My Fair Lady (1964): Eitan's Take

I had forgotten how damned annoying Audrey Hepburn is for the first 45 minutes of My Fair Lady. Stomping, shrieking, growling, and yelping, she almost threatens to derail the entirely gorgeous affair. The fact that this film is, in spite of that early performance, so utterly charming, fulfilling, and likable is a testament to the working-overtime magnificence of it all. The shimmering costume design and orchestration, the soulful performance by Rex Harrison, and the meticulous design and direction make for a really wonderful affair. Technically, the film is a complete masterpiece; one only needs to watch the truly awesome "day at the races" sequence to get a feel for how much director George Cukor cares about every detail of the production. It's certainly the best musical about linguistics ever made.

I know that the film is an adaptation of a musical, which in turn was an adaptation of George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion, so I can't exactly comment on the film's plot and content -- almost none of it is original. But I noticed some things tonight that I had never paid attention to before. First, coming just a few years after West Side Story (which, as you may recall, I pooh-poohed with glee), it's truly great to watch a musical that has deeply flawed and complicated characters. The relationship between Higgins and Doolittle starts as you might expect, and we watch with admiration as the eloquent but abrasive professor works wonders on the dirty street scoundrel. But over time, as Higgins' true nature (possessive as all hell, putting the "My" in "My Fair Lady") emerges, the film takes on rather tragic tones, as complex personalities collide. The simplicity of the subplots (Freddy's voyeurism, Eliza's father's tongue-in-cheek transformation) serves as a contrast to the epic clash between Eliza's growing sense of maturity and independence and Higgins' overpowering chauvinism and control-freak approach. When the film aims for some proto-feminist themes, it comes off slightly awkward, but more often than not we get what social ideas are at stake in Eliza's makeover.

One more thing: despite some truly inventive artistic direction, there are many parts of this film that simply do not escape their roots on the stage. For example, "gritty" downtown London is a victim of preposterous design. Tom Jones was a bleak and muddy affair, but at least its peasant London actually looked dirty.

I saw My Fair Lady for the last time nearly half my life ago, and it remains a stunning, unusually complicated piece of work. It's not my favorite musical to ever win Best Picture (Chicago, of course...) but it comes close. I remembered it being a 10-level masterpiece, but my early anger with Hepburn's screechy, ear-splitting performance brought it down to -- gasp! -- a 9. Lovely film.