‘Beauty and the Beast’ Made Me This Way
The Scoop features personal essays on movie-centric topics.
By Crystal Cestari
I blame Disney for making me this way.
Don’t get me wrong: I love the adult I’ve become. A mature, elegant lady who certainly never bursts into song and dance at Whole Foods or could not even fathom wearing bedazzled sneakers on the regular. Sure, I believe in fairies and yes, I check all the dreaded “Disney Adult” boxes, but I fail to see how any Xennial wouldn’t, seeing as how we were raised on what is easily one of the most important animation eras of all time: the Disney Renaissance.
For anyone more stunted by arrested development than myself: the Disney Renaissance gifted pop culture with a decade of certified animation bangers, starting in 1989 with The Little Mermaid and sunsetting with Tarzan in 1999. Before they churned out classic after classic, the studio was sinking creatively and financially, failing to recreate the fairy tale magic that made the Mouse a household name. But a willful, angel-voiced mermaid changed all that, and soon an entire generation was pulled into a whole new world.
No disrespect to Ariel, but it was 1991’s Beauty and the Beast that unlocked that door for me.
Saying bonjour to myself
I still remember sitting in the theater and being immediately entranced by the two-minute opening, with its haunting glockenspiel tinkling under a chilling prologue promising a castle tinged with unknown wonder. It skillfully toed the line between curiosity and fear—a thread that coiled around much of my childhood. What was going on in there? Was I brave enough to find out? I was an extremely skittish kid who shied away from era stalwarts like The NeverEnding Story and The Princess Bride due to unnecessary horse torture and rodents of unusual size. Could I really venture into a cursed castle with a headlining beast?!?
But then, a light in the darkness: Belle, a bright and bookish heroine, entered the chat, confidently strolling through a town that outwardly and aggressively disliked her. (The townspeople declaring she’s “strange yet special, a most peculiar mademoiselle” could easily be the title of my autobiography.) She floated despite their obvious distrust and critique, choosing to live in a world of stories and possibility rather than succumb to their taunts.
The instant kinship I felt with her is somewhat embarrassing: As a nine-year old girl, I wholeheartedly believed Belle’s character was based on me, due to a few irrefutable facts:
She had brown hair. I had brown hair.
She loved books. I LOVED BOOKS!
She longed for adventure in the great white somewhere, and I too wished for a world filled with magic and wonder, a place where my constant daydreams could be reality.
As a shy, sheltered kid who spent more time drawing and writing than engaging with the world around me, I felt Belle’s loneliness and yearning for more. I held onto imaginary friends and happily ever afters way past the “acceptable” age, but Belle unabashedly did the same. It’s OK to dream, she whispered, as dandelions floated in the breeze. You don’t have to settle for their plans.
Though for a character based on myself (ha), Belle took several liberties, showing courage in situations that would’ve set me to tears. She stayed strong when Beast yelled at her (so fiercely that her hair blew back!!!), insisting he learn to control his temper. She powered through the woods (wolves hot on her tail!!!) to rescue her ailing father. But most of all, she rejected a man who admired her for the wrong reasons, respecting herself enough to follow her heart and not fall prey to the easy choice.
Nine-year old me could never, but mid-forties me aims to live these lessons every day.
More than a provincial love
Beauty and the Beast was the first animated movie to be nominated for a Best Picture Academy Award, and it’s easy to see why. The artistry is next level; the cast is top notch. While there were certainly other animation masterpieces by this point, Belle & Crew upped the ante, creating a Broadway-caliber showstopper for all ages.
How many times did I rewind my cassette (!) player to proudly belt, “There must be more than this provincial life!”? (I had no idea what “provincial” meant but I knew I DIDN’T WANT IT!) Did I eventually join show choir and foster a lifelong love of musical theater as a result of this movie? WHO’S TO SAY?
An unfortunate side effect of growing up has meant my relationship to this movie has changed somewhat. While I still hold it in my Top 5 Disney Movies (it feels illegal not to), Adult Crystal Brain pokes holes at the story, needling me with pestering thoughts like:
Did the Beast’s subjects just straight up forget they had a ruler? How did he go ten years without someone stopping by?
Why did everyone keep calling him “Beast” when he clearly had a name (Adam)?
Where the heck did the “Be Our Guest” menu come from? Were some of the castle inhabitants transformed into farming equipment?!?
But despite this nonsense, I never stopped loving Belle. In fact, 30+ years of distance has deepened my affection. As a kid I admired her bravery and kindness, but as an adult, I’ve realized an even stronger tether that inspires me to this day: Belle was ordinary. She’s not a princess, not a mythical creature. Not the chosen one destined to alter the course of history. Living in a small town with her single dad, Belle was an average person who set out to create the life of her dreams, unwilling to compromise her values despite hardship and discrimination.
And she did it, against all odds. If she could manifest her wishes, maybe I can too.
Beauty and the Beast is often boiled down to “don’t judge a book by its cover.” But for me (and I have to believe countless others), discovering the magic of being true to yourself is the real tale as old as time.
Crystal Cestari is the author of five magical realism books published by Disney/Hyperion, including her latest Happily Ever Island, about a fictional resort where guests live-action role play their favorite Disney characters. Find her at crystalcestari.com.