A young artist draws a face at a canvas on his easel. Suddenly the mouth on the drawing comes into life and starts talking. The artist tries to wipe it away with his hand, but when he looks... See full summary »
Elizabeth Lee Miller,
During the First World War, two French soldiers are captured and imprisoned in a German P.O.W. camp. Several escape attempts follow until they are sent to a seemingly impenetrable fortress which seems impossible to escape from.
Adélaïde, Belle, Félicie and Ludovic are young adult siblings who once lived in grandeur until their father's merchant ships were lost at sea. The family is now near ruin, but Adélaïde and Félicie nonetheless still squander away the family money on themselves and keeping beautiful, whereas Belle slaves around the house, doting on her father. Ludovic detests his two spoiled sisters, but is protective of Belle, especially with his friend Avenant, a handsome scoundrel who wants to marry Belle. Crossing the forest one dark and stormy evening, the father gets lost and takes refuge in a fantastical castle. Upon leaving, he steals a blossom off a rose bush, which Belle requested. The castle's resident, an angry beast, sentences him to one of two options for the theft of the rose: his own death, or that of one of his daughters. As she feels she is the cause of her father's predicament (despite her sisters asking for far more lavish gifts), Belle sacrifices herself to the beast. Upon arriving ...Written by
The studio and locations were so cold that the cast huddled around the lights between shots to keep warm. See more »
As Beauty and the Beast walk in the garden, a comparatively modernly dressed boy in short pants is visible for a few seconds to the top right behind them. See more »
So, my dear sir, you steal my roses. You steal my roses, the things I love most in all the world. Your luck has gone from bad to worse. You could have taken anything except my roses. The punishment for this simple theft is death!
Sir, I didn't know. I meant no harm. My daughter asked me to bring her a rose.
Don't address me as "sir." I'm called the Beast! I don't like compliments. Don't try to understand. You have fifteen minutes to prepare to die!
Again! The Beast orders you to be ...
[...] See more »
The title and some of the opening credits are written with chalk on a blackboard, and then erased. See more »
The 1946 American release of the film had an entirely different set of opening credits, and is the one available on VHS. In that release, these credits were presented straightforwardly, with nothing unusual about them, and with the title in English. In the film's original release, available on DVD, the credits were written on a blackboard, in what is known as cursive handwriting, the same type of writing in which the opening prologue appears. After every credit, Jean Cocteau's hand would erase it and write the next credit with what appeared to be chalk. Then, after the credits ended, a film clapboard was seen, it was slammed together, as they always are just before a film director yells "Action!", and then the film's written prologue was seen. See more »
This might be my nominee for the most beautiful film ever made. It ranks as one of my absolute favorites.
So many images stick in your head afterwards: the billowing draperies; the beast's flashing eyes when he first appears; the way his ears prick up when a deer moves through the woods-- he's trying to talk to Belle but can't help but be distracted-- one of those perfect moments; the way his hands smoke from the fresh blood when he's returned from the hunt; the living eyes in the carved stone; the hall full of arm/candelabras, turning as Belle passes by; Josette Day (quite an image all by herself); the moment that I can't even describe when she sort of folds into the sheets and vanishes-- so on, so on.
This is, in short, what film can do, when it tries. This was made long before computer graphics and the accompanying revolution in special effects, but if any of our modern directors deployed their resources as imaginatively, or as sensitively, as Cocteau did in the 40s, film today might be worth the paper it's printed on. But they don't and it isn't. Ah well. Get this and watch it; all due praise to Disney, but this is the fairy tale to see.
31 of 37 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful to you?
| Report this