Farewell, My Lady

I did not see the stage performance of My Fair Lady, but I am willing to accept Mr. Jack Warner’s milliondollar word that the screen version is a reasonable facsimile of the original package, and a lot plusher too. For me it was at least two-stage, twice as big as life. On the wide screen those super-panavision colors came right out and shook hands. And I believe the stereotropic sound was somehow or other six-track. It seemed to flow from every angle including from under my seat.

The face of Eliza is the face of Audrey Hepburn, but the singing voice is Marni Nixon’s voice. However, the synchronization is excellent. Yet of the principal characters our Audrey was the only one who did not really fit, in the Shavian sense. She herself, though at thirty-four still an enchanting child-woman, is just not the Eliza Doolittle type, not earthy, not full-bodied enough. As Ondine—I did not see the play of that name—I should think she would be eine echte Wassernixe. But as Eliza she does not approach the artistry and robust conviction of Wendy Hiller who played Eliza in the black and white screen version of Pygmalion just before World War II. Incidentally, Higgins may have taught Miss Doolittle to speak Standard English, but Miss Hepburn’s phonetics teachers have not succeeded in making her speak real Cockney.

FR

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Francis Russell

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I did not see the stage performance of My Fair Lady, but I am willing to accept Mr. Jack Warner’s milliondollar word that the screen version is a reasonable facsimile of the original package, and a lot plusher too. For me it was at least two-stage, twice as big as life. On the wide screen those super-panavision colors came right out and shook hands. And I believe the stereotropic sound was somehow or other six-track. It seemed to flow from every angle including from under my seat.

The face of Eliza is the face of Audrey Hepburn, but the singing voice is Marni Nixon’s voice. However, the synchronization is excellent. Yet of the principal characters our Audrey was the only one who did not really fit, in the Shavian sense. She herself, though at thirty-four still an enchanting child-woman, is just not the Eliza Doolittle type, not earthy, not full-bodied enough. As Ondine—I did not see the play of that name—I should think she would be eine echte Wassernixe. But as Eliza she does not approach the artistry and robust conviction of Wendy Hiller who played Eliza in the black and white screen version of Pygmalion just before World War II. Incidentally, Higgins may have taught Miss Doolittle to speak Standard English, but Miss Hepburn’s phonetics teachers have not succeeded in making her speak real Cockney.