Movie night at the castle!
“Sit down, shut up, move over, wait no I need to get up, Mrs. Potts can you see? Chip you’re not going to believe this, come help me set up the screen—”
Lumiere isn’t flustered, exactly, but he is in the highest key of preparation Belle has ever seen. If “Be Our Guest” was Lumiere climbing to the highest mountain peak of his ability, then preparing for this movie night is approximately the equivalent of launching him into space.
Belle sat back and snuggled into Adam. All around them was hustle and bustle: Chapeau quietly putting the projector screen together, Chip and Lumiere arguing over which way to put the long rolls of film into the projecting device, Mrs. Potts fussing and fetching blankets, sweaters, cups of tea, glasses of lemonade, and anything else that felt appropriate for this “movie” night. Belle still couldn’t quite believe movies existed—this was 1700s France, after all, yet the fact remained that just this afternoon a box from America had arrived at the palace, straight from some place called “Hollywood, California,” and while everyone else was puzzled, Lumiere had gasped for joy and rifled through its contents with an obvious recognition.
“What a collection!” he had cried. “The Wizard of Oz—The Fellowship of the Ring, and Singin’ in the Rain—Star Wars, eh, I wonder what that is—oh! Oh, mes amis, this is it, this is the one we will watch.”
So now they sat, under the strictest orders from Lumiere to get comfortable and prepare to be wowed, while the maître d’ got everyone into chairs and yelled back at the kitchen to see if Cogsworth was ready. The major domo was ready; right on time, to be exact, as the ten bowls of popcorn he had spent the evening preparing were all still hot, and now came out in their buttery, salty goodness. With a last wave of his hand, Lumiere seated the last few members of staff, and set the film to rolling.
“The Princess Bride?!” cried Adam. “Lumiere, is this a romance?!”
“Shhhh,” whispered Plumette. “He’s ok if you talk during it, but don’t criticize. And anyway, this is a good one.”
“Wait, you’ve seen this too—”
But then it was too late, and they were all watching a little boy (“about my age!” “yes, Chip” “can I have whatever he’s playing with?” “no, Chip”), and then watching his grandfather (“about your age!” “I am certainly not that old,” huffs Cogsworth) come in and sit down and pull out a book.
Ooh, thinks Belle, I think I’ll like this. It’s about books.