Professor David Peimer
My Fair Lady
Professor David Peimer - My Fair Lady
- So, hi, everybody, and hope you’re well everywhere and enjoying some of the summer in the Northern Hemisphere. And so, as part of the August endeavour, we, as you know, are doing things a little bit more lighter and I suppose a bit, you know, playing with some of the fun ideas. So we are going to dive in today, last week with Barbara Streisand, and today, my “Fair Lady.” Next week, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. So it’s this amazing, fascinating, intriguing musical, and of course, the key question, which I’m sure we remember some of the lines and some of the songs and the main ideas of the musical. It’s a quick question I want to look today, is it still endearing and enduring for us, or is it just a nostalgic trip, you know, of a totally bygone English era of class hierarchy and, you know, with all the elements of romantic comedy that nostalgia can sometimes bring? So I want you to look at that question as we dive into looking at this musical and suggest a couple of ideas, you know, for our thinking. So first of all, Paul Gilroy, who is one of the really top and interesting post-colonial theorists, and he talks, he has this phrase, pardon me, where you can have a groomed ignorance in education or you can groom knowledge in education in a way. And the sense of a groomed ignorance that education, whether consciously or unconsciously or inadvertently even results in grooming and ignorance. And he’s not only talking about university, he’s talking about, you know, education as a whole and what the effect can be. Looking at this musical from contemporary eyes, I think what is fascinating is to look at it to say what happens with groomed ignorance?
What happens with people who are at the bottom of the ladder of society who want to go up? Can they? Can’t they? How do they? Is it only education? Is it obviously linked to linguistics and, you know, accent and speech and other character attributes? And I think, you know, the original of George Bernard Shaw’s play certainly provokes this in “Pygmalion.” And of course, what they followed it up on. And with a groomed ignorance or a grooming of education or people moulded to fit in to conform on either side of the spectrum, and is it the old theme yet again of outsider/insider? Because even if the person is the outsider, like Eliza Doolittle of the working class cockney, she’s the outsider and trying to be on the inside of the insider culture, which obviously Higgins and Pickering represent. So it’s the old debate that we’ve talked about often of outsider/insider relation to Jewish people, Jewish history, the desire to fit in or belong. And it’s not by chance, obviously, that the two writers, the composer and the librettist are both Jewish. Einstein’s great phrase talking about Fritz Haber, the Nobel-Prize-winning chemist who was a friend of Einstein. And Haber and Rathenau, who was the industrialist, who became the foreign minister in Weimar and then killed in 1922. Einstein spoke about the tragedy of Haber was the tragedy of the German Jew, which was the tragedy of unrequited love. And that phrase of Einstein’s echoes forever for me because the desire to fit in, of course it’s extreme in that situation, the desire of the outsider to fit in, to belong somehow. Is it a case, as Einstein would say, of always being unrequited love?
Or is it possible, as Haber believed, as Rathenau believed, you know, pre the Nazi era and then through the Haber into the Nazi period at the beginning? Is this a case of a romantic desire where Eliza, the working class, can fit in, can perhaps belong? Does she, and what does it do at the end? How or does the system allow for a few to cleverly find their way into, belong to the insider club, as it were. The insider real centres of power and status and belonging in a culture. It’s such a deep Jewish theme, ultimately of assimilation or non-assimilation. And of course, the eternal porous membrane between the two. Plus, there’s theme of wanting to learn. The idea of this desire in Eliza for education, to learn. In this case, in the play, of course, you know, it’s through the accent, but it’s to have knowledge, to educate, to learn. It’s such a deep Jewish theme, I think. So again, not by chance that these two ideas are coming from a Jewish writer and composer. This desire to go up the ladder. Can you go up the ladder? Can’t you? Literally, metaphorically, do you have the vowels? Do you have the tools of the trade, whether it’s language, vowels, education, degree, knowledge, to go up the ladder in a society where you are already defined as the outsider, whether through class, race, religion, gender, whatever. The last point about this piece for me is that, and I think Shaw intends it and it’s picked up in the musical of ‘64, is it’s a satire on class privilege, of course. You know, it’s a whole satire on privilege and class, and it’s something that not only the English but other cultures can do fantastically, satirise their own ruling class, which is a huge mark of democracy going way back to the ancient Greeks two and a half thousand years ago.
So I want to look at some of these key ideas and we’ll look at five or six of the songs, which I’m sure we all know only too well. Pull up the first slide please. So it’s Alan Jay Lerner. First of all, he is the librettist. And so writing the words, writing the story, the dialogue, everything. Lerner won, in his life, he won three Tony and three Academy Awards. Born in New York City, the son of Edith and Joseph Lerner. And his father Joseph, his brother was Samuel Lerner, who was the founder of Lerner Stores, a chain of dress shops. Lerner himself, Alan Jay, went to Harvard, he was a classmate of John F. Kennedy. Interesting. He studied composition at Julliard afterwards. At Harvard, he was involved in an accident in a student boxing match, and he lost sight in one eye. And because of this eye injury, he couldn’t serve in the Second World War, although of course he wanted to. He wrote also the Oscar-winning screenplay for “An American in Paris.” Interestingly, that Rogers and Hammerstein attempted to turn Shaw’s “My Fair Lady” or “Pygmalion” into the musical “My Fair Lady,” but they gave up. And Hammerstein told Alan Lerner, he said to him, and I’m quoting, he said, “'Pygmalion’ of Shaw has no subplot. I can’t turn it into a musical.” So that’s Oscar Hammerstein, you know, who, you know, big enough at the top of the tree. Anyway, it eventually, of course Lerner and Loewe do it. It sets box office records in New York, London theatres, and all over. 1964, the movie won eight Oscars. The Lerner and Loewe partnership eventually cracked under some of the stress, the pressure, this is what we gather from the research and some letters that we can access.
