The novel has been continuously on my A-list since I first read it as a teenager, so I can’t help holding the recent movie to a pretty high standard. Oh, it was an all right movie in and of itself; certainly better than the TV movie from the '90s with Angela Lansbury. If you haven’t read or heard of it, British charwoman in the 1950s gets fixated on owning a Dior dress, saves her money, goes to Paris and the House of Dior, where several lives are changed, including hers. I just have to politely vent about the changes made for the film, that IMO made it a very different story, lacking what I love about the source material.
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First of all, the novel is about Mrs. 'Arris, with a dropped H, because she is so very cockney. Sure, change the title for the thick Americans who won’t get it. So right away you lose some of the quirkiness.
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Nothing against Lesley Manville, but she plays Mrs. Harris way too cheerful, and in fact a bit daft. In the novel, she’s rather abrasive, but in a comedic way; Pauline Collins could have pulled it off in the '80s. And a lot of other character quirks were sanded down. The hat was too stylish, for instance; it was supposed to be straw, with a fake rose, that only a working-class woman would think was stylish.
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Then there’s the matter of The Dress. The novel goes into great detail about how it looks, and how it looks on various people. It’s called “Temptation”, and it’s basically a hybrid of two classic Barbie outfits*: the bodice of Enchanted Evening and the skirt of Solo in the Spotlight. Except the top has white chiffon instead of white fur, and the last few inches of the skirt are overlapping panels of beaded velvet, not netting as in the Barbie outfit. In the movie, there are two possible choices, one green, one red, both of them more like cocktail dresses, not an evening gown.
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And both of them are kind of meh, which leads me to another issue. In the novel, Mrs. H. wanted a Dior dress the way she might have wanted a painting or a fine piece of furniture. It was art to her, not something she’d ever wear, at least not outside her flat. So when she gets to choose, she chooses “Temptation”, because it really is a work of art, not just a garment. Another character groans inwardly when she chooses, because this always happens. The young women these showcase gowns are meant for, usually can’t afford them. The women trying to hang onto or recapture youth can afford them, so that’s what they buy, and it often makes things worse. (Although not in Mrs. H’s case, because she has a certain dignity, and also she’s hardly overweight, as deprived as she’s been while saving up for this.) In the movie it’s just two mid-calf, wide-skirted cocktail dresses, both perfectly suitable for a middle-aged woman. So it wasn’t really taking her out of her comfort zone. She probably could have gotten something similar at Marks & Sparks, just that the Dior has expensive fabric and was made by hand.
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And there’s supposed to be a whole meeting-of-the-minds thing between her and another woman: Mme. Colbert, the Directrice, the sphinx everyone has to get past to reach the inner sanctum. In the novel, the scene where they meet is a set piece, just the two of them, Mme. giving her the usual brushoff, then Mrs. H makes one comment that moves the immovable object. Because Mme. wants something for her family just as badly as Mrs. H wants a Dior dress, you see, and later on Mrs. H will hook her up with someone who can help. And that something was left out entirely.
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And just, a lot of things were undercut and rushed through. There should have been a shot of Andre watching Natasha on the catwalk, for instance. I suppose I don’t object to Natasha secretly being an intellectual instead of fretting about her biological clock, but that’s another thing: Natasha in the novel was a tall, striking brunette, and was starting to age out of the professional-beauty demographic. She should not have been this tiny waif who barely looks old enough to drive.
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So yeah, TL;DR, a book I love was made into a movie I don’t like. But I felt like venting about it, and this is kinda long for Facebook.
*Not a deliberate cribbing from Mattel; Barbie didn’t even come on the market until 1959, and the novel was published in 1958.