One of the amazing things about watching old movies is that you sometimes find yourself swooning over an actor or actress who is now deceased or very ancient. Presently, I find my heart and mind filled with thoughts and images of Dame Wendy Hiller, born in 1912, but who was just twenty-six when she made a lasting impression as Eliza Doolittle in Anthony Asquith's Pygmalion (1938). She passed away on May 14th, 2003, at the age of ninety. At the time, I took no notice of the event, but now I'm in mourning. It seems I've fallen madly, if temporarily, in love with a dead woman. If she be "squashed cabbage leaf," as Henry Higgins declares, let me eat coleslaw the rest of my life. Higgins and Eliza Doolittle were, of course, creatures that sprung from the fertile mind of playwright George Bernard Shaw.

Historical Background: George Bernard Shaw mostly detested having his plays adapted into films. There had been two unauthorized screen renditions of his 1912/3 play Pygmalian, one Dutch and one German, but neither had done the play much credit. Sam Goldwyn had approached Shaw with an offer for the screen rights to all of his plays, but Shaw was dissatisfied with either the artistic guarantees, the remuneration, or both. Shaw was won over, however, by producer Gabriel Pascal (1894-1954), who offered Shaw significant involvement in the productions. The partnership would produce adaptations of four of Shaw's plays over fourteen years: Pygmalion (1938), Major Barbara (1940), Caesar and Cleopatra (1945), and Androcles and the Lion (1952). The first three were noteworthy artistic successes, but Caesar and Cleopatra proved such a financial disaster that it very nearly ended Pascal's career as a producer. Then, the last of the four films finished him off. Shaw played the lead role in writing the screenplay (along with W.P. Lipscomb, Cecil Lewis, Ian Dalrymple, and Anthony Asquith), and won his only Oscar for the effort. Shaw also was given free reign to choose the actress for the part of Eliza and went with his favorite actress at that time, Wendy Hiller, who had been playing the role on stage for a couple of years.

The play's name came from a myth about a Greek king and sculptor, Pygmalion, who fashioned an ivory statue of a woman, Galatea, of such great beauty that he fell in love with his art work. His prayer that she be brought to life was answered by the goddess Aphrodite. When Pygmalion was first staged in London in 1914, it had darn near precipitated a scandal, especially the class-baiting speeches of Alfred Doolittle. Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree produced the play and also played the part of Higgins. His prestige helped weather the storm of controversy. It also didn't hurt that Sir Herbert's brother, Sir Max Beerbohm, was a leading theater critic at the time. Ironically, Sir Herbert's son, David Tree, would later play Freddy in the film version being reviewed here. The casting of the film was full of such ironies.

The play's ending has always been a matter of controversy and the reason it remains a controversy is that none of the competing "solutions" are fully satisfactory. In the original published version of the play, after Eliza duly impresses upper crust British society, she goes off to her father's wedding, and never returns to the Professor's house, all with the blessing of Mrs. Higgins, who understands that her son's self-absorption and abusive manner make him unfit to be anyone's husband. Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, however, insisted on playing up the romantic feelings on the part of Higgins for his project and protégé, even to the extent of tossing a bouquet of flowers to Eliza as she departs. Shaw was so adamantly opposed to the inference that he sat down and wrote a prose addendum to the play, specifying the outcome. He pointedly derided those with imaginations "so enfeebled by their lazy dependence on the ready-made and reach-me-downs of the ragshop in which Romance keeps its stock of 'happy endings' to misfit all stories." Then, Shaw explained that Eliza had married Freddy and the pair had been set up with a greengrocer's shop and succeeded modestly well, after a period of struggle. As for Higgins, he continued to "storm and bully," but Eliza learned to stand up to him "so ruthlessly that the Colonel had to ask her from time to time to be kinder to Higgins." This was in keeping with Shaw's idea of the modern woman.

