Films of the 60s, Part 19: Strange as Angels (The Worlds of Manic Pixie Dream Girls)

"You ... soft and only
You ... lost and lonely
You ... strange as angels
Dancing in the deepest oceans
Twisting in the water
You're just like a dream."
- The Cure, "Just Like Heaven"



Film Critic Nathan Rabin coined the term “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” after seeing Kirsten Dunst in Cameron Crowe’s Elizabethtown. His definition is, “that bubbly, shallow cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures.”(1)(2) Since that time, the sobriquet has really taken off and become part of film culture, with characters played by the likes of Natalie Portman, Zooey Deschanel, and Kate Hudson. However, many critics have now gone back to mine film history for examples of this semi-cryptozoological / magical creature known in shorthand as the MPDG. The following is a survey of three films from the 60s that I consider to exhibit the properties of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl.



The Apartment (1960, Billy Wilder)

Billy Wilder had already proved himself a master filmmaker in several genres including noir and comedy, but The Apartment was his first Best Picture Academy Award win. It was also somewhat a blueprint for the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Shirley MacLaine plays the MPDG in question, teaching Jack Lemmon’s character, C.C. Baxter, lessons about love and the important things in life. Heck, she even had a pixie cut to complete the whole package. The usual modus operandi for MPDGs is that they tend to have their heads in the clouds, are free spirits, but somewhat need to grow up. The men in their lives are, of course, attracted to this dreamlike naïveté, at first wanting to occupy the same world as the MPDG. Eventually, the femme’s bad choices get her into trouble and the homme gets to come to the rescue, but rather than both growing up and learning, they tend to succumb to their childish fantasies. This is somewhat true of The Apartment, though we are left wondering what the future may hold.

The premise of the film is that Baxter has an Upper West Side New York apartment that he lets his coworkers use as rendezvous spots for affairs in order to work his way up in an insurance company. One fateful day, he meets Fran, an attractive elevator operator and pursues her, only to find out that she is having an affair with Mr. Sheldrake, the personnel director, played by Fred MacMurray. Fran allows Sheldrake to string her along, preying on her naïve nature, professing his love, but still going home to his wife. Eventually, she is let down one too many times. In a scene that was later mirrored in Almost Famous, a film by Cameron Crowe, who seemingly perfected the MPDG mythos, Baxter saves Fran from overdosing. In the meantime, Baxter allows his neighbors and coworkers to believe the worst of him, even getting slugged in the face by Fran’s brother-in-law for his good deeds. Baxter eventually learns that the boys’ club at work is not worth it and would rather stand up for love than for advancement and respect.

MacLaine has quite a few moments of MPDG-ness, reciting dialogue that veers between a carefree attitude and self-hatred. For instance, looking into a broken mirror and saying, “I like it that way. Makes me look the way I feel.” All it needs in a modern remake is a Smiths song as background. She also shows her vulnerable heart to Baxter in relation to insurance statistics, feeling bad that because she doesn’t get colds, some other poor guy has to get five to meet the average. Exhibit C finds Fran yet again in a state of humor in her darkness, “I was jinxed from the word go. The first time I was ever kissed was in a cemetery.” What makes this film different from the typical MPDG scenario is that Lemmon is somewhat of a Manic Pixie Dream Guy for MacLaine as well, in effect reversing the roles. This film could easily be from Fran’s point of view with Baxter acting as the bubbly yin to her dark yang. His straining spaghetti through a tennis racket and odd turns of phrase, such as “That’s the way it crumbles…cookie-wise,” are illustrative examples of the possibility. But, it is really Baxter’s life that changes, going from corporate social climber to moral human being, whereas Fran remains fairly unchanged throughout, merely seeing something in Baxter after she has affected his life.



Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961, Blake Edwards)

People either love or hate Breakfast at Tiffany’s and I don’t quite get the disparity. Sure, Mickey Rooney’s character is one of the most racist and politically incorrect portrayals in film history. Sure, the ending of the film is drastically different than Truman Capote’s novella. But, it is an iconic film, full of great performances, wonderful music, and the ultimate in Manic Pixie Dream Girls, Miss Audrey Hepburn. One could pick any one of several Audrey Hepburn films to support the MPDG thesis, but Breakfast at Tiffany’s captures it to an extent that the others just don’t reach. Because quite a few men, guilty as charged, see MPDGs as the dreamlike ideal, there are many of us who have had dalliances with our own Holly Golightlys, those girls who just seem too beautiful, effervescent, and charming to be real. And that’s the thing, they aren't real. There is always something roiling under the surface.

Holly Golightly is the MPDG for Paul, played by George Peppard, a down on his luck writer who has taken to becoming a boy toy for a wealthy mistress. To Paul, Holly has it all figured out. She is a Manhattan socialite with tons of connections, lush parties, and rich courters. Paul and Holly, each trying to find their way in their respective worlds, grow closer to each other. We sense that Paul has most likely fallen in love with Holly, though she remains aloof and blithe. Things begin to take a turn when the façade of her life starts to crumble, her former life as Lula Mae Barnes surfaces in the shape of her ex-husband from an annulled marriage, and her engagement to a wealthy beau is called off. This is when the truly MPDG moment happens, with Holly and Paul running around the city, taking turns doing things they have never done before. Who does this in reality? Very few, I think, in that it is purely a construct of the MPDG ideal.

In the book, Holly is somewhat of a call girl, or at least very free with her sexuality. The film version is nearly the opposite, though carefree, she is somewhat chaste, making her even more of a fictional construct. After all, isn’t this what every guy dreams about, a free spirit who is also virtuous? While purists who love the Capote novella feel the film’s ending is a betrayal and a travesty, there is no other way the film can end, and in effect, this is why it has become beloved. Paul could have easily continued his life as a down on his luck writer, resorting to life as a gigolo to survive, but instead, he is inspired by the magical Holly Golightly, eventually selling a short story, getting his life back in order, and believing in love. It is the Hollywoodiest of Hollywood endings, but is nonetheless satisfying. I’ve had my own Holly Golightly, so I know that the MPDG model exists, but my life didn’t end up like Paul’s. The truth is that while these magical females might exist, the guys whose lives they change are usually left behind, so many “Doc” Golightlys.



Jules et Jim (1962, François Truffaut)

By the time Jules and his friend Jim meet Catherine, they already believe she is magical, being a human representation of a statue they found eminently fascinating and beautiful. Catherine, played by Jeanne Moreau, does not disappoint them further, being the embodiment of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, racing with them, jumping into rivers, and saying such things as “I don’t want to be understood.” Like Fran and Holly, she is a free spirit, but as opposed to the other two films, Truffaut finishes the story of what would happen when this type of free spirit gets tied down. When Catherine is allowed to just be herself with Jules and Jim, everything is fine. But, when Catherine marries Jules, things start to change. They have a child and start a family, but one gets the sense that Catherine was never cut out for settling down. Jules senses this as well and is therefore okay with her and Jim starting an affair, as he just wants her to be happy.

The truth is, however, that this occurrence is irreversible. While Catherine may have changed the lives of Jules and Jim, their desire to capture that spirit and bottle it forever essentially drained the magic of the MPDG. This brings to mind another issue and question. Are the actions of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl really just expressions of the wonder of life, or are they signs of bipolar disorder? One can make arguments on both sides, but only Truffaut provides concrete evidence for the latter. One could also make the argument that one simply shouldn’t try to pin down unconventional women into conventional lifestyles. As Holly Golightly says in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, “You musn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get, until they're strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky,” or “I'm like cat here, a no-name slob. We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us. We don't even belong to each other.”

