As everyone with
children already knows, Disney has just released Beauty and the
Beast on DVD. My kids had never seen it, and as it truly was the
great musical (animated or otherwise) of its day Jane nabbed a copy the
next time she visited Costco. We watched it over a couple of nights,
breaking just after the stunning “Be Our Guest” sequence, and a good time
was had by all. It was better than I remembered, and actually deserves
most of the hoopla.

But then I got to thinking–it’s a chronic problem I have–that the story
as presented simply doesn’t make sense. I’ll grant you the basic
premise: the prince is an arrogant, inhospitable, bad-tempered swine; he
refuses shelter to an ugly old woman; the woman turns out to be a
beautiful enchantress and casts a spell on him, making his poor character
manifest to all. I’ll even buy the time limit on breaking the spell,
though it serves no real purpose but to add suspense.

So we’re expected to believe that a prince–a son of the King
of France–is turned into a loathsome beast (the members of his
household being turned into useful household objects) and nobody in the
wider world notices? OK, so the castle’s enchantment includes a spell of
forgetting on the surrounding countryside…you’d still think his mother
the Queen would notice when he didn’t come home for Christmas. A Prince
of the Blood Royal would be one of the leading citizens of France, and
his disappearance would leave an unmistakeable chasm in the political
landscape.

Well…perhaps this is France way back in the Dark Ages. The prince’s
father isn’t really the King of France; he’s just a minor king of a small
region. Well and good–but the setting is clearly post-Renaissance. We
can tell that from the vast quantities of printed books alone, if the
architecture of the Beast’s castle wasn’t a dead giveaway. And then,
Belle’s father’s inventions bring it to the verge of the industrial
revolution. So this isn’t a tale of the Dark Ages; this is a tale of the
days when France was already a major European power.

After that, the incongruities keep piling up.

This is France; how come the only ones with French accents are Lumiere
and his girlfriend the feather duster?

And what are Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts doing in the prince’s
service? Unlike anyone else in the movie they are clearly English in name
as well as accent. England was, more often than not, the enemy in this
period of history.

Where’s the rest of the prince’s household–his secretary, his courtiers,
his sycophants and hangers-on, and, for that matter, where are his
guards?

When the ugly witch came, what was the prince doing answering his own
door? He had servants for that.

Where does all the food come from? Are the villagers still making
deliveries? If so, they aren’t admitting it.

Once the spell is broken, what is the prince going to use for candlesticks,
teapots, wardrobes, clocks, and feather dusters?

Belle’s father strays into the castle environs by accident on his way to
the Fair. How come nobody else from the village was going?

Belle visits the village bookseller. He’s got a sizeable shop with lots
of books. Who buys them? It’s a very small town; Belle is considered
unusual because she’s a woman who reads; the men seem to spend all their
time in the tavern swilling beer with Gaston. How come the bookseller
hasn’t gone out of business?

And then consider Gaston, the mighty hunter, he who uses antlers in all
of his decorating–where on earth is he finding the deer? We’re well
into the period in history where any deer in France would be dwelling in
the Royal Woods, protected by the Royal Gamekeepers, to be hunted only by
the Royal Monarch and his friends and family. Gaston is awfully
well-respected in the village for a poacher, especially as the prominent
display of antlers all over the tavern might be enough to bring the
King’s wrath down on the entire town.

Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere. Clearly the Beast–the Prince that
was–is out of favor with his father the King. He’s been banished to a
castle in a remote part of France where he can dwell in moderate comfort
with a minimum of staff. The greater part of French society has
endeavoured to forget him entirely; consequently, his rebirth as a Beast
goes unremarked. The local villagers notice, of course, and being canny
peasants immediately determine to make the best of it. With the Beast in
seclusion, there’s nothing to prevent them from taking to themselves as
many of the local Royal perquisites as they can grab, the King’s Deer
chief among them.

The result is peace and prosperity–wealth, even–for
the village. This is evident from the hustle and bustle in the opening
scenes of the movie, but even more so from the lack of children. I don’t
recall seeing a single person under marriageable age in the entire flick
except for Mrs. Potts’ kid Chip. And of course it’s well known that
family size is correlated with wealth.

So the villagers are all perfectly familiar with the terms of the
enchantment. So no wonder they call Belle’s father crazy when he talks
about the Beast–Belle and her father are newcomers, and are outside the
Conspiracy of Silence that protects the village’s prosperity.

This in turn explains Gaston’s determination to marry a girl who clearly
detests him–she’s the only young woman in the village who might see
beyond the Beast’s exterior and so break the spell. Once married, she’s
no longer a candidate (another incongruity! This is France, after all).
And then, when it becomes clear that the secret is out, Gaston and the
villagers seek to solve the problem by killing the Beast once and for all.

It doesn’t work, of course; Gaston falls to his death, the other
villagers are driven away by the Useful Household Items, Belle announces
her love, and the Beast changes back into a (not particularly
handsome–didja see the size of his nose?) Prince. Belle weds the
Prince, and they live happily ever after.

By themselves, in a castle in a remote part of France, forbidden ever to
return to Paris. It’s a good thing Belle likes to read, that’s all I can
say.