Also in 1960, they had done “Camelot” together. What’s interesting is that after the assassination of Kennedy, Jackie Kennedy said that JFK’s administration, and this is where the phrase came from, reminded her, and I’m quoting, “of one brief shining moment in American history.” And that was from Lerner and Loewe’s “Camelot.” So 1960, they do “Camelot” and it’s Jackie Onassis, Jackie Kennedy, who makes that connection between the musical of that name with the Arthurian legend, and you know, Kennedy’s period as president coming from a musical. Sometimes life and art, which influences which, as we know. So “Camelot” in a sense, I think invokes the mere word, the idealism, the romance, and the tragedy of the Kennedy years. What might have been. So Loewe retired to Palm Springs, and then Andrew Lloyd Webber called him and asked him if he would write “The Phantom of the Opera.” Sorry, called and asked Alan Lerner if he would write the lyrics and the story. But by this stage, Lerner was too sick. He had lung cancer, turned him down. He also had to turn down writing the English-language lyrics for “Les Mis.” Alan Jay Lerner, interestingly, he wrote this about writing for musicals. He said, and I’m quoting, “There’s no such thing as realism in theatre. A man’s life is made up of thousands of little pieces. In writing fiction, you select 20 or 30 of them. In a musical, you select even fewer. First, we,” I’m carrying on quoting, “First, we,” that’s the composer and himself.
“First we decide where a song is needed. Second, what’s it about? Third, the mood of the song. Fourth, I give Loewe a title for the song then he writes the music to that title, and the general feeling of the song is established. And after he’s written the melody, I write the lyrics.” It’s fascinating, though. So clear, step-by-step on how they’re going to work together and how they are going to compliment each other’s strengths every step of the way. That they have worked out this very clear division of labour, in a way. About his lyrics for “My Fair Lady,” an interesting little anecdote is that, as we all know, Higgins sings, Professor Higgins, the Rex Harrison character sings, “Look at her, a prisoner of the gutters, condemned by every syllable she utters. By rights, she should be taken out and hung for the cold-blooded murder of the English tongue.” And he knew that instead of the word hung, it should be hanged, in strict English. Noel Coward comes up to him pretty soon after the show and says, “Dear boy, the word is hanged, not hung.” I say this not only because it’s a fun anecdote of Noel Coward, but because it shows the attention to detail of language, of writing, of structure, of these classic older musicals, in a way. Not to knock any of the more contemporary musicals, but the incredible attention to language and detail in terms of the libretto, certainly, of every kind. Alan Jay Lerner was married eight times. Finally, he died and apparently he owed the IRS close to a million dollars in back taxes. Okay, if we can go onto the next slide, please. So Fritz Loewe, who of course is the Austrian-born composer for “My Fair Lady” and other musicals. “Paint Your Waggon,” “My Fair Lady,” “Camelot,” all made into films. These guys, what they achieved, what they did is quite extraordinary.
And of course, “Gigi” in 1958, Loewe was born in Berlin to Viennese parents, Edmund and Rosa Loewe, his father was the Jewish operetta star who performed in Europe and America. Loewe grew up in Berlin and he went to a Prussian cadet school, you know, almost similar to Rathenau, in a way, from the age of five to 13. And at an early age, he could play the piano by ear and he would often help his father rehearse. At 13, and this to me is interesting, he was the youngest piano soloist to appear with a Berlin Philharmonic. Quite an extraordinary achievement. 1956, Lerner and Loewe, “My Fair Lady,” of course, was performed on Broadway, huge hit, Broadway in London and won all the awards and so on. And it’s Loewe that retires earlier in Palm Springs and dies, you know, in 1988. So I just share this and of course he had immigrated to America, you know, quite a bit before the war and before the Nazis and so on. So this gives us a sense of the two Jewish individuals who compose and who write the libretto and the lyrics, taking from George Bernard Shaw’s play in the early 1900s. It’s the Jewish, I’m coming to affirm this again and again because I do think these themes are somewhere inside “My Fair Lady,” or rather they can see it and they take it out and make it the primary focus because they, of course, can identify with the kind of ideas I was mentioning earlier. Okay, if we can go onto the next slide, please. So this is a little sketch, John Cleese and the two Ronnies about, it’s a fantastic short satire on class and class hierarchy in England.
I look down on him because I am upper class.
I look up to him because he is upper class, but I look down on him because he is lower class. I’m middle class. I know my place.
I look up to them both, but I don’t look up to him as much as I look up to him. because he has got innate breeding.
I have got innate breeding, but I have not got any money, so sometimes I look up to him.
I still look up to him because although I have money, I’m vulgar. But I’m not as vulgar as him, so I still look down on him.
I know my place. I look up to them both. But while I’m poor, I’m industrious, honest and trustworthy. Had I the inclination, I could look down on them, but I don’t. We all know our place, but what did we get out of it?
I get a feeling of superiority over them.
I get a feeling of inferiority from him, but a feeling of superiority over him.
I get a pain in the back of my neck.
Okay, if you can hold it there. Thanks, Karina. So it’s such a brilliant, such a short sketch and, you know, it’s fascinating when you work with actors or even students, you know, with it. It’s so simple. And yet it’s so evocative, I think. Class and hierarchy and the wonderful theatrical usage of satire. You know, for the class and for hierarchy, for accent, and all these attributes, which of course play out in “My Fair Lady.” So “My Fair Lady” itself is in 1964. It was adapted from their stage musical of 1956. The film, sorry, it was adapted, which I’m going to show a couple of clips from the songs. And based on George Bernard Shaw’s 1913 stage play “Pygmalion.” Obviously, as we all know, just a brief reminder, it’s about a cockney flower seller in Covent Garden, Eliza Doolittle, played by Audrey Hepburn, and who meets the Rex Harrison character of Professor Henry Higgins, who’s a phonetics professor. And Higgins bets his friend Colonel Pickering that he could teach Eliza to speak in proper English and thereby make her presentable in English society, in high society. That’s the premise of the whole thing, you know, of the whole story as we all, I’m sure, remember. This is, I suppose, Edwardian London. It’s the early 1900s. So it’s the height of imperial power of England. It’s the height of conquest, the height of real superpower status for the British.
