#sam comer

Funny Face (1957)

In stories that evoke Pygmalion, I almost always find that I prefer the subject of the Pygmalion-like makeover as they were before the makeover occurred. Greta Garbo in Ninotchka (1938) is far more interesting as a frumpy Soviet agent than a converted, jovial Westerner; so too for Audrey Hepburn’s Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady (1964) as she turns from flower-selling guttersnipe to mistakenly being identified as distantly-related to Hungarian royalty. So it probably should be no surprise that I preferred Audrey Hepburn, seven years before My Fair Lady, before her transformation in Stanley Donen’s Funny Face. Funny Face is based on an unproduced musical by screenwriter Leonard Gershe and borrows its title and some of the songs from a 1927 George and Ira Gershwin musical of the same name. However, Donen’s Funny Face has a completely different plot, with only four songs from the Gershwin musical included. Nonsensical and foolish as it might seem in love, fashion, and happiness, Funny Face is a stylish musical without many peers.

In New York City, Maggie Prescott (Kay Thompson) is the editor of Quality – a fashion magazine. Maggie confides in her staffers and photographer Dick Avery (Fred Astaire) in a directional change for Quality. With Dick’s advice, Maggie begins looking for a model that can embody, “character, spirit, and intelligence.” Maggie and Dick will find Jo Stockton (Hepburn), a soft-spoken bookstore employee versed in modern philosophy, especially in Emile Flostre’s (Michel Auclair) “empathicalism”, as their unwitting model for the next cover of Quality. Jo – who disdains the fashion industry – longs to travel to Paris to meet Professor Flostre, and (after some convincing by Dick) accepts a modeling opportunity in Paris just to realize that dream. While in Paris, Jo, Dick, and Maggie find themselves in a variety of shenanigans that are appropriate for a musical romantic comedy.

Movie musicals that are not sung through demand that the actors involved provide robust performances and that they can carry a tune unlike Russell Crowe or Clint Eastwood (yes, Clint Eastwood once sang in a movie). With Hepburn, Astaire, and Thompson, those baseline standards are exceeded. Hepburn is the weakest singer of the three central actors (unlike in My Fair Lady, her singing here is entirely in her voice), but she – twenty-seven years old upon Funny Face’s initial release date – always embodied glamor and elegance. Even though less fashionable roles like in The Nun’s Story (1959) and Wait Until Dark (1967) were on the horizon, this is her first lead role in which she doesn’t play a sort of princess or socialite. Yet that, “character, spirit, and intelligence” irrespective of life station shines through in her performance before and after her character becomes a Quality model. Having loved Fred Astaire’s movies during her childhood, she leaped at the chance to work with him. Astaire, being the perfectionist he always was, put Hepburn at ease instantly, and that joy in their acting, dancing, and singing together radiates from the confines of the screen.

Despite the age difference between Astaire and Hepburn (thirty years; not the most sizable gap in an early career where Hepburn was often paired up with much older men – your tolerance will certainly vary), Astaire maintains a charm that he never lost when starring opposite so many actresses. His character of Dick expresses said charm when noting how much he loves Jo’s “Funny Face”. Gershe’s screenplay is aware of how Astaire best operates as an actor – keep it light, keep dialogue simple and concise within the bounds of the characters’ personalities – and allows the actor to succeed. Yet the film’s greatest delight is Kay Thompson as Maggie. Before the devil wore Prada, Kay Thompson urged her coworkers to, “Think pink!” It is through Thompson – better known as a composer an author of the Eloise children’s book series than as an actress – that the film funnels much of its soft-punching satire towards the shallowness of the high fashion world. Thompson is up for the challenge, nailing her humor like a master handyperson.

Thompson is gifted with a damned powerful set of pipes, as evidenced in the opening “Think Pink!” number (music by Roger Edens, lyrics by Gershe). “Think Pink!” – with its abstract art direction by Hal Pereira, George W. Davis, Sam Comer, and Ray Moyer in addition to Ray June’s cinematography and Frank Bracht’s editing – might be dismissed by those unfamiliar with the habits of musical movies of Old Hollywood, but the surrealism involved is among the most stunning in Stanley Donen’s filmography. More than most genres, musicals lend themselves to some degree of surrealism – if you’re suspending your disbelief for minutes at a time as characters are singing about things spontaneously, That surrealism is less apparent in the preexisting songs that appear in Funny Face (those who have listened to enough of the Gershwin brothers’ songs will recognize some of these titles): “He Loves and She Loves”, “How Long Has This Been Going On?” (an excellent showcase of Hepburn’s solid singing voice), and “’S Wonderful” (serving as the finale).

