Running into Myself

I'm going to be very honest and start out by saying that I never cared for Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961). Frankly, it intimidated me. A film with so much history wrapped up in it is a hard thing to tackle. Preconceived ideas are almost impossible to set aside when the entirety of feminine culture has been effected by the legend of Holly Golightly. Even my generation 40+ years later feels the ripple effect. The little black dress, the pearls, the name Tiffany's still translates as the epitome of class. And while it's true that Holly is a breathtaking character... she is anything but a role model.

The first time I watched this movie, I was still in high school... and not only did I not like it, I don't even think I finished it. I was going through my Audrey phase, watching anything and everything I could get my hands on, driving the poor video rental store owners crazy. Tiffany's was last in a long succession of Hepburn films and if you've ever sat and watched this movie, you know how different it is from the rest of her body of work. 

A very brief synopsis: A writer, Paul Varjak, (who is sleeping with a married woman for money) moves into an apartment above an odd New York socialite, Holly Golightly  (who is using men for money). These two emotionally crippled people slowly fall in love.

Audrey Hepburn does generate a certain kind of magic in her portrayal. Holly is probably one of the most relate-able female characters to have ever graced the big screen. It has nothing to do with her impeccable fashion sense, her socialite hobbies or her habit of eating breakfast while staring into a window at Tiffany's... but because she is a woman deeply jaded and heart broken. She becomes a mirror and all of our insecurities are suddenly displayed in Technicolor. That's what has always scared me... and something I couldn't grasp as a teenager. I hadn't lived enough yet to know what it means to build a cage around your heart. 

Paul: You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

I finished the film the second time I watched it. I was about to be finished with college and had suffered a major emotional blow. I didn't like it this time either. I resented Paul and Holly's relationship. I had opened myself up to love and been burned for it... It seemed to me that Holly's method of survival didn't seem so bad. You do what you have to to live. In my opinion, this movie had it all wrong... Who was this gigolo to tell me that guarding my heart was such a bad thing? 

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?
Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
Paul Varjak: Sure.
Holly Golightly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name! 

I've seen this movie a few times since then... and while it isn't one of my favorite Audrey films, I have discovered a deep affection for Holly... because I feel like her some days. It's a fear that every girl has hiding within her heart... those mean reds. Its the panic that wakes you up at 3 am for no reason. The whispers when your trying to go to sleep reminding you of everything in your life you can't control. It's the small voice that plants seeds of doubt that you'll ever find the safety of another person. 

We find solace in our little black dresses and our ability to look fabulous in spite our inner chaos. I love how Holly refuses to hear the bad news of a breakup letter until after she's applied her lipstick... because that's exactly how women approach impending heartache... with our shield (in this case a mask of makeup) securely in place. 

I think it's why after so many years, you still find Breakfast at Tiffany's posters on dorm room walls... because every girl can still find a small part of herself in Holly Golightly. For me, it's a reflection I don't always like being reminded of. I like my walls right where they are and I'm not done running yet. 

So here's to the mean reds and the Tiffany blues, the Givenchy dresses and every rich man under 50!

Future reading... If I can get my hands on them:

Marilyn and Me

On Facebook, there has been this rising trend of incredibly random personality tests... If you have an active newsfeed, you've undoubtedly fallen into the trap of taking at least one or two of them out of innocent curiosity. Who doesn't want to know what cooking spice, flower or famous princess most accurately represents their personality...

A friend of mine sent me one, the other day, that selects a classic film actress for you based on your answers to some rather flippant questions... She was super excited because she got Lauren Bacall... and me, it in the divine wisdom that is the world wide web, I got Marilyn Monroe. I was shocked and a bit appalled... if you know me, you know that I am NOT a Marilyn type of girl. So I did what any sensible person would do... I took the test again... and the result was still the same: You Are Marilyn Monroe... What?! I resisted the urge to try a round three and chalked it up to a faulty question/answer combination. But it did get me to thinking... Why was I so aghast at being compared to Marilyn Monroe?

