Rousing ‘Beast’ is a real beauty
New live-action film even better than the original
Here’s some Disney magic for you: The new Beauty and the
Beast actually improves upon the animated classic.
Embracing its musical-theater nature and adding depth to a familiar narrative, the liveaction remake (eeeE out of four; rated PG; in theaters March 17) is a real
Beauty. The film directed by Bill Condon (Dreamgirls) skews long, but uses that time to unleash fresh new songs, personalize its supporting players and provide reasons for a provincial girl to fall in love with a ferociously grumpy beast.
It’s the “tale as old as time,” so most everybody already has a handle on the plot: Belle (Emma Watson) is the well-read outcast of her village who comes to the rescue of her eccentric artist father (Kevin Kline) when he’s taken captive by the Beast (played via performance capture by Dan Stevens). The former prince is now the furry resident of a rundown castle, and when Belle switches places with her imprisoned dad, she and the Beast go from distrusting strangers to fledgling lovebirds. Standing in their way are angry townsfolk and a magical rose with falling petals that acts as a countdown clock for the Beast’s humanity.
Watson’s singing is shaky early on, though she settles into her feisty character, who has no patience for illiterate brutes like über-macho town hero Gaston (Luke Evans). Stevens’ Beast is created through visual effects wizardry, but he finds the right balance between the despair of his pre-Belle days and the goodhearted, surprisingly witty dude he later becomes.
More time is spent showing how these two grow to dig each other beyond just geeking out over books — a new plot point has the Beast helping Belle come to grips with the loss of her mom. (Little ones may need to talk after seeing those scenes, and there are a couple of instances with wolves that are a little harrowing.)
The antagonists get more to do in the redo, plus their major Gaston number makes for a boisterous night at the bar. Gaston is the entertaining jerk Evans was born to play, and just as great is Josh Gad as his loyal aide-de-camp LeFou, a fun sidekick and voice of reason who fosters more than the average bro crush.
The production also gets a boost from the household objects that famously come to life: Charming candelabra Lumiere (Ewan McGregor) is a highlight, as is the cockney-accented, tea filled Mrs. Potts played by Emma Thompson, whose singing of
Beauty and the Beast is a delight. Condon very much stages his
Beauty and the Beast as a real musical, from the over-the-top opening where the selfish prince is transformed by an enchantress, to a banquet here flying dishes highlight a dazzling performance of Be Our Guest.
Lyrics by the late Howard Ashman cut from the animated film are added back here, and original composer Alan Menken and lyricist Tim Rice obviously are going for next year’s original-song Oscar with new numbers.
Like with Moana, Disney has made a conscious effort to modernize its female lead: As servants try to gussy Belle up, she gives them sass and says, “I’m not a princess.” And although she likes the yellow dress worn in the iconic dance scene, that thing gets ditched quick when she needs to go fight for her man-beast.
Unlike last year’s The Jungle Book, Beauty and the Beast marries visual spectacle and sumptuous design work with a better story than its original, casting a spell on old fans and newcomers alike.