We know the results and we know also that Higgins boasts that he could pass her off as a duchess at an embassy ball. So the whole play and the musical is premised on that one single thrust, if you like. What’s interesting is that Eliza Doolittle, all Higgins is demanding, teaching, his methods, his treatments of her, “just you wait, Henry Higgins,” You know, “I’ll get you back.” So it’s all this done, this electric relationship between the two. And then of course, the irony of what happens during the actual play and the musical, you know, and how it flips. One may have higher superior, from a societal perspective, one may have superiority sense and inferiority, but who has the virtue? Who has the work ethic? Who morally do we identify with more by the end of the play and the film? Higgins is the educated one, the upper class Dr. John Cleese and, you know, has a snobbish sense of superiority, of course. You know, she’s a flower seller, cockney, working class, et cetera, et cetera. And that, in the great tradition of theatre has an ironic twist because, so the discrepancy between their positions of superiority and inferiority, beginning turn 180 degrees when the question of moral and virtue comes into play. So that by the end, yes, Eliza learns it and she learns the vowels, she learns how to speak in the the proper English way, but who really has the moral high ground? And Shaw and Lerner and Loewe keep Eliza, she rises with the moral high ground while Higgins goes down because we see he was an arrogant snob, although a lot of fun, you know, because of the attitude all the way through so that by the end, she’s risen in our emotionally moral estimation. Kafka once said, “When you crucify a man, you have to raise him up and look up at him.” It’s a fantastic parable and metaphor of Kafka’s because when you feel a sense of superiority and you go, “Okay, I’m going to kill, crucify,” whatever, the metaphor ironically have got to look up. It’s Kafka’s classic paradox and irony in all his writings and metaphors.
And I think it’s the same in Shaw and I think when there is the what I call the ironic voice in drama, that’s when drama becomes so powerful. The moment Oedipus stabs his mother, the moment he realises and kills, everything is ironic. You know, it’s the moment of great achievement is the moment of the great fall, hubris, pride, all of these ironies cloud in really great drama and great theatre. And I think Shaw has it in this case as well. What’s interesting, after Eliza’s hard work, she’s working hard on it, but it’s barely acknowledged. And we get this whole song, you know, “We did it, we did it. By George, she’s got it.‘ You know, and Higgins, and I’m going to show the scene, Higgins and Pickering, you know, and it’s self-congratulatory, self adulation that they play out together, a lot of fun, but where does she fit in now? It becomes the question. And at the end of this story, she goes off, she’s going to go off with Freddy, you know, who’s smitten with her, but is she or is she going to come back? And he’s lonely, suddenly, Higgins, he’s missing Eliza. Turns on the gramophone, listens to her voice practising vowels, and then right at the end of the musical, Eliza reappears, and she stands there. And Higgins immediately sees, and, "Oh, Eliza, where the devil are my slippers?” So he’s missed her, he’s fallen in love with her, we think. He wants her, but reverts back to the class stereotype, you know, thinking he’s got her back under his emotional clutches. Has he or hasn’t he? It’s ambiguous, the irony at the end. What has she really come back for? And I want to suggest she’s come back because she’s no longer knows where to fit. Does she belong and fit with the upper echelons, the educated elite of society?
She can’t go back to the cockney origins. So where does she belong and where does she fit? Will she really be accepted at the top of the social tree with status or not really? Can she belong, can’t she? Outsider/insider debate goes on and on and it’s, I think, purposely left ambiguous by Lerner and Loewe, and isn’t that so much of the assimilationist debate of Jewish people so many places of the world? And let’s never forget she’s destitute. She has no education except she’s learned how to speak , proper English, but she has no education. What do her prospects? Will anybody really marry her? This is 1913, 1914 when Shaw’s writing it, or you know, even the early sixties when they’re doing the musical. So, but certainly in the early 1900s, she’s destitute, she has no money, she has no job, she has no education except the vowels. She can, you know, speak so-called proper English. So what choice does she have? Does she go off with Freddy? Does she need to come back to Higgins? Can she go back to being a flower, what, a flower shop owner? All of this is left ambiguous, I think by Lerner and Loewe and Shaw in the original. So I think in these ways, it’s more than just a nostalgic trip down memory lane of romantic comedy and of a bygone era in English and social history and culture. Okay, if we can play the next, if we can skip the next one with Steven Fry, we can go on to the next after. Let’s begin. “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?”
♪ All I want is a room somewhere ♪ ♪ Far away from the cold night air ♪ ♪ With one enormous chair ♪ ♪ Oh, wouldn’t it be loverly ♪ ♪ Lots of chocolate for me to eat ♪ ♪ Lots of coal making lots of heat ♪ ♪ Warm face, warm hands, warm feet ♪ ♪ Oh, wouldn’t it be loverly ♪ ♪ Oh so loverly ♪ ♪ Sitting abso-blooming-lutely still ♪ ♪ I would never budge till spring ♪ ♪ Crept over the windowsill ♪ ♪ Someone’s head resting on my knee ♪ ♪ Warm and tender as he can be ♪ ♪ Who takes good care of me ♪ ♪ Oh, wouldn’t it be loverly ♪ ♪ Loverly ♪ ♪ Loverly ♪ ♪ Loverly ♪ Loverly.
Thanks. If we can hold it there. So we get the sense of this gentle spirit but she can also be incredibly tough. You know, Aubrey Hepburn and the way she plays it, of course, is brilliant, but a hint of malice. Just this romantic, hopeful, youthful spirit, in a way. And wouldn’t it be lovely if I could go up the ladder? Wouldn’t it be lovely if I could have, you know, chocolates, a nice home, a nice bed, all of those things? Is this just a comfortable vision of a bygone Britain with top hats, period lampposts, and so on? Is it a Disney-type Englishness? Just Disney version of it, almost in a way, just to win the hearts and walled of the Western tourists? Or is there a poignancy, a depth, the pathos? And I think there is, and I think the way she acts it and the way it’s written, it’s gentle. It’s not with an anger or a rage, you know, at her situation in terms of social status and position Ibsen, one of the great playwrights of the 20th century said about George Bernard Shaw, he said, and I’m quoting, “Shaw, he is the writer who left emotion out of drama.” Well, he’s totally wrong when it comes to this play and I think “Saint Joan” and some of the others that he wrote. Marni Nixon sings all the songs for Audrey Hepburn except “Just You Wait, Henry Higgins.” That’s the only one that Audrey Hepburn actually sings. But it’s so well worked to create this softer character, if you like, rather than an angry character in her class. Okay, if we can show the next one, please.
Say, your vowels.
