A film
review by James Berardinelli for ReelViews.net in 2000.
The
trajectories traversed by the careers of certain directors can be strange and
unfathomable things. Take Blake Edwards,
for example. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, Edwards was an A-list filmmaker
with a string of impressive titles on his resume: Breakfast at Tiffany's, Days of Wine and Roses, 10, and (of course) The Pink Panther series. With the 1980s and
1990s, however, Edwards' reputation went into a meltdown as each successive
outing became less enjoyable and more tiresome: The Man Who Loved Women, A Fine Mess, Blind Date, Skin Deep, Switch,
and The Son of the Pink Panther.
Were it
not for the better Pink Panther
entries, Breakfast at Tiffany's would
likely be the crown jewel of Edwards' career. Although the 1961 romantic comedy
will not appear on many critics' all-time best lists, it remains a favorite
among the general movie-going community and, over the years, has developed a
legion of die-hard supporters. The film has more charm than the average
romantic comedy, but, when considered from a bare bones perspective, it follows
most of the rules that define the genre. The ending, for example, is pure
Hollywood, as are many of the steps taken by George Axelrod's screenplay to get us there from the opening
credits.
Breakfast at Tiffany's is based on a novella by Truman Capote, and recounts one man's
fascination with and love for a fellow inhabitant of his mid-scale New York
City apartment building. While many of the book's broad strokes (and even a few
of the details) were retained in Axelrod's script, changes were instituted to
make the movie more palatable to a mainstream audience. Chief of these is the
nature of the relationship between the two leads, which results in a new,
different, and more optimistic finale.
Star power
is a key to Breakfast at Tiffany's
success. This is a showcase for Audrey
Hepburn, who, at age 32, was in her acting prime. (Ironically, Capote
championed giving the part to Marilyn Monroe.) Although never a great actress in the traditional sense,
Hepburn possessed charisma and screen presence, and this era was her time to
shine. With Sabrina, Roman Holiday, War
and Peace, and Funny Face behind
her, and My Fair Lady still to come,
Hepburn was an undeniable box office draw. Her interpretation of Breakfast at Tiffany's lead, Holly
Golightly, is nearly perfect. And it isn't just the countless costume changes
(although style and elegance have always been Hepburn's defining
characteristics). Actually, this is not an easy role; it requires Hepburn to do
more than smile at the camera and drawl her lines - although Holly at first
appears to be little more than an airheaded, jet-setting socialite, the more we
get to know her, the more we understand the pain and loss that have led her to
embrace her current lifestyle. Holly has low self-esteem and a sordid past, and
she has surrounded herself with bright, gaudy things in an effort to give
herself a level of comfort. She's a phony, but, in the words of a supporting character,
she's a real phony.
Opposite
Hepburn, playing struggling author Paul Varjak, is George Peppard. Although Peppard's star never ascended to the level
of Hepburn's (he is probably best remembered for two TV programs: Banacek and The A-Team), for at least one movie he gets to stand in the
spotlight (although about all he does is stand
- the script requires minimal range from Peppard, and, as a result, his
performance comes across as somewhat bland). He and Hepburn generate an
effective level of chemistry. Their on-screen interaction has a breezy, natural
feel to it, allowing us to believe that their characters click.
Breakfast at Tiffany's uses a simple story to good effect.
The film starts by introducing us to Holly as she window shops her way through
Manhattan. Paul, an author with a bad case of writer's block, is the new tenant
in her building. The two meet on the morning Paul moves in, when he drops by to
use Holly's phone. Soon after, they become friends. One night, when a drunk man
is banging threateningly on Holly's door, she climbs the fire escape and slips
into Paul's apartment. As thanks for rescuing
her, she invites him to a party, which turns into a loud, rowdy affair. He
again comes to her aid when a figure from her past shows up in New York. She
inspires him to start writing again. And, for one memorable day, they go out on
the town together doing things that they have never before done, like shopping
at Tiffany's (new for him) and checking out a book from a library (new for her).
Ultimately, their feelings end up running more deeply than normal friendship,
but, when Paul confesses his love, Holly rebuffs him. She has set her heart on
marrying a rich South American (José
Luis de Vilallonga) so that she will have enough money to support herself and
her brother, whose tour of duty in the army is nearly over.
