I’ve seen a lot of criticism for Beauty and the Beast–the fairytale, the Cocteau version, but especially Disney’s version–asserting that the transformation of the Beast into a human prince is a disappointment and that it undermines the moral of the story.
I’ve seen critics decry this ending as just a return to the safe status quo of socially acceptable romance. Why should Belle be happy, they argue, that her lover goes from an extraordinary creature to an ordinary, boring handsome guy?
But I honestly take umbrage with this argument, mostly because I feel like it phenomenally misses the point.
First of all, the transformation at the end isn’t Belle’s fairy-tale reward for loving a monster. At the story’s climax, all she wants is for her boyfriend not to die. Disney’s Belle pleads, “Please don’t leave me” before confessing her love. At no point does she ask or expect him to become human, let alone good-looking, again. (In fact, I would argue that ‘91 Belle wasn’t even aware that was a possibility. She might have suspected he was really human, but she didn’t know for sure.)
No, the transformation is the Beast’s reward. In the Beaumont/Villeneuve version, the prince was unjustly cursed by a cruel and predatory fairy, and therefore an innocent victim all along, so it would be pretty horrible to make him suffer the rest of his life. Disney’s Beast is punished for his selfishness and lack of empathy, and during the course of the film, learns to love someone selflessly.
Becoming human again, then, is a powerful metaphor for the transformative power of love and acceptance. Do I think they could have been happy together even if he’d never changed back? Absolutely. (Hell, I’m writing that AU myself.) But it’s not wrong of the prince to want to rejoin society again–or to at least have the option.
Now let’s also address the second part of this criticism: that in becoming human, the Beast becomes boring and no longer desirable. Again, I think this is fundamentally missing the point. Belle doesn’t fall for the Beast because she’s attracted to the “dangerous” or whatever nonsense these darkfic writers want to assert. If that were the case, that’s not profound, that’s really just as superficial as falling for someone because they’re conventionally attractive.
Even the Villeneuve/Beaumont version is about seeing past the superficial trappings of romance (charm, wit, sex appeal) and loving someone for their heart and soul. She doesn’t love him because he’s a beast, but because of the person he really is underneath.
Going back to Disney’s version, Belle starts to like him because of his kind and gentle nature, and even states this outright. That’s not going away just because his appearance has changed, so why should she be disappointed? Either way, he’s still the man she loves, and that’s what matters.
This is also why Rose Daughter bothers me.
Wow, I am so glad to see this discussion here. Of course, there are endless versions, retellings, and subversions of an almost endless amount of fairytales and folklore out there, and everyone has their favourite interpretations. But as the OP so beautifully states, it does seem that certain essential elements of this particular tale are being completey overlooked.
While I can of course understand and even to a point empathize with being ‘into’ the Beast as, well, a beast, it distresses me when people seem to forget the fact that the Beast is…. under a curse. He did not choose to become ‘a beast’. It was done to him against his will. In the animated Disney version, it is implied that, if given the choice, he would want to regain his original form. So, all fetishizing of his outwardly ‘beastly’ physical appearance aside, *HIS* preference is to become human again.
Also, as the OP points out, Belle herself (in the animated version at least), is not disappointed by the Beast’s transformation. She is momentarily uncertain, yes, but once she sees that it is still him in there, that it is still the same being she has fallen in love with, she readily accepts his ‘new’ returned form. Because, the whole point of the story is that for BOTH Belle and the Beast (or rather, the Prince), it is their inner-beauty that ultimately ‘counts’ and shines through…and that they each fall in love with, respectively. It is Belle’s kindness, patience,and warm-hearted good nature that wins over the Beast, rather than just her physical beauty. And likewise, it is only as Belle discovers how gentle and sweet the Beast can be, that her feelings toward him begin deepen.
On a personal note, when watching the animated Disney version as a child, I LOVED that the Beast became human again at the end. Not because I disliked him as a Beast (I thought he was adorable, tbh), but because I could sense how much he had longed for his human life (not to mention how much was at stake re: his entire household regaining their human forms, as well), so, in the context of that particular retelling, the ending felt very satisfying indeed. I did not feel cheated, or tricked, because we had already seen (in brief glimpses) that the Beast was once a handsome prince, and it was already established that the spell that had been laid, not just over the Prince himself, but over the entire castle, was the sort that *could* potentially be broken. It was only Belle who did not know for sure, but even she might have had at least some inkling…
Which brings me to what has always been one of the most thrilling parts of the movie for me: the scene where Belle sneaks into the West Wing and catches a glimpse of the torn painting of the Prince. She cannot quite make out his face, but is struck by the hauntingly piercing expression in his eyes. There’s an intensity there… this is a passionate soul, even before he was, outwardly, a ‘beast’. It’s this very juxtaposition that forms the heart of the story….that glimpse of the ‘human’, contrasted against the evidence of almost, mindless, animalistic violence (the canvass shredded by gigantic claws), and how the quiet moment is soon shattered by the Beast’s sudden, terrifying presence in the room.
