Once You Are Real...

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Title: Once You Are Real...
Creator: Elaine Landman
Date(s): December 1994
Medium: print
Fandom: Beauty and the Beast
Topic:
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Once You Are Real... is a 1994 Beauty and the Beast essay by Elaine Landman.

The title of the essay comes from "The Velveteen Rabbit": "Once you are real, you can never become unreal again. It lasts for always."

It was printed in Soulmates - A Neverending Dream #4.

Series

It is part of a series, a regular column, by Landman called "One Fan's View."

Some Topics Discussed

  • Beauty and the Beast (TV)
  • "in 1987, there was a real dearth of old-fashioned, heart-palpitating, hand-wringing, tear-jerking, schmaltzy, lavish love stories" and Beauty and the Beast was helping bring these back, supplementing/replacing current shows with cold, clinical bedroom acrobatics
  • "In today's apathetic society where concern for the homeless and downtrodden is often met with derision about bleeding hearts, the tunnels represented a place of sanctuary, a safe haven where the needy weren't just tolerated, but embraced. "
  • "We live in a time of flux where relationships are frequently transitory and elusive. Commitment and fidelity no longer seem in vogue, with Vincent, at long last, we were finally confronted with a "man" who means what he says."
  • the emotional impact of the Kennedy assassination, and the realization of Kennedy's flaws, and the controlled messages of media: " Perception is everything. It can be more powerful and significant than fact, because what we believe means more to us than what is. The world has grown more cynical since Kennedy's death, and there are times when we look to fiction for hopeful, uplifting messages and feelings because we're not as likely to expect positive outcomes from reality."
  • "Sadly, the once surreal sense of sychronism with the writers is gone. Doubtless much to the writers' chagrin, we now know these characters better than their creators. Vincent and his Catherine have outgrown the rigid boundaries that had been imposed upon them, and they have assumed a life of their own, a destiny of their own."

Excerpts

"It's just a television show." How often have we heard that, even said it to each other, and at times, ourselves? I think we say it because, for some reason, we're embarrassed to admit what an extraordinary effect this particular show had on us. I'm an avid reader, have always loved movies and theater, and have considered myself a fan of a variety of television shows. Yet until I saw "Beauty and the Beast," I had never experienced such a visceral reaction to any work of fiction. It was something akin to an instant flash of recognition, perhaps even deja vu.

I once wrote of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST that "it was as if someone had scanned our minds, searched our hearts, and presented us with the images that were found there." For a few fragile, tremulous moments in time, it seemed as though Ron Koslow's fascination with Carl Jung had truly enabled him to tap into our collective unconscious.

When BEAUTY AND THE BEA5T first appeared on the scene, romance had apparently gone out of style, having been largely replaced by various offerings of bedroom acrobatics. While I have no problem at all with sex in cinema, much of it has been oddly clinical and passionless, devoid of any genuine emotion or intimacy. As a result, the vast majority of my favorite love stories were from the past. Ptovies like the GHOST AND MRS. MUIR, PORTRAIT Of JENNY, NOTORIOUS, RANDOM HARVEST, LAURA, and AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER just didn't seem to be made anymore. (That's changing now, and this fandom is at least partially responsible, tile made it clear that there is indeed a viable market for romance.) But back in 1987, there was a real dearth of old-fashioned, heart-palpitating, hand-wringing, tear-jerking, schmaltzy, lavish love stories.

Not being a fan of romance novels, I really missed seeing romance in movies and on the television. Oh, there were television shows with romantic overtones like REMINGTON STEELE, SCARECROW AND MRS. KING, and MOONLIGHTING, and I enjoyed those shows, to be sure. But the relationships featured in those series were essentially stuck at a cutesy, adolescent, often superficial, level. They were more sitcom than drama and consistently backed away from the merest hint of true intimacy.

Then on Sept. 25, 1987, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST premiered, and WHAMMO! It hit like a bolt of lightning. It was completely unexpected, and the promos had left me unprepared for what I was about to see. Instead of backing away from the high drama and intense emotion, the pilot of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST grabbed its audience by the shoulders, staring us down, and daring us not to look away. Insidiously, it struck us where we were most vulnerable, in the secret silent places where our dreams and yearnings are kept buried, having little relevance in today's frenetic modern life. At the time, I thought the pilot was the best series television I had ever seen. I was totally swept away, and needless to say, giddy with gratitude toward each and every person responsible for bringing this show to life.

Despite my unprecedented response to the pilot, initially I strongly resisted falling in love with BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. (I've never been a love at first sight kind of gal.) My husband wondered aloud why I wasn't taping the episodes. I didn't want to fall into the trap of taping every episode of a series; I felt that several of the earlier episodes were primarily cop shows, and I didn't think the producers would be able to sustain the quality of writing and production values of the pilot. It took me until mid-season to realize that every single episode had at least one or two incredible scenes. That's when I started taping episodes and came to the ambivalent conclusion that I was pathetically and delightfully infatuated with a television show.

