Breakfast at Tiffany's
Back in February, after I saw Annie Hall for the second time, I blogged about how surprised I was to find it so different from what I thought it was:
'It's amazing to see how much time changes you, even though you think you haven't done much since then, or that you were pretty intelligent even in your girlish days.'
I just had a deja vu of that experience right now, after seeing Breakfast at Tiffany's for the second time. OMG, I can't believe it's possible for one person to see the same exact thing twice, but pick up such different details. The first time I saw this movie I thought it was exceedingly mediocre, being mislead by my expectation of a romantic comedy. Again, Menander vs. Aristophanes: Breakfast at Tiffany's is comic only in the Menander sense. It's about these two gold-diggers who, instead of taking responsibility for their lives and getting real jobs and setting goals and self-discipline for their futures, delude themselves into thinking that they're Somebodies when they're not, chasing false glamour and whoring about aimlessly until all their glamourous friends ditch them; at that point they settle for each other, because they're all they've got, and to compensate they convince themselves that they are "in love." So average, so bourgeois!
Again, I think I had all the details right (even in my girlish days), but my interpretation of those details was so whacked out! Or at least, it was very different from my interpretation now. Back then (I was what, 15-ish?), I thought the only way anyone could possibly like this movie was if he or she got sucked in by all that false glamour that had led the protagonists astray. I still think that's mostly true; there's no way a 13-year-old girl could love this movie if she knew what it was REALLY about. That 13-year-old girl just loves Audrey Hepburn and the diamonds and the gowns and the idea that Holly Golightly is a "wild thing."
So what is this movie "really" about? What I thought was so screamingly obvious and overbearing the second time went completely over my head the first time:
'You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-You-Are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other - because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness."'
The 15-year-old me heard this and thought, "Whew, Desperation is a stinky cologne!" (quote from Super Troopers ;-)). That's because the 15-year-old me did not understand, as I understand now, that life is essentially miserable and lonely and demoralizing and full of uncertainty and suffering and loss, and that the only, ONLY thing that makes it worthwhile is love - whether it's romantic love, or love for family and friends, or the passion you have for your work and highest ideals, or whatever. The 15-year-old me thought life sucked only if you made it suck - HA!
You can say I used to be a meritocrat. And necessarily, an (American) idealist.
Time has changed me. As a result, what was so screamingly overbearing the first time was actually kind of touching the second time. I'm talking about the last scene when Holly says she and her cat are both no-name slobs who belong to no one, and to prove her point she tosses her cat into an alley. Then she regrets it and runs after it crying, "Cat! Cat!" until she finds it with joy and then runs to embrace Paul. "Okay, we get it!" I shouted at the tv; the cat is a symbol for Holly, her finding the cat is a symbol for her finding herself, blah blah blah. Funny how her self-discovery ends in the most mundane of conclusions, which is that she belongs to Paul for no apparent reason.
Then I saw this scene for the second time, and I realized that it's not about falling in love at all. It's about admitting that you're vulnerable and weak, and letting love into your life as the only shred of hope and light you have within your reach, no matter how pathetic and unlikely it seems - even if it's only your love for a stupid cat. Love is our only chance for happiness, as Paul says. And perhaps, after all, if we let love in, we'll discover that it's not such a paltry comfort. It could be a beautiful kiss in the middle of the rain.
I'm ashamed to say I cried during this last scene. But then, I cry over everything. It's quite embarrassing.
'It's amazing to see how much time changes you, even though you think you haven't done much since then, or that you were pretty intelligent even in your girlish days.'
I just had a deja vu of that experience right now, after seeing Breakfast at Tiffany's for the second time. OMG, I can't believe it's possible for one person to see the same exact thing twice, but pick up such different details. The first time I saw this movie I thought it was exceedingly mediocre, being mislead by my expectation of a romantic comedy. Again, Menander vs. Aristophanes: Breakfast at Tiffany's is comic only in the Menander sense. It's about these two gold-diggers who, instead of taking responsibility for their lives and getting real jobs and setting goals and self-discipline for their futures, delude themselves into thinking that they're Somebodies when they're not, chasing false glamour and whoring about aimlessly until all their glamourous friends ditch them; at that point they settle for each other, because they're all they've got, and to compensate they convince themselves that they are "in love." So average, so bourgeois!
Again, I think I had all the details right (even in my girlish days), but my interpretation of those details was so whacked out! Or at least, it was very different from my interpretation now. Back then (I was what, 15-ish?), I thought the only way anyone could possibly like this movie was if he or she got sucked in by all that false glamour that had led the protagonists astray. I still think that's mostly true; there's no way a 13-year-old girl could love this movie if she knew what it was REALLY about. That 13-year-old girl just loves Audrey Hepburn and the diamonds and the gowns and the idea that Holly Golightly is a "wild thing."
So what is this movie "really" about? What I thought was so screamingly obvious and overbearing the second time went completely over my head the first time:
'You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-You-Are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other - because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness."'
The 15-year-old me heard this and thought, "Whew, Desperation is a stinky cologne!" (quote from Super Troopers ;-)). That's because the 15-year-old me did not understand, as I understand now, that life is essentially miserable and lonely and demoralizing and full of uncertainty and suffering and loss, and that the only, ONLY thing that makes it worthwhile is love - whether it's romantic love, or love for family and friends, or the passion you have for your work and highest ideals, or whatever. The 15-year-old me thought life sucked only if you made it suck - HA!
You can say I used to be a meritocrat. And necessarily, an (American) idealist.
Time has changed me. As a result, what was so screamingly overbearing the first time was actually kind of touching the second time. I'm talking about the last scene when Holly says she and her cat are both no-name slobs who belong to no one, and to prove her point she tosses her cat into an alley. Then she regrets it and runs after it crying, "Cat! Cat!" until she finds it with joy and then runs to embrace Paul. "Okay, we get it!" I shouted at the tv; the cat is a symbol for Holly, her finding the cat is a symbol for her finding herself, blah blah blah. Funny how her self-discovery ends in the most mundane of conclusions, which is that she belongs to Paul for no apparent reason.
Then I saw this scene for the second time, and I realized that it's not about falling in love at all. It's about admitting that you're vulnerable and weak, and letting love into your life as the only shred of hope and light you have within your reach, no matter how pathetic and unlikely it seems - even if it's only your love for a stupid cat. Love is our only chance for happiness, as Paul says. And perhaps, after all, if we let love in, we'll discover that it's not such a paltry comfort. It could be a beautiful kiss in the middle of the rain.
I'm ashamed to say I cried during this last scene. But then, I cry over everything. It's quite embarrassing.
posted by Rex at 12:50 AM
1 Comments:
I've never seen the movie, although I have always loved the name. Now that I've read your post I will watch it.. eventually :) In any case, I too am coming to believe what one of my B-side Hum Bio profs said on the first day of class - "Life is meaningless." But, the addendum to that is, yes, life is chaotic and empty.. unless you individually insert some meaning and order into it. Many people choose to worship/love a diety, others choose to be really involved in their families, their work, etc. And in realizing all of this, I also gave up the notion that most romantic relationships are worthless. Instead, I now realize that the love of a partner can insert extra meaning into your life where there was none. I think this is why unrequited (sp?) love is so prominent amongst the women I know. Just to love SOMEONE seems more meaningful to them than the actual dynamics of the relationship.. interesting.
Good times.
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