Pygmalion

“Pygmalion was a mythological character who dabbled in sculpture. He made a statue of his ideal woman, Galatea. It was so beautiful that he prayed to the Gods to give it life. His wish was granted. Bernard Shaw, in his famous play, gives a modern interpretation of this theme.”

With these opening lines, the stage is set for a film that can often be overshadowed by the far more known musical remake, My Fair Lady. Yet there are moments in this 1938 masterpiece of melodrama that actually rival the Audrey Hepburn/Rex Harrison film because it relies so much more on the acting and the drama than on musical numbers. At barely an hour and a half long, it also flows better thanks to the lack of elaborate musical numbers. That being said, those songs, that have since become iconic, were occasionally missed, and I found myself humming a few of them during moments where the latter film had them inserted. 

That opening text above serves a purpose that was not needed in the Hepburn remake. It explains the title, which, to many people, doesn’t tell you anything about the film it is attached to. Many will not know who Pygmalion and his pleas to the gods are. The title is apt in that his story serves as the inspiration for the plot, but it doesn’t flow off the tongue the way that My Fair Lady does. The average person, not versed in the classics of cinema, wouldn’t even know these two films are related in any way based on that title. That will, of course, be dispelled the moment the film begins. Both movies begin the exact same way, and from that moment on, it is obvious these are based on the same story. 

Once the credits have rolled, we are introduced to a rainy street in Covent Garden, London, where Eliza Doolittle (Wendy Hiller) is selling flowers. Out of the way, Professor Higgins (Leslie Howard) is listening to her thick accent and jotting down notes in a little book. When this is observed by the bystanders, it is assumed that he is a police officer, and a ruckus ensues, with Eliza assuming she has done something wrong. Once that has been cleared up, Higgins meets up with Colonel Pickering (Scott Sunderland), a fellow scholar of languages and dialects, who has traveled from India to meet Higgins. Higgins, referring to Eliza, argues that with proper training, he could turn her into a proper woman who could pass as a Duchess. 

This idea would have probably come to naught except that the next day, Eliza shows up at Henry Higgins’ establishment willing to pay for elocution lessons. Seeing an opportunity to prove himself, Higgins takes up the challenge with Pickering footing the bill should he succeed. This leads to a series of montages as he practically tortures her day and night with exercise after exercise, slowly molding her voice to his idea of perfection. All of this culminates in an embassy reception where the Hungarian Count Aristid Karpathy (Esme Percy), a former pupil of Higgins and now famous for being able to identify the origins of high society people from the way they speak, is in attendance. Higgins is at first afraid Karpathy will see through their ruse, but instead, Eliza fools him completely, convincing him that she must be a Hungarian princess because her elocution is too perfect for her to be a native speaker. 

All seems well until after the social gathering when Eliza overhears Pickering and Higgins celebrating their victory, ignoring her contribution to the success. This leads to a fight between her and Henry, and she storms off, determined to be rid of him. Later, when she comes into contact with him again, the two will go off on each other, fighting while also communicating just how much they mean to each other after all they have been through. This moment, more than any other in the entire film, opens up just how much these two feel for each other, even if they don’t want to admit it directly. 

I envy anyone who saw this before having seen My Fair Lady. This movie is best when there isn’t that comparison. For one, the beats are virtually identical throughout, making most of the story predictable. On top of that, there is the innate inability to avoid direct comparisons to the two casts and how they portray these characters. Leslie Howard is a likable presence in every film I have ever seen him in, even the bland and somewhat boring Ashley Wilkes in Gone with the Wind. His interpretation of Henry Higgins is less snobbish than Rex Harrison but not by much. Part of that is simply the baggage that comes with being Leslie Howard. Rex is far more abrasive in his every exchange with those he considers his lessers. But Leslie Howard comes across far more cruel when coaching Eliza Doolittle, especially later in the story when he is keeping her up all night and driving her to tears. This is a colder, more cruel performance, not so much because of anything Leslie Howard is doing specifically but because of how Wendy Hiller is reacting to it. Wendy doesn’t have the star power of Audrey Hepburn, but she is far more effective in portraying the pure torture of the whole process of learning from Higgins. 

The problem is I’ve never been convinced by Rex Harrison’s Henry Higgins falling in love with Eliza. He sells the crotchety bachelor perfectly fine but not the romantic suitor. It’s not just My Fair Lady, either. I had the same problems with him and Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra. Something about his line deliveries just doesn’t translate to romantic leads. Leslie Howard comes dangerously close to the same problem in Pygmalion. What saves him is the absolutely brilliant final act when he and Eliza confront each other and have a verbal sparring match, each venting frustrations while communicating between the lines that there is romance blooming. Henry Higgins has prided himself on his ability to live perfectly happy without a wife, yet we see through that façade as he argues with her. We see that there is a vulnerable man just beneath the surface that longs for Eliza. 

He also trades some harsh words with her, doing so as if he were complementing her. In his way, perhaps he is. “You’re not bad-looking; it’s quite a pleasure to look at you sometimes — not now, of course, because you’re crying and looking as ugly as the very devil; but when you’re all right and quite yourself, you’re what I should call attractive. That is, to the people in the marrying line, you understand. You go to bed and have a nice rest and then get up and look at yourself in the glass, and you won’t feel so cheap.” As Henry’s mother would say: “Very nicely put indeed, Henry. No woman could resist such an invitation.”

This is one of the great classic dramas of the time. Pygmalion offers plenty of comedy, drama, and juicy scenes. It’s also impeccably acted, with Wendy Hiller as a particular standout. Her countenance has to slowly shift throughout the course of the film, and Hiller covers those changes deftly while playing up the comedy. You can see the character go from consciously speaking a specific way to more casually doing so, and it’s just magical following that progression. This is crafting the perfect woman, just as Pygmalion did, and then falling in love with the creation. Does Henry Higgins love Eliza Doolittle or is he in love with the woman he has created? Well, that’s the question we have to ask ourselves as the film comes to a close. Some people will really dislike this ending. It’s not a happily ever after, and things might turn sour again very quickly. But that’s the nature of this particular story, and it was maintained when the story was readapted for musical theater and then again for the screen. It’s an unconventional ending, and some will see it as a bit misogynist, but it does reflect the times in which it was made.

Academy Award Nominations:

Outstanding Production: Gabriel Pascal

Best Actor: Leslie Howard

Best Actress: Wendy Hiller

Best Writing - Screenplay: George Bernard Shaw, Ian Dalrymple, Cecil Lewis, and W. P. Lipscomb (won)

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Release Date: October 6, 1938

Running Time: 96 Minutes

Not Rated

Starring: Leslie Howard, Wendy Hiller, Wilfred Lawson, and Leueen MacGrath

Directed by: Anthony Asquith and Leslie Howard