Ever a Surprise, Ever as Before: How Belle Moves Back in Beauty and the Beast

If It's Not Baroque, Don't Fix It

With its modern reworking, Disney wanted to demonstrate a departure from the stereotypical conventions and Snow White-sexism of its previous releases, and in some ways, it succeeded in doing so. Critics praised the new feminist-ish heroine (she can read!). The popular, handsome hunter is portrayed as a narcissistic moron, and while Belle’s favourite book features a Prince Charming, it doesn’t seem like she personally pines for one. Libraries around the world have gotten a lot of mileage out of their pop culture poster girl (literally—Princess Belle starred in print ads for Library Card Sign-Up Month as recently as 2013).

Madame Leprince de Beaumont’s fairy tale isn’t exactly a tale of female empowerment, but at least the author’s intentions are unambiguous. The ideal that Beaumont was interested in conveying to her students consisted of parental obedience, humility, and strong morals, and her story highlights these values through and through. Conversely, Disney’s objective was to create a refreshing version of Beauty, which seems like it would have been easy enough considering 235 years had elapsed. This well-intentioned goal unfortunately coincides with such opposing ideological messages that it self-destructs. Belle loves reading, yet her interest is repeatedly maligned by all of society with no redeeming reward; she falls in love with the Beast despite the whole beast thing, but he demonstrates no virtue of his own volition; she is a faultless heroine, but she experiences no significant evolution to attain her perfection.

The opening narration of the Disney movie muses, “Who could ever learn to love a beast?” It’s not so much that Belle doesn’t learn to love the Beast—it’s more that nobody really learns anything.