26. Audrey Hepburn in 'Roman Holiday' (1953)

 

 

Plot Intro

Princess Ann (Audrey Hepburn) is a member of the royal family of an Unnamed European Nation, and currently on a state visit to Rome. Suffocated by her sheltered and restrictive lifestyle, she sneaks out of her room to experience real life. She encounters a journalist called Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck) and thinks he has no idea who she really is. But he does, and hopes to take her on a whistle-stop tour of Rome in exchange for a story to help his flailing career. Will Joe use Princess Ann for solely journalistic purposes, or will he fall for her charms instead?

Paul says...

Where do I even begin to start with someone like Audrey Hepburn? Like names such as Marilyn Monroe and Jane Fonda, she was more than an actress. A humanitarian, spokeswoman, philanthropist and fashion icon, she is one of the most recognisable people to have ever lived. On the AFI’s screen legends list, she is the third greatest actress ever behind Katharine Hepburn and Bette Davis. She is one of only 16 people to have won an Oscar, an Emmy, a Grammy and a Tony and on top of that she had BAFTAs, Golden Globes, New York Film Critics Circle Awards, and a SAG Award, as well as an extensive list of honours for her humanitarian efforts. Even if you’re not a fan of her work, or if you’re not familiar with her, there is no denying her “icon” status.

But why was she so supremely popular? It’s a good question and I think Roman Holiday begins to answer it, making this film not only a sweet, whimsical jaunt but also an interesting example of her work and the European goings-on at the time of its release. 

The 1950s has seen a shift in tone when it comes to Best Actress winners. The 40s heroines were stoic, statuesque and strengthened by their suffering- immensely idealised stuff in one of the worst decades mankind has ever seen. But so far the winners of the early 50s have been extremely young, slightly (or extremely) rebellious and, in Judy Holliday’s case, pretty callous, or middle-aged women looking back on their lives with bittersweetness (Vivien Leigh as Blanche DuBois and Shirley Booth). The characters are noticeably more complex, more nuanced and probably more representative of real people. 

Audrey as Princess Ann begins the film pretty much being forced to fulfil that idealised 40s image of strong, guarded womanhood, but deep down she is anything but. In reality she’s just like all us- she’s clumsy, silly, impulsive, humorous and desperate just to have some fun. European royals (both male and female) even now suffer from having to intensely privatise their emotions and some have broken away from this. Princess Ann is, in essence, a 1950s Meghan Markle (but, dare I say it, a lot funnier). We’re seeing a post-war movement from Victorian solemnity and unquestioned reverence for antiquated institutions to more natural, humane and charmingly flawed characters. This was Audrey’s big screen debut so it’s no wonder that immediately slotted into the 50s zeitgeist. She would go on to play very similar roles in Funny Face, My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. To add to her image, upon winning the award, Audrey accidentally left her Oscar statue in the loos and had to run back for it to pose for photographs.

On top of this, the setting of Rome is no accident. Italy was slowly but surely reinventing itself post-Mussolini so I wouldn’t be surprised if the Italian tourist board was involved in the production somewhere. The film is careful to ensure that almost every major site, along with various restaurants, food, parties and mopeds, are in as many shots as possible to encapsulate the beauty and excitement of the city. If it doesn’t make you want to brave the crowds and over-priced ice cream of Rome then I don’t know what will. Again, this ties into the world reinventing and reassessing itself politically, socially, and morally after the turbulence of the war, making Roman Holiday a fascinating piece of movie history. 

Audrey’s career after Roman Holiday never faltered although her life beforehand had great ups and downs. She was born into a family of great privilege, being descended from Dutch nobility through her mother. She was long estranged from her father, however, due to his work supporting the fascist movement. She spent much of her childhood living under Nazi occupation in the Netherlands, and her family suffered greatly (as did everyone in the country) from the subsequent Dutch famine. The once wealthy family were left quite poor, but Audrey managed to get her foot into show business thanks to a ballet scholarship in London which led to West End acting and, eventually, Hollywood.

Her movie career lasted throughout the 50s and 60s before she chose to move away from it and concentrate on family life (she had two sons) and her extensive work with UNICEF. Perhaps due to her experiences in poverty in the mid to late 40s, Audrey devoted a great deal of time and effort to developing and improving the lives of impoverished communities in Africa, South America and Asia, eventually being given the Presidential Medal of Freedom by George Bush Senior. There is also a statue dedicated to her in UNICEF’s New York headquarters. She died from cancer at the age of 63 in 1993. Tributes were sent by her co-star of Roman Holiday and long-time friend Gregory Peck, as well as the Dutch royal family.

