Beauty and the Beast (2017)

It’s a tale as old as time, and it’s certainly one we’ve seen before. But for the first time in Disney’s ongoing project of remaking its animated classics into live-action big budget fairy tales (with or without a healthy dose of revisionism), Beauty and the Beast both makes the case for another retelling of the story and manages to be a compelling and potent riff on the original.

If you’re like me, you probably have vast swathes of the 1991 animated film committed to (or seared into) memory, and you’ll likely be singing along in your head to the musical numbers, which get a few bonus verses here and there but are otherwise largely unchanged. So too is the plot translated fairly directly to live-action: bookish villager Belle (Emma Watson) finds herself imprisoned in the castle of the Beast (Dan Stevens), a prince turned monstrous by a curse, in order to save her doddering father Maurice (Kevin Kline). While local ape-man Gaston (Luke Evans) pines for her, to the consternation of his compatriot LeFou (Josh Gad), the castle’s lusty candlestick Lumiere (Ewan McGregor), fussy clock Cogsworth (Ian McKellen), and maternal teapot Mrs. Potts (Emma Thompson) conspire to bring beauty and the beast together to lift the spell.

In the case of Disney’s continued remake renaissance, I wouldn’t say there’s been a complete win. Maleficent was at once too distant from its source material while simultaneously pulling its punches on that difference. Meanwhile, Cinderella and The Jungle Book were visually stunning but ultimately more of the same as far as the originals were concerned. With Beauty and the Beast, however, I recall thinking several times during the film, “Oh, so that’s why they remade this!” Between its new characters and its patched-up plot holes, elucidated backstories and added lyrics, this Beauty and the Beast is a lot like a new brand of your favorite flavor of ice cream. There’s a lot that’s recognizable and reminds you what you love about it, but there are added nuances that gives this incarnation a life all its own. (It’s like the time I discovered they made cookie dough ice cream out of monster cookies and M&Ms.)

Perhaps the greatest strength of the film is its cast, which is positively bang-on from the word “go.” Watson and Stevens are well cast as the star-crossed lovers, in a romantic plotline that doesn’t feel obligatory and includes a few very well-crafted turns of character that give believability to the courtship plot. (That one such moment revolves around a library is perhaps preaching to this bibliophile’s choir, but I’d fall in love with a beast too if he had a library of his own to make Alexandria blush.) That McGregor, McKellen, and Thompson are note-perfect is right up there with “Water Wet” in terms of headlines, nor should one be surprised by the frankly stunning special effects work. What’s genuinely surprising is that Evans and Gad create something really quite special in Gaston and LeFou. Though it’s by no means sympathy for the devil, the script gives Gaston a refreshing amount of psychological depth, and Gad plays LeFou with an understated tenderness that gives LeFou a few legitimate reasons to hang around a specimen as deplorable as Gaston.

Indeed, what Beauty and the Beast does quite well is clarify a few of the nagging details and polish up the bits that work in order to present a fresh version of the story to an audience who is a little older, a little wiser, and a bit more sophisticated. This is hardly an “adult” version of the story, but it does feel a bit more grown-up, more willing to go to places the original didn’t – the question of Belle’s mother, for one, and the aforementioned update to Gaston: neither of which changes the characters or the plot but brings them into sharper focus.

Perhaps most importantly for this moviegoer, Beauty and the Beast never forgets to embrace with exuberance the playful weirdness of a film that includes a talking wardrobe, a barking footstool, and a boisterously romantic candlestick who turns a dinner invitation into something out of Busby Berkeley. It is the kind of film that touches the heart in the right places but isn’t embarrassed to leave you with a big dumb grin on your face as a talking clockface excretes gears in alarm. It’s a film that has more emotional range than we have any right to expect from a remake of an animated fairy tale.

But it’s also a film that, as the song goes, may have something there that wasn’t there before. I’m reticent to call it a brain or a heart or something so reductive, nor do I want to chalk it up to je ne sais quoi, though one character actually does. But unlike some of Disney’s more recent live-action updates, it has an unflappable demand to exist and ends up a worthy successor to the original.

Beauty and the Beast is rated PG for “some action violence, peril, and frightening images.” Directed by Bill Condon. Written by Stephen Chbosky and Evan Spiliotopoulos. Starring Emma Watson, Dan Stevens, Luke Evans, Josh Gad, Kevin Kline, Ewan McGregor, Ian McKellen, and Emma Thompson.

Monday at the Movies - April 6, 2015

Welcome to another installment of “Monday at the Movies.”  This week... well, have a look!

