Becky Sharp

This gorgeous film, the first full length Technicolor feature, does a fine job of capturing the spirit of Thackeray's "Vanity Fair", but the story is so rushed and condensed that it registers more as a series of incidents, rather than a flowing narrative. The only character that really registers is Becky herself - but what a character she is! Thanks mostly to its production values, the movie is very enjoyable, if not completely satisfying. Hopefully watching it will inspire more people to read the sprawling yet immensely entertaining book.

"Becky Sharp" seems to have consistently attracted unfair comments. Whilst it may not be as subtle as many of its contemporary counterparts, the story provides a fun basis for a glorious use of Technicolor. As the first feature length movie to be shot in full colour, the film is a wonderful example of cinema as spectacle. Though admittedly, at times, the viewer may almost be sent cross-eyed by the vibrancy of the colour, its use is interesting in so far as one can see the attempts made at one level to exhibit the colour, whilst also trying in vain not to distract from the narrative. Also, from the beginning of the opening sequence the status of the film as a stage adaptation is clear, and in this way the idea of the now overlooked tradition of cinema as spectacle is further enhanced.

The plot itself is slightly reminiscent of a Gainsborough melodrama (although it precedes them), and yet it is refreshing in many ways that Becky is not the subject of the traditional narrative retribution and resolution. The over-the-top nature of some of the narrative action does provide moments which may cause an audience member to cringe; however, if the film is not taken too seriously, it remains enjoyable.

"Becky Sharp" has too often been overlooked in the history of film. It may not have been widely popular at the time of its release, and it may not be seen within a high cinematic cannon, but it is definitely worth viewing, if only to appreciate the emergence of three colour film as the new advancement in film technology.

BECKY SHARP, historically important as the first feature film in full, three-color TECHNICOLOR, has always fascinated me. It's history, however, is frustrating and disappointing. Made by Pioneer Pictures and released through RKO, BECKY SHARP was sold to a poverty row exhibitor (whose name escapes me at the moment)in the 1940's for re-release. The company chose not to pay the high prices that TECHNICOLOR charged for release prints and had new prints of the film struck in inferior two strip CINECOLOR. More damaging to the future of BECKY was that the company never properly stored the original nitrate negatives. BECKY SHARP was sold to TV only in a shortened B&W print or in CINECOLOR reissue prints.

Still, the idea of this elusive "lost" treasure haunted me. It was amongst the very first videocassettes that I ever purchased back in the early days of the VCR when I was but a lad (and YES, I got strange looks.) BECKY SHARP was one of those poor, orphaned films whose copyrights have expired and now live in the public domain. The quality of the video cassette and the color was astonishingly bad, and gave no hint of the pleasures the original TECHNICOLOR photography must have contained.

A sad story to be sure, but fortunately UCLA performed a massive restoration effort on the film in the late 1980's, literally scouring the world for available film elements. Unfortunately, the restored BECKY SHARP has never been commercially released in any format. It was shown during AMC's first Film Preservation Festival back in 1993, however, and luckily I recorded it to cherish for all time (or at least until the tape wears out.) It has never aired since.

The restored BECKY SHARP is a revelation!! The film starts with barely any color at all, then pleasant pastels are introduced, followed eventually by the striking red coats of the British military. Full of color and deliciously over-ripe tints, this was primarily an experiment to see how color plays out in a feature film. The cast and drama takes a back-seat to the real star of the show, glorious TECHNICOLOR. The film itself is somewhat plodding and overplayed, but a lot of fun, to be sure!!

I'm not sure what legal red tape is responsible for there being no commercial release of this beautiful restoration, but none has appeared and this is a shame.

You see, it's not so much the stories that count, it's the way they're told. Becky Sharp, the motion picture, came to be by a convoluted route. William Makepeace Thackeray's mid-19th century novel Vanity Fair was used as the basis for Langdon Mitchell's late 19th century stage play, which was in turn adapted for this 1935 movie. What have we lost and what have we gained?

