"Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M." by Sam Wasson: Book Review


"Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M." by Sam Wasson
HarperStudio, 231 pp., $19.99
Reviewed by David Marshall James


With a half-century's perspective on the film version of Truman Capote's novella "Breakfast at Tiffany's," it's safe to declare that Holly Golightly is Audrey Hepburn's most iconic role.

And, as much as the screenplay differed from the text, as much as Capote wanted chum Marilyn Monroe to be his Holly, the character has long since gained immortality-- owing largely to the cinematic version, underscored by Henry Mancini's haunting score and Johnny Mercer's splendid lyrics to "Moon River."

And then we have come to realize how right Audrey is for the role, with all her doubts about playing a call-girl who has deserted her husband and children back in Tulip, Texas. Swathed in black dresses (long and short) by Hubert de Givenchy, brandishing a cigarette holder, and flipping her sunglasses up and down, Hepburn jump-started a fashion trend that Jackie Kennedy (with Oleg Cassini) were going to intercept and run across the goal line.

If there hadn't been a '60s REVOLUTION ... how high would fashion have ascended? It's never fully recovered its bearings (one reason "Mad Men" is so attractive).

In his gold-paper-wrapped, solid-chocolate Valentine to the genesis of "Breakfast at Tiffany's," book and film, author Sam Wasson explores the origins of Miss Golightly and the evolution of Miss Hepburn's high-fashion, yet utterly accessible (via "the little black dress"), style, which commenced in earnest with "Sabrina" and her carte blanche to select some Parisian designs for her portrayal of the title character, much to the chagrin of Paramount Pictures costume chief Edith Head.

Wasson leads the reader through the major pre- and post-production events, including the selection of screenwriter George Axelrod (who wrangled with production-code restrictions, which were at least loosening some because of the movies' ongoing competition with television), director Blake Edwards (not the first choice, but ultimately a happy one for Hepburn), and supporting-cast players Patricia Neal, Buddy Ebsen, and Mickey Rooney, among others.

Although no one got along very well with George Peppard, he fits beautifully into the film, because he is all the presence that he needs to be without detracting from Holly. The sincerity and simplicity of his acting have crossed the decades in a such a manner that we are not left wishing that someone else had taken the part.

Certainly not Tony Curtis, who wanted it, but who was vetoed by Hepburn's dictatorial husband Mel Ferrer (Wasson supplies some unfortunate scenes from their marriage).

Edwards shot two endings to the film, although it's still uncertain how long-- and how well-- Holly and Paul Varjak will hold together, given the "romantic comedy" close (as opposed to "closure"). Here's a take from this writer, which would have brought the film back in touch with the novella, and brought the screenplay back to the beginning, in a sense:

Holly escapes from Paul and Cat, dashing out into the rain from the taxi. Paul hesitates, unsure of pursuing, then closeup on Cat, who meows pointedly. Cut to Paul's face, on which resignation-- and a measure of understanding-- dawns. We see him stroking Cat, which dissolves into a shot of Paul standing outside his and Holly's old apartment building ("I have always returned to places I've lived," as Capote writes), holding a copy of his just-published novel. Close-up on title, which is "Tiffany Crackerjack" or some such (as long as we know it's a thinly veiled fiction concerning Holly). Paul clutches the book to his heart, and begins to walk down the sidewalk, away from camera, as the soundtrack picks up strains from "Moon River."


* * *