Opera Parallèle’s La Belle et la Bête

When most of us think of Beauty and the Beast, we picture the 1991 Disney film with singing teapots, a grand ballroom, and a neatly resolved love story.

But long before that version, the tale took on a darker, more surreal form in Jean Cocteau’s 1946 film La Belle et la Bête.

Drawing on earlier French versions of the story, Cocteau reshaped the familiar narrative into something more symbolic and strange. Using simple but ingenious techniques, he created a surreal and eerie atmosphere, filled with enchanted objects, mirrors that function as portals, disembodied arms that open doors and hold candelabras, and animated statues with eyes that follow visitors.

Nearly fifty years later, composer Philip Glass did something radical: he turned Cocteau’s masterpiece into an opera. Using his own score, Glass replaced the spoken dialogue with a sung libretto synchronized precisely to the actors’ movements on screen. Every word and gesture was mapped so that film and music aligned seamlessly, creating a hybrid of cinema and opera.

That hybrid took on a new dimension when Opera Parallèle, in collaboration with Cal Performances, presented La Belle et la Bête at Zellerbach Hall in Berkeley on March 13 and 14, under the musical direction of artistic director and conductor Nicole Paiement and the direction and scenic design of Brian Staufenbiel.

Opera Parallèle’s innovative production reimagines Glass’s original concept by fusing film and theater into a dreamlike experience. Dressed to match the original characters, the performers appear within the film while also stepping onto the stage to mirror the action, as if past and present were unfolding together in real time. It feels like they are slipping in and out of the film, moving seamlessly between screen and stage, enhancing the surreal effect of the original film.

The staging is spare but striking. A large screen projects Cocteau’s film, flanked by five smaller screens that introduce additional visual layers: faces echoing the film’s living statues, glimpses of the castle’s shadowy interior and exterior, and close-ups of singers performing in sync with the onscreen action, creating an uncanny doubling effect.

Despite its visual complexity, the production is anchored by a remarkably small cast. Just four singers cover more than ten roles, shifting effortlessly between characters and reinforcing the story’s themes of doubling and transformation. Baritone Hadleigh Adams moves fluidly between Avenant, the Beast, and the Prince, shifting just enough to make each role feel distinct while reinforcing the production’s constant sense of transformation. Soprano Chea Kang grounds the performance as Belle with emotional clarity and restraint, anchoring the production’s layered effects. Sophie Delphis and Aurélien Mangwa take on multiple supporting roles, adding texture and contrast as the world around Belle continuously reshapes itself.

Behind them, the musicians carry out an equally demanding task. Under Paiement’s direction, the chamber ensemble, consisting of three wind players, three keyboards, and percussion, navigates Glass’s intricate, repeating score with precision. Every phrase aligns with the movement of the film, requiring a technical and intuitive level of synchronization. The result feels controlled yet fluid, grounding the production’s shifting visual layers in a steady, driving pulse.

Glass’s score deepens Cocteau’s surreal atmosphere. His music amplifies the film’s dreamy atmosphere, stretching time, heightening emotion, and reinforcing the sense that the world onstage exists slightly outside reality.