Of course, books, plays and pictures are very different things, and certain changes have had to be made so that each adaptation works for its particular medium. Becky Sharp bears all the hallmarks of a lengthy novel reworked for the stage. A play can't be over a certain length because it has to be seen in a whole evening, and yet individual scenes tend to be fairly long because of the disruption of having to change sets. Becky Sharp, perhaps surprisingly, changes very little of the basic plot, but it condenses the entire (900+ page) tome into a series of dramatic vignettes. Because the novel tends to tell of many important events in a by-the-by fashion, Mitchell was also forced to come up with a lot of his own dialogue. Finally, the play differs from the novel in that every episode is told from Becky's point-of-view, whereas Thackeray's narrative travels with a range of characters.

So far, so disappointing (perhaps). But what was most important here was not that the story survived intact, but that the tone of Thackeray's masterpiece carried through. What is so special about Vanity Fair is the author's cynical, sarcastic tone, which makes a comedy out of these unpleasant goings-on. This is not an easy task in a motion picture, unless you were to resort to voice-over narration with passages from the novel (not especially en vogue in the 30s). But as it happens this motion picture does not do a bad job.

Firstly, we have the right cast. Miriam Hopkins's Oscar nomination has raised a few eyebrows here and there, and it's true her performance is hysterically hammy. But that is Becky Sharp, a cheat and a liar whose entire life was an act. When she breaks down in false tears over her late mother's possessions, the moment seems silly, but it is supposed to be funny. The bulk of the cast are overblown caricatures, but again this is faithful to the novel. Thackeray wasn't subtle. Look at those names – Pitt Crawley, Lord Steyne… even a minor character who didn't make it to this version called Sir Huddleston-Fuddleston. And most of the players are spot-on. Nigel Bruce simply is Jos Sedley, and George Hassell is perfect in his unfortunately brief appearance as Sir Pitt.

Then there is Rouben Mamoulian's direction. His flamboyant visual style could be disastrous in the wrong picture, but here all his extroverted camera moves and trick shots pay off. With the condensed storyline, the overt technique helps to keep the flow. We are brought closer to the spirit of the original text by the fact that we are constantly aware of the director's touch, just as Thackeray constantly addresses his reader with a sly wink. This again highlights the fact that Becky Sharp is more enjoyable if it is taken as a comedy, not as a drama. It's just as well – Mamoulian let loose on a pure drama could be awful.

This was famously the first picture in three-strip Technicolor, and as the use of colour here is especially good I'll devote a few lines to that too. Whereas some early colour pictures used blaring shades, Becky Sharp is filled with subtler tones – for example those rusty browns and greyish blues in the opening scene, much more effective than bold blue and red. And rather than simply colour-coding a character's costume or a set, we here see the tones flowing on and off the screen. To again take that opening scene, we begin with the warmer hues of Amelia and her friends, and then slowly move, via various different shades of dress and the growing amount of the stark wall that can be seen, to the cold blue-grey of Becky. Later in the first scene at the Crawley residence, all the colours are very plain, which gives more impact when Rawdon walks in in his bright red uniform. It's hard to say who is responsible for this smart handling of colour. Production designer Robert Edmond Jones is the celebrated inventor of "simplified realism", whereby sets complement action, but Mamoulian appears to have done a very similar job with the colour on the 1941's Blood and Sand. We'll assume it was a joint effort.

Really, the only major flaw in Becky Sharp (and it is, I'm sorry to say, a very major one), is that the paring down of the narrative to 84 minutes without actually cutting much of the plot makes for somewhat confusing viewing. It's difficult to keep up with time and place, and the novel's legion of characters pop up then disappear before they have made an impression. Personally, I found Becky Sharp fun to watch because I am familiar with the novel and it was nice to see these figures brought to life so accurately. However, I first saw it before I read the book, and recall finding it bizarre and boring, as I suppose would the majority of viewers. For this reason, it fails in itself as a motion picture.

Miriam Hopkins delivers a great performance as a nonchalant woman who cheats her way through society before finding out that what goes around comes around, and of course she must find a way to redeem herself. The color in this film looks a lot better than most people of the day describes it as. And I think the guy who said the color looked like "boiled salmon dipped in mayonese" has had a little too much mayonese. Altogether, I highly recommend this film for anyone who can't seem to find a good movie to watch, because this is the one!