this review of Disney's new animated version of "Beauty and the Beast" will discuss some aspects of the ending. Now frankly, I think you'd have to have been locked in a cave your entire life not to know how the story ends, but I suppose we have to be consistent about these spoiler warning things.)

So, it's finally out--the much discussed, much lauded "Beauty and the Beast." Disney's publicity machine has been gearing up for this one for a long time. As far back as Oakland's Wondercon (and maybe further back than that) Disney was circulating a twenty minute demo reel featuring four songs played out with a combination of finished animation, pencil tests, and storyboards. The film as a "work in progress" screened in New York in September to unanimous acclaim. The local Disney store (and, I presume, the one near you) is stocked with "B&B" dresses, shirts, jewelry, PVCs, books, and music boxes. The soundtrack has been in stores for at least two weeks before the film's opening.

And Disney executives are keeping their fingers crossed. Any film, no matter how much of a "sure thing," is a roll of the dice, and Disney's been coming up snake-eyes a lot this year. "B&B" is their big holiday release and, to some degree, their bid to jumpstart their stalling money-making machine.

Will it succeed? I'm reluctant to predict. I said in these pages that "The Rocketeer" would be the smash hit of the summer and that sure didn't pan out.

I saw "Beauty and the Beast" in a New York theater during its limited release, prior to its general release November 22. The theater was pretty close to packed, and what struck me as the story unfolded was that the audience seemed, by and large, a dead one. Some laughter at the more overt sightgags, but otherwise they were very, very quiet. I felt the lack of response might be an indication that the audience was uninvolved.

It's only upon reflection that I realize that the fairly mute audience was actually the best thing the film could have hoped for. Because, you see, easily 95 percent of the audience was between the ages of five and seven. Now getting children to sit quietly throughout an entire film is no mean feat. I think of the showing of "Fantasia" we went to that started out packed and ended with three quarters of the audience gone because Mickey Mouse wasn't going to be reappearing in the film.

What the golden silence meant is that the kids were thoroughly engrossed. That's tough. That's real tough.

I admit it. I was engrossed as well. "Beauty and the Beast" is a thoroughly captivating and enchanting film. Well crafted, well directed in both animation and voice, and a credit to all involved.

It also has problems...problems that are the more noticeable because so much of the film is that good; therefore, aspects that are not up to that level are that much more annoying.

What most reviewers and fans seem to be doing is comparing "B&B" to "The Little Mermaid." Normally I dislike such comparisons, feeling that every movie should stand on its own. On the other hand, since so many of the same creative personnel were involved, and since there are such intriguing similarities and differences, I'll indulge myself this outing.

To start with a quick plot synopsis--in a very small town in France, a beautiful girl named Belle (voiced by Paige O'Hara) dreams of a life beyond the ordinary, predictable environment she lives in. Falling prey to the old adage of "Be careful of what you wish for," Belle winds up a prisoner in the castle of a hideous Beast (voiced by Robby Benson)--actually, a prince placed under a curse because he was selfish and unloving. Also cursed was the Beast's hapless staff, transformed into candles, clocks, and assorted chachkas. At first terrified of her "host," Belle learns to perceive the good within her captor. The two fall in love, overcome obstacles placed in their way by an obnoxious, self-absorbed hunter named Gaston (voiced by Richard White) and a mob of angry villages who have apparently seen the climax of "Frankenstein" a few too many times. True love wins out and Beauty and the Beast live happily ever after.

Disney animated films continue to lead the pack in integrating songs with story. Alan Menken and the late (damn damn damn) Howard Ashman, who won deserved Oscars for their work on "Mermaid," composed--as so many writers have noted--six new songs (as opposed to what? Composing six old songs?) for the film, and at least one...probably two...will be up for Academy Awards in 1992.

Structurally, they follow much the same progression as "Mermaid," which in turns follows the basic progression of most Broadway musicals, all of which adds to the theatrical flavor of the proceedings.

The heroines of both films musically express their longing to be someplace other than where they are (Ariel in "Part of Your World," Belle in "Belle"; to further the comparison, both songs are subsequently reprised). The villains of both pieces reveal the true nastiness that lies beneath the pleasant or amusing facades they put on (Ursula in "Poor Unfortunate Souls", Gaston in "Gaston." Anyone noticing a pattern yet in the titles of "B&B" songs?). Both films feature major show-stopping set pieces sung by little guys with neat accents, extolling the virtues of the immediate environment (Sebastian's Oscar-winning "Under Da Sea," as compared to the sure-to-be-Oscar-nominated "Be Our Guest," rendered by a French-accented maitre d'-turned-candelabra named Lumiere, voiced by Jerry Orbach doing a Maurice Chevalier impression.)

