Deux copines... un séducteur

Is there another movie where the lead actor has his characters name in the title and yet his part is almost irrelevant to the film? This can hardly be called a Peter Sellers movie.

The movie really belongs to the two girls with a crush on the Sellers character, Henry Orient, a schlocky avant-garde pianist. Gil (Merrie Spaeth) has a the big crush on Orient and her friend Val (Tippy Walker) is her cohort in the 2 member fan club. Their relationship seems so natural you forget they are acting. Neither girl had a long career in movies (few child actors do) and it's nice to see child actors carry a movie so effortlessly. So many times kid actors can only play cute and you are quickly reminded that real kids never act that way. I suspect George Roy Hill deserves some credit for their performances - I know he got good performances from Diane Lane and Thelonious Bernard in A Little Romance. Their performance doesn't rank up there with Tatum O'Neal in Paper Moon but are still very good. Considering it was the first movie for each of them, their performances are even more remarkable.

After the girls the performance by Paula Prentiss stands out. Playing a much more glamorous role than she had previously (think Tuggle in Where The Boys Are) she is funny and sexy as the married object of Seller's affections. A pleasant surprise and an indication that she should have been a bigger star than she was. Why couldn't she have had more roles like this?

Tom Bosley also plays a warm father to Val - a more sentimental version of his role as Mr C on Happy Days. Angela Lansbury practically reprises her role from The Manchurian Candidate as the worst mother she could be.

As for Sellers, his accent shifts continually. Maybe he thought he was playing numerous characters as he did in Dr Strangelove and never realized when he changed costume he was still Henry Orient. As much as I love and respect Sellers, I could see other actors in the role without hurting the movie.

If you want to see teenagers do a good job of acting like teenagers (albeit in 1964 and having a crush on a concert pianist instead of the Beatles) this is a good flick. Plus New York looks really good - you almost believe it's safe for teenage girls to wander the city late at night.

As a side note, I was surprised to discover that Merrie Spaeth was the founder of Spaeth Communications. She may not have had a long career as an actress but she sure became a success as an adult.

George Roy Hill is a perhaps neglected name in any 'top ten' list of great directors we are likely to see, but his filmography speaks for itself, with a number of quiet classics among a few heavyweight top 100 films--all within a somewhat small oeuvre. Each of these classics shows to good effect Hill's marvelous aesthetic moods and attention to detail, combined with absolutely expert casting, obtaining winning performances from all of the principles, with superior character acting from the secondaries.

Peter Sellers is actually something of a secondary in this one as the title role, but his portrayal of Henry Orient is so ludicrous and wonderful that he steals the show every time he's on screen. He was really something. Sellers plays it very large here, as a pretentious, NYC-based, avant-garde pianist of meagre talent--a charlatan, egoist, and ersatz Lothario who cultivates a faux-Euro accent but slides back into his 'native' Brooklyn (Sellers is probably the greatest accent-mimic ever) jargon every time he gets rattled, who has Paderewski hair that he continuously primps, and who entices women who've actually fallen for his schtick by hurling continuous salvos of romance-novel drivel at them until they (hopefully) relent.

Oddly, although it is made plain and obvious in the dialogue that Henry Orient is more or less a hack, and although Sellers plays his usual skillful physical shenanigans, I found that the pianist on the soundtrack played the piano quite well, despite the ridiculous material. There's a hilarious, gushing theme that is edited into almost every scene that Henry is in. His mannerisms during the piano concerto and the ostentatious buffoonery from scene to scene show Sellers in his element, and he never misses the chance to exploit the full range of available comedic ingredients in any moment to the utmost. Every time I watch him cross his arms to play two notes four octaves apart at the end of the concerto, and he does the little wiggle of the finger as if he's depressing the string on a violin to get vibrato out of it, I let out a belly laugh. I never get tired of that.

The two protagonists (or rather, Sellers's perceived antagonists) are played with mesmerising enthusiasm by the two adolescent leads. Tippy Walker is particularly radiant in this movie as the talented, attention-starved, sensitive, hyperkinetic Val, who develops a crush on Henry. Her pixie features, infectious retainer-filled smile, and wide-eyed, bubblegummy girlishness shine on, and share honors with Sellers for scene-steal appeal. She plays off the hurt, pouty ingenue angle beautifully too. Her counterpart, Merrie Spaeth, is no slouch either, although she had the disadvantage here of having the 'straight man' role. No matter! They don't compete for space at all (the scene-stealing qualities of Ms Walker notwithstanding),and they get equal attention and equally precocious dialogue, with the simpatico theme being so stressed as to tell us purposely that they are equal partners through and through.