In adapting the play to the screen, Shaw made a number of significant changes, even to the extent of compromising on the ending, probably under pressure from Pascal. In Shaw's version of the screenplay, Eliza realizes that there's no going back to her old niche, the Professor baits her to marry Freddy, and she does. Shaw added, in an essay he appended, that Eliza's marriage to Freddy would turn out badly. This compromise did not satisfy Pascal, however, and the other members of the screenwriting team, with Shaw's reluctant acquiescence, rewrote the ending again. This time, Eliza is tempted to marry Freddy, but returns to the Professor's house, turns off the recording of her voice to which he had been listening, and picks up where the recording left off. Higgins, without looking around then asks her to fetch his slippers. This is not only how the present film ends but also the ending used in the musical version, My Fair Lady (1964), and in most modern stage versions. In fact, My Fair Lady was really more a musical adaptation of the 1938 film than an adaptation of the original play.

To call any of these alternatives "happy endings" strikes me as a stretch. The last of the alternatives is, at best, an ambiguous ending. Romantics can imagine that the two souls have at last come together and will live happily ever after, but psychological realists will recognize that what we've seen of the insensitive Higgins so far suggests a man who would be impossible to live with for any period of time. It's all well and good to understand that the man abuses everyone with the same alacrity, but over the long haul, some capacity to express tenderness, affection, and respect is required in a healthy, intimate relationship. I can't picture a woman being happy with a man who refers to her as a "squashed cabbage leaf." Moreover, all the indications of the story are that Higgins is excessively devoted to his mother and sexually repressed or disinterested when it comes to younger women. One can't begin to guess what effect the addition of a sexual component would have on the relationship between Henry and Eliza. If what Eliza is choosing is to serve Higgins as a kind of girl Friday, then clearly the film's ending cannot be viewed as a happy one by modern standards. If, on the other hand, Eliza ultimately awakens in Higgins a capacity for genuine love and kindness, something worthwhile could emerge in a relationship between the two. I've known examples of abrasive people who made exceptions for their spouse and children, but others who made no exceptions. Eliza might have the requisite effect on Higgins. After all, she has acquired some of the strength and confidence of Higgins's mother, and the mother manages to keep him in his place. Personally, I think that the ambiguous ending is the most satisfactory one because the idea of Eliza marrying Freddy is a deplorable one as well. I can't see Eliza being married to a fawning milquetoast as a significantly better prospect than her being married to an arrogant bully. Personally, I'd rather see Eliza pick someone other than either Freddy or Henry – like me for example! Actually, I'm very happy with the Eliza-like darling I already have.

The Story: Most readers will already know the story well or, at the least, have known it at one time. It's virtually identical to the story of My Fair Lady. To call this film My Fair Lady without the songs is a simple way of describing it, but it belittles the strong cinematic values that the film has in its own right. The opening scene takes place on the streets of London, outside a theater. The emerging patrons are trying to secure taxis, due to a downpour. Eliza Doolittle (Wendy Hiller), a somewhat impudent lower-class flower girl from Lisson Grove, pays no heed to the rain as she tries to peddle violets to the wealthy theater patrons. She speaks with a thick accent and lower-class vernacular. Nearby, a man stands in the shadows taking notes. He's Henry Higgins (Leslie Howard), a phonetics professor, who studies dialects and accents. He demonstrates his prowess, for the crowd, by correctly identifying where several of the patrons were born, simply from their speech. One of the men, Colonel George Pickering (Scott Sunderland), is from Indian and a linguist. The two men have read each other's books and develop an immediate rapport. Higgins gives lessons to wealthy clients to correct their speech impediments or unwanted accents and boasts that he could even correct Eliza's thick accent and pass her off as a lady.

The next morning, as Higgins is showing off his scientific equipment to Pickering, Eliza shows up asking for lessons. She's even got money to pay for them – one shilling sixpence a lesson is what she reckons to be fair. That's not even pocket money to Higgins. He's about to have her thrown out, but the wealthy Colonel Pickering turns it into a bet, saying he'll pay all expenses if Higgins can pass Eliza off as a lady at the Ambassador's Reception, three months hence. And so it begins.