But although the placement and purpose of the songs is strikingly parallel, the styles are radically different. Each of the songs in "Mermaid" are performed by one principle, occasionally aided by back-up singers. But every song in "B&B" features two principles, singing to each other. "Mermaid" conveys the singer's thoughts to the audience; "B&B's" songs have characters conveying their thoughts to each other. Not only is this a more natural way of developing characterization, but it also serves far better in integrating plot developments into the songs.

Consequently, "B&B's" songs are more involved than "Mermaids." The introductory song, "Belle" involves not only the title character, but Gaston and the entire village. The complexity of the whole affair borders on Sondheim. Animated features can have all the advantages of the musical stage plus the freedom to go beyond the strictures of the stage, yet "Beauty and the Beast" is the first animated film ("cartoon" seems an inadequate phrase) to fully exploit the possibilities.

Moving on to animation, I first want to say something about the closing credits--in a far cry from the old days when individual credits were virtually non-existent, "Beauty and the Beast" lists, for each of the main characters, the key animators in addition to the vocal artist. Since Disney (I can't speak for others) "casts" specific animators in specific roles, deciding which artists would be the most suited to bring which characters to life, this method of crediting is long overdue. It means we now know specifically who to praise...and, of course, who to blame.

Several critics have taken great joy in extolling the virtues of Belle over Ariel, calling the former a superior character since she ostensibly "doesn't need a man to make her complete" (quoting from "Newsday.")

Actually, this viewpoint is completely off the mark.

Philosophically, the characters are the same. Ariel yearns to spend a day "warm on the sand"; Belle seeks something beyond "this provincial life." Their sentiments are identical, namely: "Get me the hell out of here." As a matter of fact, it's Belle, not Ariel, who first brings up men. She longs for a life filled with adventure and a handsome prince. Ariel, on the other hand, admires the "bright young women."

You can point out that Belle fell in love with a Beast while Ariel fell in love with a handsome prince. True enough. On the other hand, Ariel had to overcome the cultural imperative that humans were hideous, horrible beings. That took some doing, didn't it?

It's not that Belle is better. What she is is more mature. Her age isn't stated, but presuming she's the Beast's peer, she's around twenty-one. Ariel would move with sudden bursts of energy, heading impulsively and recklessly into any situation. Belle, on the other hand--animated by James Baxter, with live-action reference provided by Sherri Stoner--moves slowly, gracefully, thoughtfully. She does nothing impetuously, but considers every action and movement. She is older, wiser, and more tempered than the fiery Ariel.

She also has her own little mannerisms, which continues to be a nice trend. Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora...perhaps a trained animator can see differences in their animated personalities, but I can't. So for dolts like me, it's being made more obvious. Ariel would chew on her lower lip, or on her little finger. Belle has her own little quirks--the most evident is that she can't keep her hair in place. Stray strands keep drooping over her left temple. She absently puts it back in place, and five minutes later, it's fallen down again.

The Beast...well, he's nicely animated, but once he's out of the shadows, he's as frightening to me as gerbil. Ron Perlman's Vincent, when enraged, was scarier. Then again, I'm not a child. The Beast's actions are pretty nasty--he unceremoniously separates Belle from her father, takes her prisoner, yells at her, physically threatens her. If they'd made him as terrifying as the early sketches indicated, kids might have run screaming from the theater.

So he acts mean and nasty, but he also looks...I don't know...kind of cuddly. (One friend commented that that makes it easier to market him as a stuffed toy. Which there now is. Which I already bought.) He looks like a cross between a boar and a mandrill, but he's got baby blue eyes and the wistfulness of Robby Benson's voice. He's accessible to everyone, and Glen Keane handles his animation with sure and steady hand. What's also a nice touch is that, when the Beast is transformed back into human form, he's not classically handsome. His brow is a bit distended, his jaw protrudes a tad. You can still see the visual traces of the beast.

So loveable did the big guy become, in fact, that at the end of the film, a five year old girl seated in front of us burst into tears and wailed to her father, "I don't want him (meaning the Prince.) I want the Beast back!"

The film's big problem, in terms of character animation,is Gaston. Animator Andreas Dejas reportedly wanted to animate Belle, but was assigned Gaston instead. I don't know if there's any connection, but the self-obsessed hunter is, visually extremely uneven.

