When most people think of the story of Beauty and the Beast (BatB) they usually think of one of two things: either the light-hearted feel-good Disney musical romp or the instructive tale on how to find a good husband by Mme Beaumont. All other versions seem to stay somewhere within these boundaries...except for Panna a Netvor (PaN).
PaN follows the original story written in 1740 by Mme Villeneuve which was made into its better known version by Mme Beaumont: The merchant loses his fortune, steals a rose and must send his daughter to the beast to repay him. There, she dreams of a prince, falls in love with the beast, and frees him. It sounds like any other BatB version ever made. However, PaN takes place in a gritty bleak world where the people in it behave like beasts and wealth leads to misery. Even the scene which introduces the merchant opens on town life with animals being slaughtered.
Netvor is not a gentle soul hoping to be saved. The first time he is introduced, we see his claw tear at a woman's dress and then later learn that he's killed her. He feasts on the female blood and, when Julie (Beauty) arrives, she is drugged in preparation for him to kill her which he only barely refrains from doing. Instead, he is forced to hunt and we see an unsympathetic scene of him setting upon a doe. Also unlike any other BatB, he has the shape of a bird which presents a grotesque and unpleasant appearance.
The casting of Vlastimil Harapes for the part of Netvor was genius. Harapes was one of the leading ballet danseurs of his generation and since went on to be the art director of the National Theatre of the Czech Republic. Watching him in PaN, I could not imagine that anyone else could so perfectly nail the physicality of the character, who could so convince me of the truth of his story. His costume isn't fancy or hi-tech makeup and yet I can do nothing but believe that this character exists and that he is a tormented half-human creature. Despite being brutal and vicious, the audience aches for him: his pains are ours, his sorrows ours, his few joys ours as well.
Netvor's costume is simple: a fitted mask, tattered clothes, claw gloves and a feathered cloak, the mask preventing his facial expressions from being seen. Despite the limitations it causes, Harapes delivers a performance so moving and powerful that even when he has no lines his emotions are palpable. When Julie is contemplating running away, he watches her from above, and when she closes the gate and returns, for an instant you see netvor ease back against the rock in relief. It's easy to miss; there are no words, and yet it's a subtle and beautifully executed moment of the film. Even the cloak which has a propensity to be an obstacle and hide the actor's body language is instead used as if it is part of his body as expressive as his own hands.
Julie (Zdena Studenkova) provides an unusual alternative to the typical beauty. Although she seems innocent, symbolically wearing white clothing throughout the film and having been given a white rose, she's frightened that her beastly host does not exist, that she's imagining him, and doubts her own beauty, wondering if she's beautiful enough for him. But most unusual, she can be cruel, which gives her a dimension of humanity most versions do not afford.
Juraj Herz, the director, manages to bring out the very best in his cast. Many scenes, even those without Vlastimil Harapes, look more like highly choreographed dances than mere blocking, with the best instance being when Julie returns home and her sisters pull her back and forth between them. It looks simple until you realise that this isn't something that just occurred naturally, that it had to be practiced and rehearsed and perfected before they could shoot the scene.
The symbolism is ever-present, the palette colours carefully chosen, every detail precisely placed so that they could tell their own story. And while every aspect of the film serves a function, not only is it open for many layers of interpretation, but it was achieved on what Hollywood would consider a shoestring.
Additionally, this film was made in 1978 in Czechoslovakia under Communist supervision. As such, the film is completely for the anti-glorification of material wealth which seems hard to achieve with a story about a merchant who tries to regain his money and a cursed prince. The merchant's caravan in the beginning shows that wealth makes beasts of all men. The merchant, after regaining his wealth, returns home only to be miserable and unhappy that Julie is no longer there. His two remaining daughters subsequently strip him bare of every possession he has when they marry two greedy men, indicative of how material things can bring out the worst in people. Even netvor lives in a decaying castle completely devoid of fine things and yet, Julie finds happiness and love in such a setting.
It is a rare occasion to come across a dark version of such a typically uplifting and pleasant fairy tale. Even the few that do exist lack capable actors, capable directors, and a sense of artistic vision. Between the chemistry of the performers and the unusual, sometimes disturbing, romance on a backdrop of devastation and decay, there is a harmonious discord which somehow makes perfect sense. This film not only delivers a strange, dark, gritty tale with perfectly cast leads, but provides an intellectual journey both in terms of subtext and symbolism and provides a view of socio-politic effects upon a story which is shared by all cultures.