Highlight

Besides the beauty of Rome, the sheer delight of the script and Audrey’s acting, and the simple brevity of the film, I think it’s the ending that really strikes me. It’s not the perfect, sentimental ending one might expect but it’s real, bittersweet and packs a punch after a film that so expertly makes you feel elated.

Lowlight

I agree that this film is lacking grit and, perhaps, drive but, if you’re in the mood for it, this is an absolutely lovely work and to be honest we can’t always be watching The Pianist.

Mark

9/10

Doug says...

Roman Holiday is purely charming - it’s a tourist trap of a film, taking you round the streets and alleyways of Rome with the help of renegade Princess Ann (Hepburn) - not the British one, but one from an ‘unnamed European nation’ and Joe Bradley - an American reporter on location in Rome (Peck). 

The story is charming and easy - she runs away from her princessly duties and ends up (through a series of adventures) running into Joe and the two of them spend a day touring round Rome drinking champagne, dancing on boats turned into nightclubs and generally having fun. The necessary tension is added by Joe sneakily trying to get a scoop on the princess being out and about, but you never fear that he will do the right thing in the end and not betray her. Equally it’s clear that while Ann is having fun, this is a holiday and she will have to return to her life in the end. The best we can hope for is that she will take more control over her life and refuse to let others tell her how to live. 

Hepburn is often hard done by for the chaotic mistake that was My Fair Lady. She was miscast and the person who should have had the role (Julie Andrews who originated it) was unfairly passed over. The legendary story of Andrews winning the Oscar over Hepburn for Mary Poppins painted a picture of a feud that probably never even existed. 

What’s unfair about all this is that it passes over Hepburn’s films in which she excels. That includes Roman Holiday but also the glorious Breakfast at Tiffany’s and the odd but deeply enjoyable Funny Face (in which she plays a dowdy bookseller who...you guessed it - takes off her glasses to reveal she is glamorous!) Hepburn’s skill lay in subtle acting, filled with layers of emotion to build fully realised, compelling characters. Roman Holiday is a great example of this - and she does superb work in the role, making Princess Ann a character it is impossible not to cheer on. The ending - a bittersweet moment that elevates the film above others of its kind - is used by Hepburn to showcase how subtle yet effective she could be. Great fun and a lovely Sunday afternoon watch. 

Highlight

The real winner of this film is Rome, which benefits from being both the backdrop and the catalyst for all the events - it made me want to book a ticket and fly over for my own wild adventures.

Lowlight

While it’s a small gripe, this is a film without much substance, and I wonder if by introducing a little more grit, the film would have felt more impactful. Still deeply enjoyable overall. 

Mark

8/10

25. Shirley Booth in 'Come Back, Little Sheba'(1952)

 

 Plot Intro

For Lola (Shirley Booth) and Doc Delaney (Burt Lancaster), a middle-aged suburban couple, life hasn’t quite gone to plan. Doc was once a promising medical student who dropped out of college and married Lola when she became pregnant with his child. Lola, once pretty and fun, lost the baby and now can’t have children. The two live a rather lonely, quiet existence, and both struggle to cope with Doc’s evident drinking problem. Lola rents a room in their house to a college student, Marie (Terry Moore), whose youth and vivacity provides an insight into the life they could have had. Lola and Doc must now both make peace with the paths they have endured, or become consumed by regret.

Paul says...

At the age of 54, Come Back, Little Sheba was Shirley Booth’s movie debut. She would only participate in five movies throughout her career (all within the 1950s), but she achieved phenomenal success in the world of theatre and television. In fact, her brief dive into Hollywood made her one of just 24 people to win the Triple Crown of Acting (at least one Oscar, one Emmy and one Tony). Other Best Actress winners to also achieve this are Helen Hayes, Ingrid Bergman, Jessica Tandy, Anne Bancroft, Maggie Smith, Ellen Burstyn, Helen Mirren, Frances McDormand, Jessica Lange and Glenda Jackson. In fact, far more women than men have won the Triple Crown, potentially proving that women have much more versatility in the performing arts. 

Shirley was also, at the time of her win, the second oldest Best Actress winner. As I have addressed before when we wrote about Marie Dressler (who was the oldest winner for 51 years), the average age of a Best Actress winner is, rather unsurprisingly, significantly younger than that of a Best Actor winner. So 54 is an incredible age at which to enter the heights of Hollywood stardom. 

