BEAUTY AND THE BEAST: “TO REIGN IN HELL” (1988)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *good*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *psychological, sociological*

The world of episodic television isn’t strictly speaking all that hospitable to mythic discourse. Serial programs must evolve a basic formula that allows for several writers to contribute story-ideas, the better to streamline the production of episodes. Thus, there’s more sheer necessity for the formula to remain relatively simple, whereas cinematic productions, even those accomplished on a low budget, can in theory be as mythic in their original concept as they please. Some programs never stray from a rigid formula, and so, whatever their other virtues, they remain closed off from the polyvalent concepts of myth. A small sampling of programs prove more adventurous in playing with the formula, and if these shows last long enough, they may turn out a handful of mythically strong episodes, even though the average outing would generally lack such qualities. On this blog I’ve reviewed a handful of episodes that possessed high mythicity, but I would never claim that the average episode of THE MAN FROM UNCLE had the symbolic complexity of “The Girls of Nazarone Affair,” or that the whole of BEAST MASTER was validated by “Tears of the Sea.”

Among the totality of TV shows, a very small coterie sustained a high degree of mythicity in many or even all episodes. Usually the only ones who manage “all” are very short, like AEON FLUX, while longer-running shows tend to mix together the mythic and the not-so-mythic, as I’ve tried to show on this blog in reviewing whole runs of “Original” STAR TREK, BATMAN ’66, and KUNG FU.

As of this writing I’m not sure where the 1987-1990 series BEAUTY AND THE BEAST stands. During my contemporaneous viewing of the show, I remember thinking that it did offer a great deal of mythic material. In effect, the show took the romance-dynamic of the literary fairy tale, probably with strong reference to Cocteau’s cinematic adaptation, and transferred that sensibility to the mean streets of New York—or rather, transplanted it beneath those mean streets. This was “the World Below,” an urban faerie-domain beneath the Big Apple. In place of sprites and deathless queens, this world of subterranean tunnels became a haven to all the outcasts from the normal world above—sort of a demi-America within America. The outcasts, almost always attired in quasi-European garb, are led by a spiritual patriarch known only as “Father,” but Father recognizes only one of his children as his True Son, and he’s the greatest outcast of all. Where the original “Beauty and the Beast” had the beastly protagonist cursed by faeries, Vincent is condemned by biology to have the strength, claws, and face of a lion-made-human. And though Vincent does not rule his bizarre domain the way the Beast of the short story ruled his isolated mansion, he becomes the sole focus of the one outsider who comes and goes from the underworld with impunity. “Beauty” Catherine Chandler, a young lawyer is brought to the Tunnels by Vincent to save her life, who subsequently forms a “soul connection” with the tender yet passionate lion-man.

I suspect that BEAUTY AND THE BEAST deserves to rate with the other three programs I mentioned above: as a show with a high incidence of high mythicity episodes. For now, I’ll concentrate on this 1988 offering.

“To Reign in Hell” was the twentieth episode in the first season, so by this time, the series had articulated most of its core ideas. Many episodes revolved around the Beast coming to the Beauty’s rescue when she faced peril, usually from “surface-world” evildoers she encountered in her profession as an assistant district attorney. However, in episode 14, “The Alchemist,” Catherine and Vincent encounter a menace from Vincent’s world. This is Paracelsus, who has taken the name of a medieval alchemist to signify his pursuit of the power to make gold—though Catherine encounters him because he’s making gold the old-fashioned way, by selling rare drugs on the streets of New York. Paracelsus is also an outcast from the outcasts, someone who transgressed against the rules of the World Below and was exiled, a setup which showed the writers’ willingness to align this villain with the ultimate transgressor of Christian myth. Paracelsus threatens Catherine and Vincent comes to her rescue, and “The Alchemist” ends with the villain’s apparent death-by-fire—which by itself foregrounds his phoenix-like return.

Satanic metaphors are fairly laid on with a trowel through the title of Paracelsus’ return: not only does Milton’s famous phrase appear as the episode’s title, the villain even repeats the phrase in conversation and duly credits its author. ‘Reign” is first and foremost a rescue-fantasy, but this time Catherine has been transported to an infernal version of the World Below, a world all smoldering crevices and sluggish rivers. Paracelsus, who has survived his fiery baptism albeit with injuries, desires vengeance on both Catherine and Vincent, but he also wants a measure of respect for all that he wrought when he and Father collaborated on founding the World Below. Before Vincent leaves on his rescue-quest with a handful of helpers, Father counsels the beastly savior that he must learn to distinguish “wisdom” from “knowledge.” In addition, during his quest Vincent also confers with an aged, nearly blind oracle who lives within the World Below, and who sports the arcane name “Narcissa,” patently a reference to the Greek myth-figure of Narcissus.

Vincent loses one of his aides to a hulking henchman named Erlich (after the Asian death-god, perhaps) and eventually Vincent sends away his other helpers in order to confront Paracelsus alone. I’ll pass over the battles between Vincent and Erlich, even though they represent one of the few times Vincent goes toe-to-toe with someone who equals his fantastic strength. The drama of the episode turns upon the “knowledge” Paracelsus reveals to Vincent in an attempt to manipulate him, to make him feel indebted to the villain. Vincent, instead, remains true to the “wisdom” taught him by Father and the love he feels for Catherine, and rejects this demi-devil’s temptation (who even shows his erudition by quoting Nietzsche as well as Milton). This virtue enables Vincent to conquer Erlich even though Paracelsus escapes to create more problems in Season Two.

The character of Catherine doesn’t have much to do, but toward the story’s end it’s revealed that she attempted to “mute” the psychic connection between herself and Vincent so that he wouldn’t plunge into hellish danger on her behalf. But despite Vincent’s centrality in the story, the gaunt, scarred figure of Paracelsus, his villainy accented by the sonorous voice of Tony Jay, rivals him for the center stage as Iago rivals Othello. Paracelsus fails to tempt Vincent here, but in future episodes he will come to embody another devilish sentiment voiced by Milton: “Misery loves company.”