Whereas Holly, Paul, Baxter, and Fran have different endings than Jules, Jim, and Catherine, or so we are led to believe, Truffaut finishes the story of the boy meets MPDG, boy is entranced by MPDG, boy loves MPDG with MPDG is smothered by boy trying to corral her into a world of harsh realities. Regardless, Jules and Jim is a phenomenally great film and Jeanne Moreau an enchanting, yet realistic version of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. What no one told Jules and Jim is that, though she changed their lives for the better, the same rarely happens in reverse, even with two chances.


(1) Rabin, N. (2007). "My Year of Flops, Case File 1: Elizabethtown: The Bataan Death March of Whimsy." Retrieved from A.V. Club, The Onion.
(2) Bowman, D., Gillette, A., Hyden, S., Murray, N., Pierce, L., & Rabin, N. (2008). "Wild Things: 16 Films Featuring Manic Pixie Dream Girls." Retrieved from A.V. Club, The Onion.

Films of the 60s, Part 18: Daddy Was An Alcoholic

“Don’t you know you got your Daddy’s eyes
And Daddy was an alcoholic
But your mother kept it all inside
Threw it all away.”
- Starsailor, “Alcoholic”



It was forty and some odd years past prohibition and one could tell. Drinking had become a national pastime. Today, Mad Men, and all of the Mad Men ripoffs, such as Pan-Am and The Playboy Club, immerses its characters in this world of social drinking. Entertainment media has either portrayed this era with glamour or has occasionally displayed its seamy side. This survey concentrates on films that tend to waver between the two, but then heavily fall on the side of the latter. While the following three movies may not be completely about alcohol, we see that it certainly plays a prominent role, especially in how it affects relationships.



Long Day’s Journey Into Night (1962, Sidney Lumet)

If you want to see four master actors at work, watch Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Based on the Putlizer Prize and Tony winning play by Eugene O’Neill, this film faithfully captures the conventions of a stage drama without losing any cinematic quality. Reportedly his most autobiographical work, Long Day’s Journey Into Night is a story of a highly dysfunctional family struggling with addiction. The Tyrone family, living in a seaside Connecticut home, is constantly at loggerheads, alternately bickering with each other over any manner of topic and then trying to make amends. Their expectations of each other, hopes, dreams, and motivations are all fueled by their respective poisons, making it difficult, at best, to determine whom these people truly are behind the masks of addiction.

The father, James Sr., is played masterfully by Sir Ralph Richardson, a perfect choice to portray the aging actor who longs for the old days, resentful of his typecasting, jealous of his sons’ youth, and livid about his wife’s narcotic hazes, all the while drowning his own misery in spirits. Katherine Hepburn plays Mary, the matriarch hooked on morphine, newly returned from a treatment center, but nowhere near out of the woods, with bouts of reverie that are hard to distinguish between the miasma of morphine use and simple nostalgia. One of my favorite actors of all time, Jason Robards, is an O’Neill “go-to” thespian. Having played in a whole host of O’Neill plays and adaptations, Robards traverses this film magnificently, portraying James Jr., or “Jamie,” the oldest son who followed in his father’s acting footsteps. Whereas the father had a hard time landing other roles due to a long run as the same beloved character, Jamie has a hard time because of his alcoholism and womanizing. Then there is Edmund, the character based on the author, played by Dean Stockwell. He is the most markedly different from the rest of the family, more inward and poetic, and suffering from tuberculosis, though this doesn’t stop him from stealing sips of booze every now and then.

At a nearly three hour running time, all in one location, it makes perfect sense that the sense of drama is heightened. Frankly, it would be anyway in this situation. The three alcoholic men are all ironically suspicious of their mother’s inevitable relapse, monitoring her every move and questioning her every absence. As the title of the play / film suggests, the action all takes place in the course of one long day, with each character degrading into the darkest depths of their respective humanity as night approaches. Katherine Hepburn’s appearance is a sight to behold, with her at first tightly coiffed hairdo gaining flyaways and loose tendrils as time goes on. Only her acting is more magnificent. She and her castmates drastically veer from hollow platitudes to strongly worded accusations and betrayals. It is as admirable for its writing and acting as it is incredibly disheartening for its realistic portrayal of addiction at its worst, most controlling, and most hypocritical. I’m a huge fan of dramatic theater, and this is a faithful adaptations of one of the finest works from a true master.