It was the character of Lola Delaney that actually put Shirley onto the Hollywood map. She had originated the role on Broadway in 1950 to great acclaim and had already won a Tony for it. So it may come as no surprise that Shirley is absolutely astonishingly good in this, and if you’re not shedding a tear by the end then there’s something wrong with you. She encapsulates a woman with a multitude of regrets and worries desperately trying to keep going despite her husband’s detachment and alcoholism and her own stifling loneliness. Shirley injects great nervousness through her body language and hand gestures. Subtle additions such as the way she moves past the staircase by awkwardly holding onto it for support create incredible sympathy for the character.

The character is not someone in mortal peril like Bergman in Gaslight, or at the centre of evil male machinations like Havilland in The Heiress. Nor is she prone to accusations of murder like Crawford in Mildred Pierce. This is a more nuanced piece about someone who has had so many set-backs. She was shunned by her father for getting pregnant, she then lost the baby, she has limited support for her husband’s mental health and alcoholism. As a housewife, she has almost no friends, hobbies or aspirations, and, to make matters worse, the Little Sheba of the title is her pet dog who RAN AWAY FROM HER. Admittedly, this is a rather manipulative bit of sentimentality. I mean, throw a dog into anything and suddenly emotions run much higher than they normally would. But, thankfully, it’s not overplayed, and Little Sheba becomes a symbol of Lola’s potential life, a life that she gradually has to let go of. The film is all about making peace with what you have, and accepting that the life you dreamed of hasn’t happened through no fault of your own. This is a lesson that, in an age of social media where everyone seems to be “hashtag living their best life” except you, is still very pertinent. 

Burt Lancaster also does a sterling job as her husband. On the face of it, he’s very miscast. The character is meant to be in his mid-50s but Lancaster was 38 and looks it. Apparently the producers’ first choice was Spencer Tracy who probably would have been more appropriate (and, unlike Lancaster, may have nabbed an Oscar nomination too). But Lancaster at least does well at not turning Doc into a total monster. He has pretty much the same demons as Lola, all zipping around him saying “You could have been a doctor, your life could have been better, you’re a failure etc etc”. And Lancaster ensures that we see his melancholy so that when he does confront Lola violently after a drinking sesh, it’s frightening but you don’t hate him for it. 

Themes such as alcoholism are often represented rather clumsily, with lashings of melodrama and hysteria, in films of this period but this film doesn’t descend into that. The post-war period certainly brought to light topics such as mental health, addiction and abuse at a time when society was reevaluating itself, so perhaps we’re finally entering a time when an increased awareness and knowledge of these things is filtering into the performing arts. 

Shirley continued mostly to work in TV and theatre after her success with Little Sheba. I suppose the ageism in Hollywood stopped her from continuing with a career in movies, or perhaps she made that choice of her own accord. Either way, she has one of the steadiest and most respected careers of all the Best Actress winners. She retired from acting in 1974 but didn’t pass away until 1992 at the age of 94.

Highlight

The scenes in which Lola, alone on her porch, calls out to Little Sheba in the vain hopes that her dog will return, are handled very well by Shirley. It could have turned into some kind of cloying Dickensian schmaltz but we are reminded constantly that Sheba is more symbolic than canine.

Lowlight

Nothing much at all really. Even the supporting characters are pretty engaging and the alcoholism is dealt with realistically and sensitively (unusual for a film of its time). 

Mark

10/10

Doug says...

We approached this one with slight trepidation, the sense that here might be another maudlin overly depressing story in which the heroine is put through the emotional wringer so that the actress playing her can nab an Oscar. 

And in one sense we were right, but Little Sheba actually goes a lot further and does a lot more than the average Oscar-bait. 

Shirley Booth is tremendous, giving a performance that is clearly honed by months of stage performance. It’s both physical and ephemeral - her stooped body and nervous tics mixed with the unrelenting loneliness that she shows through her desperation to talk to her rude neighbour, the postman - anyone that might for a moment lift the gloom. Loneliness can be incredibly hard to witness (anyone who’s read the bestselling ‘Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine’ will know that) and what hurts more is that Lola is a lovely, caring person in what is clearly a dead marriage, without friends or company or occupation. She clings desperately to those around her and only chastises herself as they inevitably shrug her off. It’s incredibly painful to watch. 