It's not that I don't like her... in fact, it's quite the opposite. I enjoy most of her movies. I think she was quite delightful as an actress and a lot of fun to watch. She was definitely dynamic on screen and was so much more talented than people usually give her credit for. Beautiful girls in Hollywood are a dime a dozen, you have to be more than a pretty face to make it in the industry. Marilyn knew how to wield the power of those curvy hips to make a life for herself... we all use what was given us to make our way in the world, why not her?

If anything, I think she was subjected to the culture of her day. She was treated as nothing more than an object to be possessed. She was surrounded by cruel men and even crueler women. We are not easy on our own sex and are quick to abandon girls we don't feel like measure up to our ever changing standards. Perhaps if Marilyn had had a good group of Sex and the City girlfriends, her life might have ended up a little bit differently.

Maybe it's because I find Marilyn almost impossible to relate to. A woman that legendary is even hard to imagine as flesh and blood. Her tragic death and notorious life make it even harder to see past the glitz and glamour to the heart of the woman within. Because after all, she was a real live, living, breathing, feeling woman. She fell in and out of love, struggled with her body image, had a complicated family life and was preyed upon by men in power. Those are things I've dealt with personally, so maybe Marilyn isn't such a reach for me in the end... at least on an emotional level...

I wish I could have known Marilyn in those moments when she was alone looking in the mirror. What did she think when she ran her fingers through her dyed hair and make-up caked lips? She wasn't happy, her final days alive are evidence of that. So when beauty, fame and wealth aren't enough... what does it take to have a joyous heart? What was missing in her life to make the next day worth facing?

See... I over-think EVERYTHING! A simple little personality test and I'm sitting here musing over what it takes to push past suicidal thoughts. Not that I'm considering suicide! But we all have those moments when the darkness creeps in and takes over... when life has become nothing more than a walking shadow. We are going through the motions but not able to feel beyond involuntary breath. Marilyn is proof that even the most decorated of lives can be hollow and empty.

I guess that I don't mind being compared to Marilyn after all... not the Magazine cover, platinum Marilyn Monroe... but the Norma Jean child within... the vulnerable, heart broken woman beneath the Hollywood mask. Because at the end of the day, every girl just wants to be loved for who she really is, especially if the love comes from her own heart.

Boys, Beach and Sandra Dee

Gidget is one of those movies that you either love... or you don't. To really enjoy this film, you have to be able to completely distend reality and dive head first into the wonderful ridiculousness of it all. It probably helps that I first watched this movie as a pre-teen girl. I grew up one of those girls who wasn't boy crazy, I had other interests, different ambitions, therefore I sometimes felt like I didn't fit in with my peers. Watching the beautiful Sandra Dee struggle with those same issues was a balm for my aggravated not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman self. This is a movie strictly for girls, a fabulous coming of age story that all of us tomboys and girls-next-door types can identify with.

It's a story about first love, new friends, finding yourself and of course... surfing! The story goes like this, Gidget falls into step with a group of surf bums, a bunch of guys who spend their summer soaking up the sun and riding the waves in between college semesters. They are led by Kahuna, a jaded Korean War vet with the absolute worse case of Peter Pan syndrome. His second in command is the sexy crooning Moondoggie who is dealing with his own identity crisis not to mention a wagon load of daddy issues. Gidget falls for Moondoggie and spends the summer trying to figure out how to attract his attention. A difficult task for a teenage girl whose never been in love let alone a tomboy experiencing that awkward transition from girl to woman. By the end of the film, she has given Kahuna a new zest for life, put Moondoggie back on track and is beginning to understand herself what it means to understand your own heart.

This movie always reminds me that its okay to feel like a girl. That when the thunder cloud of emotions hit, I'm still normal. That when life throws me a curve ball and I can no longer do what I love, I embrace instead what I can do in the face of impossibility... I keep trying. I put my figurative surf board on my bed and imagine the waves until I can find my way back to the beach. I hold out for the guy whose ready to embrace life instead of settling for the boy who runs from responsibility. I make mistakes and learn from them.