I know my vowels. I knew them before I come
But if you know them, say them.
A, E, I, O, U.
No! A, E, I, O, U.
That’s what I said. A, E, I, O, U. That’s what I’ve been saying for three days and I won’t say them no more.
I know it’s difficult, Miss Doolittle, but try to understand.
It’s no use explaining Pickering. As a military man, you ought to know that. Drilling is what she needs. Now you leave her alone or she’ll be turning to you for sympathy.
Very well, if you insist, but have a little patience with her, Higgins.
Of course. Say A.
You ain’t got no heart, you ain’t.
A.
A.
A.
A.
A.
A.
Eliza, I promise you, you’ll say your vowels correctly before this day is out, or there’ll be no lunch, no dinner, and no chocolates.
♪ Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait ♪ ♪ You’ll be sorry, but your tears will be too late ♪ ♪ You’ll be broke and I’ll have money ♪ ♪ will I help you, don’t be funny ♪ ♪ Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait ♪ ♪ Just you wait, Henry Higgins, till you’re sick ♪ ♪ And you scream to fetch a doctor double quick ♪ ♪ I’ll be off a second later ♪ ♪ And go straight to theatre ♪ ♪ Ha ha, Henry Higgins, just you wait ♪ ♪ Ooh, Henry Higgins ♪ ♪ Just you wait until we’re swimming in the sea ♪ ♪ Ooh, Henry Higgins ♪ ♪ And you gets a cramp a little ways from me ♪ ♪ When you yell, you’re going to drown ♪ ♪ I’ll get dressed and go town ♪ ♪ Ho ho ho, Henry Higgins ♪ ♪ Ho ho ho, Henry Higgins ♪ ♪ Just you wait ♪
- Yes, can you hold it there, please? Thanks. What I love about this is that in Audrey Heparin’s interpretation, there’s no malice, there’s no anger. She is full of such spirit and such determination, tenacity, but no malice, not a malicious bone in her body. And I think part of that is what makes it so riveting. And we start to identify more with her, more and more as we go through the whole musical. And it’s that there’s a feistiness, there’s a toughness that is there from the beginning, but it’s coming out more and more. And it’s not to do harm to him or damage or anywhere, and it keeps in the comic spirit, I think in that sense, and it’s the brilliance of her performance. So Eliza is the one who takes the initiative. Remember she comes to Higgins’ place. He offers it to her, but she comes to his place for lessons and she says, and I’m quoting from the script, “I know what,” I’m not going to try and do the cockney accent. “I know what lessons cost as well as you do, and I’m ready to pay.” And that’s a superb line. It’s important line because I know what it costs. I’m ready to pay. I am my own spirit. I have my own independent voice, you know? And I think it’s so strong because she’s not going to compromise on that, you know? I’m going to learn. Teach, so teach me, and I’ll pay for it. It’s such a theme that has been echoed all the way through many, many plays. You know, so many others. There’s the “Educating Rita,” you know, the Liverpool play by Willy Russell made into a film, Michael Caine, et cetera. So all of these, you know, follow similar themes of two classes and yet an electricity between the two and an ironic twist in who drives the plot and who doesn’t. It’s Eliza that drives the plot, which is I think, ironic as well because, you know, as he says, as Higgins says, “You see this creature with her curbstone English, the English that will keep her in the gutter till the end of her days.
Well sir, in six months I could pass her off as a duchess, at an embassy ball. I could even get her a job, get her a job at a lady’s maid or a shop assistant, which requires better English.” Isn’t that extraordinary that Higgins has got it in a phrase and he knows what has to happen or what has to be done, but she’s the one to take the ambition. For him, it’s a fun bet. It’s not going to improve his job prospects, his status, or anything. He’s not going to even exhibit her, you know, as a professorial thing in the early 1900s. It’s her ambition, it’s her hunger for knowledge, her hunger to see if she can fit in, see if she can go up the ladder. Higgins carries on, “You know, it’s almost irrepressible, Pickering. She’s so deliciously low, so horribly dirty.” He will teach her how to improve her speech, yet she will teach him what it means to be a decent human being. And there’s the irony, he will teach her the external characteristics to go up the social ladder, but she will teach him what needs to be happen to the workings of the human heart. And that for me is the irony in Shaw and in Lerner and Loewe. So that’s inside the relationship of the bigger picture, of course, of this idea of, you know, class hierarchy fitting in and so on that I mentioned earlier. But what’s also interesting is that she realises much later on that she doesn’t fit in any way, really. She says, quoting from the script, “I sold flowers,” she tells Higgins later, “I didn’t sell myself. Now you’ve made a lady of me, I’m not fit to sell anything else.” And it’s a fantastic phrase by Lerner and Loewe, because where’s she going to fit, the outsider/insider debate. Where’s she going to position herself because she has the external trappings, but can she be part of the upper echelons of society and the club as it were or not? I remember David Cameron once in an interview describing, you know, before the Brexit vote when he was interviewed and asked, well, you know, he said, “No, no, no, no. We should imagine the EU is a sort of a club and you know, if we’re inside the club we can help shift the perspectives and ideas about it. Outside the club… ” I’m paraphrasing here, but the word club came in and that’s fascinating because that’s so deep not only in England but in many countries. And can she ever really be part of it, we come back to. And then of course at the end, and I think what it does rescue it from, it is romantic comedy, but what rescues from being just a nostalgic little memory trip and from being soppy is that at the end, Higgins is astonished or much later in the play that Eliza seems ungrateful.