Eliza is scrubbed up, dressed up, and, most importantly, subjected to intensive pronunciation and articulation lessons. Higgins badgers and harangues the poor gutter snipe, as he calls her, day and night, and Eliza bears it with a mix of determination and agony. One of her first tests comes in the form of a tea-party at the home of Higgins's mother, Mrs. Higgins (Marie Lohr). Other guests include Mrs. Eynsford-Hill (Everly Gregg), her daughter Clara (Leueen MacGrath), and her rather dunderheaded son, Freddy (David Tree). In a riotous scene, we soon discover that while Eliza has learned to articulate like a well-bred Londoner, her topics of conversation remain strikingly vulgar. She describes how surprised she was that her mother died of influenza, considering that she had already survived diphtheria, turning very blue in the process. Then, she proceeds to explain how her father poured gin down her mother's throat so fast she had bitten the end off the spoon. The gin didn't kill her, however, because, as Eliza explains, she drank gin like mother's milk. In another bit, she argues that some wives have to keep their husbands drunk just so they'll be fit to live with. The jaws of most of the on-lookers have dropped halfway to the floor, but Freddy is utterly love-struck.

Eliza's father, Alfred Doolittle (Wilfrid Lawson), a mere dustman, shows up at the Professor's house, wanting a cut of the action. His demand is for five pounds. Higgins attempts to reassure him that his intents toward the man's daughter are honorable. Doolittle replies that he has no doubt they are, otherwise, he'd ask for fifty. Higgins then offers one of the play's controversial speeches about the difference between the deserving poor and the undeserving poor. Acknowledging that he is one of the undeserving poor, he argues, "I don't need less. I need more. I eats as hearty and I drinks a lot more!"

The big test, of course, is Eliza's presentation at the Ambassador's reception. It is complicated by the presence of one of Higgins's former students, Aristid Karpathy (Esme Percy), a snobbish dialectician as adept at identifying a person's origins as is Higgins himself. He is put on Eliza's case immediately. He determines that she cannot be native English because no native speaks the language as well as she does. For the rest, however, he is as thoroughly taken in as the others, declaring that she must be a Hungarian princess.

Eliza makes a big impression and when the evening is done and they've returned to the Professor's home, Higgins and Pickering guffaw and celebrate, practically ignoring Eliza in the process. Eliza, who has now tasted respect and admiration, is stung by Higgins's continuing disdain and indifference for her. In the morning, she has left with her things but quickly discovers that there is just no going back to her old life either. Like the man without a country, she's become a woman without a class niche. In an emotionally charged showdown, she confronts Higgins, stands up to him, but he remains adamantly ignorant of his own feelings and incapable of compassion or decency. The story's ending and its variants were already discussed above in the Background section. Higgins realizes that he's gotten accustomed to Eliza, which is as close as he can permit himself to come to the concept of love.

Themes: The average film lover will view both this film and My Fair Lady as romantic comedy, but Shaw intended his play primarily as two other things altogether: political commentary and social satire. Shaw was a Fabian socialist who argued in lectures and essays on the need to uproot the British class system and rigid social structure. Shaw was convinced that class distinctions were entirely artificial – the result of upbringing and opportunity, not merit. He viewed dialect and elocution as the principal social marker than placed a person in their social category. In Eliza's words, "The difference between a lady and a flower girl isn't how she behaves; it's how she's treated." Eliza also explains how the Colonel is different from Higgins. "The Colonel treats every flower girl like a lady; you treat every lady like a flower girl." She's right, of course, and that begs the question, can one learn to love (or even tolerate) someone who treats everyone with the same disdain, by keeping in mind that the insults are only a reflection of that person's personality and not particular to oneself? That would be the challenge, apparently, were Eliza to marry Henry Higgins.

Production Values: The film's script is brilliant and deservedly won an Oscar. Shaw had the good sense to add new scenes to the story to accommodate the transition from stage to screen. The embassy reception was only an off-stage incident in the play; here it is given real weight and dramatic import and new characters have been added to support it. Viola Tree, the daughter of the man who played Henry Higgins in the original stage version, played one of the added characters. The roles of Alfred Doolittle, Colonel Pickering, and Freddy are all somewhat diminished in the film. The phonetic lessons provided to Eliza by Higgins have enhanced explication in a wonderfully comic and tightly edited montage. The comedy of the tea-party scene has been very nicely enhanced.

