Happily, gone wrong it has NOT! (Well. . . Kinda')

Rating: 7/10 (13 March 2017)

Imagine if Disney announced a new live action remake of Fantasia and decided to keep Mickey Mouse in it. Try to envision how the photo- realistic CGI might look. Not a hand-drawn Mickey swanning around with a bucket-carrying broomstick, but an actual mouse the size of a person wearing a sorcerer's costume and walking on its hind legs. Also a broomstick that has arms and hands and walks on its, er, hind straw.
Would this hybrid human-rodent and its transmogrified cleaning tool look just as magical in live action as they did in the 1940 classic? You wouldn't bet your house on it; the mental image required to picture such a visualisation is weird and preposterous. If Big Mouse executives decided to give the project a go-ahead one question would linger at the core of it: why bother?
And so now, you think this film will end up as Disney's revamped and bizarrely note-for-note "Beauty and the Beast" just as American filmmaker Gus van Sant treated British Cinema, Sir Alfred Hitchcock and his sacred thriller "Psycho" as if it were a blueprint for his much maligned shot-by-shot pathetic 1998 remake.
Condon's movie may not have a giant rodent or personified straw broom, but there are comparable alternatives – from the titular bear/boar/buffalo-like creature to a range of magical household things, including singing and dancing furniture. There are times when it will certainly seem not conformable; but not in fact enough to make anybody come out of the cinema with a firm belief that talking teacups belong only in cartoons or acid trips. In fact, those who predicted this wouldn't hold a talking candle to the animated original are in for a bit of a pickle and will be pleasantly surprised. The tale may be as old as time, but it's retold with freshness, charm and flair.
Happily, gone wrong it has not. (Well. . . Kinda')
There are a few minor fumbles, but you're likely to walk away with a lightened step, a broad smile and at least one song-worm in your ear.
The story remains rock solid: essentially a sweet two-hand-er (well, one hand, one paw) in which two bookworms fall in love, helped along by an assortment of sentient household items. Everything hangs upon the casting of those two roles, but Condon has picked his leads well. Dan Stevens appears in human form during a new prologue, in which his vain prince is coped-up, caked in David Bowie eye make-up and surrounded by simpering female admirers, before an enchantress appears and zaps him with a frankly unreasonable curse. From then on, he's in full Beast mode, with a sub-woofer voice and giant horns, resembling the cooler, better-dressed brother of the Faun from Pan's Labyrinth. The CGI used to purify furry Stevens is variable in quality, but as Beast storms around his dank keep's exquisitely designed turrets, the performance is consistently strong. As much as he bellows, the wounded soul beneath the bombast is always clear.
As for Beauty, Emma Watson immediately charms in her big opening number, in which the heroine suffers a village-worth's of idiots sharing (what should be) their inner monologues through song. Watson faces one difficult sequence after another — memorable vocalised songs, tussles with talking wardrobes, emotional exchanges with a grouchy Heffalump — but finds just the right combination of innocence and grit. Plus, she doesn't sound like Fran Drescher, which is an immediate advantage.
Emma Watson is as wonderful as she is, tough, lionhearted character, rich in self-confidence and sass, with an inspiring disdain for the many injustices of a cruel patriarchal world.
Condon's set pieces are old school, picture book, rococo, on-the- studio-lot style edifices, appealing in a very decent and honestly a cartoon lover sort of way. Works for a lot of you, kids!