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 50's Part 4: The 400 Blows & High Noon

The 400 Blows (1959, Francois Truffaut)

I was originally planning to start this blog post with a film by Elia Kazan so that this entire piece could somehow revolve around the Red Scare theme, but I have to get myself a little more acquainted with both On the Waterfront and East of Eden. Instead, I went in a different direction. So far, the films I’ve written about have been, for the most part, thrillers or action oriented. Upon realizing this, I aimed to write about the film that most affected me emotionally; that film is Les Quatre Cent Coups, or as it is known in English, The 400 Blows.

I don’t remember how many films I screened in my French film class in college, all of seventeen or eighteen years ago, but there are only four or five films that I remember vividly. The 400 Blows is a film I will never forget. The fact that this was Truffaut’s feature film debut is more than impressive; it’s practically unbelievable. It was one of the first popular examples of the French New Wave, and in my opinion, one of its standard bearers.

Antoine Doinel is the main character, an adolescent who most everyone in his life has either ignored or pegged as a troublemaker. (In fact, the French title of the film, which was literally translated into English, is slang for “raising hell”). But, most of the time, Doinel seems a victim of circumstance; no more a hooligan than many of the other kids his age, but trapped in a self-fulfilling prophecy. What follows is a stark, tragic and gut-wrenching tale.

Doinel is always on the outside, looking in. He sleeps in a cot in the entryway of his mother’s small apartment. He discovers his mother is having an affair and that his father is really his stepfather. He’s blamed for things he hasn’t done, and even when he does make a mistake, it’s in the interest of bettering himself, such as when he builds a shrine to Balzac, nearly burns down the apartment, and then his resulting Balzac-inspired essay is thought to be plagiarized.

If Doinel eventually does give in to a life of adult crime, it is only because the adults in his life have allowed it to happen. The closing scene is one of the most memorable in the history of cinema. Antoine, after having been placed in a jail cell with adult criminals and prostitutes, then shipped off to a work camp, runs away, toward the beach, as far as he can, then turns to face the camera, the audience, and theoretically, his past, his future, and his accusers. I could never claim to completely empathize with Antoine. I did, however, make my fair share of trouble as a child, and, on more than one occasion, was left to my own devices. Truffaut made this as an autobiographical film. He is Antoine Doinel. I was not, but I feel only slightly distanced from his world. The 400 Blows is truly a masterpiece of cinema, one I return to regularly.



High Noon (1952, Fred Zinneman)

High Noon is another story of someone isolated, but in a different way. Based on John Cunningham’s short story, "The Tin Star," Fred Zinneman wanted to turn this western tale into an allegory of the Red Scare and blacklisting in particular, a brave feat considering it was happening at the time. During the makig of the film, the screenwriter, Carl Foreman, was called in to see the committee for having been a former member of the Communist Party some ten years earlier.

Gary Cooper plays Will Kane, the retiring Marshal of a small New Mexico territory town, having just been married to Amy, his pacifist Quaker wife, played by Grace Kelly in only her second performance. But, Kane hears that a man he captured got off on a technicality, and is on his way to town to enact his revenge. Despite a desire to start his new life, Kane feels a duty to stay and face the criminal and his gang. He looks to fill the ranks of deputies, or at least to get some help in defending the town. But, his deputy, played by Lloyd Bridges, feels slighted and quits. The rest of the townspeople are equally unhelpful, motivated by fear and cowardice. The only one people who attempt to do anything in Kane’s defense are the two women in his life, his wife Amy, and his former flame, played by the stunning Katy Jurado.

Kane ultimately has to face down the gang on his own, abandoned by the town he devoted his life to protecting. Relying on his wits and experience, Kane guns down the criminals, as could be expected, and the cowering townspeople come out of the woodwork. Kane boards a stage with his wife, and throws his badge down in disgust.

One of the notable things about this film is the real-time storytelling. Criminal Frank Miller is due in town at, you guessed it, High Noon, and we see every minute leading up to that hour, and the few action packed minutes after it. This method is something that most directors, then or now, of the popular Hollywood machine, could not pull off nearly as effectively. The film stirred some controversy when John Wayne and Howard Hawks took offense at the film, saying the story was completely unbelievable and in Wayne’s words, “un-American.” Well, wasn’t that Zinneman’s point about blacklisting? Wayne even went on to take pride in helping blacklist screenwriter Foreman. They made a film that was an answer to High Noon, in Rio Bravo. With my views, it’s hard for me to see it outside of this light, even though I do enjoy the film, and it might end up being profiled in this blog.

Regardless, High Noon is a landmark film, the quintessential example of the lone hero against insurmountable odds. And, despite its original political statement, has been enjoyed by two Presidents considered by some to be the respective heroes of both political parties, Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton. I don’t know if I could watch it 17 times in eight years, as done by Clinton, but I understand its appeal.