But that little glimpse is important, because it hints at something hidden, just below the surface. Even in the midst of his rage-filled outburst, it is painfully clear that there is humanity there, trapped within a feral form. And this is, in my opinion, a crucial aspect of the presentation of the Beast’s character: it is never JUST the bestial qualities or imposing physical appearance that makes the Beast himself so interesting, or even appealing…it is, from the start, always the juxtaposition of his beast-form (which is rendered so ‘frightening’ in large part by his emotional immaturity and easily-angered state at the beginning of the story) with the simultaneously constant reminders of the humanity (and potential for further growth) that is latent within him. In this way, the theme of ‘Beauty and the Beast’ can apply to not only the titular characters, but also to the fascinating interplay between the monstrous and the human within the Beast himself.
Ultimately, this story would be a different story entirely if the Beast had wanted or chosen to become a Beast to begin with, or if, at the end, he for some reason were to decide to remain as such. Or, if, for instance, it were established from the start that the curse was something irreversible, without a chance of ever being broken. (Another reason why Rose Daughter’s ending does indeed feel out of place, and dare I say, anti-climactic, as a ‘retelling’ of this story, and why I personally prefer McKinley’s earlier version, Beauty.) The transformation from beast into human at the end is an essential part of this tale.
And in a more general sense, it is the lifting of a curse that characterizes this ‘type’ of folktale. The Aarne-Thompson types ‘The Search for the Lost Husband’ (AT 425), ‘Cupid and Psyche’ (AT 425A), and ‘Beauty and the Beast’ (AT 425C) all fall under the larger category of stories in which relatives or spouses-to-be are under some form of spell or enchantment which can and/or must be broken. Of course, versions (or subversions) that keep the Beast eternally as a beast can certainly be told, but, in my understanding, these would not technically fall into the same category as the ‘Beauty and the Beast’-style tales, the crux of which is the return or transformation into human form at the end.
In my opinion, the ‘humanized beast’ is not inherently ‘boring’ or less appealing than the ‘Beast’, because from the start the Beast demonstrates elements of his inner humanity, and continues to grow throughout the course of the story. Likewise, the compelling interplay between the ‘civilized’ vs. ‘feral’ elements of his character is not dependent solely upon either of his physical forms, and can be (and is) apparent while he is both ‘beast’ and ‘man’. The idea of the Beast remaining ‘a beast’ may be appealing to audiences on a certain level, but in actual story-terms would require dismissing not only the Beast’s own wishes, but also the influence that Belle has on him….not to mention removing several intrinsic folkloric elements that make this story what it is.
can you believe this is pretty much the first time i’ve ever been asked this?
i summarize the monster narrative on my about page: what is the monster? why is it a monster? does it regret being a monster? does it love being a monster?
and so to me the monster narrative is any story that revolves around monstrosity, often falling under one of those questions and using at least one of them to build a more specific story off of that.
what is the monster?
does something Happen to someone that makes them a monster? are monsters born? are they made? do we need an explanation? is your story about finding an explanation for the monster, or is it about discovering the monster in the first place? is this alien – is the monster always in the shadows, lurking through the whole movie, are you holding your breath and watching the flick of tail and the shine of teeth? is one of your characters the monster? does someone have to be the monster? is there always a monster?
and what is the monster? is the monster a literal beast, teeth and claws and the growl in the pit of the throat? is the monster just the Other, the thing that Is Not You? is the monster a villain, and why is that villain a monster, and is there a difference between villains and monsters? are you the monster? is the monster every part of yourself that you do not want to be?
why is it a monster?
what makes characters monsters? this ties into the initial point: does something have to Happen, in order to make a monster? are you seeking an explanation? why are you doing that? why are we so eager to find our monsters? did you make your own monster? are you desperate to find a monster that makes you into the Not Monster? why is that?
is your story going back into the monster-past and unraveling the monster? is your story confronting prior assumptions? is your story exploring the monstrosity that is a part of all of us? is this the 100 – do we all have a monster inside of us, and are we all responsible for what it does when we let it out? why, why is it a monster?
does it regret being a monster?
is the story about a monster trying to change – because of love, because of self-love, because of remorse? does it keep hurting anyways? can it not change? why? can it change? why? what caused the regret in the first place? was it a person? what makes this person different, really?
can monsters change? are they always doomed to be the things they were? let’s step back: what is the monster? why is it that once you call something a monster, it can never be anything else? why are we not allowed to be anything but the people we were? are we giving the monster another chance? why are we doing that?
if it regrets, if it changes, if it grows: what now? does it have nightmares? does it wake up in the mornings with aching teeth? is change easy, one step, or every time it sees a knife does it ache? what is it, now that it is Not A Monster? or is it a monster still? are you always a monster? are you just a better one, now? or is this beauty and the beast – once loved, do your fur and claws and teeth melt away like they were never there?
is it enough? is it enough? is it enough?
does it love being a monster?
why choose monstrosity over other things? does love hurt too much? does love not hurt enough? is this what the monster thinks will get it love? has it never wanted love? why? why do we build our monster-stories around love, anyways?
what makes monstrosity feel good? what problem does it solve? why does it love being a monster? why does it love being a monster?
or, in short: the monster narrative is a story about a monster. here is the river, and here is the box, and here are the monsters we put in the box to test our strength against. monster stories are necessary stories. monster stories tell us things about ourselves, and our monsters, and we who are our monsters. and i love every single permutation of them, teeth and all.
I’ve seen this gorgeous art before, I’m probably one of the reblogs XD. It definitely wasn’t made FOR PTBS but I get really happy whenever I see anyone else doing a more literal take on dragon sickness! 😀