Words! Words! I'm so sick of words! I get words all day through; First from him, now from you! Is that all you blighters can do? Sing me no song! Read me no rhyme! Don't waste my time, Show me! Don't talk of June, Don't talk of fall! Don't talk at all! Show me! Never do I ever want to hear another word; there isn't one I haven't heard.
I can't help but think about "My Fair Lady" as a representation of the phallocentric nature of language. Rex Reed reconstructs a woman's self-identity with language as the foundation for self-expression.
In what feels Orewellian, he controls how she can express herself by controlling the language that she uses. By the end of the film she manages to display the highest amount of power by not speaking.
