Beauty & the Beast
That’s what I’m watching as I write this.
I like this movie. Very much. Good music. Clever lyrics. Good story. Good animation. Lessons of tolerance. Persecuted heroes. Demogoguic bullies who get their come-uppance. Smart women. Misunderstood genius. A protagonist who wanders around with a book in hand. Comedy. Drama. True love. Magic.
I can’t watch this one without the occasional tingle down the spine or lump in the throat. Or even tear in the eye. Really.
The best Disney film in my adult life. Mulan comes close. The Lion King was cool. Aladdin was fun. But B&tB wins the prize, hands down.
What’s not to like?
Except … there’s this sense that the young prince at the beginning is being justly punished for being a pill. And clearly he is a pill. But …
He’s ten years old. Ten. (The spell becomes permanent when he becomes 21. Lumiere mentions they’ve been ensorcelled ten years. Do the math.) At most, eleven. That’s the Boy’s age. Can’t imagine condemning him at that age to a life-long curse.
But don’t even mind that his ruined painting doesn’t look ten. Where’s the justice in enchanting not just the snotty prince but his entire staff?
If you ignore all that, it’s practically a perfect movie.
Well, you gotta ignore the pop cover of the theme song over the end titles. Bleah. Give me Angela Lansbury on the vocals any time.
Been too long since I watched it.
There’s supposedly an IMAX release coming out next year, with some extra material to be included. Looking forward to it.