Beauty and the Beast

This is what true movie-making is about. There is no CGI, no pop culture jokes, no stupid sex scenes. This IS what love stories are made of.

The classic fairy tale is given remarkable treatment by Jean Cocteau as he tells the tale of a beautiful girl who falls in the love with a tortured but charming Beast (played by Jean Maris in a stunning performance). This movie just seems to have it all: it's visuals are very impressive, the romance is very charming and not at all phoned in, the story is engaging and surprisingly tense, and the acting is just superb. Although there are no big movie names, you won't care for a second as this talented group will win you completely over.

Not only is this fantasy at it's very best, it often comes off more as a poem rather than a movie but you won't care. It's one of the most visually dazzling poems ever put on film.

You can venture into this hypnotic domain and dive as deeply into its myriad of meaning and interpretation as you care - whether in the deeps or the shallows or somewhere in between, you'll find a mesmerising presentation of true originality from a legendary pioneer. The scenery, the costumes, the performances, the imagination and the innovation are all supremely wound around a tale few would not have encountered before, albeit through the animation of a slightly differing yarn. If that is what brought you here I hope you have not been disappointed, that it unlocks a door to so many treasures of cinema past, to diverse worlds and continents and by legends occasionally mightier than those found here.

This famed Jean Cocteau film of the 1940s plays like a poem, moving across the screen. In a triple role (Avenant, a friend of Beauty's brother; The Beast; and the Prince) Jean Marais is curiously flat as a human – it is as the sensual, passionate, sensitive, and complex Beast that he really shines. Josette Day is little more than adequate as Beauty, but good enough for the role that has been written for her.

The tale is one of awakening, of desires, and of strange surroundings. Living statues and disembodied arms holding candles aloft populate the twilight world of the Beast's castle, where the fate of a young girl turns on the plucking of a rose. Ghostly voices, choral and otherwise, shadows and softness accompany Beauty as she walks into the kingdom which first repels and then entrances her.

I have to agree with the view that the great Greta Garbo took of this movie, though: ‘give me back my Beast'. The transformation from powerful feline seducer to run-of-the-mill Prince is a disappointment. It is during the scenes where Beauty and the Beast play out their fantasy that this film has its most potency.

Prominent sociologist Bruno Bettleheim believes that the fairy tale has a very important role in the socialization process of children. Each fairy tale addresses a fear they must overcome; Hansel and Gretel addresses the fear of abandonment, Little Red Riding Hood the fear of the `wolf' in the bed sheets, and Beauty and the Beast the similar fear of the `beast' in men that virgin women face on their wedding night. These tales illustrating the effective resolution of possible threats are very important to natural development.

Cocteau's attempt to socialize his female viewers and alleviate their fear of sex is clear through textual analysis. The mirror that Beauty peers into her first night at the castle shows a reflection of her father where her own self-reflection should have been, indicating that she is still very much defined by the dominant male role in her life. Almost immediately after, the bed sheets slide off the bed in a provocative manner, portending future threat, and she runs away repulsed. She confronts the Beast, and promptly faints. This scene establishes her fear and immaturity; however, Beauty and the Beast become progressively closer through the film, holding hands and talking. During her visit to her family, he caresses and wraps himself in her blanket, another reference to his association with her bed. When she decides she has remained at home too long, she lies on her bed and looks at the beast in the mirror's reflection. This is the point of transition, where she links this new dominant male figure to her bed. Instead of being repulsed by his reflection, she lovingly caresses the mirror and returns to him. In order to do this she slips on his glove, perhaps a reference to condoms. His glove is a perfect fit, displaying their perfect compatibility.

The Cocteau version of Beauty and the Beast also addresses the dual nature of masculinity where good and evil coexisted, and the lines of differentiation are increasingly blurred. He emphasizes his statement that man and beast are indistinguishable by casting Jean Marais in both roles. Beauty comments upon this, when she tells the prince that he reminds her of a friend of her brother's. The fine distinction between the two characters is the prince's inner beauty as well as outer. When the brother's friend becomes greedy, he transforms into a beast so his inner ugliness and outer appearance coincide.

Socialization of Beauty remains central despite two forms of masculinity because the two never meet, so Beauty's choice between the two is central. The film is about the distinctions between men, and the importance of picking the right one. Since both the friend and the prince have the same attractive male face, the lesson is to hold out for the true prince who is good and noble on the inside as well as attractive.

As the Beast-turned-prince reclaims himself at the end of Cocteau's film, the message the audience should take away is that love can cure any ugliness and make any beast a man. The interchangeability is evident and the choice important. Beauty loves the Beast, overcoming her fear of the beastly in marriage and claiming she will get used to him, the reality of a man. Beauty makes a gradual transition from love of her father to a husband, as portrayed in her mirrors depicting her core identity.

I first saw this film, believe it or not, as a young boy of about four or five. The year was about 1952 or 1953, and I watched it on a typical TV set for those days - a very small screen with a very grainy picture. I remember being mesmerized by the film, particularly the ending. I must have asked my mother the name of it, for I never forgot it. I'm sure I didn't understand it much, it was just that I was swept away by the artfulness and magic of it. Its memory remained in my consciousness for about forty years, during which time I never once saw the film or even heard about it. Then I happened to run across it in a catalog. I just had to have it and ordered it immediately. It was an incredible experience to see this film again after so many decades, and to connect again with my child-self. I could see why the movie had made such an impression on me and haunted me all these years. As it turned out, the film had even more meaning for me as an adult, since the main theme had a special, personal relevance for me. Amazingly, I had also developed an obsession with roses, and tended to a garden of hundreds of rose bushes. All in all, a very beautiful film and a simple yet magical tale.