She’s walked out, she’s gone off with Freddy, and then he comes in and talks to Pickering after the song “Why Can’t a Woman Be More Like a Man?” and all of that is about, “I’m perfect. She’s got to fit in and be more like me and more like my class,” you know? So it isn’t just a, a kind of a soppy and, you know, lovey-dovey, they fall in love and, you know, and ride off into the sunset together because he sticks to his class. He doesn’t give in easily. And then his mother even says, you know, “Come on,” I’m paraphrasing, “you’ve got to be a bit nicer to Eliza.” Higgins’s mother. And Higgins says, “Do you mean to say that I’m to put on my Sunday manners for this thing that I created out of the squashed cabbage leaves of Covent Garden?” In other words, “Mother, are you ridiculous that I need to change to help her? You know, I’m the one who’s done everything.” So it’s a wonderful, it’s an electric play of two egos, you know, of equal strength fighting each other, I think. And that’s what gives it the chemistry, obviously, the sexual, the emotional chemistry between the two, and the comedy between them. And yes, he is going to have to put on his Sunday manners for this thing that he created. He’s going to have to treat her with respect, treat her with understanding in that way. But of course, right at the end comes, you know, “Where the devil are my slippers, Eliza?” So what’s an Englishman’s destiny in the early 1900s? Obviously it’s part of it is his accent, but as Churchill said, “It’s the Englishman’s right to go anywhere in the world.” I’m paraphrasing. Where is the place? Who knows their place, who doesn’t? Who can fit in? Who can go up, who can go down the snakes and ladders of all our lives that we know so well with status and social standing? Okay, if we can show the next slide, please. This is “Why Can’t the English,” much later. Sorry, this is earlier on in the film.
Ow. ♪ Look at her, a prisoner of the gutters ♪ ♪ Condemned by every syllable she utters ♪ ♪ By right, she should be taken out and hung ♪ ♪ For the cold blooded murder of the English tongue. ♪ Oh!
Oh heavens, what a sound. ♪ This is what the British population ♪ ♪ Calls an elementary education ♪
Come, sir, I think you picked a poor example.
Did I? ♪ Hear them down in Soho Square ♪ ♪ Dropping Hs everywhere ♪ ♪ Speaking English any way they like ♪ ♪ You sir, did you go to school ♪ ♪ What do you take me for, a fool ♪ ♪ But no one taught him take instead of take ♪ ♪ Hear a Yorkshireman, or worse ♪ ♪ Hear a Cornishman converse ♪ ♪ I’d rather hear a choir singing flat ♪ ♪ Chickens cackling in a barn ♪ ♪ Just like this one ♪
Go on.
Go on. I ask you, sir, what sort of word is that? ♪ It’s ow and go on the keep her in her place ♪ ♪ Not her wretched clothes and dirty face ♪ ♪ Why can’t the English teach their children how to speak ♪ ♪ This verbal class distinction by now should be antique ♪ ♪ If you spoke as she does, sir, instead of the way you do ♪ ♪ Why you might be selling flowers, too ♪
I beg your pardon? ♪ An Englishman’s way of speaking absolutely classifies him ♪ ♪ The moment he talks ♪ ♪ He makes some other Englishman despise him ♪ ♪ One common language, I’m afraid we’ll never get ♪ ♪ Oh, why can’t the English learn to ♪ ♪ Set a good example to people ♪ ♪ Whose English is painful to your ears ♪ ♪ The Scotch and the Irish leave you close to tears ♪ ♪ There even are places where ♪ ♪ English completely disappears ♪ ♪ Well, in America, they haven’t used it for years ♪ ♪ Why can’t the English teach their children how to speak ♪ ♪ Norwegians learn Norwegian ♪ ♪ The Greeks are taught their Greek ♪ ♪ In France, every Frenchman knows his ♪ ♪ language from A to Z ♪
The French don’t care what they do actually, as long as they pronounce it properly. ♪ Arabians learn Arabian ♪ ♪ With the speed of summer lightning ♪ ♪ The Hebrews learn it backwards ♪ ♪ Which is absolutely frightening ♪ ♪ Use proper English, you’re regarded as a freak ♪ ♪ Why can’t the English ♪ ♪ Why can’t the English learn to speak ♪
And if we can just show the front of the next slide, please. Thanks, so what I love is, I mean the comedy, the irony inside it. I think for me, I’m so riveted, you know, to go with Rex Harrison’s performance, ‘cause again, he doesn’t come across as overarrogant or ridiculously superior. You know, he’s saying it in a question. He’s not saying it as an accusation or an angry judgement in, a way, And I think that makes all the difference as well. So, because there is something about education, not just about how to speak, but about the value of learning, the value of education, the value of teaching, and it has to strike a chord with us as well. So from Higgins’s aside, you know, the value of phonetics, the value of education is something that we can recognise. So I think there starts to be, although Eliza’s driving the story and the plot much more, we can also empathise with Higgins character to a certain degree, 'cause he’s got a point. Not necessarily about phonetics, but about education, you know, and work on the English teacher, you know, or anybody, about education.
And the satire has all these different levels for me inside it. So it’s not only about the shallowness of a society, a person’s worth or the importances, the social graces, and the social airs they put on, but this question of virtue, which was an obsession in the late 1800s in England coming into the early 1900s, you know, what is virtue? I think it was Disraeli who said, you know, “One person’s virtue is another person’s vice, and so important to know the distinction between the two depending on where you are.” I’m paraphrasing. You know, so who is virtue and which is vice? Which is which for who on the social class ladder? in a society, any society divided by language or education or privilege, what’s the alternative? The alternative is Eliza, ambition, education. You know, and we are caught, I think, in this fantastic to and fro, this tennis match between the two characters who embody these two points of view because she comes to learn the lessons. Very, very different. And what happens when successful, educated people do help others? You know, as one critic wrote, “To help others go up the ladder to improve their lots in life, is it mere snobbery masquerading as a drive to help, or is it something much more profound and deeper?” And that’s from one of the interesting critics in England who wrote that. So, I think it’s not as simple. It’s a complex issue inside the play. And the fact that it’s done with satire and comedy for me touches that nerve between we are all caught, you know, in the spectrum between the two of them. And we do go like a Wimbledon tennis match from one to the other, you know, within it. So the case is made for Higgins, the case is made for Eliza, and inside the comedy, inside that electricity between them lies, I think, the emotional power of Shaw’s original and what Lerner and Loewe have done. Okay, if we can play it, I’m going to play the next one, which is of course the song where she starts to get the phonetics.
The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.
I can’t, I’m so tired. I’m so tired.
God’s sake, Higgins, it must be three o'clock in the morning. Do be reasonable.
I am always reasonable. Eliza, if I can go on with a blistering headache, you can.
I got a headache too.
Oh, here.
