Triplets

Bazazz

KAY THOMPSON
November 9, 1909 - July 2, 1998

Funny Face, Revisited

Growing up, we were transfixed by the flickering, glamorous images presented on the late, late show; we would set our alarm clock for 2:00 am, to catch even a heavily-edited presentation of anything from Marie Antoinette (1938) to Queen of Outer Space (1958). As technology slowly grew, we would program the VCR to tape practically every pre-1970 film that showed up on television. And then, in turn, we began collecting DVDs, downloading movies on the Internet (legally!), or even finding rarities on YouTube. But we only knew most of these vintage films, classic or obscure, as relatively small images on a TV screen, a computer monitor, or now, an iPod or iPhone. One of the reasons we love being in Manhattan, is the opportunity we get to see quite a few classic films on the big screen, often in lovingly-restored prints at Lincoln Center, MoMA, or Film Forum. And until you've seen these films as they were originally intended to be seen, you're really only getting a fraction of the enjoyment.


On November 3, the Film Society of Lincoln Center kicked off a week-long Stanley Donen festival with his classic 1957 musical, Funny Face, starring Audrey Hepburn, Fred Astaire, and Kay Thompson. The pleasures of this screening were many: for starters, the print was an eye-popping, digitally restored archival print direct from Paramount. Thompson's legendary "Think Pink!" production number has never looked better, or pinker. Second, Mr. Donen was in the audience -- we sat right behind him, Mike Nichols, and Elaine May. Third, viewing this movie, so beloved from our childhood, on the literally big, wide screen was eye-opening and thought-provoking in unexpected ways.


Our most striking observation was that the story is practically nonexistent, even for a frothy musical; the writing just isn't particularly good or compelling. Audrey Hepburn's Jo Stockton character is so sketchily drawn, it's a testament to Hepburn's personal magnetism and sheer loveliness that she somehow maintains the audience's affection: as the dowdy bookstore clerk, Jo is borderline irritating, rattling on about the Jean Paul Sartre-esque philosophy she follows, denouncing the fashion world as shallow and without meaning. Then, Jo slips into her first Givenchy gown, and is immediately converted to commercialism. Then she denounces it again, only to finally dance off into the sunset with Astaire -- and a Givenchy gown. Say wha -- ? Mr. Donen, when interviewed by Mike Nichols after the screening, commented himself that he felt "uncomfortable" with any scene not involving a musical number, as he didn't feel they were written well, either. Our personal fond memories of the film were basically bullet points: "Think Pink"! The Richard Avedon-inspired montages! The Givenchy fashions! The Gershwin songs! Dovima! We'd forgotten the flaws -- or maybe just never noticed them as much when watching it on television.


On a more positive note, the film was a wonderful showcase for Kay Thompson, and we left wondering why the hell she didn't become the biggest star in the universe after Funny Face. Of course, we always adored her "Think Pink!" number; but beyond that, our memories of her, and the film as a whole, were blurred. Thompson really is a major part of the film, and whenever she's on screen, she blows everyone, Astaire and Hepburn included, completely away. She's the best thing about the group number, "Bonjour, Paris!"; completely overshadows Audrey on "How to Be Lovely"; and is positively incendiary with Astaire on "Clap Yo' Hands" -- which is really more of a showcase for her, and Astaire wisely and gentlemanly lets her steal the stage.


Any disappointments we had in revisiting Funny Face on the big screen were outweighed, though, by the sheer delight in seeing it so gorgeously presented; by the excitement of almost "discovering" Kay Thompson for the first time; by those gorgeous Givenchy gowns; and by the final, still-heartrending scene of Fred and Audrey being reunited at the world's loveliest church to the strains of "S'wonderful." And, of course, being able to sit behind Stanley Donen. It really doesn't get any better than that.

A Marvelous Party

Noel Coward, Judy Garland and Kay Thompson talk about performing, Lena Horne, Roger Edens, and Marilyn Monroe. Once our jaws are back in place from dropping, our eternal thanks will go to Toby Worthington for bringing this to our attention, and to TallulahDahling for posting it.

Why Don't You...

...play a sly trick on a style icon?


This January 1963 Bazaar cover has been the source of controversy and speculation since it first hit newsstands nearly half a century ago. The cover model ("Dani") was rumored to have been made up to parody the legendary Diana Vreeland, who had recently defected from Bazaar to its arch rival, Vogue.


Certainly, Dani was a marked switch from the remote, icy mannequins who usually graced the fashion magazine covers at the time: her near-camp, wry smile; decidedly "handsome" features; blue-black hair; and flamboyant cigarette holder make a good case indeed for an extravagant "in joke" perpetrated by Bazaar and photographer Richard Avedon. The ensuing cover made enough of an impact that even columnist Walter Winchell jumped into the fray. The mystery remains unsolved, but another clue lies further within the same issue's pages:


This striking image appears in a fashion layout entitled "Carte Blanche Chic," a seven page spread in which two other models appear in all but this one photo. This chic lady makes just this one, prominent, full page appearance, and is noticeably older and styled quite differently from the other two models. She also bears more than a passing resemblance to Kay Thompson as"Maggie Prescott" in Funny Face (1957) - a character acknowledged as being based, at least in part, on Mrs. Vreeland.



If she were aware of the joke, we'd like to think that Mrs. Vreeland took it with good humor, and also as a compliment to her singular, influential style. After all, to get one over on D.V. took - let's face it - pizazz.

We Love a Cabaret