LaRon Austin's Beauty and the Beholder is an extremely well-conceived story. In this version of the Beauty and the Beast parable, the first candidate for either role - solid actor and pretty man-boy Ruan Martin - is a plastic surgeon with a wee bit of a cocaine habit and an unhealthy perception of what real beauty is and means. He's also pointedly unlikeable at first, verging on deplorable - until, of course, true beauty walks into this beast's life, and begins to slowly melt the sharpest edges off of this cold and narcissistic iceberg.
Director Austin dangerously but very purposefully puts our man's relationship with the viewer in a deep hole, and then coyly uses an arsenal of storytelling constructs to dig him out. At first, it's hard to imagine this character's successful emotional redemption. But therein lies the challenge Austin surely wanted to burden himself with to test his own chops as a storyteller, and he ultimately wins the battle in grand style.
This isn't a Disney movie of old, or of new. Arguable vulgarity, sexually-pointed dialogue, and some surgical scenes that could prove gruesome to the unsuspecting eye are all storytelling implements used by Beauty and the Beholder, but I'd argue they're not cumulatively gratuitous, and instead are well-chosen in that they successfully serve the director's tonal purpose. Kudos to Austin, too, for not laying down on the job once he's successfully put an emerging shine on our plastic surgeon: Instead of trailing off into the sunshine and happiness of predictable endings, we instead find ourself with a finish that neither conforms nor goes gently into that dark night, and it further stakes out this film as a truly accomplished piece of storytelling.
Director Austin dangerously but very purposefully puts our man's relationship with the viewer in a deep hole, and then coyly uses an arsenal of storytelling constructs to dig him out. At first, it's hard to imagine this character's successful emotional redemption. But therein lies the challenge Austin surely wanted to burden himself with to test his own chops as a storyteller, and he ultimately wins the battle in grand style.
This isn't a Disney movie of old, or of new. Arguable vulgarity, sexually-pointed dialogue, and some surgical scenes that could prove gruesome to the unsuspecting eye are all storytelling implements used by Beauty and the Beholder, but I'd argue they're not cumulatively gratuitous, and instead are well-chosen in that they successfully serve the director's tonal purpose. Kudos to Austin, too, for not laying down on the job once he's successfully put an emerging shine on our plastic surgeon: Instead of trailing off into the sunshine and happiness of predictable endings, we instead find ourself with a finish that neither conforms nor goes gently into that dark night, and it further stakes out this film as a truly accomplished piece of storytelling.