Charade (1963)

Today’s film recommendation (which, as always on a Sunday, is FREE and can be read by all) is Stanley Donen’s Charade (1963), starring Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, Walter Matthau, and James Coburn. ‘The best Hitchcock film Hitchcock never made.’ Music by Henry Mancini.

Who knew that philately could be… well… could be so sexy? For we must add Stanley Donen’s Charade (1963) to a list of films vaguely associated with the art and antiques business. Without giving too much away, the stamps (key to Charade’s plot) are based on the real-life 1851 Hawaiian Missionary Blue, the 1858 Romanian 81 Parale Blue, and the 1855 Swedish 3 Treskilling Yellow. And it is at this stage that, although I happen to write a monthly antiques column for Homes & Antiques magazine, I must confess that I know absolutely nothing whatsoever about stamps. Nothing. Zilch. Nil Points. Apart from the fact that you lick them and stick them on envelopes. And along similar lines, I need to admit to you that, until yesterday, I had never seen Charade (1963). Which might be considered odd for somebody who also writes about old films. But, you know, we can’t have seen everything, and I could wax lyrical on the discreet charms of One Brief Summer (1971) or La Gioconda está triste (1977) — and I bet my bottom dollar most of you have never seen them.

Anyway. Back to Charade (1963). Audrey Hepburn’s rich husband gets chucked off a train, and then, having met a charming, mysterious stranger (Cary Grant) in an Alpine ski lodge, as one does, Audrey returns to Paris to find her rather Second Empire-ish flat stripped of its contents. Everything sold at auction. The lot. Look, I never want to give too much away in these posts, but let’s say there’s stuff about Nazi Gold — and Nazi Gold is never a bad thing in a thriller — and a criminal element, and a question mark over a certain character’s identity, which, presumably, is why Donen called it Charade in the first place. Which immediately raises the interesting question of possessions and value, and how value can be found in unexpected places. Are things what they seem?

Charade (1963) seems to be billed as a ‘screwball comedy caper’, and I’m not convinced that’s entirely right. I mean, Charade ain’t anything like Bringing Up Baby (1938), or It Happened One Night (1934). And despite its reputation for international glamour, it’s actually rather subdued; a retrospective fantasy: an understated blend of sophisticated romantic comedy and suspense — ‘the best Hitchcock film that Hitchcock never made.’ Muted, even. With a rather world-weary, deadpan performance from Cary Grant, who’s even more deadpan than usual. It was one of Cary’s last films before retirement. But then Grant (Peter Joshua) was approaching sixty, and felt, apparently, that he was far too old for anything lovey-dovey with Audrey (‘Reggie’ Lampert), a sprightly thirty-four — which explains why Donen made Audrey the pursuer, and Grant the reluctant lover, so that for much of the film there’s a one-way sexual tension. Perhaps Cary was too hard on himself. I mean, the man looks great in his drip-dry suit, and you can see why ‘Cubby’ Broccoli had Grant earmarked for Bond. Or that, at least, is the legend, with Grant, so it is said, prepared to sign up for one film only — presumably Dr. No (1962) — rather than a subsequent series. One of the great ‘ifs’ of cinema lore.

Leave a comment

Audrey, on the other hand, is at the top of her game. She’s wonderful. A delight. As cute as a tarte tatin. Deeply appealing, a walking advertisement for Givenchy. It’s a lovely performance, and in so many ways, she makes the film. She’s the star of the show. Charade (1963) was Audrey’s second film for Donen after Funny Face (1957), followed by Two for the Road (1967), starring Albert Finney and a Mancini soundtrack: quite definitely one of my all-time favourite films, ever, easily up there in my Top Five. And if Audrey’s Joanna in Two for the Road (1967) is a little bit kooky, funny and deeply annoying, Reggie in Charade is a little bit kooky, funny and deeply appealing — especially when she’s eating an ice by the banks of the Seine.

And Walter Matthau’s this American embassy official. There’s this rather unsavoury scene with Matthau gobbling down a leberwurst sandwich at his mahogany desk — burp — which might put you off your television supper: a move, chaps, I would most definitely not recommend if you’re trying to chat up Audrey Hepburn. Paris, on the other hand, looks decidedly photogenic on screen, like a Technicolor reel for View-Master. The Bateaux Mouches at night, the Théâtre du Vrai Guignolet (a French Punch and Judy), the carousel in the Jardin des Champs-Élysées, the stamp market at Carré Marigny, the old Les Halles market, alas demolished in the summer of 1971 in an act of architectural vandalism; the old Paris Metro and a presidential Citroën DS in the rain. It’s very much an American obsession with the romantic ideal of Paris, an observation we covered in a previous post, very much a product of the late 1950s and early 1960s, and we must add Charade (1963) to a distinguished Parisian list, which includes An American in Paris (1951) (referenced in Charade), Funny Face (1957) and Gigi (1958).

Share

I watched Charade (1963) on Amazon Prime Video, where it’s included with a membership subscription, and there are at least two recordings: one of a far better quality than the other. But I wish now that I had seen it on YouTube, where there’s an excellent, crisp 4K colour-restored recording. There’s an interesting story behind this. Apparently some poor sod forgot to add the word ‘copyright’ to the titles, and the film went straight into the (United States) public domain on release — which means there are numerous free copies out there, all over the place, of varying quality. Mein Gott, I bet that person was in trouble. So there you go. Charade (1963). I need to watch it again on the better YouTube recording. And I’m sure there’s masses of stuff that I’ve missed. But then, like a fine claret, great films improve on repeat viewings. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched Sleuth (1972) now — I dread to think — but I still get a little bit more out of it on every viewing. And that’s the joy of cinema.

A big thank you to everyone who has subscribed. How are we doing? Time for a recap. I began Luke Honey’s WEEKEND FLICKS. Cinema for Grown Ups, back in December 2023 — inspired by those vintage indents for London Weekend Television. That feel-good feeling on a late Friday afternoon when sensible, worthy old Thames Television handed over to the racier LWT. My bright idea (which, like Archimedes’, occurred to me in the bath) was to recommend two films over the weekend, with the rule that all films should be readily available, either on affordable DVDs or, preferably, as instant downloads. A good move for the impatient and the impecunious.

WEEKEND FLICKS. is very much a personal view. Old films have brought me a great deal of pleasure over many years, and I’m hoping that I can inspire you to watch something you may have forgotten about or might not even have come across. As most of these films are no longer shown on television, the urge becomes more pertinent.

We’re now heading for 1,700 subscribers. It’s bloody hard work (7.00 am sharp, a crawl to the computer, a cup of strong black coffee and calluses on my fingers), but I enjoy it immensely. And there are now well over 200 films in the WEEKEND FLICKS. archive.

So what do you get? Two possibilities on WEEKEND FLICKS.: ‘Paid-for’ subscribers get an extra, exclusive film recommendation every Friday morning, plus full access to the complete archive. It costs £5 a month (or £50 a year) — a bargain, frankly, when you compare it to a few cups of coffee, a packet of semi-legal gaspers or a pint of the fizzy stuff in a pub. ‘Free’ subscribers get access to the Sunday newsletter, plus the ‘free subscriber’ films in the archive. Either option is a good bet.