The patriarchy lives. Tom Ferraro’s 8/31/18 column illustrates male privilege at its most oblivious. It makes me wonder: do some men really identify with Henry Higgins rather than Eliza Doolittle? How odd.
I have vivid memories of first seeing “My Fair Lady” on stage and “Carousel” as a movie in 1956. Sadly, “Carousel’s” plot was compromised: a heroine who foregoes agency paired with a best friend who foregoes romance — both binding themselves to loser guys (Snow may be wealthy, but he’s no prize). The songs spoke to me — but only when I ignored their dramatic context.
“My Fair Lady” was so much better — because of its ending: Eliza is a heroine who so successfully pulls herself from the gutter that she beguiles not one, but two, wealthy toffs — a vapid young fanboy and a narcissistic old bachelor — both of whom assume she’ll be thrilled by their offers, however maladroit. It’s only the guy’s feelings that matter, of course. (Cue Darcy’s first offer for Elizabeth Bennett and what it got him.)
Sixty years ago, my mother asked if Eliza should marry Henry; I responded he was “not nice” and “too full of himself.” I vetoed Freddie, too: he was an idiot who wouldn’t even kiss her “in the middle of the night.”
Then I realized that Henry’s mom (who advised Eliza she was too good for Henry) would set her up in a flower store. I loved that — it had symmetry and trajectory: hawking violets for ha’pennies from the freezing steps of Covent Garden would shift to owning a shop that provides roses for love-sick swains in Mayfair. Life lived on Eliza’s terms. And she’d be good at it.
Let’s consider the 2018 productions — both wonderful. The just-closed “Carousel” found redemption in operatic voices worthy of the soaring music (Renée Fleming’s Nettie repeatedly stopped the show) and equally dazzling choreography. Better, the new production created an ending focused on women creating a community of kindness that enriched the lives of those diminished by their men.
And “My Fair Lady”? The audience I saw didn’t offer lukewarm applause at the end. Instead there was a moment of silent awe. Eliza marches into the audience and out the door of the theatre. She’s both the courageous Eliza of Act I and a newly self-aware Eliza who has just insisted to herself, “Without your pushing them, the clouds roll by/ If they can do without you, ducky, so can I.”
To offer a contrarian view to Mr. Ferarro, who bemoans Eliza’s “walking off into the sunset leaving Henry Higgins to deal with his solitude and loneliness once again,” I say, really?!? Is this musical really about Henry? Why should an ending predicted by his every utterance make for an “unsettling theater experience for the audience.”
For me, this masterpiece is about Eliza, despite Henry’s frequent pronouncements to the contrary. Her triumph is not just in learning how to enunciate properly. Good grammar is the least of what she learns.
This masterpiece is about growth — about Eliza’s discovering that she hasn’t lost the hope, grit and, yes, courage that first brought her to his door and convinced him to take her on. That same hope, grit, and courage takes her out that door. She’s the star of this show, a beguiling force of nature from the very first scene. At no point was she an unthinking, unformed mass of clay such as “Pygmalion” worked on.
Yes, of course, Henry was instrumental in guiding her transformation — but, even as a child, I recognized that, to Henry, she is his creature who owes him for her creation. Eliza, who “works night and day” while the staff lauds “poor Professor Higgins” as he “plods against the odds,” was surely half in love with Henry for a time (Stockholm syndrome, anyone?); but the several scenes before the final curtain display how little empathy or care he has for her, except for her being instrumental to him.
She contributes to his distinguished resume, she proves his theories, and she runs his household: of course, he wants to keep her. Why, he wonders, would she think of leaving — unless for another man? (“Marry Freddie? Ha!”)
Both “Carousel” and “My Fair Lady” gain resonance from staging in the 21st century — and in the age of #MeToo. But they’re not confusing or disappointing: except for those who find it unnatural and unsettling for women to abandon misbehaving men — particularly without another man panting in the wings. Sometimes the hero isn’t male.
Judith B. Esterquest
Manhasset