I know your head aches. I know you’re tired. I know your nerves are as raw as meat in a butcher’s window. But think what you are trying to accomplish. Just think what you are dealing with, the majesty and grandeur of the English language. It’s the greatest possession we have. The noblest thoughts ever flowed through the hearts of men are contained in its extraordinary, imaginative and musical mixtures of sounds, and that’s what you’ve set yourself out to conquer, Eliza. And conquer it, you will. Now try it again.
The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.
What was that?
The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.
Again. ♪ The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain ♪ ♪ I think she’s got it ♪ I think she’s got it ♪ The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain ♪ ♪ By George, she’s got it ♪ ♪ By George, she’s got it ♪ ♪ Now once again, where does it rain ♪ ♪ On the plain, on the plain ♪ ♪ And where’s that soggy plain ♪ ♪ In Spain, in Spain ♪ ♪ The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain ♪ Bravo! ♪ The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain ♪ ♪ In Hartford, Hereford and Hampshire ♪ ♪ Hurricanes hardly happen ♪ ♪ How kind of you to let me come ♪ ♪ Now once again, where does it rain ♪ ♪ On the plain, on the plain ♪ ♪ And where’s that blasted rain ♪ ♪ In Spain, in Spain ♪ ♪ The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain ♪ ♪ The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain ♪
Pickering, Pickering, ole, ole. Ole. Hey, Pickering! Cha cha.
[All] Ole!
You can hold it there, Karina. So for me, this is for me probably the most poignant scene in the whole musical and in the film. And I love that speech in the beginning, which shows the humanity inside Higgins. The beauty, the majesty of the language, you know, and what language can do not only, 'cause here he goes beyond the social graces, going up the social ladder, class hierarchy. Goes way beyond it, there’s something much more profound about language, captures thoughts, captures ideas, enables one to think, enables one to experience the world, explore literally and metaphorically so many things. It opens the universe through language, And it’s a humanity. It’s not just about class and about, you know, why can’t the English, et cetera. It’s something much deeper in that speech and the way he acts it, Rex Harrison. And the two are equal now, you know, in this combat between the two, fantastic. And she, that sheer joy, and I’m sure many know who’ve been involved in education, that sheer joy of when you teach somebody and the eyes suddenly got it, light up. In this case it’s phonetics and vowels, but the sheer joy when somebody, a child, a student, a pupil, whatever, a friend, whoever or ourselves, when we get it and we suddenly learn something and it goes in and you see that she captures it so well, that light that goes on. And suddenly the class distinction, the external characteristics drop and there are two human beings together. Beautifully acted, beautifully filmed frame-for-frame.
And for me, this is where the poignancy really comes out in the play and in the musical. And then the dance at the end, it’s not only, “By George, I think she’s got it.” It’s not only a celebration with him and Pickering, you know, she’s part of it. She’s now dancing with them. She’s in fact suddenly for a moment in her life equal and they are equal as well. The human heart has started to really burn inside Higgins and she started to learn, something she’s been so hungry for. So I don’t want to over romanticise it because it is within a romantic, within a comedy and romantic, et cetera. But this, I think here, Lerner and Loewe, they do go deeper, as I said, than the class distinction. They find they tap into something profoundly human in all of us. It doesn’t mean that the bigger themes of social class are not there, of course, You know, it’s riveting for us and for the characters themselves. Okay, I want to show one more. We can show the next one, please. So this is here towards the end where she’s gone off and I think it’s really clever of Shaw and of Lerner and Loewe, she’s learned it all. We’ve had the as ascot scene, you know, where she blurts out in cockney and so on, but she’s gone off with Freddy. But after this we’ll come back to Higgins and he’s left all alone and he’s trying to figure it out. And so we come back from this moment of poignancy, we come back to the characters in the class. But we come back with a much deeper feeling for Higgins because of that previous scene and song. Okay, we can show it, please, Karina.
♪ What in all in heaven can have prompted her to go ♪ ♪ After such a triumph at the ball ♪ ♪ What could have depressed her ♪ ♪ What could have possessed her ♪ ♪ I can’t understand the wretch at all ♪
Higgins, I have an old school chum at the Home Office. Perhaps he can help. Think I’ll give him a ring. Whitehall seven two, double four, please. ♪ But women are irrational ♪ ♪ That’s all there is to that ♪ ♪ Their heads are full of cotton, hay, and rags. ♪ ♪ They’re nothing but exasperating, ♪ ♪ irritating, vacillating ♪ ♪ Calculating, agitating, maddening, and infuriating hags. ♪ Oh, I want to speak to Mr. Brewster Badgin, please. Yes, I’ll wait.
Pickering, why can’t a woman be more like a man?
I beg your pardon?
Yes. Why can’t a woman be more like a man? ♪ Men are so honest, so thoroughly square ♪ ♪ Eternally noble, historically fair ♪ ♪ Who, when you win, will always give you a back a pat ♪ ♪ But why can’t a woman be like that ♪ ♪ Why does everyone do what the others do ♪ ♪ Can’t a woman learn to use a head ♪ ♪ Why do they do everything their mothers do ♪ ♪ Why don’t they grow up, well, like their father instead ♪ ♪ Why can’t a woman take after a man ♪ ♪ Men are so pleasant ♪ ♪ So easy to please ♪ ♪ Whenever you are with them ♪ ♪ You are always at ease ♪ ♪ Would you be slighted if I didn’t speak for hours ♪
Of course not. ♪ To be livid if I had a drink or two. ♪ Nonsense. ♪ Would you be wounded if I never sent you flowers ♪ Never. ♪ Well, why can’t a woman be like you ♪ ♪ One man in a million may shout a bit ♪ ♪ Now and then there’s one with slight defects ♪ ♪ One, perhaps, whose truthfulness you doubt a bit ♪ ♪ But by and large we are a marvellous sex ♪ ♪ Why can’t a woman take after a man ♪ ♪ 'Cause men are so friendly, good natured and kind ♪ ♪ A better companion you never will find ♪ ♪ If I were hours late for dinner, would you bellow ♪ Of course not. ♪ If I forgot your silly birthday, would you fuss ♪ Nonsense. ♪ Would you complain if I took out another fellow ♪ Never. ♪ Well, why can’t a woman be like us ♪
Oh, hello, Mr. Brewster Badgin there? Boozy. Boozy, you’ll never, never guess who this is. You’re quite right. Yes, it is. Good heavens. By George, what a memory. How are you, Boozy? Nice to hear your voice. What? Oh, don’t say that. Is it really 30 years, good heavens. You’re quite right. Yes, oceans of water. Listen, listen, Boozy, I’ll tell you why I rang up. Something rather unpleasant’s happened this end. Could I come and see you? Hmm. Well I could, yes. Now, straight away. Righto, good. Thank you, thank you. Goodbye, Boozy. Thank you very much.