This film has a great deal to say about youth and beauty and sex too - much like the much more recent Call Me By Your Name - with a younger, sexier couple constantly compared to the dry, stale marriage of Lola and Doc. But where the film excels itself is by showing glimpses of the vitality and exuberance that Lola once had - a moment where she dances to the radio is both incredibly uplifting in her joyous rendition, and equally tragic as she dances happily while in her drab everyday attire and her husband laughs and claps until someone else comes in when he immediately puts a stop to it. Equally she dances by herself to the radio - in the absence of anything else, she finds ways to enjoy herself. 

Burt Lancaster matches her well despite being obviously too young for the role. At first I thought he was lusting after the younger Marie, but it’s clearly more complex than that - with a fatherly attitude he seems to long to have a child to counsel and advise. Instead he of course sinks back into alcoholism after doing well at AA, and ends up chasing his wife drunkenly round the kitchen with a knife until she calls for help. 

The last scene is both tragically unhappy and hopeful. Lola realises she needs to put the treasures of her past behind her - whether it’s her long lost dog Little Sheba, or her longing for youth and her beauty. Equally her husband realises he needs to listen to her, to engage with her - to provide some respite from the cruel, empty loneliness that Lola has survived in (one feels) for decades. It ends with hope that there is a better future, but also sadness that there was youth and beauty which was wasted and not given its full choice. Booth’s pared back performance and instinctual line delivery rendered me into full on sobs - much to Paul’s surprise! 

A beautifully delivered, very powerful film focusing on these two characters and the sadness in which they have marinated for too long. Booth is extraordinary.

Highlight

The moment when Lola and Doc break free of their everyday gloom and dance to the radio recalls the same bittersweet energy in Friel’s Dancing at Lughnasa. It’s painful yet uplifting all at once.

Lowlight

None - it was a sublime piece of work.

Mark

10/10

Best of the Rest: Rosalind Russell in 'Mourning Becomes Electra' (1947)

 

Plot Intro

After the end of the Civil War, the wealthy Mannon family await the return of their army patriarch, Ezra (Raymond Massey) and his son Orin (Michael Redgrave). But all is not well - Ezra’s wife, Christine (Katina Paxinou), has been caught snogging sea captain Adam Brant (Leo Genn) by her daughter Lavinia (Rosalind Russell). Eager to save face, Christine plots to murder Ezra upon his return, and Lavinia plots to expose and avenge herself on Christine. It all sounds very Greek tragedy, doesn’t it?

Doug says...

Rosalind Russell is probably best remembered now for her comedic roles - her turn in The Women is exceptional with her using extraordinarily honed physical comedy to outshine most of her co-stars (there’s one bit where you just see her eyes flitting around the room from behind a perfume counter, and it is pure pantomime and cackle-inducing). 

But Russell was - in her time - also known for her dramatic roles too. She never won an Oscar but was nominated multiple times and this was considered her closest moment at nabbing it. Indeed she was so sure of winning that she stood up ready to receive it at the ceremony, only for it to go to her friend Loretta Young for The Farmer’s Daughter. 

So we set out to watch it with great interest. Eugene O’Neill is considered one of the Great American Playwrights - with his magnum opus A Long Day’s Journey Into Night frequently seen in ‘best plays ever’ lists. Mourning Becomes Electra is a pretty notable feat - as an attempt at redoing Aeschylus’ Oresteia  - three ancient Greek tragedies around Clytemnestra, Agamemnon, Electra and Orestes. It’s a well known and bloody trilogy, and O’Neill’s intentions in rewriting and setting it in the time of the American Civil War aren’t particularly apparent. 

A quick look at Wikipedia reveals that the original Mourning Becomes Electra is actually a set of three plays - each comprised of four or five acts. When staged fully, it’s horrendously long and so usually directors cut it down ruthlessly so it can be done in one performance. In fact - the original cut of this film (which we saw) is just under three hours. After it won no Oscars, they cut it down to just over ninety minutes. 

And boy, can you tell why. It is overlong, overacted and frankly a bit too pleased with itself. It’s my first encounter with O’Neill’s writing but he clearly likes to use fifty words instead of one, and it means by the end you are just willing the film to end. I didn’t care about any of the characters particularly - and as someone who is familiar with the original Greek plays - that’s quite a feat. 

