G | Rottentomatoes.com Rating:93% | 1991 |
(Nothing offensive) | Picky Flicks Quote: "There's still room in this world for innocent love stories -- and tales as old as time." -Bruce Westbrook, BBC | RUNTIME: 90 min. |
Visit:http://www.screenit.com/for complete details | Movie Mood:  Enchanted |
Beauty and the Beast is the only animated film ever to be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Picture. And, in my professional (: )) opinion, it deserved to have won. Not only is it breathtakingly rendered in Disney’s gloriously old-fashioned, hand drawn animation, but its characters are more multi-layered and cleverly drawn (literally and figuratively) than those in most other live action films. Alas, the Academy went with The Silence of the Lambs that year (is it possible to have two more disparate films nominated in the same category?), an egregious error in judgment in my humble (professional : )) opinion.
I must admit to having a bit of a soft spot for Beauty and the Beast because my mom treated me to it on Christmas day when I was nine. But it’s a true testament to the enduring charm of the film that I love it as much (maybe more) now than I did as a little girl. Contrary to what is often the case, Beauty and the Beast has aged wonderfully. The songs, particularly, have only gotten better with time. I really shouldn’t be admitting two weeks in a row to a film’s making me cry after claiming that I’m not much of a film weeper, but the ballroom scene and Mrs. Pott’s gentle rendition of the title song always get me a little misty. There’s just something so poignant about Beast’s childlike yearning for love, and the song’s sweet melody so perfectly captures this ache that…Ah. Sniff. It gets me every time.
Of course, Beauty and the Beast is a well-known film—nothing quirky or out of the way about it. But, like so many other films I recommend, it’s the movie’s small pleasures that make it worthwhile. Certainly, the animation is grandiose, the cast larger than life, and the musical numbers over the top (“Be Our Guest,” anyone?), but it’s the little things, like the funny, warm exchanges between Belle and her crackpot inventor father or the scene where Belle teaches Beast to read that ground the movie in its own little patch of semi-reality and make us care about, not only Belle and her father, but also Beast and his lovable staff of cursed (or is it enchanted?) servants. These include Lumiere the rakish French candlesticks cum butler, Cogsworth, the stuffy clock/castle manager, and, of course, Mrs. Potts, the housekeeper, and her little teacup, er, son, Chip.
The film also boasts one of cinema’s most self-assured villains: Gaston. There’s nothing terribly subtle about him, but then again there doesn’t have to be. Just having him around to juggle and then swallow five dozen eggs (whole) and make us better appreciate Beast’s awkward, gruff charms is enough.
Then, there’s the epic battle scene in which the colorful inhabitants of the castle defend themselves against the townspeople who are whipped into a frenzy when Gaston plants the thought in their heads that there’s “something truly terrible inside” the hulking ruins at the edge of the woods. Yes, the movie makes a comment about the folly of assuming that something we aren’t familiar with and don’t understand is evil, but one of its greatest strengths lies in its insistence on letting the characters—Belle, with her inherent good sense and kindness, her father’s devotion to her, Beast’s transformation from arrogant, self-involved prince to humble lover—speak for themselves.
It’s technically a “kids’ movie,” but it doesn’t tell, it shows—which is the first rule of thumb for any form of entertainment that aspires to pluck its partakers' heart strings. I encourage you to revisit Beauty and the Beast (or, gasp! see it for the first time) and let yourself get swept up in a true example of movie magic yet again.
Until next Wednesday, stay picky. Your mind will thank you later!
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