Ultimately the film leaves me feeling bittersweet, partially through nostalgia--Hill's 1963 NYC is beautiful--but also because the movie has that theme of fleeting innocence in the face of oncoming adolescent desire. George Roy Hill's great movies have a sparkle to them, and this qualifies as one of the quieter greats. In any case, as time buries this one, those halcyon days of youth go with it, but the legacies of Sellers and Hill should mark it for at least cult-status immortality, which by proxy should give the girls their deserved legacy too.

If you go into this film expecting to see a lot of Peter Sellers, you will be disappointed. Make no mistake, he's in there and he's very funny but this film is not about his character, a mediocre pianist with a penchant for married women. Rather, it's about two 14-year old girls who are making the awkward transition from childhood to adulthood. One of the girls has an incredible crush on Orient and her friend is helping her worship him from afar. Henry Orient is the catalyst for their transformation when they learn a little too much about his "world".

The acting is uniformly fine. Sellers' character is a rat but he's so clumsy and foolish you find him endearing. Angela Lansbury, as the coldly selfish mother of one of the girls, is extremely hissable. It's hard to believe that she's the same actress playing the warm, friendly Jessica Fletcher so many years later. Paula Prentiss is very amusing as Orient's exceedingly nervous married girlfriend. Tom Bosley plays Lansbury's kind-hearted husband. One of the final scenes in the film is between him and Lansbury and their daughter and it's a great one. There's a great deal of superficial dialogue but the subtext is unmistakable and it becomes the climax of the film. The best part is the two young actresses playing the girls. I have a fourteen year old daughter and she acts just like they do (almost anyway, she doesn't jump over fire hydrants). Their portrayal of giddy women/children is what the film is really all about.

Highly recommended.

Such an interesting film, HENRY ORIENT, poised as it is---as other viewers' comments have pointed out---between the world BTB (Before The Beatles) and ATB (no explanation necessary). In retrospect, at least, the film hints at the enormous changes to come. The film-making reflects that, as well: note George Roy Hill's cautious approximations of the Nouvelle Vague in the lyrical running-and-jumping-through-NYC section with Val and Gil. (Note, too, the androgyny of the girls' names...) I read the book many years ago and remember it as a darker, more Salinger-esquire work. But that's not to diminish the playful, often painful strengths of the film. Paula Prentiss must rank high among its charms; as must Tippy Walker. There's inchoate youth for you in those years. Val is as imaginative as she is troubled. The old ways no longer work but the new ways have yet to appear. Elizabeth ('Tippy') Walker is really wonderful, and it's been most interesting (to say the least) and a real pleasure that Ms. Walker has shared so truthfully and fully her memories of the film and a part of her life story with us. I know all fans of ORIENT wish her all the best.

Another pleasure of the film is the way it captures NYC as it was then. Being a devotee of the city, it makes me both happy and sad to see it in its 40-some year old glory. Happy because I can vicariously experience what it was like; sad because it can only be vicarious. I love NYC, it's still a fantastic city---even though Disneyfication has robbed it of so much---but I get a special thrill when I see it like it was in ORIENT.

A lot has changed,yes. Adolescence hasn't, though, and that's why the film continues to resonate. And that's why THE WORLD OF HENRY ORIENT continues to be watched and written about. That's why we care.

I wasn't quite prepared for how much I enjoyed this sophisticated (but certainly not too much so) romp when I caught it during its first-run release. I thought it so well-executed in every department that I was delighted to note that it's now available in a DVD edition with its Panavision widescreen ratio restored. But unfortunately the audio element is so bad (requiring turning the volume way up to even begin to hear the dialogue, and a music score that's mangled beyond belief) that I had to return the disc for a refund. Fortunately Turner Classic Movies recently showed it and the soundtrack was not a problem, making possible a fairly decent high-fidelity VHS recording.

The two young actresses who played the very natural but entirely madcap duo who precipitate most of the plot's ins-'n-outs are completely charming and they are supported by an extraordinarily well-chosen cast of top-notch professionals. Angela Lansbury, never an actress to shrink from the somewhat less savory aspects of a character she's playing, strikes just the right note as a socialite whose maternal instincts are close to non-existent. I do remember wishing that Paula Prentiss had been given more to do, but I suppose getting mistaken for Jayne Mansfield (in one of the film's funnier sequences) wasn't something to be sneezed at. As the film's title character, Peter Sellers wasn't permitted by director George Roy Hill to unbalance the proceedings. And it certainly seems that scenarist Nora Johnson had inherited more than a modicum of her father Nunnally's professional good taste. This one is a treat for all but the dyspeptic and the excessively demanding.