Days of Wine and Roses (1962, Blake Edwards)

Adapted from a television presentation, Days of Wine and Roses is quite possibly the most powerful film on the subject of alcoholism and recovery. I would say that Jack Lemmon is at the height of his acting prowess in this film, but that height lasted for another few decades. Lemmon plays Joe Clay, a public relations whiz that gets caught up in the fast-paced lifestyle of business and martini-lunches. He meets Kirsten, a young non-drinker who Joe lures into his own alcoholic world. The particular scene in which Joe seduces Kirsten is particularly familiar and, at the same time, disturbing. Claiming that she doesn’t like the taste of alcohol, he inquires as to tastes she does enjoy, and then finds an alcoholic beverage that perfectly matches that predilection. We have likely all seen this before, getting someone to enjoy alcohol because they find one that “tastes like candy.”

Joe’s few drinks with the guys turns into full-blown alcoholism and Joe drags Kirsten down with him. Their lives subsequently degrade, with demotions and firings in store for Joe and equally problematic and dangerous events occurring with Kirsten. Joe, passing a shop window, has an epiphany. He looks at his reflection and cannot recognize the alcoholic ‘bum’ he has become. Determined to turn their respective lives around, the young couple go to live with her father, but quickly succumb to their addictions yet again, resulting in a powerful performance by Lemmon in a greenhouse. This scene is one of the most affecting I’ve seen, capturing the absolute power of alcoholism in an absolutely disquieting manner.

Eventually, Joe gets help through Alcoholics Anonymous and his sponsor, Jim, played by Jack Klugman. But, because Kirsten refuses to get help, Joe has to choose between sobriety and his family. It is a heartbreaking film, and one that does not pull any punches in its depiction of the struggles of real people in their fight with alcoholism. Like Long Day’s Journey Into Night, it is also a master class in acting, with Lemmon and Remick able to elicit disgust, pathos, pity, affection, and empathy throughout their many ups and downs. It also shows just how easy it is for ordinary people to succumb to the excesses of alcoholism and that it is a disease, treatable and yet never escapable to a certain extent. In other words, every day is a struggle. When Jack Lemmon appeared on Inside the Actor’s Studio, in talking about Days of Wine and Roses, he stunned host James Lipton by saying, “Which I am, incidentally.” Confused over whether Lemmon was referring to his character or himself, he asked him to clarify. “No, as Jack Lemmon. I’m an alcoholic.” Lemmon and Remick both reportedly got help from AA sometime after the film’s release, and so too did more than quite a few viewers, and there is possibly no better story to result from a film like this.



Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966, Mike Nichols)

In this film, we once again visit an adaptation of a well-known play, this time one by the gifted playwright, Edward Albee. In this film, a professor of a New England college and his wife, the daughter of the college president, invite a young couple, a new addition to the school, and his wife, over for drinks. The young couple find themselves subsequently invited into an intensely volatile and hostile situation in the process. It is hard to tell whether alcohol is the progenitor of the hostility between George and Martha, played to the hilt by real life couple Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, or whether alcohol is merely a crutch for their severe relationship problems. Either way, it is almost a fifth character in this taut drama that is as equally impressive as it is incredibly uncomfortable.