In close-ups, which abound in his centerpiece song of "Gaston," he's great. We focus on his cleft chin, his muscles, his bullneck. He fills the screen and is full of himself. In medium shots, howver, his presence and physical impressiveness are much diminished. In far shots, forget it. He's an unconvincing stick figure. Part of this is traceable to character design, but there's also a sense of rushed or sloppy animation about him. There's even blatant continuity errors from shot to shot, as Gaston's clothes change and gloves vanish or reappear.

In a film as superbly visually realized as "B&B," these moments stand out. The final shot, with Belle and the (unnamed) Prince dancing in the ballroom, is just awful. They swirl around in waltz step surrounded by unmoving, unbreathing onlookers who are clearly just painted on the background. It's reminiscent of the lousy, cost-saving animation that pervaded "Oliver and Company."

The reason it seems so bad is that the previous ballroom sequence was so fantastic. Belle and the Beast, dressed to the nines, waltzed through a background that was computer-generated. It was breathtakingly three-dimensional, with marble pillars that looked carved from real marble. Computer-aided camerawork took us through a variety of angles as they danced, including down and through a glistening chandelier. The two wildly disparate styles--computer vs. human--might have seemed totally at odds, except that Angela Lansbury's lovely rendition of the title song grounded the sequence in good old human emotion and tied the whole thing together. Despite the show-stopping flash of "Be Our Guest" (again aided by computers with dancing dishes and cutlery); the ballroom sequence is the genuine animation highpoint of the film.

The technical advancements and expertise also help to mitigate the storytelling and character problems I had. Here's a prince who lives in a castle that appears to be about fifteen minutes from town, but no one seems to be aware of the fact that he's dropped out of sight for a decade. No one, upon seeing the castle, says, "Hey, didn't the prince used to live around here? Place has really gone to seed, hasn't it."

Not to mention the fact that, when the Prince was judged to be nasty and transformed into a Beast, he was eleven years old. I can't help but think that that was a rather drastic form of punishment, since I know a lot of nasty eleven year olds. Maybe a spanking might have been a better start...?

Things like that you can at least try and brush off with, "Well, it's a fairy tale...you buy the premise, you buy the bit. Okay, fair enough. But what about the lack of originality in the supporting cast? Writer Linda Woolverton basically took Sebastian and cut his personality in half. Lumiere had the fun accent, the flair (flare?), and the musicality. Cogsworth, the stuffy butler clock voiced by David Ogden Stiers, had the prissiness and the concern over how the authority figures were going to react to the goings on. Neither had any depth. Nor did Mrs. Potts, Lansbury's talking teapot, who was simply maternal. Even Scuttle had more going for him than that.

(One curious note is that Mrs. Potts shunts her son, a cup named Chip, off to bed in a cupboard, telling him to go to sleep with his brothers and sisters. And there's gotta be, like, two dozen cups in there. Such fertility on the part of Mrs. Potts while she was human might suggest why there's no Mr. Potts...he probably ran screaming into the night since the woman obviously became pregnant just by being breathed on. Animator Paul Dini, by the way, has an alternate explantion: Mr. Potts was transformed into Mr. Coffee.)

The ending could have used work. On the one hand, the final‘ scene between Belle and the dying Beast is a real tear-jerker. On the other hand, the moments leading up to it are beat-by-beat predictable, up to and including what happens to Gaston, who is disposed of in a manner that we've seen in at least six other Disney films. On the other other hand, kids were shrieking during the climactic Beast vs. Gaston battle (including my own six-year-old who covered her eyes), so I guess the thing to remember about Disney films is that there's always something that hasn't been seen before.

Bottom line--"Beauty and the Beast" didn't grab me as much as "Mermaid" did...but then again, when I saw "Mermaid" I was just coming off close to two years of being immersed in writing "The Atlantis Chronicles,"a work very close to me which prompted me to take "Mermaid" very personally. But it is nevertheless a grand achievement, with memorable songs and dazzling animation throughout. I do not envy those having to decide which film to see first on November 22, particularly those with kids--"Beauty," "Addams Family," or "Fievel Goes West." Then again, it's not such a bad problem to have.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, couldn't help but notice that all of the Prince's staff was transformed into incarnations of their names: Lumiere was a candelabra, Cogsworth became a clock, Mrs. Potts became a pot. We can only be grateful the prince didn't have someone on his staff named Dick.

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