Let me start off by acknowledging this as one of the most beautiful animated films I've ever laid eyes on. As cinema's second-ever Beauty and the Beast film following the 1946 Jean Cocteau production, I like to think Soyuzmultfilm saw his version, thought him a coward for making it black-and-white, and then made their own film with one thought in mind: "Taste the rainbow, mother Frencher!" (Because puns & site censoring). All jokes aside though, it truly is a sight to behold, such as in the way you can literally *see* the magic and majesty radiating off the Beast's palace as Nastenka (the Beauty) and her father explore it. The only other version I've found that even *remotely* compares to such visual splendor is 2014's La Belle et La Bete directed by Christophe Gans, and that one was in live-action!
Though the plot as a whole is nothing new or ground-breaking (harken back to its release date), I *do* have to commend the tale for its certain details that still manage to separate from other versions. Most notably, the takeaway of the Beast's incessant & futile marriage proposal routine. A much-needed breath of fresh air for the genre, and one you very rarely see in versions that aren't Disney's or modernized / "realistic." The father, here called Stefan, is better characterized, now a brave and respected captain of a trade crew who is unintimidated by the Beast (granted you won't be either once you see him), utterly refuses to partake in the daughter exchange, and makes a genuine attempt to be the one to return to the Beast before Nastenka makes the choice for him. On the flip side of that, the sisters have a *worse* characterization, and by that I mean they are placed in a much more evil light than usual. Here, they continuously live a comfortable life and receive everything they wish, yet never remain satiated with any of it, thus refusing to allow Nastenka any sort of happiness they see as more significant than their own. (They're like the sisters in the Eros & Psyche myth in that regard, only those two *got* their comeuppance and these two unfortunately don't). Even their plot to ensure the Beast's death is increasingly wicked. Rather than relying on their sister's naivety, they take a more direct approach to the matter by purposefully covering the windows and turning the clocks back so Nastenka is unable to return on time, and when she at last catches wind of their plan, they are completely without remorse.
However, these elements are not what make-up Beauty and the Beast, not as a whole. At its core, it's a story about a romance, and a seemingly unlikely one at that. As such, its handling can easily be what makes or breaks an adaptation. Sadly, this is a prime example of where it breaks (in my eyes at least), and it all comes down to the portrayal of one of its most vital elements: the Beast.
To start off, let me first make reference to the Cocteau film. Amongst the many IMDB reviews I've read for it, there are those who have admitted to being quite put off by the Beast's voice in that film, saying things like "he has the voice of a woman who's smoked for 30+ years," (vainoni, 2012), or "he affected a deliberate tone that became more and more contrived on each utterance," (AAdaSC, 2012), and "did not like the scratchy sound and high timbre of his voice." (Doylenf, 2006) In general, I can completely understand this viewpoint, as I myself have found it to be quite gravelly and devoid of emotional delivery. However, I am able to put that aside for the most part because the actor, Jean Marais, is very expressive facial-wise. Through the heavy yet functional make-up, one can easily see his emotions through it, whether it's authority, embarrassment, fear, or heartbreak. The best example of such achievement is through a heartbreaking long-take of the Beast gloomily wondering about the castle while Belle is away, and with not a word spoken, we can clearly see how much an impact her presence played on the Beast, that the castle feels empty without her, and how tormented he is by the fear that she will not return.