Throughout the film, George and Martha are constantly bickering and belittling each other, making their young guests feel awkward and in the middle of a booze-filled maelstrom. As the events progress, the situation only escalates in sarcasm, bitterness, seduction, and danger. In the end, one cannot tell with any certainty whether this is a couple in the throes of madness fueled by alcoholism, or the throes of alcoholism fueled by madness. Either way, it is a highly watchable film with riveting performances though, as stated earlier, it can make one feel very uncomfortable. Albee and Mike Nichols, in his astounding directorial debut, manage to present a truly voyeuristic window into the lives of severely troubled characters that eventually reveal elements of their lives that are as equally pitiable as shocking. Not many actors could pull off such heavy material, but Burton, Taylor, George Segal, and Sandy Dennis do so more than admirably.

While all three films received several nominations of different types, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? achieved something that few other films have, earning Academy Award nominations in every eligible category. Though it lost out to A Man for All Seasons in some categories, which by the way is another great film based on a play, it did win five Oscars, including Elizabeth Taylor’s much deserved second win for Best Actress. One could almost see Long Day’s Journey Into Night and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? as sister films and plays, providing a glimpse into the realities of addiction and relationship dysfunction. Both somehow display a stark realism and over-the-top dramatic tension at the same time. These are three powerful films that have had a lasting legacy in movie history, and rightfully so.

Films of the 50's Part 9: War! What Is It Good For?

Night and Fog (1955, Alain Resnais)

Possibly the most devastating thirty minutes of film I’ve ever seen exist in the French documentary called Night and Fog. Released on the 10th anniversary of the end of the war, I’d imagine that emotions were still running high, and that several of the images seen in the film were quite shocking to the viewing public. The title comes from a division of the Nazi government that rounded up dissidents and threw them into camps. They would get an “N / N” painted on the backs of their coats, representing “Nacht und Nebel.”

Night and Fog is a powerful marriage of three elements, visuals, which are a mix of stock war footage and shots of the camps in 1955, stark and riveting narration by Michel Bouquet, off a script written by Gusen concentration camp survivor Jean Cayrol, and an indelibly moving score by Hanns Eisler, regular collaborator of Bertolt Brecht, whose music was banned by the Nazis. Eisler fled to the states during the war. Night and Fog was one of the first, and possibly one of the more shocking, revelations of wartime atrocities and the Holocaust put into mass media.

Something that struck me while watching this short film is that the images of the abandoned camps, the overgrown weeds covering the train tracks leading to the camp buildings, the empty wooden bunks, and the gas chambers, all telling stories through a haunting absence. These absences can’t help but evoke overwhelming feelings of despair for humanity. It is most likely because of this that French schools required their students to watch Night and Fog, to understand what happened, and what we need to be ever vigilant to be sure never happens again.

You can see Night and Fog for free on Google Video, as well as read the Criterion collection essays about the film online at Criterion.com.



Mister Roberts (1955, John Ford & Mervyn Le Roy)


From a devastating documentary about the camps to another side of World War II, we have Mister Roberts, a comedy-drama set on a naval cargo ship in the Pacific during the last days of fighting. Henry Fonda stars as the title character, the executive officer that acts as the respected middleman to Lt. Commander Morton, a pain in the ass Captain, played to the hilt by James Cagney. Morton won’t let any of his men out on leave, or ‘liberty’ as they call it in the film. Roberts is constantly trying to get off the cargo ship, looking for a more meaningful assignment on the front lines, writing letter after letter, essentially driving Morton crazy.

Morton and Roberts make a deal. Morton will let the men have their ‘liberty’ as long as Roberts ceases his letter writing campaign to get off the cargo ship. There is an odd, yet effective balance in Mister Roberts. There are serious and heartbreaking moments throughout, especially the bittersweet ending, but the film is punctuated by hilarious comedy, usually involving Ensign Pulver, played by a young Jack Lemmon, who is spectacular in the role, as evidenced by winning the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor.

One of the more memorable scenes of the film involves a concoction by Roberts, Pulver and the ship’s doctor to create a bottle of Scotch with some clear alcohol, Coca-Cola, and iodine. Another hilarious moment involves Morton confronting Pulver, asking the ensign how long he’s been aboard the ship (as Pulver has been avoiding the Captain since being on the ship), Pulver hesitates, then hilariously reveals, “Fourteen months, sir.”



