I’d embrace Stockholm syndrome, too, if my captor gave me that library

I’ll not hear a single negative word about “Beauty and the Beast.” Yes, I know, it’s “problematic,” supposedly sending the message that women should tolerate abusive behavior from men because their love can and will change him. But maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe it really sends a message about a weird enchantress being unnecessarily harsh on a spoiled kid who just has healthy stranger-danger instincts. And, honestly, cursing an entire household to live as furniture feels like a touch of overkill.

I’m not here to debate moral philosophy. I’m here to say “Beauty and the Beast” rocks, and if you love musical theater, you need it in your life. It rocked in 1991 as an animated film, it rocked in 2017 as a live-action film, and it absolutely rocks today as a touring Broadway production. If show-stopping song and dance numbers are your jam, stop reading this and go buy tickets before the last enchanted rose petal falls.

Disney somehow manages to take everything you love about the movie and make it even better on stage. The bright colors, the familiar songs, the wonderfully choreographed dance numbers — all amazing. As is the gradual transformation of the characters. Watch closely as the show progresses: Cogsworth, Lumière, Mrs. Potts and the rest of the Beast’s staff slowly become less human and more inanimate object. It’s subtle and impressive. And that big transformation at the end, when the Beast floats, spins and becomes the prince again? The special effects are jaw-dropping. I know it’s lighting tricks and body doubles, but it feels like real magic, and it’s proof that you don’t need to go to New York for Broadway-level entertainment. With dazzling costumes, powerhouse vocals and just enough humor to keep things fresh, this “tale as old as time” still feels brand new.

Kyra Belle Johnson was born to play Belle — and not just because of her middle name. She strikes the perfect balance between brainy and brave. Opposite her, Fergie L. Philippe gives the Beast real emotional heft. He’s gruff, funny and surprisingly tender. Despite their combined talent, both take a backseat to the immortal Angela Lansbury, whose recorded voice opens the show with the iconic prologue. But really, if you have to play second fiddle to a dead woman, you could do worse than the OG Mrs. Potts.

“Gaston” remains my favorite number, a hilarious ode to narcissism with more mug clinking than Oktoberfest. But of course, “Be Our Guest” steals the show. It’s a seven-minute fever dream of tap-dancing cutlery, high-kicking napkins and unbridled joy. It’s not dinner and a show; it’s dinner as a show.

A couple of housekeeping notes. You can now purchase beer, wine and cocktails at the Wharton Center (praise be). And this should go without saying, but when the lights go down and the curtain goes up, that’s your cue to stop talking. I’m looking at you, grown woman and small boy in row Q, seats five and six.