Do Over: Beauty and The Beast … twenty years on. (Now you feel old, non?)

“It’s not right for a woman to read! Soon she starts getting ideas, and … thinking.”

Inspired by Sinéad’s hindsight-fluffed dissection of The Lion King the other day, I took it upon myself to dust off my (now digitalised) copy of Disney’s Beauty and The Beast to see if what was neon-catchy then can stand up to scrutiny now. And you know what? The grown-up me has found just as much to like about it! Hurrah!

Beauty and The Beast was a grower, for me. As a tween, I preferred Aladdin’s derring-do and his bare-chested-but-non-threatening aesthetic moxie. Hot on his genie’s blue heels came The Lion King, which had more fart jokes than you could shake a warthog’s arse at, and then, of course, along came Toy Story, which turned all of our brains into fizzing Play Doh. But eventually it occurred to me that I liked Beauty and The Beast best. I wasn’t quite sure why. Its songs were, as Disney songs were back then, magnificent, but it lacked thrilling sequences, computer wizardry (apart from a brief nerdgasm in the ballroom scene), and wink n’ nods to adult humour. Now I know it’s because Belle is such a brilliant heroine – just the Disney princess to reconcile your adult conscience with your childhood naivety. To put it simply, it’s because Belle, unlike her Disney sisters, isn’t a whingey, drippy bint.

Everyone knows that Disney princesses make horrible role models. They’re either ballgown-flouncing ninnies who can’t choose a piece of fruit without a strong man standing by for Heimlich kisses, or noble bores who pontificate at trees and other such earthy metaphors. The choice tends to be: you can be thick as a sycamore and have a man do all your thinking (Cinderella, Ariel), or have a say in the scheme of things and be yawned at for being so tiresomely worthy (Pocafuckingyawnbot). But Belle’s worthiness is for Belle’s benefit. She cared not for changing the scheme of things, so long as she had a few daycent books and a roof to read them under. She could make goo-goo eyes at The Beast, but also leave him moping like a common emo when she had more important things to do, like looking out for her family; beasts, after all, are fleeting. And she was up for taking the piss something chronic out of people less intelligent than her, so, y’know, Epic Wimmin Win.

(Incidentally, here’s where many Disney fans would throw Mulan into the mix, as a princess who wasn’t going to take her social standing … er, lying down. I’d have to point out that Mulan’s worth came from her not acting like a woman - she had to pass herself off as a dude in order to be happy with herself and her achievements. Which is a whole other kettle of misogynistic fish-who-do-need-bicycles, so maybe a post for another day/month/era.)

I remember reading a critique of Belle recently which suggested that she had saved the Beast using her only asset, her physical beauty. Preposterous, I say! Belle was clever, considerate and cultured, and Beast, drawn to that, had to change his ways to win her love. At first, when she arrives at the castle, he merely sees WOMAN! and thinks that this coochie-packin’ creature is just the right gender to break the spell (the Beast is not progressive enough to be gay). But it’s her spirit and kind heart that opens his eyes, not her curves. By the time Belle dolls up for the big dance number, Beast is already head over heels about her. And Belle, for her part, castigates herself for not first looking behind Beast’s fearsome facade, and dismissing him initially for his being “mean and coarse and unrefined”. She grows as much as he does. Yes, the Beast has to scramble to keep up with her, but she admits she was not perfect to begin with. And like all great relationships, it begins with friendship. Not a pervy kiss while the physically-perfect lass was sleeping. Ugh, princes! Consent!

Of course, we cannot underplay Belle’s rejection of the monstrous Gaston, a physically-perfect lad with the delicate soul of a boulder. “I just don’t deserve you!” is her excuse, which is far more bitchy and pointed than it might first seem. And Belle does not want to change Gaston, though he is handsome, well-respected, and financially sound. A lesser lady might have tried saving him from himself, what with the solid foundations already under him. Not Belle; she’s not about changing anyone. She doesn’t try to change Beast. He changes of his own accord; she makes him want to be a better person.

Conclusion? Beauty and The Beast is still my favourite Disney film. I have no problem, even through adult perspective, with its message and morals. It’s got a nerdy princess who prizes knowledge, friendship and family above status, beauty and comfort. Its hero is an asshole who gets a solid boot up the hole from a woman not willing to put up with his moods. And its antagonist is the perfect example of skin-deep beauty, proving that just because you’re successful and popular and can eat five dozen eggs every morning, you don’t automatically get anything over on the hairy, awkward boor who’s willing to try that bit harder.

And then, of course, there’s this.

Angela Lansbury! Magnifique!