On The Bookshelf: "Pygmalion"

- Posted by Rusty

What did I read? “Pygmalion” by George Bernard Shaw


What did I think? This book came about for me in a quirky set of circumstances—of all things, it was the result of a fun deal with my dad. George Bernard Shaw is his favorite playwright (minus that Russian genius, Anton Chekhov), and for years, amidst other books and many Harry Potter re-readings, he’s been nudging me to give him a try.

And so, we reached an agreement: I’d (finally) check out “Pygmalion,” and he’d give a shot to one of my favorites, Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice.” As it stands…ahem, I’m done with my end of the deal…looks like my dad has some serious catching up to do…

Well, I won’t begrudge him too much for that, since “Pygmalion” was such a treat to read, and I'm glad I finally gave it a shot.

I don’t know about you guys, but I knew this story best as the inspiration for “My Fair Lady,” that ageless musical and pretty great movie starring Audrey Hepburn (which I’ll get to some more in a bit). Basic plot: the proud, super-knowledgeable Henry Higgins, a master linguist in early 1900s England, takes a bet that he can transform a Cockney flower girl, Eliza Doolittle (with her most articulate phrase being “I’m a good girl, I am”), into a duchess. Simple as that—it’s a funny set-up, and it’s a consistently funny play, from the endless bits of quotable dialogue to just the little comic details along the way. My personal favorite: Shaw has a lot of fun with Eliza’s wailing noise right before she learns to speak properly—pretty much a combination of every possible vowel, like “A-ee-ooo-au,” done to maximum annoying effect for poor Henry Higgins.

“Delightful” is really the best word to describe the play in whole. It’s briskly paced and the jokes hit their targets, with most (if not all) of the humor coming straight from the characters and their often ridiculous actions. Shaw’s light sarcasm narrates the whole ordeal (he might be the first playwright I’ve ever seen with witty stage directions), and that light touch just makes the whole thing more enjoyable—it’s really quite infections. There’s one particular sequence, where Eliza mastered how to speak properly, so Higgins sent her “into society,” and there she eloquently discussed how someone “did her aunt in”—all the guests were there to politely socialize and drink tea, while Eliza enthusiastically described how her aunt was killed with a pillow (Higgins desperately called that story the “new small talk”). Shaw has a real eye for this—the comedy that comes from mixing great characters together—setting them up in absurd situations and just watching the laughs flow naturally from the scene.

There’s plenty of great stuff to dig into too. By all means, look at that title—a reference to the classic legend of Pygmalion, Ovid’s sculptor who created Galatea, a statue of a beautiful woman so life-like, that he instantly fell in love with it. Venus then granted the sculptor’s wish, turned that statue to life, and he married and lived the rest of his life with the object of his own creation. A fun parallel, right? More so, I like the idea it brings up about the things we create—especially in art, where authors’ characters and stories seem to take a life of their own, meaning so many things to so many different people that they can’t possibly be thought of as mere words on a page.

And look at those names. Henry Higgins: it just sounds like perfect construction—a sturdy, reliable, respectable name—an ideal mix of consonants and vowels, perfectly befitting a man who’s spent his life devoted to order, reason and the perfection of sounds (with little—if any—need for that ridiculous, full-of-trivial-emotions thing called “love”). And Doolittle? That’s almost too easy for Eliza’s father, the garbage man who would make his own name proud. But it’s a deceptive tease for Eliza herself; we first meet her as an annoying street urchin, but there’s always more to her, as Higgins himself learns…and so do we as an audience. After all, it was Eliza’s own wish to learn to speak properly—she came to Higgins, she had the dreams and ambitions…while Higgins, somewhat-deluded and pompously charming, just made it happen. “Doolittle” was her past, but she’s quite possibly the strongest and most assertive character in the play, and Shaw, that crafty genius, played with our expectations and gut-reactions with as simple a thing as a name. (I’m actually reading another Shaw play right now, and the names there play an even bigger role).

What really surprised me, though, was that, for a pretty famous romance, the central love story didn’t really kick in until near the end (if that). There are definitely some sparks between Eliza and Higgins, but Shaw doesn’t indulge that until the very last act…and it all ends with an ambiguous, very sneaky note. For those unfamiliar with the story (or the movie and musical based on it), that might be kind of unexpected—we like these two people butting heads, and it was surprising to see all of that put out into the open so late in the game. But it works, and quite well and that. Shaw doesn’t give us easy resolutions—in fact, the last line could mean a million things, depending on your own interpretation. And I like that—I greatly respect an author confident enough to let his audience make the conclusions that seem right to them. I know the ending that I wanted, and the last line could very well mean that.

But, on that note, here’s something I found totally fascinating. The version of the play I read was Shaw’s original submission; however, theater audiences complained of the ambiguity at the end, so Shaw revised the final few lines, and added a lengthy prose-narrative “epilogue” to published versions of the play (included in my version as well). I won’t give away exactly what happens (for there are multiple characters involved that I haven’t mentioned), but it all hinges on Shaw’s interpretation of the very origin of the play: the story of Pygmalion. He poses the question: could Galatea, the statue that comes to life, ever love her own creator like an equal, and not as a god or any greater being? If she can’t, then that’s a love that will never work, for it will be more devotion and reverence than an actual relationship. I think that’s very true to life, a pointed observation that goes far beyond a pretty fairy tale. Shaw falls on one side of that, and I loved his reasoning.

