Angela Lansbury’s voice from the grave kicks things off, filling in the backstory about an unkind prince who spurns an old woman’s plea for help. The crone becomes a shimmering sorceress in front of our eyes, and the prince instantly acquires horns. Gobsmacked applause ensues, and we’re only 30 seconds into the show.

Belle was the first of Disney’s more liberated heroines: a bookworm and visionary who rushes to her father’s rescue without hesitation and offers herself as the Beast’s captive in his place.

In this role, Brisbane performer Shubshri Kandiah truly sparkles, and her higher register is a thing of wonder – bell-like sounds indeed. No disrespect to Emma Watson in the 2017 live-action film, who brought many good things to her performance, but vocal prowess like this was not one of them.

For all its frippery the show is powered by a simple truth: men and the male-identifying really do need to rein in their baser instincts if they expect to maintain any kind of adult relationship. As the Beast, Brendan Xavier personifies this struggle engagingly, but I did feel sorry for him having to deliver his key solo If I Can’t Love Her straight after the first-act showstopper Be Our Guest.

(I won’t spoil the surprises of the show’s opulent showpiece, but I will say this: Brisbane audiences may be generous when it comes to standing ovations, but I can’t recall the last time I saw one before the interval.)

Having much more fun is Logan-raised Jackson Head as Gaston, the narcissistic alpha male whose sales pitch to Belle is to offer to control her and who is mystified by her refusals. His big number, Gaston, is a rousing beer-hall sing-along and the first moment when the show really cuts loose. Head hilariously accepts the audience’s acclaim as if rounds of applause this long are an everyday thing for him.

Woolverton’s masterstroke in adapting the tale was to give the Beast a staff of servants who share his curse and have been transformed into household objects. The stage version’s cast of full-size humans pivots by having them gradually morphing into candelabra, clock, teapot and wardrobe as the curse approaches its deadline.

Wind-up butler Cogsworth (Gareth Jacobs) and candlestick-armed footman Lumiere (Rohan Browne) are a perfect comedic Greek chorus, one a ladies’ man and the other an uptight nerd. Alana Tranter makes the part of the wardrobe Madame Armoire funnier and more fleshed-out than in the films. Some may be confused by the costume worn by Babette – she’s meant to be a feather duster – but there’s no mistaking Hayley Martin’s coquettish charm and skill as a dancer.

As Mrs Potts, Jayde Westaby delivers the title song poignantly, with one arm uncomfortably propped up into a spout. Four children are sharing the role of the teacup Chip (James Mitchell on opening night), which takes on a mildly macabre aspect on stage since he’s a disembodied head who can’t move much. It does give the kid’s ultimate release as a real boy extra pathos, though.

The idea of servants mutating into the tools of their trades is the Adam Smith nightmare that underscores the Disney stage machine. You’d be forgiven for wondering if this show is a case of actors hemmed in by rules and dwarfed by tech, like gaudy animatronics.

The actual impression, however, is of an abundance of human talent, live on stage and with nowhere to hide. To the main cast add a brilliant ensemble of high-kicking, tap-dancing, can-canning dancers, as well as a lavishly large live orchestra. And spare a thought for the stage managers having to wrangle 300 costumes, 119 wigs and 80 tonnes of scenery night after night.

It’s a beast of a show, to be sure, but it’s hard not to fall in love with it.

Beauty and the Beast plays at the Lyric Theatre, QPAC until May 19.