BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S
Heights Theatre, Monday at 7:30 p.m.
In this 1961 classic, Audrey Hepburn and director Blake Edwards perfected the filmic prototype that so many would later copy: the story of a nutty, stylish, mysteriously melancholy girl who refuses to be owned or understood. Hepburn's self-named and self-created Holly Golightly is a New York party chick on the lam from her former life as a chicken-scratch country girl. She keeps her shoes in the fridge and her phone in a suitcase, she has a cat named "Cat," and she gets wasted with mobsters and models. The unforgettable house-party scene, a montage of tracking shots that joyfully skewers early-'60s bohemianism, is reason enough to see this film. But, as based on the novel by Truman Capote, it's also a must-see for students of queer cinema. Like so many pre-Stonewall gay writers, Capote cloaked himself in female form to address his own struggle: mainly, that of reconciling a stifling small-town past with an equally stifling big-city adulthood. The tragedy, of course, is that party-boy Capote couldn't write an equally pretty ending to his own life story.
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