Neither
Holly nor Paul is a model citizen. In order to finance her wasteful lifestyle,
Holly accepts a weekly payment of $100 to visit an ex-mob boss in prison and
carry a verbal message to his lawyer.
It's a subtle form of prostitution with no sex involved. The same isn't true of
Paul, who could charitably be called a kept
man (although a gigolo might be more apropos). His lover (Patricia Neal) is a well-to-do woman
with a much older husband. She sneaks out to see Paul whenever she gets the
opportunity, and his latest apartment is a gift from her. Every time she
departs from his bed, she leaves behind a care package of greenbacks.
However,
although both characters have their faults and hard edges, Breakfast at Tiffany's is still first and foremost a fantasy. The
use of Henry Mancini's glorious Moon River cements the dreamy atmosphere
which is introduced at the beginning of the film with establishing shots of a
New York City that never was. This is not the real world; it's another sort of
place, where Mafia dons are nice men, disappointed suitors react with grace,
and improbable lovers can overcome the odds and live life happily ever after.
And Holly Golightly is a product of this environment.
Two
particular attributes set Breakfast at
Tiffany's apart from the overfamiliar continuum of romantic comedies. The
first is character depth, particularly where Holly is concerned. Despite her
name and her lighthearted disposition, she is actually a troubled individual.
Orphaned at an early age, she married the kindly Doc Golightly at the age of
14, then abandoned him for a stint in Hollywood. As played by Buddy Ebsen, Doc appears to be a genial
elder gentleman, but there's something ambiguous and less-than-wholesome about
his relationship with Holly. There's also a question about the status of their
marriage. She claims it was annulled long ago, but her tendency to live in a
world of her own creation brings that into question. For the most part, Holly
has done her best to forget the past, but there are instances when it creeps
into her mood, turning her sad and wistful.
Then
there's the dialogue, which, although neither sparkling nor peppered with
scintillating one-liners, is nevertheless solidly written and enjoyable to
listen to. The key to its effectiveness is that conversations do not feel
truncated - they are allowed to run on naturally. The film's best scenes
involve Holly and Paul doing nothing more complicated than talking to each
other. Over the years, strong dialogue has been an important characteristic of
all the great romantic comedies, from The
Philadelphia Story to Before Sunrise.
For a
movie made in the early 1960s, Breakfast
at Tiffany's is surprisingly bold. Audrey Hepburn is shown in a number of
provocative and revealing costumes (the trailer trumpets that the film offers
the actress as you've never seen her
before), and the screenplay includes several forthright lines with a clear
sexual connotation. There also isn't any beating around the bush when it comes
to the nature of Paul's secondary profession. Throughout his career, Edwards
has never had difficulty pushing envelopes (witness Victor/Victoria or the lightsaber condom scene in the otherwise
wretched Skin Deep), and this
tendency is evident even at this early stage.
Breakfast at Tiffany's most glaring fault was not considered
a problem during the movie's initial release. However, looking back through a
40-year window, the inclusion of the stereotyped Asian character of Mr.
Yunioshi (played by Mickey Rooney)
borders on offensive. Mr. Yunioshi's sole purpose is to provide cheap comic
relief, but, what might have been funny in 1961 has long since lost its
humorous edge. The character's presence is a double blow to the Asian community
- not only is he fatuous and uncomplimentary, but he is played by a Caucasian
actor in heavy makeup.
Fortunately,
Mr. Yunioshi is a background character, and his scenes are not plentiful enough
to spoil an otherwise agreeable tone. While Breakfast
at Tiffany's probably would have been a more powerful and moving story had
it stuck to Capote's original storyline, there are advantages to the film's
approach. The ending is a little silly and over-the-top, but, in the way of all
great romantic finales, it culls a smile and a somewhat wistful sigh from
nearly everyone in the audience. For those who considers themselves romantics,
or for anyone who just enjoys a simple love story from time-to-time, Breakfast at Tiffany's offers a few
simple pleasures. [Berardinelli’s rating: *** out of 4 stars]
Labels:
comedy, drama, romance, Sixties
Blu-ray Henry Mancini's Oscar-winning Moon River was written especially for Audrey Hepburn. It's basically a single-octave song for an actress who was not an accomplished singer and who had a limited vocal range. When the studio debated leaving the song entirely out of the film, Hepburn's response was: Over my dead body!
YouTube Moon River
No comments:
Post a Comment