connielane (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
connielane) wrote2008-06-09 07:53 am
connielane) wrote2008-06-09 07:53 am
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OH NOEZ! Another movie series!
Suck it up. You had to have known something like this might be coming. :P
What the Movies Have Taught Me About NYC
I've been there three times - once when I was a senior in high school, once for the so-called "Millennium" New Year, and once after I graduated from college. But I suspect I've seen more of the city on television and in films than I have in real life. And since I've felt led to inflict these on you guys on far less provocation than a Great Life Change like moving to New York, I suspect this is the perfect time for yet another round of regular movie posts centered around a particular topic.
Obviously, I'm not going to pretend that fiction trumps actual experience. But I suspect everyone in America who doesn't live there has some notion of what the city is like - whether accurate or not - and that notion comes largely from the stories that filmmakers and TV writers have told about it over the years. And if they're good stories, somewhere among the clichés and stereotypes are a few nuggets of truth.
So over the course of about 15 posts in the next (*GULP*) 32 days I'm going to post about some iconic New York movies and what they teach outsiders like me about the city and the change that I'm about to personally undergo. And I'm starting with one of the least Blake-Edwards-y Blake Edwards movies that is one of the New-York-iest New York movies of all time.
Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)
I've been there three times - once when I was a senior in high school, once for the so-called "Millennium" New Year, and once after I graduated from college. But I suspect I've seen more of the city on television and in films than I have in real life. And since I've felt led to inflict these on you guys on far less provocation than a Great Life Change like moving to New York, I suspect this is the perfect time for yet another round of regular movie posts centered around a particular topic.
Obviously, I'm not going to pretend that fiction trumps actual experience. But I suspect everyone in America who doesn't live there has some notion of what the city is like - whether accurate or not - and that notion comes largely from the stories that filmmakers and TV writers have told about it over the years. And if they're good stories, somewhere among the clichés and stereotypes are a few nuggets of truth.
So over the course of about 15 posts in the next (*GULP*) 32 days I'm going to post about some iconic New York movies and what they teach outsiders like me about the city and the change that I'm about to personally undergo. And I'm starting with one of the least Blake-Edwards-y Blake Edwards movies that is one of the New-York-iest New York movies of all time.
Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)
Lesson Learned: You can get anything engraved at Tiffany's.
It really is a fabulous place, and not just for the spectacular jewelry. I went there in October of 2000 and did my share of trying not to drool on anything. I really wanted one of those little bags with the logo against that perfect shade of light blue, and I asked if I could buy one. The saleswoman said to me "I can't sell you a bag ... but I can give you a bag." I accepted with gratitude, sneaked into a stairwell, and put a small paperback book into the bag, so that when I left the store it would look like I had bought something.
That experience, along with the scene in the movie where Holly and Paul go there, convinced me that Holly's philosophy that "nothing very bad could happen to you there" must be true. It's a store that is out of most people's price range, but lots of people visit it, just to say they've been there. I'm sure loads of people have had a form of "breakfast" outside its windows, and the impression I got was that people who work there do their best not to make the "just looking" folks feel like they don't belong there. I could be wrong about that, but I'd be more than glad to research that conclusion after I move. :-)
Breakfast at Tiffany's came at a time when filmmakers were starting to come back to New York and actually shoot there on location, as opposed to recreating the cityscape on a Hollywood sound stage. The opening scene, where Audrey Hepburn steps out of a cab and stands at the Tiffany's window with her sack of breakfast, is one of the most iconic images in the movies period. Put that famous Henry Mancini "Moon River" score with it, and it's quintessential Old New York. As is that image of Audrey Hepburn in the little black dress, carrying that exceedingly long cigarette holder.
No Really, Here's the Real Lesson: You can put on a little black dress and a pair of big sunglasses. You can throw loud parties in your tiny New York apartment. You can even have coffee and a danish in front of Tiffany's at six in the morning. But you will never, ever be Holly Golightly. And that's probably a good thing.
