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In a bit of expected Hollywood censorship, Truman Capote’s homosexual writer from the novella gets turned into a staunchly heterosexual stud in the film version of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Also rather odd, it makes explicit that George Peppard’s writer is a kept man and essentially a prostitute for an older woman, but skirts around Audrey Hepburn’s good-time girl’s hooker roots in the novella. Despite these problems, which also include the cringe-inducing xenophobic caricature that is Mickey Rooney in yellowface, Tiffany’s remains a charming and winsome bauble.
Hepburn stars as Holly Golightly, that self-made and delusional Manhattan hipster with the past that no one can piece together and the kind of issues that could keep most therapists in work for a lifetime. So strange that her image has become so hallowed since her character is just that, an image maintained and crafted by Golightly. When we do discover her past we understand why she escaped into this fantasy world of bright shiny things and meaningless friendships and parties in which she is the perfect hostess and the very image of urban elegance. She comes across as ditzy, even aggressively materialistic and shallow, at first, but by the end we understand and sympathize with her inner pain. She’s a lonely neurotic hiding behind a glossy chic and megawatt charm. If Hepburn hadn’t already won an Oscar for Roman Holiday, she should have won one for this (or The Nun’s Story).
Supporting her are a strong cast, chief amongst them is George Peppard, who is given little to do but stand around and look handsome. He does this well enough, but he comes across as rather stiff most of the time. But since he’s so hunky and knows the roots of Holly’s problems and doesn’t care, he comes across at times like a rock. He’s a solid support system that she needs, despite how much she rebels against her romantic feelings. Patricia Neal has a small but crucial role as Peppard’s older woman/sugarmama. She’s cold and cunning, a woman trapped in a loveless marriage to an older man who she clearly cannot stand. Not that she has any real affection for Peppard. He is just the latest in a long line of boy toys, once she’s done chewing him up and eviscerating him for choosing Holly over her, she’ll move on to a new one. And Buddy Ebsen as the mysterious Texan from Holly’s past, while a very small role, is tender and affection. He’s the lone character who doesn’t repel us at first. He has dignity and great love for Holly, even if she cannot reciprocate. She’s grateful to him, but he’s her past and she cannot/will not go back or revisit it.
Each and every character and situation that I have described is full of jagged edges and complex undertones, but Tiffany’s somehow never gets bogged down in them. It always remains humorous and the wistful score adds more to the fantasy and charm than anything else. Romantic comedies are hard to do, but Tiffany’s is effortless, in spite of the racist grotesquery that is Rooney’s character. It endures because it’s so enjoyable and charming, and is one of the few films which isn’t harpooned by its faults. That and Hepburn is a radiant presence throughout, giving us all of her fashionable glamor and delicate screen presence. She makes a delusional call-girl’s life look like the stuff of feathery dreams.
