Not a great film.
Okay, it can’t be denied: Audrey Hepburn is incredibly beautiful. She is stunning. And I suspect that if she had been plain, if a huge proportion of the viewers didn’t either want to have sex with her or be her, this film wouldn’t have had a fraction of the success it enjoyed. Because it really isn’t very good.
A conventional romance about conventionally unconventional people, it tells the typical story of love showing two people the errors of their ways. The trouble is that while I’m all for flawed characters, even when they were acting in a way that was clearly supposed to endear them to us, they were both still utterly contemptible. Such self-centred, arrogant, weak people – especially Holly, who didn’t deserve her schmaltzy happy ending. I haven’t read the Capote novella, but if, in the name of biting social commentary, it contains the same sort of thin caricatures as the ones presented as peripheral characters in the movie, I’m going to steer well clear. Everyone in the film got on my nerves, with the single exception of the amicable fellow working at Tiffany’s. And he could hardly save the film with his one scene.
If I was supposed to forgive the main couple their flaws because they’re pretty, and because they might just change their ways in future, it clearly didn’t have the intended effect on me.
And the less said about Mickey Rooney’s sub-Python impression of a Japanese person the better.
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