I used to believe that there were certain elements of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST that had universal appeal. However, it has become clearly, and at times painfully, apparent that many of us were attracted to very different aspects of this richly imaginative show. Therefore, for the purpose of this article, I can competently discuss what appealed to me personally.

Certainly, Vincent was a primary attraction. He's the archetypal kind of hero that I have always found intriguing. The mysterious, tormented, brooding hero desperately trying to cope with a side of himself that he doesn't fully understand. This is obviously net a new concept. Characters like Spock, Batman, and even Ann Rice's Louis in INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE all fall into this category. And I'm very fond of these characters. But for me, Vincent seems somehow more accessible, possessing more dimension and complexity.

Catherine, a more than worthy match for Vincent, was not the kind of heroine I had been accustomed to seeing on television. Determined and tenacious, she quickly became a strong crusader in her own right, every bit as multi-faceted and heroic as Vincent. Yet Catherine was all woman, courageous without being forced to sacrifice her soft, feminine side. She was allowed to be tender, compassionate, and vulnerable without ever appearing to be weak. In fact, the same could be said of Vincent.

In today's apathetic society where concern for the homeless and downtrodden is often met with derision about bleeding hearts, the tunnels represented a place of sanctuary, a safe haven where the needy weren't just tolerated, but embraced. In the tunnels, no one is without worth, and everyone contributes. The characters of Vincent, Catherine, Joe, Father, and the tunnel community mould be enough to comprise an outstanding show all by themselves. But in my opinion, they are just the frosting on the cake. The cake is the nature of the relationship between Vincent and Catherine. This was a love story that transcended all others, even my most cherished old movies. Never before had a romance of such power and depth been offered up on a weekly basis. Given the luxury of forty-four hours of exploration rather than just two or three, we were able to witness the gradual unfolding of a love so passionate that something as subtle as a kiss on a finger had greater impact than the most explicit sex scene.

We live in a time of flux where relationships are frequently transitory and elusive. Commitment and fidelity no longer seem in vogue, with Vincent, at long last, we were finally confronted with a "man" who means what he says. What made Vincent special was the way he loved, with all his heart and soul . . . without compromise. And as far as I'm concerned, the love between Vincent and Catherine was pre-destined and eternal.

I have often tried to explain, perhaps justify is a better word, how a television show could have affected me so deeply. Maybe the best way to shed some light on the subject is with the following anecdote. November 25, 1963 was my sixteenth birthday, and I was sitting in front of the television bawling my eyes out. Like virtually every other American, I was watching the funeral of John F. Kennedy, why was I crying? Granted, Kennedy was president of the United States, and I would have spent my sixteenth birthday sobbing aver the death of just any president. But something about Kennedy had touched me and sparked my interest in politics. I felt that I knew him, and I admired and respected him. Maybe his youth and vitality attracted me. I thought he was idealistic, compassionate, witty, and smart.

Over the years, my impression of John F. Kennedy has altered considerably. While I still believe that Kennedy had qualities worthy of admiration, he wasn't the person I thought he was. Kennedy was a real man who died too soon. But I didn't really know him, I just thought I did. All that I knew of him was presented to me through carefully controlled images on the television screen, my perception was based on those images, and although Kennedy was real, many of those images were fiction. Perception is everything. It can be more powerful and significant than fact, because what we believe means more to us than what is. The world has grown more cynical since Kennedy's death, and there are times when we look to fiction for hopeful, uplifting messages and feelings because we're not as likely to expect positive outcomes from reality. The power of television is more seductive than we like to admit, we joke about it and trivialize it, because a part of us is not comfortable acknowledging that power, life watch a television series week after week, sometimes year after year, we see characters that we have grown to know and love. We see them more in intimate circumstances than we see even our closest friends, we suffer through their crises and share in their triumphs. In some cases, we identify with them. And when we cry, we shed real tears, feel real saddness, experience real elation, etc. The content may be fiction, but the emotions elicited are genuine. Usually, the feelings are fleeting, gone and forgotten by the end of the episode, movie, book, etc. But on a few rare and wonderful occasions, the feelings stay with us, become a part of us, and change us in some profound, inexplicable may. For its fans, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST was one of those occasions.

Vincent, Catherine, Father and the rest have become so real to us that we understand them on some deeply innate and indefinable level. Unlike the very real John F. Kennedy, I do know these are fictional characters, because their television images are what they really are. We instantly recognize their individual personality traits and instinctively know when they behave in ways that don't "ring true."

Sadly, the once surreal sense of sychronism with the writers is gone. Doubtless much to the writers' chagrin, we now know these characters better than their creators. Vincent and his Catherine have outgrown the rigid boundaries that had been imposed upon them, and they have assumed a life of their own, a destiny of their own. Happily, as an added bonus, fanzines have expanded on the myth, embellishing and enriching these characters, their experiences and relationships, in ways undreamed of, or at least not dared by Koslow & Co. The child has indeed stretched beyond the father's reach. The producers of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST can take some solace in knowing that their creation sparked imaginations that have surpassed their own.

References

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