With all due respect for the company that employs one of my favorite stars (Goofy), I must report I have serious problems with your splashy production of “Beauty and the Beast,” now at the Chicago Theatre.
I know the musical is aimed at the entire family, from squirming little kids to adults hankering for a satisfying story. So what were you thinking when you made it so long? And why did you cut out its heart?
From curtain up to curtain call, the show runs 2 hours and 40 minutes (almost twice as long as the 84-minute Disney film).
This means that a 3rd grader (like mine) who goes to a 7:30 p.m. performance on Wednesday or Thursday will be snoozing over her Sugar Smacks the next morning. Mr. Eisner, have you ever tried to wake up a 3rd grader on a school day after that child has hit the hay around midnight? Believe me, it’s not “Hakuna Matata.”
Granted, weekend performances would be preferable for kids, but what if the only tickets available are for 8 p.m.? By 10 p.m., with a good chunk of the second act left, most children will be playing the part of Snow White’s pal Sleepy.
And at any performance, parents may find themselves asking the same question as the Beast when he sings, “How Long Must This Go On?” near the end of the 90-minute first act. A parent who has paid $70 per orchestra seat may have difficulty feeling the Disney magic while rushing to the restroom with kids who can’t wait for intermission.
As an adult easily mesmerized by live theater, I wanted to love your show, Mr. Eisner, but I came away disappointed by the story. Susan Egan, who played Belle on Broadway, recently described “Beauty and the Beast” as “a spectacle with 47 pyro cues.” In true Disney form, the show does have eye-popping pyrotechnics, including great showers of sparks that shoot from giant champagne bottles in the production number “Be Our Guest.”
But you missed putting fireworks in one very important place: between the Beast and Belle.
I’m a sucker for romance onstage and on film and almost embarrassingly vulnerable to emotional manipulation. (To give you a frame of reference — I consider the title characters’ spaghetti strand-sharing scene in Disney’s “Lady and the Tramp” to be heart-tugging.)
But the Beast and Belle together in your musical left me cold, principally because you’ve tampered with the Beast’s character, turning him into a goofy guy who toys with his tail, mugs at the audience, and purrs at his own beastly reflection before meeting Belle at dinner. In the original story and in Disney’s fine animated film, the Beast is not clownish. He’s frightful and pained, making Belle’s tenderness toward him grippingly poignant.
In the movie’s stirring ballroom scene, the lyrics “Both a little scared, neither one prepared” ring with emotional reverberations for many adults who have unexpectedly fallen in love. But in the musical, the words pack no punch because the Beast is more like a big shaggy dog than a tormented soul transformed by Belle’s affection.
Perhaps I’m getting too analytical here, Mr. Eisner. I know “Beauty and the Beast” tickets are flying out of the box office and that you could probably turn the Beast into a kangaroo and still have a hot show. Families are starving for big-time, live theatrical entertainment.
But as a parent, I’d like to put in an order for a pull-out-the-stops Disney musical that (1.) is shorter than “Beauty” — no more than 2 hours, including intermission — and (2.) has emotional fire along with the fireworks. Make me laugh, make me cry, and don’t make me take my child to the bathroom during the first act.
