Would it be cliche to begin this conversation by saying that the story at the heart of Beauty and the Beast (French: La Belle et la Bête) is based on a tale as old as time? Regardless, this is the perfect entry point to starting our discussion on Jean Cocteau’s masterful adaptation of the timeless story, which has undergone so many different adaptations and interpretations since its emergence as one of the many fascinating folk tales to come out of Europe in the 18th century, as popularized by the famous version set down on paper by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont, who composed the most oft-referenced interpretation of the fairytale (which had been subjected to numerous variations, each one adding their own unique details while eliding those that were not necessary – this is the wonderful nature of folk tales and their gradual evolution over time), crafting the version one that functions as the source text for the vast majority of contemporary interpretations, making it arguably the most famous fairytale to come from Europe. Here, we see the great Cocteau stake his claim at the story, looking at the interactions between the sweet and innocent Belle, with the maniacal but clearly misunderstood Beast, forming an unforgettable romance that has stood the test of time and lent itself to being one of the most cherished stories in modern culture, transcending boundaries and being embraced by an audience that has grown to appreciate this charming but idiosyncratic story that works as both a charming fantasy, and a parable with some lessons carefully placed in key areas. Beautiful and provocative in a way that suggests that it was far ahead of its time, this version of Beauty and the Beast is a masterful and compelling experiment by one of history’s great artists.

Trying to explain the influence Cocteau had on the culture, both at the time and in the decades since, is difficult, and is something that many theorists and viewers of his work have been trying to resolve since he started producing work. He wasn’t so much an artist as he was someone whose entire life orbited around the desire to create works in any medium that would be able to handle his incredible curiosity – whether through words or images (or both in several instances), he consistently managed to capture his unique understanding of the human condition, which is present in all of his work. He was not limited to a particular kind of medium, with his ability to work in a range of styles and formats making him one of the 20th century’s most fascinating figures, and someone whose influence remains potent to this day. However, even just looking at the work he did in cinema, we find ourselves feeling like we are in the presence of a true genius – he was one of the pioneers of experimental cinema, someone whose entire process was less about adhering to conventions, and more about finding new ways to describe the world around him. Considering so much of his work took the form of either direct literary adaptations, or loose reworkings of existing texts through his own unique perspective, Cocteau was clearly the right filmmaker to work with this story. Whether or not Cocteau was integral to the current love countless viewers have for this story, his version of Beauty and the Beast is incredibly important, not only in how he translates this fairytale to the screen, but also in his efforts in establishing that fantasy and romance could exist together in a way that was meaningful, rather than the more trivial form that many seemed to think that it would have to take in order to be appreciated.

Many consider this film to be the definitive version of Beauty and the Beast, and it may be difficult to argue with such a sentiment, especially since there are numerous areas in which still film pushes boundaries that were not previously possible. If anyone was going to redefine cinema under his own broad intentions, it would certainly be Cocteau, who never once seemed to be content with playing by the rules, regardless of the medium in which he was working. One would think that Beauty and the Beast would not inherently lend itself to much experimentation, granted it retained the same general narrative and message. Cocteau was not interested in changing the story, so much as he was expanding on certain details that he clearly found more interesting than others – once again, the oral traditions of fairytales not only facilitated such flights of fancy, but it openly encouraged it in many ways. Great storytelling doesn’t necessarily mean relaying the details exactly how they have been explored before, but rather taking the text and reworking it into a form that emphasizes the elements each individual artist finds interesting. Cocteau regularly took this approach, often even reconfiguring his own interpretations of classical texts in new ways (consider his Orphic Trilogy, which consists of The Blood of a Poet, Orpheus and Testament of Orpheus, each one being loosely connected to the classic Greek myth, while not necessarily being part of the same artistic conversation) – and while Beauty and the Beast may not be his most inventive work in terms of how he handles certain artistic ideas, it does have a very clear and concise method of interpreting the text, being a film that uses both fantasy and romance to comment on the nature of terror and monstrosity and how we embrace humanity through this lens.

Purely on a creative level, Beauty and the Beast is an extraordinarily special film. While we normally tend to see Cocteau’s films as narrative experiments, this one is more focused on the visual splendour, with the attention to detail underlying every scene clearly coming from a master craftsman who makes use of whatever resources available to him at the time, actively creating a beautiful and unforgettable landscape that could rival any film produced in recent years, where not even the assistance of technology can evoke the same magic that we see produced here. The element that makes all of the director’s films so intriguing are how resourceful they are – looking at them from a distance (as well as from a contemporary perspective), it’s easy to determine how these practical effects were achieved – Cocteau was a great artist, but he was working at a time when it was far more challenging to evoke the feeling of pure fantasy, since there weren’t as many methods of tricking the audience as we have now. Yet, every frame of Beauty and the Beast feels so sincere and complex in its construction, with a big part of the film’s success being that the viewer is easily put under the spell of this enchanting film. We can see the methods taken to create this fantastical world, but we don’t pay attention to the mechanics, since the director draws our attention away from the specific details of the film’s construction, and positions us as observers into this distant world, one that only vaguely resembles our own. There’s an impossibly high standard of creativity and thrifty resourcefulness that went into the creation of this film, but it compounds into a fascinating and often deeply enchanting spectacle that feels like we are witnessing something truly special, which makes all the difference in a film that is mostly intent on inspiring a sense of awe and wonder in the viewer.

It is hardly surprising that this version of Beauty and the Beast is considered not only one of the first instances of a truly immersive fantasy on film, but the gold standard for the entire genre going forward. It isn’t the most inventive or original approach to this kind of subject matter, and it does have a few instances of being rough around the edges that naturally comes from being made in a period before these kinds of inventive fantasy films were more easily produced. Yet, despite the difficulties associated with the genre and the era in which it was made, Cocteau proved that he was a master of his craft, and someone whose artistic vision, whether intentional or not, was drawn from a place of genuine and undying devotion to the smallest and most intricate details, which interweave with the more detailed elements of fantasy around which the film revolves. Naturally, we can only expect some viewers to not be fully onboard with what the film is saying and doing – after all, this is a piece of cinema that is driven primarily by its atmosphere, so if one doesn’t find the general tone and approach endearing, then it can be a bit of challenge to fully embrace the film. One does need to have a level of sensitivity to the kind of story being told here, as well as a fondness for abstract artistic expression – but even for those who aren’t devoted to the general story or how Cocteau embraces it, Beauty and the Beast is not a difficult film to enjoy, particularly when it becomes less about the specific narrative, and more focused on the precise nature of using the visual medium as the foundation for a daring and wonderfully evocative story that tests our ability to suspend disbelief and simply surrender to the abstraction that often makes a great deal of art so endearing.