Virtually all of these changes were retained in the later musical, My Fair Lady, giving testimony to their evident success. The 1938 film version is less sentimental than the musical, however, with less evident signs of romantic attachment developing between Eliza and Higgins. Higgins undergoes less change in the 1938 film, which makes the likelihood of a successful relationship between the pair less compelling. On the other hand, the age difference between Eliza and the Professor seems less apparent in Pygmalion than in My Fair Lady. I remember being disappointed, when I first saw My Fair Lady, that the lovely Eliza had gone for the old geezer. I wanted her to choose Freddy. Now that I'm older, I'm more sympathetic to the old man. The actual age difference between the two leads was twenty-one years in the musical and nineteen in Pygmalion, but, in movies, it's appearances that count. Howard looks younger than his actual age of forty-five in the film, but Rex Harrison looked every bit of his fifty-six. So, ironically, the romantic element was stronger in the musical but less satisfying for viewers who resent large age differences. I thought the chemistry between Howard and Hiller truer to the play's intent.

The camerawork for this film is very good for a film adapted from a play. Sometimes films made from theater works are shot with overly stagnant camera placements. That was especially true back in the thirties. Asquith and cinematographer Harry Stradling employed graceful sweeps and a nice assortment of mid-level shots and close-ups. The film's editing was provided by a young man (at the time) named David Lean and if you've forgotten what the future held for him, check out my reviews for Hobson's Choice and The Bridge on the River Kwai). The criterion DVD presents the film in the best form in which it has been available for many years. It still not perfect, because of limitations in the source material. There are some pinholes, scratches, and vertical streaks now and then, but not enough to serious detract from viewing enjoyment. Some segments are noticeably worse than others. The audio transfer is pretty good as well, but with a little background hiss. The audio is especially important for this film, even without songs, because the great Arthur Honegger provided the lovely soundtrack.

The casting of this film is very close to ideal. Leslie Howard was the leading British male actor at the time. He had already made his mark in Smilin' Through (1932), Of Human Bondage (1934), and, especially, The Scarlet Pimpernel (1935), and would go to roles in such films as 49th Parallel (1941) and Pimpernel Smith (1941), a remake of his earlier success. He may be even better known to American audiences for his part in Gone With the Wind as Scarlet O'Hara's love-struck neighbor. Howard was killed in 1943 when a passenger plane was shot down by the Germans under the mistaken belief that Winston Churchill was aboard. Shaw had originally wanted Charles Laughton for the part, but it's very difficult to imagine even the great Laughton matching Howard's performance here.

Wendy Hiller (1912-2002) was a peerless actress. She had a beautifully, sculpted face, a distinctive voice, and great intelligence and intensity. She made only fifteen films for the big-screen but was Oscar nominated twice as Best Actress and won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress in Separate Tables. She was even more accomplished as a stage actress than film actress and also had great success in television. Her most notable screen appearances were in Pygmalion (1938), Major Barbara (1941), I Know Where I'm Going (1945), Separate Tables (1958), Sons and Lovers (1960), A Man for All Seasons (1966), Murder on the Orient Express (1974), The Elephant Man (1980), and The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1987). Hiller manages the transition from the unscrubbed, cheeky waif to the stately but vulnerable beauty and, finally, the proudly assertive woman with great skill.

There are many notable supporting performances as well. Esme Percy almost steals his scenes as the slimy Count Arpathy. Wilfrid Lawson is both dirty enough and intimidating enough for the part of Alfred Doolittle. It's easy to imagine him taking his belt to poor Eliza. David Tree is delightfully love-struck and mousy as Freddy and Scott Sunderland suitably gentile and gentle as Pickering. Marie Lohr was outstanding as Mrs. Higgins. In her younger days, she had played Eliza in stage versions of Pygmalion.

Bottom-Line: The Criterion DVD is bare-bones with no extras except a small booklet with a worthwhile essay by David Ehrenstein and a gorgeous photograph of Wendy Hiller, with amazingly arched eyebrows, at the Ambassador's reception. Only once during my viewing of this film did the strains of Lerner and Loewe intrude into my consciousness: when Eliza was practicing the "Rain in Spain" line. I understand that's pretty good. I highly recommend this delightful film, even if you already love My Fair Lady. If you do, you'll get a special kick out of seeing another brilliant take on the same story.

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: Good Date Movie
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 9 - 12