Breakfast at Tiffany’s

I watched Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s again last night and remembered all the things I loved and hated about that fabulous old (1961) film. I loved that her couch is half a bathtub and that her phone is in a sound-muffling suitcase. I loved every single outfit Holly Golightly wore, even the tuxedo nightgown. And the enormous hats! I loved Patricia O’Neal, and even – even! – Buddy Ebson. George Peppard was okay as a love interest, but he was a bit soft and maybe even too pretty for me; he didn’t come close to matching the passion and energy of Audrey/Holly. If she hadn’t been so screwed up herself, she would never have fallen for him. Oh, and I loved “Moon River.” Especially when Audrey sang it.

Naturally, I hated Mickey Rooney’s role. Yikes! I know it was probably the most apologized-for role in cinematic history, but what a cultural disaster, even worse than the incessant smoking and glib treatment of the mafia. But most of all I feel conflicted about Cat. Poor baby, the misery he endured at that party! Not to mention his most miserable and biggest role during the closing scene in the rain. I have to say my pleasure in that final scene is greatly diminished because of his obvious suffering.


Still, isn’t Audrey stunning? Dah-ling, you know she is.

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