When I was ten years old, Disney's Beauty and the Beast
arrived in theaters, introducing me to my favorite Disney heroine.
While I'll never be mistaken for the most beautiful girl in town and I
have a long way to go before I can begin to match her courage, I've
always related to Belle on a number of other levels.
We're both
bookworms who appreciate the enchantment inherent in rows of well-worn
volumes lining a library wall, who have heads so full of dreams and
distant stories that our peers perceive us as odd as we wander past,
half-dazed. We are fiercely loyal to our families, and we have a certain
tendency to see the world and those in it a little differently than
most. Beauty and the Beast is a masterpiece that I watch for many
reasons, but perhaps the main one is that I see in Belle the best
possible version of myself. The me I could be if my longing for
adventure in the great wide somewhere became strong enough to convince
me that I want much more than this provincial life.
I watch Disney's Beauty and the Beast mostly for the Beauty. But there is another Beauty and the Beast,
an entrancing television series that debuted when I was six. Created by
Ron Koslow, it is a modern-day fairy tale set in New York City, half in
the upper urban landscape of crime and corruption, half in a mystical,
Gothic underworld populated by sweet-spirited outcasts. At the heart of
this secret world is Vincent. Magnificently portrayed by Ron Perlman, he
is leonine and regal, ferocious when defending those he loves but
rarely raising his voice above a murmur. Unlike the Beast of the
traditional tale, Vincent's appearance is not a curse inflicted upon him
in retribution for a stony heart. Indeed, if there is one trait that
Vincent possesses above all others, it is empathy.
A gentle
philosopher with a particular passion for poetry, he is content to
reside in the shadowy splendor of the haven crafted by a compassionate
but quietly tormented soul known to most in the tunnels as Father. Then
he rescues Catherine Chandler, and in her he finds a love of which he
had only ever dreamed. He cannot join her world, yet he is with her as
she goes about her work as an assistant to a District Attorney. He feels
what she feels, and when she is in danger, he forgoes the safety of his
seclusion to be her protector. I watch this Beauty and the Beast mostly for the Beast.
That isn't to say that I'm not fond of Catherine, played with warmth and spunk by Linda Hamilton of Terminator
fame. She shares many traits in common with Belle, and she devotes as
much of her energy as she can to aiding the disenfranchised. Her
connection with Vincent allows her to be even more aware of those in
need, and because of her job, she is in a prime position to help them.
She goes to bat for the battered, the homeless, the orphaned. And those
in Vincent's world soon come to love her too, especially the many
children plucked from lives as street urchins. Of course, there is
always the nagging thought that while Vincent can never truly be a part
of her world, she could be a part of his. Several adults are a part of
Father's close-knit community; why couldn't she be one of them? The
season one finale delves deeply into this question as Catherine
struggles to balance her two very different but interconnected lives.
As much as I like Catherine, my second-favorite character is Father. Classically trained British actor Roy Dotrice (father of Mary Poppins co-star Karen Dotrice) brings a magisterial bearing to the role of this benevolent overseer with darkness in his past. My LOST-geek
senses tingled when, upon watching the first season for the first time
since it originally aired, I realized that his name was Jacob. The two
leaders share many qualities, including an affinity for the broken, a
love for games of strategy, an inclination to impose strict rules and a
frustrating aloofness. But while Father may hold himself at a bit of a
distance, he nonetheless knows each resident of his realm intimately,
and all love him, even though some find his mandates maddening. Some of
my favorite episodes are those that plunge into his past, revealing a
soul as vulnerable as Vincent's.
The underworld occupied by
Father's family is utterly mesmerizing, a gorgeous landscape of
waterfalls, crystalline caverns and cozy living quarters. It's a complex
underground kingdom with homes that breathe comfort as much as any
hobbit hole, and its artistry could outshine the most hallowed dwarf
hall. Yes, although the New York City sewer setting might more readily
put me in mind of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I couldn't help
catching a whiff of Middle-earth, as well as the Utopian camaraderie of
Brian Jacques' Redwall series. This hodge-podge of cast-offs always
teeters on the edge of hunger, yet their underground domain is
dazzlingly beautiful, and together, they procure whatever they need to
survive, with help from friends on the outside.
Among the many
underworld denizens, two particularly stand out to me. My favorite is
Mouse (David Greenlee), a twitchy, open-hearted young man with a pet
raccoon named Arthur, a brilliant mind for engineering and a certain
disregard for the rules. This entirely lovable character, who comes
across as mildly autistic, makes his debut in Shades of Gray, an episode reminding my very much of The Moth, one of my favorite season one LOST
episodes. Both involve the leader being trapped in a cave-in and a
maligned character making up for past misdeeds with a heroic rescue.
This episode also introduces Winslow, played by James Avery. Like Philip
Banks, the uncle on Fresh Prince of Bel-Air whom Avery is best known for playing, Winslow is imposing and ornery but cares deeply about his unconventional family.
Up
above, the most prominent secondary character is Catherine's boss,
Deputy D.A. Joe Maxwell (Jay Acovone). Joe, who is in nearly every
episode, is a cheerful, down-to-earth guy most of the time, though
sometimes the stresses of the job cause him to snap at his hard-working
assistant. Their rapport reminds me a bit of Betty and Daniel on Ugly Betty,
though Joe is more competent than Daniel is. Nonetheless, I get the
sense that he would have a hard time getting along without Catherine.
Their chummy relationship is one of my favorite elements of Catherine's
world, which is far less captivating than Vincent's. There's a definite
'80s cheesiness to this part of the show, particularly when it comes to
the bottom-feeders who threaten Catherine's well-being.
The
first season is pretty episodic, with most episodes focusing on one of
Catherine's cases, though the most compelling storylines are more
introspective, having to do with the unique challenges of Catherine and
Vincent's relationship. These include Masques, in which Vincent
dares a night on the town to attend a masquerade ball in hopes of
meeting and conferring with his favorite author and No Way Down and Nor Iron Bars a Cage,
both of which find Vincent captured above-ground and reliant upon the
kindness of strangers as a frantic Catherine tries to locate him. The
relationship between Catherine and Vincent, so intense from the
beginning, doesn't change much; it's minor characters appearing in a
handful of episodes who make the season best enjoyed in the proper
order.
Beauty and the Beast is a rare slice of the
fantastical that, due to the departure of one of the leads, lasted only
three seasons. It is part crime procedural and part superhero chronicle,
but above all else, it is a tale of deep and abiding romance. Like the
similarly short-lived Pushing Daisies,
it chronicles a chaste but profound love that endures despite far from
ideal conditions, and stunning art direction, a wondrous score and
hypnotic narration (by Perlman, in this case) bolster its fairy tale
quality. So does the theme song, frequently incorporated in the score
and given lyrics by Melanie Anne Safka-Schekeryk (though only heard in
instrumental form throughout the first season), which has a timeless
quality reminiscent of Storybook Love, the Princess Bride
theme. “And if wishes and dreams are merely for children and if love's a
tale for fools, I'll live the dream with you.” A truly beautiful
series.
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