Sandra Dee is my only Gidget... and I hope one day she will be my daughter's Gidget as well.

"Those Frenchies Seek Him Everywhere..."

 Errol Flynn undoubtedly takes first prize when it comes to classic adventure heroes. No one will ever be able to compete with that dizzying smile and devilish charm, and let's face it, green tights aren't easy to pull off. No other film of the early '30s came even close to matching what Robin Hood was able to achieve in the adventure genre (thanks in no small part to a brilliant supporting cast and stunning use of technicolor). However, had it been given the same studio treatment, I think The Scarlet Pimpernel could have come real close to capturing that same brand of magic.

I absolutely adore this movie. It has everything you never knew you wanted: French villains, suave Englishmen, disguises, melodramatic misunderstandings, mistaken identities and a "love conquers all" vibe that is swoon worthy. Quick plot outline: The Scarlet Pimpernel (a.k.a. Sir Percy Blakeney) dons disguises to sneak into France and save French aristocracy from the guillotine during the French Revolution. He does it in part because his French wife admitted to denouncing (sentencing to death) some "friends" at the beginning of the French killing spree. His wife is guilty of the crime but there is more to that story than meets the eye. Because of this misunderstanding, Percy and his wife, Marguerite suffer from a strained relationship. It's kind of like a 1700's version of a separation. In the meantime, a super villainous French agent is sent to England to find out the identity of The Scarlet Pimpernel and blackmails Marguerite into helping him. No one suspects Sir Percy (not even Marguerite) because he pretends to be a "dandy", a fop, a shallow English aristocrat who feigns more interest in men's fashion than he does in political affairs. I mean, come on, doesn't that sound amazing?!

Production was right on the money when it came to casing it's leading man. Leslie Howard plays Sir Percy brilliantly. Most American audiences only know Howard from Gone With the Wind. He played Ashley... you know, the guy that Scarlet was obsessed with? The guy everyone thought looked incredibly underwhelming next to Clark Gable's enigmatic Rhett Butler. I think it is incredibly sad that most people don't know just how amazing Howard really was. Lest we forget, he actually bests Gable in the film A Free Soul protecting Norma Shearer. Howard was a British national treasure, a ladies' man to end all ladies' men and a creative force to be reckoned with. He could hold his own with Bette Davis on screen (a feat worthy of note) and is partially responsible for thrusting Humphrey Bogart into Hollywood. Howard refused to sign onto The Petrified Forest unless Bogart was also hired to reprise his Broadway role in the film production. Bogart even named his daughter after Leslie Howard. How's that for film trivia?!

Howard was also in the forefront of WWII, building support for the troops both in England and in America. He wrote articles, made radio broadcasts and devoted his energies to aiding the war effort. In 1943, he was shot down by Nazi pilots over the Bay of Biscay. I think to truly appreciate actors from classic cinema, it's important to know more about them than just the roles they played. It helps to build a background, character motivation, career choices, why they did what they did. Knowing that Howard was a patriot helps define why he may have decided to take on the persona of another British hero fighting worldly injustices. 

I think the Pimpernel still has a place in contemporary cinema. Not only the 1934 version but perhaps as a modern day produced reboot. The Pimpernel has only been remade a couple of times (a mini-series in the late '90s and a 1982 film version...I will admit that I haven't seen either one). Out of curiosity and because I tend to be just a tad bit obsessive, I decided to read the original story of the Pimpernel and see if I could pinpoint why modern day film makers haven't tried their hand at it yet.

