Why My Fair Lady is My Favorite Musical

When I started The Memory Tourist a little over a week ago, I made one announcement. In “The Impossible Dream,” I explored my love of live theater and how I wanted to see every Tony winner for Best Musical. I’ll start by saying that it’s not exactly going well. As it stands, every theater has canceled their upcoming shows, and I am growing especially weary that soon it will begin impacting shows from this summer. I have been eager to see Long Beach Playhouse’s production of Company for almost a year now and it has been my dream to see it around my birthday. Never mind that Segerstrom is also on the verge of canceling their production of Les Misérables and I am damaged now. We all have to make sacrifices, and I guess watching James Lapine’s phenomenal recorded version of Sunday in the Park with George (1986) will have to do.

It has been difficult to talk about live theater compared to everything else on this website because, let’s face it, nothing is live. Unless you’re chucking food out a window, your business is closed. There’s no way that I can look forward when it seems like every show through the Fall is likely to disappear. That is why I’m choosing to explore my past experiences with theater if just to give you a sense of what I look for in a show.

Nowhere is that going to be more obvious than Frederick Loewe and Alan Jay Lerner (or: Lerner & Loewe) with their musical My Fair Lady.

It sure is!

If you ever cornered me and had to ask “What’s your favorite musical?” it would be this. I know in some respects that younger theatergoers will relate to newer shows, less steeped in traditional form, but I have not found a show that has resonated as much as this one. Sure I like Dear Evan Hansen and Hadestown as much as the next person, but sometimes a classic is a classic for a reason. Everything is built on what came before. There’s a reason we still sing “On the Street Where You Live.” It’s such a beautiful, timeless song.

There are few moments in life as thrilling as discovering something that you know is going to change your life. For me, that came around 2014 when I finally watched director George Cukor’s version of My Fair Lady (1964). I had no expectations, only knowing that it had won a bunch of Oscars. Audrey who? I had no real basis for what this film would be, save for a childhood fondness for Rex Harrison’s work in Dr. Dolittle (1967). As I would later discover, I probably liked Rex Harrison more in Dr. Dolittle than he did. Still, his style of talk-singing wired in me a love for the patter that I haven’t seen too often outside a Stephen Sondheim show. To me, I just love the cadence, and boy did Harrison do that a lot in My Fair Lady.

I will shamefully admit that I am almost exclusively familiar with the film version. I have not listened to the Original Broadway Cast recording with Julie Andrews. I haven’t even listened to the revival that is supposed to be amazing. I’ve only heard Marni Nixon subbing in for Audrey Hepburn and thinking “wow, she’s such a great singer.” This isn’t to say that I haven’t seen My Fair Lady on stage. I have seen it twice and find it just as powerful on the stage. The dazzling decadence is delectable. The songs pop with brilliant choreography and lyrical wit. I love this show so much that I even saw the drama it was based on, George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion (I also recommend checking out Leslie Howard’s top-notch Pygmalion from 1938).

What is it about this show that draws me so near? Like everything else about my obsessions, it all ties to the literary. As an English major, I am constantly looking at the ways that we use communication in our daily lives. There is something to be said about how we use language to inform our identity. After all, we’re all the same in some regards, but what makes us look at each other and see someone who is rich or poor, smart or dumb, talented or a hack? It’s all about the presentation of the self, and it’s something that draws me to the characters in a story.

In a literal sense, this is Henry Higgins and it is the opening song “Why Can’t the English?” As I’m sure all artists do, I find importance in how something introduces itself. An opening song is a declarative statement by which everything else will be judged, like an opening sentence in an essay. That’s why I am tickled by Higgins walking around basically insulting everyone for not having proper grammar. On some level, I relate but you also get this underlying sense that Higgins is too self-involved. It’s the fine line that Lerner & Loewe walk for the entire show as he becomes the perfect figure of irony. He’s capable of speaking properly, and yet he’s the most socially distant character in the entire show because he refuses to empathize with anyone who doesn’t talk properly.

On the flip side is the loverly Eliza Doolittle. Together they make one of the greatest live theater duos I’ve seen. She starts the show a poor flower girl, talking in a bad Cockney accent that’s only outdone by Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins (1964). She is lower-class, using her wits to get by. There’s nothing more humorous than seeing her towards the end of the first act, already becoming the fair lady that the title suggests. As she watches a horse race among the Ascot Gavotte, she yells for her horse to go faster by saying “Move your blooming arse!” It’s one of the few signs that even as she rises up the social ladder, she still is Eliza Doolittle, daughter of the drunken shyster Alfie. 