Russell as a murderous daughter doesn’t particularly shine for me. She does well in the role but there’s nothing to suggest that she would win an Oscar for it, other than it’s so bloody long. The one actor who does emerge well is Greek actress Katina Paxinou who plays Christine (the Clytemnestra role) with a real drive, especially in the first half of the film. 

While Russell is still very highly regarded, I think this may be because of the comedic roles in which her performances are timeless. Here, it’s very overacted and of its time - which results in it feeling dated. If you finish a Greek tragedy and aren’t brimming with catharsis - something’s gone wrong.   

Highlight

Katina Paxinou’s first scene with her returned husband is brilliant - the one great scene of the whole film. She sits motionless as he implores and bullies her by turn for her love and attention, but you can see her brain whirring as she tries to out-dodge his attacks.

Lowlight

The script was apparently several hours long on the first draft. Despite being edited down to two hours and forty minutes - it should have lost at least another hour.

Mark

4/10

Paul says...

Mourning Becomes Electra is relatively fun to watch if, like me, you’ve read the various ancient Greek tragedies (particularly The Oresteia by Aeschylus) and studied them at some point in school or university. Matching up the modern characters with their mythical counterparts and noticing the Ancient Greek theatrical touches such as starting and ending the film outside the doors of the gargantuan Mannon family home, replacing the Trojan War with the American Civil War and even incorporating interested visitors and “working” characters to provide a Greek Chorus and ways in which the main characters can reveal their schemes to the audience without monologuing. 

I’m a sucker for modern reworkings of old tales, especially if it makes them more relevant to modern day. But as satisfying as it was revisiting these myths under an updated veneer, I agree with Doug that O’Neill’s style is turgid, overwritten and pretentious. I can’t even begin to imagine an uncut theatrical version of this in a dark environment where you can’t pass the time looking at Instagram or nipping out for a wee. Unless you’ve written something of the calibre of Angels in American, keep your play under two hours please, some of us have stuff to do. 

I found Rosalind better than Doug did. I liked her husky voice and the gusto with which she embraced the histrionic source material. But whilst it’s certainly a more “Oscar-y” performance that Loretta Young, Loretta’s charm, nuance and comic timing makes her the more worthy winner for me. 

It’s a shame comedy is not rewarded as much at the Oscars because Rosalind may well have got the recognition she deserved. Born in 1907, she snuck off to acting school and told her parents she was training to be a teacher. She was initially signed to Universal (back when studios owned actors’ very souls) but was ignored and mistreated so she managed to get out of that contract and got one with the (at the time) more prestigious MGM. Her fame increased quickly and she was almost typecast as a refined, upper class lady, something she expressed discontent with. To combat this, she gained comedic roles in The Women and His Girl Friday which are easily the best examples of her acting. As Doug says, her physicality in The Women is hilarious and she gets a lot of the funniest moments (of which there are many even if the film is outmoded and sexist). 

Her performances in these films also led to her meeting her husband, producer Frederick Brisson. Apparently Frederick was on a ship where The Women was being played. After watching it, he declared “I’m either gonna kill that girl, or I’m gonna marry her”. Thankfully, he only did the latter. Frederick’s good friend was actor Cary Grant, who became Rosalind’s co-star in His Girl Friday the following year. Cary was Frederick’s best man at the wedding and the two remained married for the rest of their lives and had one son together. 

Details of Rosalind’s personal life are hard to come by. She appears to have led a pretty modest and quiet life (in comparison to the more rambunctious and gossip-laden private lives of Swanson, Crawford and Davis), but the foreword of her autobiography suggests she had a mental breakdown in the mid-40s following the deaths of two of her six siblings. There doesn’t appear to be much more information than that. 

Her career continued in both comedies and dramas and she later originated the title role in the hit Broadway musical Auntie Mame and gained her fourth and last Best Actress Oscar nomination for this in 1958 (she was defeated by Susan Hayward). She also played the lead in the movie version of the musical Gypsy, but Doug and I agree that Imelda Staunton did it better in the more recent West End production. 

Rosalind eventually succumbed to breast cancer in 1976, aged 69, and was survived by her husband and son. 

Highlight

Like Doug, I thought Katina Paxinou’s performance was great and hits all the right notes. A popular actress in her day, Katina was Greek and garnered a Best Supporting Actress award in her Hollywood debut. Perhaps we will add her to our Best of the Rest list.

Lowlight

The sheer length of Mourning Becomes Electra is completely unnecessary. If a film or theatre production supersedes two hours, it has to really, really, REALLY need it. And this story does not. 

Mark

6/10