Holly is a certain breed of New Yorker. She escaped a dreary home life and came there on a whim. She's very much ... passing through, in all senses of that phrase. She doesn't like to get attached to things, or people, or cats. She has lots of "friends," but no real ties. In fact, she's so detached that at the end of the film she thinks nothing of flying off to Brazil and leaving everything behind. Capote's original novel ends with her doing just that, without any judgment about her actions. That's just who she was.
Hollywood, of course, can't leave things alone and gave the story a traditional romantic conclusion when the book was made into a film. Purists and cynics may roll their eyes, but I like the schmaltzy, Moon-River-y ending better. I realize there's a certain amount of romance in the notion of never putting down roots in a place and picking up and moving whenever you feel like it. I have a measure of admiration for people like that myself, and it's a small part of what inspired my own move. But I can't imagine living my life like that. Something that gives me a great deal of comfort is that I have people here in Nashville who are invested in me and who are sorry to see me go. If I leave New York without at least a few people like that, I'll be leaving too soon, regardless of whatever else I've accomplished there. And I can't imagine being the kind of person who doesn't care about that.
It really is a fabulous place, and not just for the spectacular jewelry. I went there in October of 2000 and did my share of trying not to drool on anything. I really wanted one of those little bags with the logo against that perfect shade of light blue, and I asked if I could buy one. The saleswoman said to me "I can't sell you a bag ... but I can give you a bag." I accepted with gratitude, sneaked into a stairwell, and put a small paperback book into the bag, so that when I left the store it would look like I had bought something.
That experience, along with the scene in the movie where Holly and Paul go there, convinced me that Holly's philosophy that "nothing very bad could happen to you there" must be true. It's a store that is out of most people's price range, but lots of people visit it, just to say they've been there. I'm sure loads of people have had a form of "breakfast" outside its windows, and the impression I got was that people who work there do their best not to make the "just looking" folks feel like they don't belong there. I could be wrong about that, but I'd be more than glad to research that conclusion after I move. :-)
Breakfast at Tiffany's came at a time when filmmakers were starting to come back to New York and actually shoot there on location, as opposed to recreating the cityscape on a Hollywood sound stage. The opening scene, where Audrey Hepburn steps out of a cab and stands at the Tiffany's window with her sack of breakfast, is one of the most iconic images in the movies period. Put that famous Henry Mancini "Moon River" score with it, and it's quintessential Old New York. As is that image of Audrey Hepburn in the little black dress, carrying that exceedingly long cigarette holder.
No Really, Here's the Real Lesson: You can put on a little black dress and a pair of big sunglasses. You can throw loud parties in your tiny New York apartment. You can even have coffee and a danish in front of Tiffany's at six in the morning. But you will never, ever be Holly Golightly. And that's probably a good thing.
Holly is a certain breed of New Yorker. She escaped a dreary home life and came there on a whim. She's very much ... passing through, in all senses of that phrase. She doesn't like to get attached to things, or people, or cats. She has lots of "friends," but no real ties. In fact, she's so detached that at the end of the film she thinks nothing of flying off to Brazil and leaving everything behind. Capote's original novel ends with her doing just that, without any judgment about her actions. That's just who she was.
Hollywood, of course, can't leave things alone and gave the story a traditional romantic conclusion when the book was made into a film. Purists and cynics may roll their eyes, but I like the schmaltzy, Moon-River-y ending better. I realize there's a certain amount of romance in the notion of never putting down roots in a place and picking up and moving whenever you feel like it. I have a measure of admiration for people like that myself, and it's a small part of what inspired my own move. But I can't imagine living my life like that. Something that gives me a great deal of comfort is that I have people here in Nashville who are invested in me and who are sorry to see me go. If I leave New York without at least a few people like that, I'll be leaving too soon, regardless of whatever else I've accomplished there. And I can't imagine being the kind of person who doesn't care about that.