Along with “Think Pink!”, the second notable original song involves all three central actors as they say, “Bonjour, Paris!” (music by Edens, lyrics by Gershe) In just over five minutes, the viewers are treated to a musical montage of 1950s Paris as Hepburn, Astaire, and Thompson sightsee as much of the city as they can soon after touching down at Orly Airport (Charles de Gaulle Airport would not be opened until 1974) – each of their characters, taking separate taxis because it appears that Quality has money to burn, claim that they are too fatigued for sightseeing, but actually just want to have some alone time before settling down to business. It is not a song I would recommend for viewers attempting to suppress a rampant wanderlust, nor does it build character. It is purely a showboating musical number interested in displaying the beauty of the city and establishing setting. With less accomplished performers and handled by a less talented director, editor, and team of songwriters (overlapping lyrics while the three take Eiffel Tower elevator relieves the song of any semblance of monotony), “Bonjour, Paris!” would otherwise be superfluous padding. Instead, it is an entertaining romp through the City of Light, with infectious smiles melting away the characters’ anxieties and worries if just for a few minutes.

Away from the onscreen glow of the lead actors, Funny Face is supported by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) figures, specifically those working under producer-lyricist Arthur Freed (whose musical credits are jaw-dropping, but include, among numerous other works, 1951′s An American in Paris, 1952′s Singin’ in the Rain, and 1953′s The Band Wagon). In the days of old Hollywood Studio System, Paramount – which produced Funny Face – was known for historical epics, not its musicals. Musicals were the specialty of MGM, and it was Freed himself who purchased the rights to produce the film initially. Freed wanted Hepburn to feature, but Paramount was not about to loan its brightest star anytime soon. Thus, Freed allowed his friend, composer Roger Edens to transfer the production to Paramount. Among the MGM contractees working on this Paramount production included:

Kay Thompson

Stanley Donen (director; 1949′s On the Town, Singin’ in the Rain)

Ray June (cinematographer; 1936′s The Great Ziegfeld) 

Adolph Deutsch (musical director; The Band Wagon, 1954′s Seven Brides for Seven Brothers)

Conrad Salinger (arranger; 1944′s Meet Me in St. Louis, 1950′s Annie Get Your Gun)

Eugene Loring (choreographer; 1945′s Ziegfeld Follies)

The newly independent Fred Astaire had just been released by his contract from MGM, but owed Paramount a movie. As is self-evident, Funny Face had no shortage of musical expertise working behind the camera. And for an era in Hollywood where en masse loans of contractees never happened, this temporary exporting of talent was remarkable. After its release, Hollywood insiders mockingly labeled Funny Face as Paramount’s first MGM musical.

But that MGM talent did not extend to the costume design, which included Paramount’s legendary Edith Head – who, in a fifty-four-year career, still holds the record for Academy Awards for Best Costume Design (eight wins from a record thirty-five nominations). Head would be joined by French fashion designer Hubert de Givenchy for Funny Face. Where the latter handled Audrey Hepburn’s impeccable wardrobe (de Givenchy was also Hepburn’s personal fashion designer), Head designed costumes for all other cast members and extras. The costumes in Funny Face are an explosion of Technicolor – realizing, to the fullest extent, the incredible range of aesthetics, atmosphere, moods, and invention that the Technicolor dyeing process (within widescreen VistaVision) could allow.

As is the case with musicals, the non-musical writing and themes involved are suspect. Romantic and enjoyable though it is, Audrey Hepburn’s transformation from bookish clerk rejecting the superficiality of the fashion world to professional model is not terribly convincing. Elements of New York City-based Jo flicker when she is in Paris, yet are largely – not entirely – extinguished by the film’s ending. Though rooted in feminine concerns and viewpoints, Funny Face is anything but a thoughtful piece of feminism. But that is offset by the fact that Funny Face’s satirical targets include anyone appearing on-screen: fashion executives and their subordinates, photographers seeking the perfect shot, bookish women, pretentious philosophers that make sense to a handful of the film’s characters, but never to the audience.

Funny Face is an experience brimming with amusement, glee. With Fred Astaire midway through his career and Audrey Hepburn near the beginning of hers, the film benefits from their mutual adoration of the other – putting the other actors, and the audience, in a state of dreamy enchantment, perhaps dreaming up of an unannounced vacation as these true movie stars walk the streets of Paris.

My rating: 9/10