My Fair Lady (1964) [Two-Disc Special Edition] – DVD

**/**** Image A Sound A+ Extras B
starring Audrey Hepburn, Rex Harrison, Stanley Holloway, Wilfrid Hyde-White
screenplay by Alan Jay Lerner
directed by George Cukor

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover It has always astonished me how high cultural artifacts can be transformed into doltish Broadway musicals–how Cervantes could suffer the bastardization of "Man of La Mancha", how T.S. Eliot could inspire "Cats", or how Shakespeare could invite a cross-pollination with "juvenile delinquency" to become a deadly flower called West Side Story. It's a mystery best left to specialists, I guess, hence I can only look with amazement on Lerner and Loewe's My Fair Lady, which bears the distinction of sucking every ounce of irony out of George Bernard Shaw's "Pygmalion" to accommodate fabric and masonry in its place. I suppose that George Cukor's film version is some kind of achievement taken on its own terms, but the problem is, those terms are piddling: the issues of class and gender that were contemporary to Shaw are downplayed so relentlessly that what remains is nothing more than a funny story with occasional songs–which, sadly, is exactly what a musical audience is looking for.

For the uninitiated, this is the turn-of-the-century tale of linguist Professor Henry Higgins (Rex Harrison), who one day in Covent Garden runs into Cockney flower girl Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn). Her accent and butchery of the English language appal him, but when the suggestion is made that better diction might upgrade her to a shopgirl, she shows up on Higgins's doorstep demanding that he give her lessons. In response, Higgins strikes a wager with his colleague, Pickering (Wilfrid Hyde-White): he will teach Doolittle to speak like a lady and then try to pass her off as one in society. This leads to much wailing and gnashing of teeth, especially as the Professor is a high-minded misogynist with delusions of grandeur.

One wonders how Shaw would have taken the bloated roadshow extravaganza end product. On the one hand, his narrative is upended and re-shuffled by the need to insert show tunes that either blow incidental roles way out of proportion or drag out what has already been established by the text. Thus the two-scene character of Doolittle's father gets a pair of numbers just to kill time, and characters extol their joy and elation when we've already figured out what they're feeling. On the other hand, the production team is so married to Shaw's now-warped narrative that they never have a chance to establish their own personality, resulting in a freak of cinema that is neither fish nor fowl. It's an extremely bumpy ride from a structural perspective, making Shaw's original seem like a beast to be tamed rather than a fully functioning work of art.

To be fair, much of Shaw's dialogue remains intact, probably at the request of his estate. But it doesn't really matter, because neither the songwriters nor the production team is alive to the play's many ironic dimensions, which deal with matters of class and gender that by 1964 would have to have been pointed out. Thus the lines clatter to the floor as so much exposition, upstaged by the astoundingly banal songs and crushingly literal-minded set design that constantly asks to be appreciated for its ostentatious "authenticity." Pauline Kael once spoke contemptuously of "the sort of people who delighted when a stage set has running water or a painted horse looks real enough to ride"–this is a movie for them to ooh and ahh over, with a monstrous, artless set and a grotesque array of costumes that make the goings-on of the narrative and dialogue practically incidental. My Fair Lady isn't as ghastly as some other Sixties mega-musicals (Hello, Dolly!, anyone?), but the sub-genre proved relentlessly mediocre, emblematic of a decadent studio system that was happily cleared away at the end of the decade.

THE DVD
Warner's Two-Disc Special Edition of My Fair Lady subjects the film's previous DVD master to improved compression techniques. Although still plagued by an abundance of edge-enhancement, the 2.21:1 anamorphic widescreen image of the SE represents a step up in terms of highlighting the minute details on which the filmmakers laboured mightily. Colours are vivid, and though there's a slight inconsistency in the amount of grain, it's largely a negligible issue. The Dolby Digital 5.1 remix, meanwhile, is flawless, giving a beautiful round tone through all channels and coming up with creative speaker-to-speaker handoffs during the famous "Ascot" sequence.

Disc One's film-length yak-track features restorers Robert A. Harris and James C. Katz, who, with art director Gene Allen, divide their time evenly between revelations about the restoration and details about the production itself. While they often lapse into self-congratulation and hagiography (everybody was working "at the top of their game," etc.) there are fascinating tidbits to be gleaned regarding the pitfalls of restoration and the staging of certain shots, and the rumination on where certain performers and crew members are now is intriguing. Singer Marni Nixon (Hepburn's vocal double for her musical interludes) pipes up from time to time and gives the most value for money: her memories are sharp and clear and she comes up with interesting gossip about how she got the job and certain eccentric members of the production team.

