Is Beauty and the Beast A No Limits Power Bottom?

Seeing Disney’s live-action remake of Beauty and the Beast is like suffering through a date with a no-limits power bottom. This movie is so needy to entertain that you become put off with it’s desperation and want to escape. On such occasions, I’ve texted a friend to call me with a fake emergency so I could flee the scene, usually followed by a Silkwood shower. But this time I stayed at my peril, and left a shread of my soul on the Arclight’s sticky floor.

To be fair, the musical is charming and well directed by the estimable Bill Condon, but the film stars the worst actress on planet Earth, Emma Watson, who grins, blushes and scowls with such jejune refinement that she might as well have been created in a computer along with the rest of the cloying, solicitous CGI cast of household items that twirl and flourish at every turn. Here, Miss Watson lip syncs to her own tracks, as well as to an uncredited ghost singer for the heavy lifting, conjuring memories of poor Marni Nixon. Similarly manufactured is Dan Stevens’ Beast, whose computer animated iteration pales in comparison to the fiercer 1991 ink and paint version.

Sadly, I stayed for the whole saccharine affair, though I hated myself for every cheap thrill it delivered. On the whole I’d rather have had a date with Jean Cocteau’s wonderous 1946 Belle et la Bette instead and kept my self esteem intact.

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