Paths of Glory (1957, Stanley Kubrick)

Paths of Glory might not be the most famous film in which Stanley Kubrick and Kirk Douglas teamed up (that would be Spartacus), but I’m not sure it shouldn’t be. The film, based on a novel of the same name, takes place during World War I, and is separated into two distinct parts. The first part involves the taking of the ‘anthill,’ a strategic position that, with the combatants current entrenched positions, would be impossible to reach. The second part involves a trial, a court martial of four soldiers accused of mutiny.

Much like one aspect of Night and Fog, Paths of Glory displays the vast difference between the worlds of power and the worlds of the ‘expendable.’ The French General Broulard, played by Adolphe Menjou, orders General Mireau on a suicide mission to take the ‘anthill.’ While at first resistant, he is swayed by the offer of a promotion. Mireau then orders Colonel Dax, played by Douglas, who is also hesitant, but a devoted soldier, intent on carrying out his duties. The attack goes badly, with many killed, and one whole company, led by a cowardly lieutenant, refusing to leave their bunkers. Mireau actually orders, from his cushy station behind lines, the bombing of his own men to get them out of the bunkers. Dax goes back for the company, meaning to spur them into action, but it pushed back into the bunker by a falling French soldier, and by then it is too late.

Furious, Mireau wants to have 100 men executed for mutiny, but General Broulard scales it back down to three to make an example. The three are to be chosen by lot, one from each company, but they’re actually chosen for different reasons. One is chosen for witnessing his cowardly commander mistakenly kill his own soldier, one for being an outsider, and the final actually by lot. Dax feels the entire affair is preposterous and offers to represent the three soldiers during the trial. The rest of the film finds Dax trying to save the three ‘mutinous’ soldiers from the firing squad, but we find that common sense has no place in war. What is truly sad about this is that it was based on a true story, including the General ordering an attack on his own troops.



Operation Petticoat (1959, Blake Edwards)

Cary Grant and Tony Curtis team up in one of Blake Edwards’ early comedy films, Operation Petticoat. Grant shows up to see the decommissioning of his old vessel, the Sea Tiger, a World War II submarine. While waiting for its current captain, he finds his old logbook and begins to reminisce about his war days aboard the ship, and that’s where the hilarity ensues. We are quickly introduced to Matt Sherman, played by Grant, and one of his crew, Nick Holden, played by Curtis. Holden shows up in dress whites, much to the amusement of the crew of the Sea Tiger, but it turns out he’s not in the military out of duty, but as a way to meet a rich wife. He also turns out to be a masterful con man, someone who can procure difficult to get items, becoming an asset Sherman never anticipated.

The two work well with each other, which is assuredly helped by the fact that Curtis idolized Grant, and saw Grant as the inspiration for his entering the acting business. Already having trouble with the submarine (one engine continually backfires, which seems somewhat impossible, but funny), they end up taking on five attractive female passengers, which ruffles the feathers of the somewhat by-the-book Sherman, and even more hilarity ensues. Amazingly, Curtis starred in two of the funniest and more successful films of that war, this one and Some Like it Hot.

Operation Petticoat moves a bit slowly, and isn’t necessarily laugh-out-loud funny, but is endlessly watchable. The stars are charismatic and there are plenty of signature moments to take with you after its over, not the least of which is the one in which Curtis needs to procure paint for the sub, but is only able to get half of what they need in red, and half in white. You can guess what happens from there. Operation Petticoat is one of those films you’d call a ‘fun romp,’ and certainly puts the heavy messages of these other war films into perspective. While the somewhat similar Mister Roberts still displayed some of the seriousness of war, Operation Petticoat is all humor, a lighthearted look at the absurdities that can surround military life.