an adult fairytale
by
Douglas Messerli
Jean
Cocteau (screenplay, based on the story by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont,
and director) La
Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) /
1946
In
Jean Cocteau’s famed retelling of de Beaumont’s Beauty and the Beast, Belle (Josette Day) is presented as a caring
and serving Cinderella-like figure, whose two vain sisters Félicie (Mila Parély,
the former wife of actor Jean Marais) and Adélaïde (Nane Germon) can’t even get
invited into a party they hope to attend, and whose brother, Ludovic (Michel
Auclair) is a no-good adventurer, whose gambling debts make the already
poverty-stricken family all but homeless.
For a brief moment, joy threatens to
return to the household when one of the ships turns up at harbor. The father
rushes off to claim his treasure, but is told that the goods have already been
sold off to pay his debts. He has not even enough money to stay in town
overnight and is forced to make the treacherous voyage home through the forest
on a stormy night.
These are, of course, the standard
symbols of romantic love and the mythic emblems of fairytale romances—although
in this case they are all controlled and held by the bestial male, instead of
the usual give-and-take mix of male and female in most such romantic tales.
The old man is told he must die within a
few hours—unless he is able to produce a daughter willing to replace him. With
that, the old man is set upon a majestic white horse, Magnificent, which takes
him back home, where he recounts to his family what has happened.
She too is terrified by the strange
emptiness and surreality of the castle, and is even more terrified when she
actually meets The Beast, fainting at the sight of him. When she awakens,
however, The Beast promises he will not bother her, but will meet her only a
dinner, when every day he, like Avenant, will ask for her hand in marriage.
So begins a kind of routine, a life
actually quite boring for the young girl, despite the beautiful gowns and
jewelry the beast provides for her. He attempts to explain that everything is
hers, and that she is in charge, while she still feels as if she were being
caged. In its somewhat childlike logic, it all reminds me a bit of how we
attempted to let our pet cat know, when she first came into our lives, how she
was in control of the house, not us. There was nowhere where she could not go,
while we were limited to the daily routine of our more mundane living.
Indeed Cocteau argues from the very
beginning of the film, that his audience must attempt to regain some of their
childlike wonderment:
Children
believe what we tell them. They have complete faith in us. They believe that a
rose plucked from a garden can plunge a family into conflict. They believe that
the hands of a human beast will smoke when he slays a victim, and that this
will cause him shame when a young maiden takes up residence in his home. They
believe a thousand other simple things. I ask of you a little of this childlike
sympathy and, to bring us luck, let me speak four truly magic words,
childhood's "Open Sesame": Once upon a time...
As Cocteau shows us, his beast’s hands
do, in fact, smoke each time he captures a deer or other animal in the forest
to eat, and he is highly troubled and embarrassed by the fact. She witnesses
his lapping up the water from a pool, and later slackens his thirst by letting
him drink water cupped in her own hands. Gradually, she begins to see the ugly
beast almost as we might a pet, stroking his head, as he observes, instead of
accepting his open love. Each night, in conversation, she rejects his
proposals, but nonetheless she grows to be fond of him.
Her father’s health, however, still
worries her, and she finally convinces The Beast to allow her to return home
for only one week. When he finally permits it, he warns her that if she does
not return promptly he will die of grief. As she leaves, moreover, he reminds
her of his love and faith in her by presenting her with the key to the small
outlying building which holds all of his wealth, and giving her his glove which
allows her the magical powers of moving through time and space.
Reluctantly, she stays on another day,
while the sisters meet with Ludovic and Avenant once again to plot their
methods. Miraculously, Magnificent, carrying the mirror is his satchel, is sent
by The Beast once more to bring back Belle, and the two men take advantage of
the situation by jumping upon him and commanding he take them where he will.
Meanwhile, Belle, seeing in the mirror how
The Beast is suffering, puts on the glove, immediately returning to her castle
bed. Yet when she finds the key missing, she quickly returns home, to find it
has been stolen. She again returns to the castle, attempting to minister to the
dying Beast.
Avenant and Ludovic, arriving at the
Pavilion of Diana, where The Beast’s wealth is held, attempt to climb into it
through the glass roof. But as Avenant dangles above, ready to leap into the
jewels, a statue of the Roman goddess Diana turns and shoots him with an arrow,
killing him.
For children, of course, that last scene
will simply be a kind of wonderful fairytale-like ending, but for us, as
rational adults, it is clearly a kind of mythic representation of love, death,
and transfiguration—a kind of resurrection after death. And, for those in the
know, obviously, it clearly represents a kind of romantic projection by the
director of himself upon the fairytale, wherein he himself becomes the Belle to
his idolized Prince Ardent, Marais, turning it into a true “fairy” (i.e. gay)
story.
Yet, none of this should or does actually
get in the way of the magical tale involving elements also of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty; it is a film worthy of taking your children or
adult heterosexual friends to time and again.
Los Angeles, May
26, 2016
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