La Belle et La Bête (1946)

Film: La Belle et La Bête

Director: Jean Cocteau

Country: France

Released: October 1946

Runtime: 93 minutes

Genre: Fantasy

Studio: DisCina

Influenced: Disney, Jim Henson, Tim Burton, Tilda Swinton, Guillermo del Toro


Jean Cocteau set out to show the world – and in particular Walt Disney – that not all fantasy films have to be animated. Cocteau's stunning visual effects make La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) a timeless classic, from the magical transformation of the Beast to the ethereal beauty of the enchanted forest. The film opens with Cocteau breaking the fourth wall and pleading with his audience, via poetic words written on a chalkboard, to give up any preconceived ideas of about what is real. This was Cocteau's first full-length feature movie – he's also well-known for his Orphic Trilogy of films, Le Sang d'un Poète (1930), Orphée (1950) and Le Testament d'Orphée (1960) – and this is his greatest achievement on screen.

Assisted by Henri Alekan, Cocteau's stunning black-and-white cinematography captures the dreamy beauty of the fairytale world, backed up by a haunting score from Georges Auric, which enhances the mood of mystery and enchantment. As per Beaumont's original 1757 story, the film tells the story of Belle, the daughter of a merchant with two awful sisters (a bit like Cinderella), but unlike them she takes care of her father and performs chores around the house. One night her father becomes lost in the enchanted forest, and stumbles upon the castle of the Beast, where he is threatened with death for stealing a rose. He strikes a deal to save his life, meaning Belle has to come and live in the castle, where she gradually sees beyond the Beast's ugly exterior to discover a kind and loving heart beneath. As they fall in love, the enchantment of the castle and its inhabitants begins to lift, revealing a new world.


Many directors of fantasy films in the modern era, from Tim Burton to Guillermo del Toro, have cited this film's influence. La Belle et la Bête would go on to define the cinematic fairy tale right for decades, influencing Disney's 1991 animated version and the 1994 musical that would follow hot on its heels. But none of its imitations have matched the perfect balance that Cocteau found between fantasy elements or visual trickery and the moral fable that underpins it. There's an integrity and fidelity to the original text in Cocteau's film that gets lost in the Disney versions, while the costumes are perfectly crafted. 

Surrealist details in Cocteau's film like the hallway with human arms holding candelabras and the magical sets, inspired by the artistry of Gustave Doré and Vermeer, also place the film on a higher plane of artistic creation. I recommend seeing Cocteau's later movie, Orphée (also starring Jean Marais), even though he turns up the surrealist dial even higher in that film. It's like the visual equivalent of Bob Dylan's Ballad of a Thin Man, with the feeling that something is happening here but you're not sure what it is. There’s something comic about Orpheus in the car listening to his muse through the radio and ignoring his wife in danger. Orpheus thinks his wife is just playing up to distract him from his poetry. The story is not simply about love, death and jealousy, but also about how art can seduce the artist away from ordinary concerns. When Orpheus is asked in the underworld to define a poet, he says: "Écrire sans être un écrivain". With La Belle et la Bête, Cocteau was making films without being a filmmaker.

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