My take? Yes, Higgins “creates” Lady Eliza, the gorgeous, well-spoken duchess, transformed from the rowdy flower girl a few scenes before. But, from the way I saw it, he never creates her personality—all he did was change the packaging, and Eliza remained exactly who she was before—the headstrong girl who dared to dispute the great Henry Higgins. And that’s how it felt to me—that emotion-less, logic-obsessed Dr. Henry Higgins doesn’t come out with a successful experiment…but he actually meets his own match. That master of language, for the first time since his own mother (which has fun implications of its own), meets the only other woman who could, effectively speaking, shut him up; the man who never stops talking finally encounters the person who could make him listen—a very sweet notion. It’s a meeting of minds—two opinionated equals playing on the same field (if from opposite perspectives). They challenge each other, bringing out their best features in the process (for Henry, the heart—that actual feeling-mechanism—nuzzled up deep beneath his academia, and for Eliza, her untapped potential to be something great), and that’s exactly why I think that relationship could work.

It’s a cool bit of irony that I got into this book with “Pride & Prejudice” involved. You might not agree with this comparison, but Mr. Darcy and Lizzy Bennet are quite similar to Higgins and Eliza. Both are matches that seem ill-fitting at first (with obvious class differences in both…not to mention mutual loathing and fighting), but the more you see them interact, that’s when it hits you that these are people that could be something wonderful together—a true partnership in every sense of the word.

Would I recommend it? Easily. It’s a lightning-quick read, and purely enjoyable the whole way through. Give it a read—I can’t see anyone being disappointed by it, and you’ll be smitten with all the characters and sharp dialogue before you know it.

Would it make a good movie? Absolutely—the play, with its endless wit and loveable players, is just begging to be a big screen comedy. Even better, the pacing never stalls—the action just keeps moving, right up until the final conversation set piece. A lot of plays are difficult to adapt since they’re catered for the stage, meant for that particular experience (and we’ve all seen movies from plays that are sluggish and incredibly boring). But “Pygmalion” zips right along—it should be great in action regardless of the medium. Actually, the pacing might be a bit too brisk for a feature film. It doesn’t take long to read it, and, even when it’s staged, I can’t imagine it stretching past an hour (an hour and a half, maybe, but only with some extended set pieces). So, the filmmakers might need to flesh out certain scenes and plotlines—take Shaw’s play as the blueprint, and just add what feels thematically right. The most notable example is Eliza’s training—Shaw skips over it entirely, just leaving it implied, and tempting the audience to imagine the ridiculousness that went through. It’s a great choice as written, but there’s definitely potential for added comedy there.

Is it a Movie? This is the easiest question of all—“Pygmalion” has a rich history of adaptations. First off, we have the 1938 version, co-written by Shaw himself. The script won Shaw an Oscar (a nice companion to his Nobel prize), and it apparently features an alternate ending from the play’s more ambiguous one. There were roughly 10 more straight-up adaptations throughout the years (most of them TV movies), and you could hardly blame them—the play is too irresistible for every generation to not have their own version.

However, the most famous version of this story came with writer Alan Jay Lerner’s and composer Frederick Lowe’s musical version, “My Fair Lady”. In my mind—it’s just the perfect adaptation—it retains most of Shaw’s original play (if not all of it, minus a few dialogue and scene tweaks), but expands the characters and the story with wonderful additions. There’s a more elaborate relationship between Henry Higgins and his mother, more comedy from Eliza’s first entrance into “society” at a ball, a fleshed-out version of Freddy, Eliza’s young suitor, and to satisfy mushy idiots like me, we get to really see the relationship blossom between Eliza and Higgins. We also get a slightly altered ending—it’s still ambiguous like the play’s, but with a happier suggested direction (and a genius new final line). Oh, and the songs are quite brilliant…and catchy as hell. The play also launched the career of a young Julie Andrews, who, even on the CD, sounds perfect for Eliza.


The musical became the most successful at that time, and, inevitably, gave us the lavish 1964 Hollywood adaptation, starring Rex Harrison and the forever-lovely Audrey Hepburn (a true screen angel if there ever was one). Andrews was unfortunately passed up because she wasn’t a “big enough star,” but the studio got their comeuppance when “My Fair Lady” swept the Academy Awards…in everything but Best Actress, which went to Andrews for “Mary Poppins.” (Nicely done, Oscars). But still, minus the fact that the studio wouldn’t use Hepburn’s own singing voice, and that the pacing strangely lags in some of the musical numbers, it’s a deserving classic—Hepburn was lovely, like always (even if she was a bit old for the part), Harrison deserved his Oscar for Henry Higgins, and the songs and script are as great as expected.


