La Belle et La Bête (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

La Belle et La Bête (1946) – J. Cocteau

At the start of the film, auteur Jean Cocteau requests that we accept the events that will unfold with a childlike simplicity and wonder.  This is not at all hard to do.  The movie feels exactly like a fairy tale, set in some rather distant past (“once upon a time”) where a lucky trader’s daughter might hope to marry a prince.  Except the heroine of the tale (Josette Day) is one of those daughters that is bullied and taken advantage of by her older sisters (not step-sisters this time) but is the most devoted and genuinely caring toward her old man. So, when he picks a rose for her from the gardens of a mysterious castle in the middle of the woods and is confronted by a hairy, possibly scary, man-beast (Jean Marais) who demands his life or a daughter’s life in exchange, she sneaks out in the night to give herself up to the beast.  And, of course, the beast, who is secretly sad and romantic, falls in love with her.  However, despite his tenderness toward her, she is too afraid to return his affection, though perhaps she starts to feel the same way.  Cocteau and cinematographer Henri Alekan and production design team Christian Bérard and Lucien Carré have created a magical realm full of surrealistic touches (candelabras held by human hands, statues with eyes that move) but none stranger and more satisfying than the look of the Beast himself with those sad eyes and moveable ears.  Cocteau uses Méliès-styled camera tricks (flying up to the clouds at the end) wisely and well.  But, overall, it is those feelings of love, longing, loyalty, empathy, and sadness that Cocteau captures indelibly that elevate the film to its masterpiece status.  If we add another layer of analysis to suggest that the kingdom of the Beast is actually that of Hades/Death, then the links to Cocteau’s subsequent Orpheus (1950), another masterwork, are much clearer and the film takes on an even more mysterious tone.