The Audrey Hepburn Story
Disclaimer: the following scenes may be difficult for some viewers. Common side affects include migraine, nausea, vomiting, an increase in bowel movements and an inability to control them.
Just in case people, for some strange and incomprehensible reason, take issue with the validity of this movie, a paragraph tells us that the dramatization is based on published accounts. Is it published somewhere that, with excessive amounts of make-up and a dinner reducer, Jennifer Love Hewitt should be the one and only to play Hepburn?
A harmonica whines "Moon River" as a taxi stops in front of a building. How vain is it that "Jennifer Love Hewitt" appears in large letters in the credits before the title, "The Audrey Hepburn Story," is displayed? Inside the cab, we see a vaguely familiar make-up job with dark glasses and a tiara. The cabbie, who has played gangsters in many a movie, turns around and asks gently, "How're you doing back there?" Hepwitt (the recent weather reports haven't mentioned anything about an untimely frost in Hell, so there's no way I'm calling her "Audrey") removes her glasses and simpers at the cabbie: "I'm scahed, if you want the twuth." Hearing her accent, I actually screamed and scared my cats so badly that they dropped about two pounds of fur each. Right there on the floor. Scream and WHUMP! Four pounds of fur on the floor. As if I didn't have it hammered into my skull already, I knew with that huskified-not-British-British accent that this movie was dead on arrival. In fact, it sounded so weird, I thought it was dubbed. The cabbie makes some noises about believing in yourself. The soggy symbolism of the whole conversation, in conjunction with Hewitt's real-life fears about playing the role of Hepburn, sent so many anvils raining into my living room, I'm thinking buying a set of calipers and changing my career to Village Smithy. Unfortunately, the cabbie encourages Hepwitt to get out of the cab and play her part. Hepwitt gets out of the cab and we see "Tiffany & Co" emblazoned on the building. She walks up to a window and gives the jewelry display a blank look as she pulls a pastry out of a bag. Suddenly, Hepwitt starts hacking and coughing on the powdered sugar she inhaled off of the pastry. A director yells, "Cut!" and Hepwitt starts to whine, "Blake, dahling, look what I've done!" indicating her black dress, which looks powder-free to me. If you really stretch your imagination (something which I found myself doing a lot of in this movie) and squint through your left eye, you might see that "Blake, dahling" is supposed to be Blake Edwards, the director of Breakfast at Tiffany's. Okay, I said "might." Hepwitt acts petulant and asks for an ice cream cone to eat instead of a pastry. Blake tells her that no one eats ice cream for breakfast ("Oh, weel, I dew," husks Hepwitt) and that he'll get her an unsugared pastry instead. The guy playing Truman Capote looks more like the age of the kid who played him in To Kill a Mockingbird, but at least he got Capote's weird voice almost right. Capote turns to a production assistant and creels, "See why I didn' wan Hepbuhn for this? She can' eat, that's why. Mare'lyn Monroe's who I wanned. Mare'lyn Monroe knows how to eat." The assistant says that Hepwitt is the nicest person he's ever worked with in his whole life, and Capote responds to this hyperbole with, "I don' wriiite niiice." Hepwitt complains to the make-up lady that Capote doesn't like her, and the make-up lady tells her Capote doesn't like anyone. Hepwitt says she loves his books and she's going to try and make him smile. The make-up lady tells her they'll give her a standing ovation if she succeeds. Hepwitt sucks in her cheeks and talks through pursed lips, "Weel, then it's a bit." (Loosely translated: "bet.") A stagehand calls for places and Hepwitt gets back into the cab as "Co-Executive Producer: Jennifer Love Hewitt" flashes in the credits. Hepwitt stares at the crowd screaming her name.