Steering things back to The Scarlet Flower, in this one, the Beast wasn't animated to be facially-expressive, and spends most of his screen time being invisible anyway. (Another reference to Eros & Psyche). Because of that, one would hope that his voice will convey all necessary emotion to make the audience feel for him, right? Not here it doesn't. I don't know if Mikhail Astangov spoke like this in real life or if it was the direction he was given for the character (I'll momentarily assume it was the latter), but his line-delivery as the Beast is wholly devoid of emotion. On top of that, add in word pronunciation stuck on slow-motion, voice acting that seems to have been recorded from the inside of an empty storage container, and you have an end result that is *very* creepy and off-putting. For example, his every utterance of Nastenka's name comes off like he's ready to kill her in her sleep at moment's notice, and when his appearance is accidentally revealed to her, I swear, the dude orgasms. (Not only that, but during that same scene he makes a split-second face of horror that looks like the unholy love child of Macaulay Culkin doing his signature Home Alone face & Kayako from The Grudge. Don't believe me? You can find a Gif of it on Google Images). As a result, I have no real reason to believe Nastenka would *ever* fall in love with this guy. They have little to no chemistry together, and her actress, Nina Krachkovskaya, seemed to be the only one between them putting in the work to convey the budding romance, which, by the way, barely takes up seven minutes of this forty minute film before she's sent home to trigger the Beast's impending death. Granted, the short-spent romance, as well as a tendency to spend too much time on the events leading *up* to the Beast rather than on Beauty & the Beast (something *else* you'll see occur within this movie), tends to be a commonality among most adaptations. I even think Disney's version is guilty of this trope, however, *they* at least knew how to make-up for it via their "Something There" montage (as well as in the later extended editions). So while that last part isn't *wholly* Scarlet Flower's fault, it doesn't mean I can't or shouldn't call the film out for it, especially with it being the second-ever adaptation.
Anyway, because of my inability to connect with the Beast, I could hardly bring myself to care when his "death by loneliness" rolled around. (Phelan Porteous, anyone?) You *know* it's a problem when I find myself more invested in the emotions conveyed by the music score *surrounding* the actor's death scene rather than the actor himself. And it even more so sucks when you see that this is one of the very few times where the Beast's face *finally* displays some semblance of emotion. There's a true exhibit of heartbreak in his eyes that ends up falling short due to Astangov's aggravatingly monotone delivery; he sounds closer to falling asleep as opposed to dying. To make matters worse, when the Beast turns back into a man, he suddenly remembers what it means to "speak with feeling," but it only made me more frustrated. Because in general, we're supposed to prefer the Beast over the man as much as the Beauty does, but I can't see Nastenka at all wishing for the creepy-as-heck Beast over this Russian Ken Doll-looking dude, not when the latter is better proven to be capable of showing love & compassion. *sigh* And to be clear, despite my using the time period as backdrop for what the story is structured the way that it is, it should *not* be used as an excuse for *any* of the critiques I made towards it. Especially considering how its lesser-known 1998 English release not only addressed, but *fixed,* just about every issue involving the Beast.
All in all, a feast for the eyes but a meager sampling at best for the heart. 5/10.
Though the plot as a whole is nothing new or ground-breaking (harken back to its release date), I *do* have to commend the tale for its certain details that still manage to separate from other versions. Most notably, the takeaway of the Beast's incessant & futile marriage proposal routine. A much-needed breath of fresh air for the genre, and one you very rarely see in versions that aren't Disney's or modernized / "realistic." The father, here called Stefan, is better characterized, now a brave and respected captain of a trade crew who is unintimidated by the Beast (granted you won't be either once you see him), utterly refuses to partake in the daughter exchange, and makes a genuine attempt to be the one to return to the Beast before Nastenka makes the choice for him. On the flip side of that, the sisters have a *worse* characterization, and by that I mean they are placed in a much more evil light than usual. Here, they continuously live a comfortable life and receive everything they wish, yet never remain satiated with any of it, thus refusing to allow Nastenka any sort of happiness they see as more significant than their own. (They're like the sisters in the Eros & Psyche myth in that regard, only those two *got* their comeuppance and these two unfortunately don't). Even their plot to ensure the Beast's death is increasingly wicked. Rather than relying on their sister's naivety, they take a more direct approach to the matter by purposefully covering the windows and turning the clocks back so Nastenka is unable to return on time, and when she at last catches wind of their plan, they are completely without remorse.
However, these elements are not what make-up Beauty and the Beast, not as a whole. At its core, it's a story about a romance, and a seemingly unlikely one at that. As such, its handling can easily be what makes or breaks an adaptation. Sadly, this is a prime example of where it breaks (in my eyes at least), and it all comes down to the portrayal of one of its most vital elements: the Beast.