Which, in a very cool bit of news to me, brings us to today. It’s far from a done deal, but a remake of “My Fair Lady” is now in the works. Normally, I’d be completely against this. On a simple level alone, how could anyone replace Audrey Hepburn? That poor person who has to endure the comparison… And what about Rex Harrison, who owns the part of Henry Higgins? However, I was lucky to catch the actual musical on stage in London…and it was absolutely amazing—far more than I ever expected it to be. I loved the movie at the time, but the musical only showcased what the film completely missed. That vibrant, seemingly endless energy, the dazzle and spark to the musical numbers—all of that was muted in the 1964 film. Knowing that, if a new film can recapture the magic of the live stage show, bring us new actors to give some snap to Shaw’s lively dialogue, we could be in for something very good.

And, in my eyes, it only gets better. The script for the remake was written by none other than Emma Thompson. An amazing actress already (see: "Love Actually", "The Remains of the Day", "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban", and many more), she won an Oscar for her “Sense and Sensibility” script (something I’m watching as soon as I finish the book, currently on my table book pile, taunting me with all the other ones), and she did an uncredited rewrite for the Keira Knightley “Pride & Prejudice”. If anyone can do justice to Shaw’s humor and original play (even in musical form), it would be her.

As for Eliza, one of my favorite actresses (and Lizzy Bennet herself), Keira Knightley, is attached to don the Cockney accent and belt out the memorable tunes. I mentioned before how no one could replace Audrey Hepburn, but Knightley, at just 24 (a tiny bit older than me!), possesses some of Hepburn’s grace and infinite charm (it helps that they look somewhat similar too—both slender, adorable, and with beautiful eyes and Egyptian-queen-like necks). It might be overhyped to call her our generation’s Hepburn, but she’s certainly on her way.

Moreover, look at her film choices—they show a mature, serious actress, and not someone trying to be a Hollywood star or box-office queen. They may not all be great (or successful) movies, but “The Jacket,” “Atonement,” “The Edge of Love,” "The Duchess", etc—all of them represent interesting ideas and directions, and I’m continually impressed that she’s staying away from high-concept comedies and big-budget star vehicles (the “Pirates” movies aside). She’s already an Oscar nominee, but I predict many more to come, and I think she’ll be wonderful as a more age-appropriate Eliza Doolittle, who's supposed to be in her early twenties (and it looks like she could sing too—check out a quick scene below from "The Edge of Love" as her mini-singing test!).

The remake’s quite a ways from a reality at this point (I’m predicting we’ll see it in a few years from now), but I love the team they’re putting together. If they get a strong director to steer the project (like the rumored Danny Boyle, of “28 Days Later” and “Trainspotting” fame…and the far-from-perfect, but Oscar-winning “Slumdog Millionaire”), and a game cast, we might just have another beloved, Oscar-winning musical on our hands (and a better one than “Chicago,” which I still kind of liked). Plus, how great is it to think of possible Henry Higgins-es. Hmm…Clive Owen, perhaps, in a break from brooding badasses? Alan Rickman (just imagine him reciting Shaw’s dialogue)? Hugh Jackman (who could do a British accent and a killer musical number)? Hugh Grant??

I wish I could include a trailer or any pictures from the remake, but I will as soon it goes into production (fingers crossed). Instead, here’s a wonderful scene from the 1964 movie, with my favorite song from the movie to boot. Enjoy!

And, like last time, here are some fun facts:

Fun Fact 1: I just learned this, but apparently Rex Harrison’s singing style for Higgins was so unique, he just couldn’t be replaced (which the studio was also thinking about—they just never learn, do they?). Lerner and Lowe wrote the part of Higgins to not so much sing the songs, but speak them in pitch and rhythm, something Harrison mastered like few others. I never really noticed it, but it’s undeniable…and it makes sense for a man like Higgins, who, even in a musical, would rather die before he has to open his heart and sing about his feelings (you can just imagine his disgust!).

Fun Fact 2: “Pygmalion” was the clear inspiration for the Freddy Prinze Jr. teen comedy, “She’s All That,” where his popular athlete character bets his buddy that he could turn Rachel Leigh Cook’s weird, messy, klutzy art student into Prom Queen. Think he might just see the beautiful person underneath that dorky shell?

Also, if you think about it, same goes for “Drive Me Crazy,” with the genders reversed—there, Melissa Joan Hart’s popular girl tries to convert Adrian Grenier’s troublemaker (“Entourage’s” future Vinny Chase—you go, Aquaman!) into a believable fake-boyfriend for her. These movies aren’t terrible, and they’re both pretty fun at times…but neither approaches the brilliance of my teen/literary-classic favorite, “Clueless,” the awesome update of Jane Austen’s “Emma.”

— On a quick end note, let me just add that I'm really liking these columns—they take slightly a while to prepare, but it’s a lot of fun to share with you guys whatever it is that I’m reading. Hopefully, you guys like them too—if you read “Pygmalion” or “Dorian Gray,” or if you’d just like me to focus less/more on certain things, please comment away below. I should be back with another one of these in about 2 weeks (or hopefully less) with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s adventure classic and dinosaur-extravaganza, "The Lost World.”

Images and clips courtesy of Barnes & Noble Books, BBC Films, Focus Features, MGM, mlahanas.de, preraphaelites.org, Universal Pictures, Warner Bros. Pictures, and Working Title Films.