DISC TWO

The second platter's supplementary material breaks down as follows:

MORE LOVERLY THAN EVER: The Making of My Fair Lady, Then and Now (60 mins.)
Hosted by supporting cast member Jeremy Brett, this mini-doc alternates standard making-of saga, breathless quotes from surviving cast and crew, and details about the 1994 restoration by Robert A. Harris and James C. Katz. There are a few goodies here pertaining to the origins of the song "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face" and the on-set war between designer Cecil Beaton and director George Cukor, but it's mostly just gush about how wonderful all of the film's departments were and how wonderful the movie turned out to be. The too-few and too-brief restoration clips are rather interesting.

THE PRODUCTION
1963 Production Kickoff Dinner (23 mins.)
Raw footage of a promotional dinner attended by the principals, Jack Warner and others; rude interviewers grill Hepburn on runaway productions, Harrison on details of his involvement in Cleopatra, and Warner on the film in question. Warner also delivers a rambling speech, answers questions, and tells off-colour jokes–a few of which are sometimes cut off in the middle by the camera operator. All said, a fascinating glimpse into the last days of the studio system.

Audio of George Cukor Directing Baroness Bina Rothschild (2 mins.)
Over a montage of photos of Cukor directing, we hear the director take the Rothschild scene through several takes as the actress does a single line. (Cukor's constant refrain: "More authority!") Too brief to prove much, though the director's exacting standards are duly noted.

Audrey Hepburn Vocals: "Wouldn't It Be Loverly?" (4 mins.) and "Show Me" (2 mins.)
Two numbers from the film with Audrey Hepburn's vocals instead of Marni Nixon's. Hepburn's voice is passable but strained here, casting Nixon's contribution in a very good light.

"SHOW ME" GALLERIES
Sketches: A reel that fleetingly holds on costume sketches for each of the principals. There aren't enough of them to justify a perusal.

Black and White Stills: By contrast, more indistinct shots of Cecil Beaton's costumes than anyone could possibly ask for, unfortunately without the ability to flick manually from picture to picture.

Colour Stills: Interesting and vivid photos, from staged publicity stills to behind-the-scenes shots of the picture being made.

Documents and Publicity: The promotional materials included here are cropped to the point where one can't read text in its entirety. Additionally find some fuzzy black-and-white stills, more distinct colour stills, and various poster designs. Jess Franco extras are handled better than this.

Posters and Lobby Cards: A swift ricochet through the ad art, set over a brief radio interview with Rex Harrison gushing about the "conscientious" Audrey Hepburn. Keep your finger on the "pause" button, or you'll miss the pictures.

"The Fairest Fair Lady" (9 mins.)
Warners propaganda film pretending to detail the production with glaringly staged shots and interspersed documentary footage. No real information, but interesting as a curio.

L.A. Premiere Footage
TV footage of the premiere at the Hollywood Egyptian theatre in which the celebrity attendees are rhymed off by name. A needless and irritating feature.

THE AWARDS
Rex Harrison's Golden Globe Acceptance Speech
A pre-filmed speech by Harrison, who for whatever reason could not attend the awards presentation. For trainspotters only.

37^th Academy Awards
Blink and you'll miss this tiny clip of Jack Warner accepting the Best Picture Oscar and thanking everyone involved.

Awards
A listing of the Oscars, Golden Globes, and New York Film Critics awards garnered by the film.

THE COMMENTS
Martin Scorsese (2 mins.)
The great man explains his involvement in film preservation in under two minutes.

Andrew Lloyd Webber (1 min.)
A somewhat less great man reveals his near-miss attempt to write Phantom of the Opera with Alan Jay Lerner.

THE TRAILERS OF LERNER AND LOEWE
Trailers for both the original and 1994 releases of My Fair Lady as well as Brigadoon, Camelot, and Gigi round out the set.

173 minutes; G; 2.21:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 5.1, French DD 1.0; CC; English, French, Spanish subtitles; 2 DVD-9s; Region One; Warner