It’s a tale as old as time: Beast meets girl. Romance ensues. So it goes in “Beauty and the Beast,” the musicalization of a nearly 300-year-old French fairy tale that debuted on Broadway 31 years ago. The love story between the bookish Belle and the fanged, hirsute captor/romantic interest is back in an extravagant remount launched in Chicago and running here through Aug. 2.
Directed and choreographed by Matt West, the production marks the first major tour since 1995, when “Beauty” hit the road after its 1994 Broadway debut. West’s staging has more razzle-dazzle than the Vegas Strip and makes “Phantom of the Opera” look downright minimalistic. “Beauty” is a simple story aimed at children, but West packs in enough spectacle (including a scene of mind-blowing levitation) to keep anybody entertained, be they 6 or 60.
Part of what makes the bones of the story go down easy — Belle falling in love with her captor has always been just a tad Stockholm Syndrome-ish — is Alan Menken’s rich, ear-wormy score, as well as lyrics by Howard Ashman and Tim Rice. The latter are equally stupid and funny, a fine combination. The score is a bonanza of gorgeous harmonies and hummable melodies. The exuberant live orchestra, conducted by music director David Andrews Rogers, backs an ensemble that does not miss a note.
The story centers on the accursed Beast (Fergie L. Philippe), who is actually a prince under a spell, along with the servants of the castle. To break the spell, the Beast must fall in love before an enchanted rose sheds its last petal. When Belle (Kyra Belle Johnson) arrives, the Beast and a motley crew of servants attempt to set a romance in motion.
Philippe shows the humanity within the hairy, bellowing Beast from his earliest scenes, rendering the horned lupine a figure of empathy rather than villainy. The climactic musical soliloquy “If I Can’t Love Her” is the litmus test for anyone playing the Beast: Philippe passes it with stentorian grandeur and an anguish that will be recognizable to anyone who ever endured a bruised or broken heart.
Johnson’s bibliophilic Belle is strong-willed, saucy and smart, key ingredients for a successful ingénue. Her make-or-break moment comes with the power anthem “A Change in Me,” Johnson belts into the rafters, leaning into the money notes for all they’re worth.
The servant sidekicks are uniformly delightful. With burning torches for hands, Danny Gardner as Lumiere, the butler who has morphed into a candelabra, offers a masterclass in physical comedy while playing with fire. Equally entertaining, Cameron Monroe Thomas brings high-octane charisma and Old Hollywood glamour to Babette, the maid who has turned into a feather duster.
Kathy Voytko’s Mrs. Potts is roughly 80 percent teapot, thanks to the spell and Ann Hould-Ward’s costume design. Crockery and all, Voytko radiates the maternal warmth that defines the character originated by Angela Lansbury (who makes a significant vocal cameo here). Also a consistent crowd pleaser: Gaston (Stephen Mark Lukas), a preening peacock of a fellow with a 100-to-1 ego-to-brains ratio. Stomping on tables or showing off his massive guns (both the shooting kind and the barbell-lifting kind), Gaston is ridiculous in the best possible way. Ditto his sidekick LeFou, played with slaphappy, acrobatic aplomb by Harry Francis.
West’s choreography is a movable feast, the showstopper arriving with “Be Our Guest,” an extravaganza that includes a Busby Berkeley homage (complete with aerial view), a tap duet evocative of Fred-and-Ginger, a stellar chorus line clad in golden tuxedos, and a series of jump-splits as that look both dangerous and stunning.
Hould-Ward’s costumes are full of glittery detail: Mrs. Potts’ teapot-shaped skirt has Eiffel Tower embellishments. Babette’s slithery mermaid gown ends in a cascade of spangly feathers. Belle’s iconic yellow ball gown is a confection of sunny sparkles.
Stanley A. Meyer’s set, Darrel Maloney’s projections and Natasha Katz’s retina-searing lighting design are seamlessly integrated as the plot moves from Belle’s vaguely 17th century French village to a fearsome, wolf-filled woods to the Beast’s imposing Gothic castle. It’s all but impossible to tell where the set ends and the projections begin, and the effect is marvelously immersive. Throughout, illusion designer Jim Steinmeyer infuses the story with magic.
“Beauty and the Beast” is far more escapist than revelatory. But with its pleasing score, A-list cast and visuals that make your pupils feel like pinwheels, this production feels ready for a remount on Broadway.