John L Walters 

Philip on Film Live: La Belle et La Bête

Barbican, London
  
  


This weird and wonderful treatment of a familiar fairy tale is a genuinely new concept. Philip Glass has replaced the soundtrack of Jean Cocteau's 1946 feature with his own score, taking the film's original French dialogue as the libretto. For this cinema-opera, four singers stand at microphones on the stage below the screen, alongside the six-piece Philip Glass ensemble, conducted by Michael Riesman.

There is an artificiality and extravagance about this, and the singing is not always lip-synched perfectly, but it doesn't take long for the audience to become absorbed, sit back and enjoy this fabulous piece of entertainment. Soliloquies become arias, conversations become duets, an argument between Belle's spiteful sisters and lazy brother becomes an intricate, rhythmic trio.

Though Glass lacks Cocteau's lightness of touch, and the keyboard sounds are of variable quality, his vigorous gestures intensify the melodramatic narrative.

Cocteau's movie is an interesting choice for the collaboration. The original is often silent: naturalistic sounds such as doors closing, breathing and footsteps are absent. Paquin's sumptuous costumes and the 1930s make-up and hair make it seem like a much earlier movie. The powerful allegory leaves space for Glass to add a more poetic dimension.

When Belle's father gets lost in the forest the music darkens. Within Bête's chateau, Glass's treated marimba samples and spooky five-finger exercises lock the viewer more completely in Cocteau's enchanted domain, where the eyes of statues follow every movement.

A few sound effects - a horse, birds, smashing glass - are played from the samplers and, at times, the electronic keyboards give the score a regrettably low-budget sound. Yet La Belle et La Bête, a clever, posthumous collaboration between artists of different eras, is so original that you have to applaud.

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