By JOHN J. O’CONNOR
Published: September 25, 1987
(source)

DESCRIBED as a contemporary fable, the new weekly series ”Beauty and the Beast” opens – tonight at 10 on CBS – with the line ”Once upon a time, in the city of New York . . .” Loud groaning will no doubt be heard from legions of whimsy haters across the nation. But don’t change that dial. As far as premiere episodes are concerned, ”Beauty and the Beast” turns out to be the most fascinating show of the new season. Reverting to a classic ”transformation myth,” the story actually manages to touch on some unsettling contemporary realities. In prime-time entertainment, that is not just rare, it’s courageous.

Linda Hamilton plays the beauty, Catherine, a socialite lawyer who has access to the highest and most glamorous echelons of the city’s overachieving circles. Leaving a party, she is brutally attacked by strangers. Her face is badly slashed. Enter the beast, Vincent, portrayed by Ron Perlman. Finding the battered Catherine, he takes her to his subterranean home, a strange, hazy netherworld nestled in the more than 300 miles of tunnels that run beneath the city. Nursing Catherine back to health, Vincent falls in love. Catherine discovers that beneath his frightening appearance, Vincent may very well be the perfect man – courageous, compassionate, incredibly sensitive. ”Where am I?” she asks. ”Where no one can hurt you,” Vincent assures her.

Created, produced and written for Witt-Thomas Productions by Ron Koslow, the concept works splendidly. The production is ingenious, contrasting sharp, realistic shots of the city above with soft, otherworldly depictions of the ”forgotten place” below. And the details are worked out nicely. The deformed hero, who actually looks a bit like Bert Lahr’s Cowardly Lion from ”The Wizard of Oz,” is called Vincent because he was abandoned as an infant near St. Vincent’s Hospital. He was found by a man he calls Father (Roy Dotrice), a trained doctor who decided to become a recluse. Surrounded by an extensive library in his underground home, Father has given Vincent a classical education, firmly grounded in humanistic values. Below ground, Father and Vincent, along with thousands of the city’s other homeless, live simply and take care of one another. Remember: This is a fable. Little wonder that the slightly jaded and enormously bored Catherine is impressed. Who else but Vincent would suggest, as a form of therapy, reading her the last chapter of Dickens’s ”Great Expectations”?

In time, though, a somewhat reluctant Catherine is sent back to her own world of glitter and privilege. But instead of staying with her father’s powerful law firm, she decides to go to work for the district attorney, tracking down assorted criminals and thugs. When the story jumps to ”Eight Months Later,” Catherine is on the prosecution road and, for added insurance, taking grueling lessons in self-defense. Her first quest, of course, will be to find the hoodlums who attacked her for no apparent reason. At this point, admittedly, the hourlong ”Beauty and the Beast” begins to disintegrate into standard action adventure. No matter how well it’s done, the scenario is numbingly familiar.

But then, hovering in the shadows is Vincent, hopelessly smitten and fiercely protective. And, despite herself, Catherine is beginning to respond. And why not? ”I know what I am,” he tells her, ”your world is filled with frightened people and I remind them of what they’re most afraid of – their aloneness.” They become a team. Explains Vincent: ”I’m part of you, Catherine, just as you are part of me.” Now it is up to Mr. Koslow to make sure that they don’t become just another action variation along the lines of ”Remington Steele.” Ms. Hamilton, in addition to being beautiful, makes a smashingly irresistible heroine. And underneath his pounds of special makeup, Mr. Perlman has television’s most seductive voice of the season. The raw materials could not be more promising.