PaN follows the original story written in 1740 by Mme Villeneuve which was made into its better known version by Mme Beaumont: The merchant loses his fortune, steals a rose and must send his daughter to the beast to repay him. There, she dreams of a prince, falls in love with the beast, and frees him. It sounds like any other BatB version ever made. However, PaN takes place in a gritty bleak world where the people in it behave like beasts and wealth leads to misery. Even the scene which introduces the merchant opens on town life with animals being slaughtered.
Netvor is not a gentle soul hoping to be saved. The first time he is introduced, we see his claw tear at a woman's dress and then later learn that he's killed her. He feasts on the female blood and, when Julie (Beauty) arrives, she is drugged in preparation for him to kill her which he only barely refrains from doing. Instead, he is forced to hunt and we see an unsympathetic scene of him setting upon a doe. Also unlike any other BatB, he has the shape of a bird which presents a grotesque and unpleasant appearance.
The casting of Vlastimil Harapes for the part of Netvor was genius. Harapes was one of the leading ballet danseurs of his generation and since went on to be the art director of the National Theatre of the Czech Republic. Watching him in PaN, I could not imagine that anyone else could so perfectly nail the physicality of the character, who could so convince me of the truth of his story. His costume isn't fancy or hi-tech makeup and yet I can do nothing but believe that this character exists and that he is a tormented half-human creature. Despite being brutal and vicious, the audience aches for him: his pains are ours, his sorrows ours, his few joys ours as well.
Netvor's costume is simple: a fitted mask, tattered clothes, claw gloves and a feathered cloak, the mask preventing his facial expressions from being seen. Despite the limitations it causes, Harapes delivers a performance so moving and powerful that even when he has no lines his emotions are palpable. When Julie is contemplating running away, he watches her from above, and when she closes the gate and returns, for an instant you see netvor ease back against the rock in relief. It's easy to miss; there are no words, and yet it's a subtle and beautifully executed moment of the film. Even the cloak which has a propensity to be an obstacle and hide the actor's body language is instead used as if it is part of his body as expressive as his own hands.
Julie (Zdena Studenkova) provides an unusual alternative to the typical beauty. Although she seems innocent, symbolically wearing white clothing throughout the film and having been given a white rose, she's frightened that her beastly host does not exist, that she's imagining him, and doubts her own beauty, wondering if she's beautiful enough for him. But most unusual, she can be cruel, which gives her a dimension of humanity most versions do not afford.
Juraj Herz, the director, manages to bring out the very best in his cast. Many scenes, even those without Vlastimil Harapes, look more like highly choreographed dances than mere blocking, with the best instance being when Julie returns home and her sisters pull her back and forth between them. It looks simple until you realise that this isn't something that just occurred naturally, that it had to be practiced and rehearsed and perfected before they could shoot the scene.
The symbolism is ever-present, the palette colours carefully chosen, every detail precisely placed so that they could tell their own story. And while every aspect of the film serves a function, not only is it open for many layers of interpretation, but it was achieved on what Hollywood would consider a shoestring.
Additionally, this film was made in 1978 in Czechoslovakia under Communist supervision. As such, the film is completely for the anti-glorification of material wealth which seems hard to achieve with a story about a merchant who tries to regain his money and a cursed prince. The merchant's caravan in the beginning shows that wealth makes beasts of all men. The merchant, after regaining his wealth, returns home only to be miserable and unhappy that Julie is no longer there. His two remaining daughters subsequently strip him bare of every possession he has when they marry two greedy men, indicative of how material things can bring out the worst in people. Even netvor lives in a decaying castle completely devoid of fine things and yet, Julie finds happiness and love in such a setting.
It is a rare occasion to come across a dark version of such a typically uplifting and pleasant fairy tale. Even the few that do exist lack capable actors, capable directors, and a sense of artistic vision. Between the chemistry of the performers and the unusual, sometimes disturbing, romance on a backdrop of devastation and decay, there is a harmonious discord which somehow makes perfect sense. This film not only delivers a strange, dark, gritty tale with perfectly cast leads, but provides an intellectual journey both in terms of subtext and symbolism and provides a view of socio-politic effects upon a story which is shared by all cultures.