Photo of 2018 Broadway revival

What becomes incredible is the opportunities that she is afforded as Higgins brings out the best in her. He is a bit sadistic, never really connecting with her as more than a girl he can train. He dreams of turning her into an elegant princess: the ultimate rags to riches tale. In some ways he is molding his own pet, only ever caring when he is being praised for his work on fixing her diction. What he doesn’t realize is that giving her that power has given her an understanding that she’s capable of independence. She’s seen what it’s like to be treated correctly and begins to form confidence that she lacked at the beginning. Because of language, she becomes a greater person. Because of Higgins’ lack of language even in his overabundance of it, he is alone and never able to understand people. He refuses to listen.

To psycho-analyze every character in this show based on their communication skills reveals the different ways that we talk to each other. The cultural differences between Doolittle and Higgins are only the surfaces of things. Sure, there’s something wonderful about seeing Doolittle handle the alliteration of “In Hartford, Hereford, Hampshire, hurricanes hardly ever happen” as Higgins berates her, but it also shows our insecurities. We’re sometimes unable to be what society wants us to be, and it’s terrifying to have to change our identities just to please them. Because we’re aware of the cruelty, we’re more likely to grow sympathetic, recognizing the struggles of others and see them for the humanity that they have.

The show has continually opened up to me throughout the years, and it’s an interactive experience with theater that makes certain shows special. I’ve now seen five actors play Higgins and Doolittle, and each has brought different elements to the performance. Higgins especially differs between all takes, especially when comparing Pygmalion and My Fair Lady. For the drama, it’s often more of a reserved, nebbish type who clearly is socially impaired because of his upper intellect. The musical tends to be more pompous, and a lot of credit goes to Harrison’s great performance for defining where things go. 

Then again, it’s near impossible to sing “I’m an Ordinary Man” and break into the many attacks on Eliza without having this delusional sense of self-confidence. What I have discovered in these takes, more in the musical, is that Higgins is a fascinatingly isolated man. Maybe he’s autistic or gay (once you see it in his chumminess with Colonel Pickering, it’s hard to unsee), which would only add more subtext to the story. Even if he’s not, the ability to be so comedic and clueless about other people and still end the story with the tear-jerking masterpiece “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Your Face” shows how complex this character is. Doolittle’s arc is much clearer and satisfying, but both are needed to understand the divide between how we talk to each other.

Also, it has the greatest final line… ever?

I know that I am more emphasizing the themes, but for me that is what makes a show much more substantial than simply having great songs. I spend those extra hours thinking about what makes this show special. My favorite things in life aren’t the ones that I consume the most. They’re the ones that sit with me and keep coming back. I think about Higgins and Doolittle with some frequency, realizing what lessons they can bring to my experiences. It’s how I see these characters differently as I age, which itself shows how I’ve grown mentally. Art is a subjective medium, and the best says just as much about us as it does the creator. I like to think that My Fair Lady on some level is the most obvious pick for an English major to love. It’s basically the language in motion, being dissected as characters evolve and devolve throughout the story.

Okay, there are a lot more factors at play that explain why I love this show so much. The most obvious is that the songbook is just so good. I’ll get into all of it in later posts, but I am a stickler for how songs are used in a show. I hate it when they’re like Oliver! (1969) and basically are “we’re singing what we’re doing!” I know that we need music to forward the story but hold a deeper significance for cutting to the song. Present something about the character. Lerner & Loewe do this breathlessly and even the lesser songs have endless charm. You get a sense of who Alfie is because of “With a Little Bit of Luck” without having to state the obvious. It’s his constitution, and the twinges of humor make it richer than any character bio.

The costumes are also phenomenal. As far as musical costumes go, there’s no doubt that we all know what Doolittle looks like, or how her flower shop girl and ball gown have this radiance in what they say about her. You’re taken in by the lavish set design and the world seems illustrious. Even the use of props, such as a Victrola that records Doolittle’s lessons, reflects the best way to use scenery to advance the story. It’s also got some great dancing in it.

Provided that we make it out of the Coronavirus alive, I am excited to see this show again. Segerstrom has said that they’re going to be doing the show in their upcoming season. I haven’t seen a touring production of it in five years, and I am eager to see how it’s evolved. Considering that the revival has gotten such rave reviews, I imagine that it will once again reshape how I see this story. Until that day, all I can do is continue looking for a show that I love as much, though it’s very difficult. Some shows just feel tailored for your specific interests, and this one is it. Many have come close, but even Lerner & Loewe haven’t made a show that I love this much. 

Now where the devil are my slippers?