Okay, if we can hold it there.
Mrs. Pearce, I’m going along to the Home.
So, as we move towards the end of the musical and the play, we come back to the class types where obviously Pickering is using a friend in the Home Office, similar social class, education, et cetera. Obviously the connection there, Higgins is coming in from a more personal angle, but he’s not just giving in and saying, oh, I did terrible, I did wrong and et cetera. He reverts back to class as well and his social position, you know, with the whole song of why can’t a woman be like a man? And besides, the beautiful, the wonderful writing and the rhyming of the song as well, it helps the comedy that they revert back to social type. And then of course we have the final scene towards the end when Eliza comes back. So I suppose in the end I wanted to say that this for me, is on the one hand nostalgic, it is a romantic comedy, it is a bygone era, but I think that it’s heavily constructed and I think they’re poignant scenes, not only that one, you know, the “Rain in Spain” song that I just showed before, but there are other scenes where we get the human poignancy between them, and then, of course, the social frame within which they have to operate.
And they trying to negotiate this between each other as we all do, I think, in so many aspects of life. Again, we go back to, for me, the very Jewish themes of wanting to learn, of education, and the outsider/insider, how can the outsider try to be on the inside but then learn, you know, the tools of the trades and learn how to fit in? But then can you really fit in? Does she come back at the end because she’s destitute, she has no job, no money, no education, as I said? And this is, you know, where else can she go? Where else can she fit now sort of, more or less? Assimilate or not? And I think it’s these Jewish themes and of course social and cultural themes which go beyond, you know, obviously Jewish people, but all over, you know, and how we negotiate these subtle nuances of our own relationships in life. And I think the writing is fantastic, the tunes memorable, and you know, you can hum them. This is decades, you know, over 70 years later, more or less. So for me it does fit in. Yes, on the one hand it’s nostalgic, but I think it goes much further and I’m going to hold it there and thank you and take questions. Let’s look at some.
Q&A and Comments:
Denise: “Oh, fantastic about the website. To Wendy and everyone, congratulations.”
“It is fantastic,” Saul says as well, and Thelma. Bruce: “Upward mobility does also affect one’s appearance, improved in attractive people.” Yep. Upward mobility, that’s it, Bruce, thank you.
Dennis: “I obtained an LP record of the original in '56. I recall the cover picture was even better than the movie poster it’s showing. It had Higgins controlling Eliza as a puppet, but being himself controlled as a puppet by a beaming George Bernard Shaw.” That’s great. That’s lovely, Dennis.
Mitzi: “You had the Czech Kafka as part of a German Jewish non-religious minority who fits in nowhere.” Yep. And I mean Kafka, absolutely, as you’re saying.
Rita: “As an aside, Audrey Hepburn helped save Jews during the Holocaust.” That’s really interesting. God, lockdown is extraordinary. You know, everyone on lockdown has so many stories and histories, it’s fascinating. It’s brilliant. Audrey Hepburn, I didn’t know that. It’s really interesting, Rita, thank you.
Moira: “Another amazing achievement for the lockdown team.” Thanks, Moira. And that’s Wendy and all the hard work with the team. Fantastic.
Sandra: “Higgins’s mother is pretty moral and understanding of Eliza.” Absolutely, so she’s set up as part of the foursome in a way, Pickering and Henry and the two women, you know, and how they’re negotiating each other.
Q: Judy: “Your comments on detail in lyrics is well taken. Wasn’t it generally thus for the period?”
A: Yep, think of Cole Porter, Oscar Hammerstein and other, yeah, yeah. All clever, ironic, whimsical, literary historical references. You don’t get that today. Certainly, in great comedy and great tragedy, there has to be irony. At the moment of great achievement, there has to be the irony of the opposite. And I think the ironic voice in drama is what makes the difference for me so often. In great drama, whether it’s comedy or tragedy, you know, without it, it can remain a little bit one-dimensional. A lovely point there, Judy.
Eight grandchildren. That’s a lovely username on Google.
Q: Did Audrey Hepburn the singing herself?
A: No Marni Nixon was the singer for all the songs, so she’s lip syncing, Audrey Hepburn, except “Just Your Wait, Henry Higgins.” She sings that herself.
Patricia: “There are movies one must not overthink. The musical is one, let it lift your spirits. Enjoy.” Absolutely.
Gail: “Hope you’re well in Joburg. Interesting comparison and contrast, 'My Fair Lady’ and ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’ And both comedies, both works hinge on turning a woman into what is acceptable to society at large.” Yeah, very much so. Thank you.
Pamela: “You say Eliza has no malice, but she does ask the king to cut off Higgins’s head in the climax of ‘Just You Wait.’” Yeah, but I think it’s done within a comic type of, you know, there’s the fantasy image sequence of the king scene to cut off his head rather than real sort of malice. You know, it’s not “Salome.” But great point, Pamela.
David: “Interesting anecdote: Rex Harrison grew up in Toxteth in Liverpool.” It’s just around the corner there. I didn’t know that, David. It’s fascinating. Thank you.
“It was a mixed, mainly middle class suburb at the time. A biography, I think it was said his father was an architect. My grandmother said, ‘Rubbish, he was a builder.’” He obviously dropped his Liverpudlian accent. Ironic. Yep. That’s really interesting, David.
David, again: “You think it was right that Julie Andrews, was a great success in the stage production, should have been dropped for the film.” Yeah, It is a lot about that debate, as you’re saying, David, really interesting point, between Julie Andrews and the Audrey Hepburn version. And of course then Julie Andrews does “Mary Poppins.” So, you know, it’s a debate. I don’t think it’s a right or wrong. I think both are fantastic actresses and achieve, you know, a huge amount.
