No one’s neck’s as incredibly thick as Gaston’s…

Saw Beauty and The Beast. It’s enchanting… until the spell-breaking part. How does Beast have so much more substance, character and sex appeal than the anaemic blondie he transforms into when the spell’s broken? I have nothing against Blondies, but make him match the beast. What, Thor or his kin weren’t available? Benesmaug Cumbabigle?

There’s no way that relationship lasted happily ever after because you can tell the disappointment in Belle’s eyes when after the magic swirling is done, she’s presented with what looks like a liberated hippie. You hear her ask him if he wouldn’t mind growing a beard, yes? That’s the first sign of the discontentment to follow. Like when the hot 23 year old wife ‘suggests’ that maybe you, her 55 year old husband, should perhaps hit a gym.” Like Tommy, the pool boy.”

I’m sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the Beast to turn into Idris Elba or something, and here comes Owen Wilson’s poor incarnate. In knee length shorts.

You know on the cold wintery nights, she’ll be wondering whether Gaston was such a bad idea after all.

“No one hits like Gaston…”

Surely, surely, we could’ve cast a Black hunk as lead – any black lead – Michael Jai White, a rastafarian Beast, Samoan Thor, anyone; Instead of restricting the tan to just a big-boned closet and Lumiere’s bae. This isn’t a political statement, but c’mon, a closet and a maid?

If you’re going to give us a gay Le Fou, let’s crank it up and really shock some more people.




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