Stranger than Fiction (2006) – Given the very literary quality of this Monday’s film, I’d like to start with an analogy from the realm of the book. They say (and my experience has proven) that every time you read Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’s Watchmen, you find something new, a clever play with the graphic novel form or an allusion that clicks another cog of the text into coherence. In the way that rereading brings clarity to Watchmen, re-watching Stranger than Fiction sheds an intense light on just how beautiful this movie is. Now, beauty isn’t something upon which I remark often here, but there is something very transcendent about Stranger than Fiction’s interrogation of what makes a life significant. Will Ferrell stars as Harold Crick, a tax auditor whose midlife crisis takes the form of his life being narrated by a novelist (Emma Thompson) prone to killing off her characters. Amid Harold’s attempts to stay alive, he falls in love with anarchist baker Ana Pascal (Maggie Gyllenhaal) in what is honestly one of my top ten love stories of all time. The script by Zach Helm is so smart, living up to the metafictional braininess of the concept, and director Marc Forster controls the pace of the film with a grace that was sorely missed in his Quantum of Solace. Ferrell, better known for his often irksome work with the rest of his Frat Pack ilk, gives a wonderfully understated performance here, ostensibly a career-best; he can break your heart with a murmured “Oh...” or lead you to more fulfilling laughter with his subtle quirks than in ten shouty Zoolanders. The supporting cast is a very successful ensemble, including Dustin Hoffman and Queen Latifah, but there is an overall sense of being in the quiet presence of inconspicuous greatness that I take away from Stranger than Fiction. It very well may be a perfect film, for it has never disappointed me in all the times I’ve come back to it.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week! 

Brave (2012)

I make no apologies for being a Pixar shill.  Their movies all do exactly what I want a film to do – transport me to a new world, move me in many emotional directions, and leave me with a memorable and complete story (arguably their strongest suit). 

And so it seems insufficient merely to say that Brave, Pixar’s latest offering, is a success.  We (that is, the royal we) assumed this much going in; therefore, it only remains to be seen how much of a success Brave manages to be.

Pixar dips into the princess business with Brave, a Scottish fairy tale about the tomboyish Merida (voiced by Kelly MacDonald) and her resistance to the idea of an arranged marriage.  Rather than obey her mother (Emma Thompson) and father (Billy Connolly), Merida wants to “ride through the glen, firing arrows into the sunset.”  But after a witch’s potion doesn’t quite change her fate the way she envisioned, Merida is left with only two days to make things right and mend her relationship with her mother.

The first thing you’ll notice about Brave, even without seeing it in 3D (which I didn’t, since my love affair with the extra dimension is waning), is how incredible the visual effects are.  The landscapes look natural, misting water might trick you into believing you’re not watching an animated film, and the abundance of detailed curly red hair can only be described as “Pixar showing off.”  With the clan of DunBroch, Pixar takes one more step toward indistinguishable perfection.

The other great Pixar talent on showcase here is their ability to create emotive, expressive nonhuman characters.  We know that they’re gifted at human faces (or even semi-human, as in the case of the Toy Story films), but the bear characters in Brave especially manage to communicate human feelings and motivations; better, none of the bears are indistinguishable, as each has a unique body language that allows us to know precisely – even if it’s a detail as fine as eye color – which bear is which.

The best example of nonverbal filmmaking, though, comes from the scene-stealing triplets Hamish, Harris, and Hubert.  These three never speak, but through their faces and their body language we know from scene one what these three rascals are like.  They’re crowd-pleasers, instant favorites, and a perfect example of what Pixar does better than any other animation studio – tact.  If this were a Dreamworks film, for example, we’d see a franchise around these three, running the joke into the ground.  (As it is, I’m kept awake at nights by the haunting specter of the “Afro Circus” song.)  But directors Mark Andrews and Brenda Chapman wisely keep the boys in check (at least, as in check as three little hellions can be kept).  But if the film merits a rewatch, it’s at least to keep an eye on these three.

As always, the voice cast matches well, although the small setting doesn’t allow for many trademark Pixar cameos (but John Ratzenberger is in there).  MacDonald is spunky and sassy without shortchanging the emotional moments when her character pivots, Thompson is stern but frustrated with her daughter, and Connolly seems to be channeling Brian Cox as the patriarch, reining in his madcap stand-up inflection for a (slightly) more dignified king.

It’s not Toy Story 3 by any stretch of the imagination – I maintain that that is Pixar’s crowning achievement, if only because I still cry just thinking about it – but Brave is another solid entry in the Pixar catalog, fun for the whole family and delightfully entertaining even for those of us who ought to be too old for this sort of thing.

PS – make certain you stick around after the credits.  No, Nick Fury doesn’t recruit Merida to join The Avengers (they already have an archer, after all), but the stinger scene does tie up a loose end.

Brave is rated PG “for some scary action and rude humor.”  There’s an evil monster bear running around, growling and mauling.  In addition, there are a surprising number of nude rear ends (all played for laughs) in this one, as well as a booger joke.  I think the latter two are a first for Pixar.