Ron: “Hope you’re well. ‘My Fair Lady’ may have a drop of the Jewish outsider experience. There’s gallons of Shaw’s Irish outsider experience.” Yes, very, very much so and that would be another whole lecture, talk about Shaw and Oscar Wilde and James Joyce, Beckett and a whole lot of other brilliant writers, end of the 19th century, early parts of the 20th century. Those Irish writers are extraordinary and their sense of outsider/insider, spot on. Great. Thank you, Ron, great point.
Jack: “In the double irony that Eliza’s achievement qualifies for both. They’re both for lower middle class employment but also for upper class marriage presumably to Higgins.” I think in our times, but if we think back to 1914, 1915 when it’s written, I’m not sure. Could be different. Nancy: “A famous Canadian cartoonist was Ben Wicks.” Okay, thank you.
Ron: “The great philosophical class issues are best expressed by Alfred P. Doolittle, Eliza’s father, played by the great Stanley Holloway in the Broadway cast, in the film. In contrast, his daughter struggles to reject social morality and upward mobility.” Yep, he has that struggle within himself, you know, let’s “Get Me To The Church On Time” and all those other songs he does, he struggles with social morality and upward mobility. Not sure, does he really want it, doesn’t he, which is a fascinating, interesting twist on the whole story.
Nancy: “Ben Wicks was born in London cockney area and he applied for a cartoonist job at the newspapers in London. He was told it was impossible because of his accent, but that was not a broadcasting position.” Yeah, that’s fascinating. And you know, it’s still even today, although much less, but until fairly recently, all actors in in England would have to learn RP, which is received pronunciation. So they would’ve to conform to a certain way of speaking with accent and all the rest of it. So in order to, I suppose get jobs or get, you know, get to certain theatres and film and TV, the regional accent would have to be dropped. It’s all changing or it has changed in the last while.
Myrna: “Thank you.”
William: “They’ve gotten the language pronounced right that they transport to Spain, to Spanish culture.” I know, I mean the rain in Spain and the irony of playing with Spain just because it rhymes. You know, it reminds me of the fantastic piece, Manuel in obviously in “Fawlty Towers.” Okay, Rita, “Thank you.” It’s very kind of you.
Gabriel: “When Higgins talks to Eliza about the possibilities of language, he engages for a moment in empathetic quest to improve her situation.” Yes. That empathy, yes. To consider another person as equal is the key to our future humanity. You put it beautifully, Gabriel. Thank you. Once we take off culture, take off language and the external trappings, we find the human connection, heart-to-heart is a possibility and most poignant moments are what I think of great drama, tragedy or comedy. They all have it. That’s suddenly and that’s what stands out like in the “Rain in Spain” song, just that moment. There’s that clip where they’re just looking at each other and we get it completely. It’s an unforgettable image.
Ron: “I love the ironic against type casting of Jeremy Brett, my favourite Sherlock Holmes in the minor role of Eliza’s pathetic suitor Freddy.” Yes. That’s really interesting. That’s a lovely point, Ron. Nima, “Thank you.” Very kind.
Mavis: “Thanks.” A kind comment.
Naomi, “Thank you.” From Toronto, where my sister lives. Thank you.
Jean: “That was fascinating.” Thank you for your kind comments everybody.
Ronald: “In addition to distinction of class, distinction between men and women, single, married, et cetera.” Yep, it’s all about the divisions and distinctions played out on different levels, yep, with fantastic music and writing.
Phyllis: “Thank you to get a link. Loewe is pronounced low.” That’s probably my South African accent. Okay. Not kidding. Of course it is ‘cause it’s the German. Got it. Thanks, Phyllis. Anna:
Q: “What about the South African accent?” “Think of Charlize Theron, never spoke in English till she learned American.”
A: Yep.
Upper class English there, yep. Gail: “Great Hollywood idol Audrey Hepburn helped save… ” oh you’ve got there. Thank you. That’s the link. Really appreciate, Gail. Thank you.
Madeleine: “I noticed the butterflies displayed in frames in the living room, taking natural beauty and wishing to dominate control.” Yep. Of Higgins.
Louise: “I’m American working in court as a lawyer. Some judges asked me how long I’d spent in the UK and why did I still speak the way I do. Which accent would I adopt if I turned British?” Fascinating point, Louise. That’s really, really interesting. I’ve been asked if I’m Belgian, if I’m French, if I’m Norwegian, if I’m German, if I’m Australian obviously, or New Zealand, you know, all the time everywhere. One has to treat it with an irony.
Rhonda, “I learned from Ben Wicks the cockney accent was a huge disadvantage in life. He and his wife, who was a nurse, who wonderful and both recognised for the contributions in Canada and the third world.” Thank you. Thank you, Rhonda. It’s a really interesting…
Phyllis: “In a recent New York production, Eliza walked away from Higgins in the end. She should have taken those damn slippers with her.” That’s a great, you know, you can play with that ending in so many ways and I think that’s part of the brilliance of Shaw and of Lerner and Loewe because it does play, just leaves it at that end and it’s ambiguous. Could go many ways after you said that comment, the slippers. Events, okay. Thank you.
Phyllis, “Okay. Work from South Africa.” Okay, that’s great. So, thank you everybody. I think that’s it. I know there’s a few more.
Susan: “Michael Caine stood by his cockney accent. Sean Connery with some of the Scottish. Maybe Adele was lucky. She was a singer.” Absolutely. I think there’s some more here. Norman: “1960, at the age of five, I was in Montreal to visit my grandmother with my mother. I remember when my mom went out to see the stage production of "My Fair Lady” with Diane Todd performing it as Eliza. Diane Todd was British-born a naturalised South African. The record was important in my youth.“ Great, I think we all, you know, I mean at the end, like the Beatles whatever, or so many others, Elvis, so many others. Barbara Streisand, you know, just the sheer joy and fun of the songs, of the lyrics, of the music, the characters. And there’s something in that ability to last 70 years now since they did the musical, over 100 years since the play. You know, I think that at the minimum, you know, credit must be given to Lerner and Loewe and to all of us.
So, hope everybody has a great rest of the weekend and have fun. And Karina, thanks so much as always.