If you've never read Baroness Orczy's book... I highly recommend it. Everyone knows that when books are transitioned onto the big screen, things tend to get a bit twisted. Plot outlines, characterizations and timelines of events are subject to change. The '34 version did a really good job considering... but I have to admit, the book has layers that the film doesn't even begin to delve into. The largest difference between the book and the movie is the definition of the hero. Both stories are called The Scarlet Pimpernel, therefore, you go into it assuming the story is about the Pimpernel, that he is the main hero, the main focus. However, if you read the book, the character driving the plot, the one generating and defeating conflict isn't the Pimpernel... it's his wife. The story is Marguerite's. She's the one overcoming Chauvelin, saving her husband the Pimpernel, making the drastic mistakes and in the end, it's her heart that grows and develops and changes. She's a beautifully human character with deep flaws and a pride that Jane Austen would have loved.

In 1934, they treated Marguerite like a secondary character. She had moments of truth but overall she comes across as scared and unsure almost more villain than white hat. Orczy writes her so differently. The print Marguerite is strong, calculating. She is described as the most fascinating woman in Europe. Chauvelin backs her into a corner but she never once lies down and stops fighting. Her motivation is love. Devoted love for her brother, curious love for the Scarlet Pimpernel and once discovered, a deep all-consuming love for her husband. She sacrifices everything to save her hero and her brother.I truly adore and admire this character, and in the end, I think she is the singular reason why this story hasn't been re-told.

Men don't always know how to handle strong female characters... neither do actresses know how to play them oftentimes. To make the film true to Orczy's original, you would almost have to make Marguerite the key role, build the story and the plot around her. That's risky business especially when the story isn't called Marguerite Blakeney. I would love to see how Joss Whedon would approach this story. Not only does he know how to write courageous no-nonsense women, he does it to perfection. It's a production I would love to see happen. I think Hollywood has so many wonderful actresses that could step up and make Marguerite the hero she deserves to be, not to mention the bountiful crop of British men that could rival Errol Flynn in the charm department and take Sir Percy to new heights.

The take-away:
Leslie Howard is AMAZING
Don't judge Marguerite, the girl's got gumption!
Watch movies, Read books, find new heroes!

The Strength of a Woman

As I was standing in line at the grocery store today, I began to casually peruse the magazines by the check out counter. Dozens of covers with beautiful airbrushed models all promoting new fashions, diet trends and a multitude of tips on how to keep the men in our life happy. I will admit to buying the occasional People magazine and the only ones I read religiously are Entertainment Weekly and The Hollywood Reporter.

It's so hard in today's society to be a woman. Contradictory information is thrown at us from day one. We are told to be modest but not prudish, intelligent but not intimidating, sexy as long as we aren't being exploited and happy in our own skin as long as that skin is being treated three times a day with an arsenal of beautify products. 

Hasn't it always been that way though? Women have always been held to such ridiculous standards and not just by men. I think as girls we judge ourselves and each other much more harshly than the opposite sex could ever dream of. But I think sometimes we enjoy the martyrdom of not being good enough. The days I actually think I look attractive, a seed of guilt springs up. "How dare I think I might actually measure up while girls like Miranda Kerr walk the earth?"

Now I know what your thinking... "What in the world does any of this have to do with classic movies?!" Let me explain. I came across this picture of Ava Gardener while messing around on Pinterest this evening, and I had a bit of an epiphany. Really look at this picture. You can almost feel the force behind her eyes, the strength of her body, indignant confidence. That's what I want to exude when I look in the mirror each morning: Strength. Strength of character, confidence in my opinions, grateful that I'm not the size of a Victoria's Secret model and instead revel in my own genuineness. 

Ava Gardener wasn't perfect. She wasn't traditionally beautiful. She had a mystery about her though and an unabashed quality that was even more appealing than the shy coquettes of her time. She was known as having the vocabulary of a drunken sailor, mesmerized many a ladies' man all the while holding onto a firm sense of self. Even her flaws were somewhat hypnotizing. I think a lot of her success came from this center of self.

So instead of comparing myself to every photo-shopped model on every grocery store counter in America, I'm going to instead embrace what makes me me and find confidence in the eyes my mother gave me. 

                                                                        Thank you Ava for the inspiration!