To start off, let me first make reference to the Cocteau film. Amongst the many IMDB reviews I've read for it, there are those who have admitted to being quite put off by the Beast's voice in that film, saying things like "he has the voice of a woman who's smoked for 30+ years," (vainoni, 2012), or "he affected a deliberate tone that became more and more contrived on each utterance," (AAdaSC, 2012), and "did not like the scratchy sound and high timbre of his voice." (Doylenf, 2006) In general, I can completely understand this viewpoint, as I myself have found it to be quite gravelly and devoid of emotional delivery. However, I am able to put that aside for the most part because the actor, Jean Marais, is very expressive facial-wise. Through the heavy yet functional make-up, one can easily see his emotions through it, whether it's authority, embarrassment, fear, or heartbreak. The best example of such achievement is through a heartbreaking long-take of the Beast gloomily wondering about the castle while Belle is away, and with not a word spoken, we can clearly see how much an impact her presence played on the Beast, that the castle feels empty without her, and how tormented he is by the fear that she will not return.
Steering things back to The Scarlet Flower, in this one, the Beast wasn't animated to be facially-expressive, and spends most of his screen time being invisible anyway. (Another reference to Eros & Psyche). Because of that, one would hope that his voice will convey all necessary emotion to make the audience feel for him, right? Not here it doesn't. I don't know if Mikhail Astangov spoke like this in real life or if it was the direction he was given for the character (I'll momentarily assume it was the latter), but his line-delivery as the Beast is wholly devoid of emotion. On top of that, add in word pronunciation stuck on slow-motion, voice acting that seems to have been recorded from the inside of an empty storage container, and you have an end result that is *very* creepy and off-putting. For example, his every utterance of Nastenka's name comes off like he's ready to kill her in her sleep at moment's notice, and when his appearance is accidentally revealed to her, I swear, the dude orgasms. (Not only that, but during that same scene he makes a split-second face of horror that looks like the unholy love child of Macaulay Culkin doing his signature Home Alone face & Kayako from The Grudge. Don't believe me? You can find a Gif of it on Google Images). As a result, I have no real reason to believe Nastenka would *ever* fall in love with this guy. They have little to no chemistry together, and her actress, Nina Krachkovskaya, seemed to be the only one between them putting in the work to convey the budding romance, which, by the way, barely takes up seven minutes of this forty minute film before she's sent home to trigger the Beast's impending death. Granted, the short-spent romance, as well as a tendency to spend too much time on the events leading *up* to the Beast rather than on Beauty & the Beast (something *else* you'll see occur within this movie), tends to be a commonality among most adaptations. I even think Disney's version is guilty of this trope, however, *they* at least knew how to make-up for it via their "Something There" montage (as well as in the later extended editions). So while that last part isn't *wholly* Scarlet Flower's fault, it doesn't mean I can't or shouldn't call the film out for it, especially with it being the second-ever adaptation.
Anyway, because of my inability to connect with the Beast, I could hardly bring myself to care when his "death by loneliness" rolled around. (Phelan Porteous, anyone?) You *know* it's a problem when I find myself more invested in the emotions conveyed by the music score *surrounding* the actor's death scene rather than the actor himself. And it even more so sucks when you see that this is one of the very few times where the Beast's face *finally* displays some semblance of emotion. There's a true exhibit of heartbreak in his eyes that ends up falling short due to Astangov's aggravatingly monotone delivery; he sounds closer to falling asleep as opposed to dying. To make matters worse, when the Beast turns back into a man, he suddenly remembers what it means to "speak with feeling," but it only made me more frustrated. Because in general, we're supposed to prefer the Beast over the man as much as the Beauty does, but I can't see Nastenka at all wishing for the creepy-as-heck Beast over this Russian Ken Doll-looking dude, not when the latter is better proven to be capable of showing love & compassion. *sigh* And to be clear, despite my using the time period as backdrop for what the story is structured the way that it is, it should *not* be used as an excuse for *any* of the critiques I made towards it. Especially considering how its lesser-known 1998 English release not only addressed, but *fixed,* just about every issue involving the Beast.
All in all, a feast for the eyes but a meager sampling at best for the heart. 5/10.