Dos chicas y un seductor

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.

Peter Sellers may be the bait, but two girls supply the hook that keeps this coming-of-age comedy in people's minds 40 years on.

Sellers has the title role as Henry Orient, a pianist more interested in practicing his lines than his scales, but the film's focus is on a lonely young Manhattanite named Gil (Merrie Spaeth) and her new pal Val (Elizabeth "Tippy" Walker), two adolescents who decide to make Val's crush on Orient into the secret center of an adventure-filled friendship.

"Henry Orient" is a film of two parts co-existing uneasily at times. Val and Gil's bond occupies the realm of real life, with Walker and Spaeth giving spot-on performances that seem spontaneous and alive to every moment. The best scene in the movie by far, very much in line with the "Can't Buy Me Love" sequence in the same year's "Hard Day's Night," shows the pair running along a city block, "splitzing" over fire hydrants and tryke-riding boys, their eyes alight with joy as they literally rise over their city surroundings. It's a captivating exercise in what scholars would call "pure cinema." If the rest of the film doesn't rise to that level, it never entirely disappoints, either.

Sellers' sequences are weaker. He's actually quite enjoyable to watch, doing one of his best voice performances as a Brooklynite who affects a French-Italian accent to charm the ladies (listen carefully and you will hear his Brooklyn undertone throughout) but he and Paula Prentiss as the married object of his desires seem to be in a completely different movie, playing a broad farce at odds with the real, sometimes gut-wrenching tone of the rest of the film.

This could be a bigger problem but for Elmer Bernstein's lilting yet driving score, featuring one of the most arresting themes I've heard in film, which seems to carry Val and Gil from one delirious moment to the next with complete abandon while allowing room for darker, contemplative passages. Director George Roy Hill had a gift for employing music at the right moment (see "The Sting"), and the score of "Henry Orient" is a secret strength as it skates over the thinner plot elements.

More obviously a strength is the script by Nora and Nunnelly Johnson, which really captures a sense of how young people talk, goofily, quickly and all-at-once, skipping over the stuff that doesn't matter, like when Val and Gil first meet at their ritzy school. Val asks Gil if she likes being there.

Gil tries to be diplomatic: "They say it's the finest girls' school in the country." "I don't, either," says Val.

Or the priceless exchange they have when taking out a cigarette butt they cadged off of Orient's table during a midday stalk. "No filter!" "He's not scared." One wishes the film found more to draw Orient and his youthful admirers together, though the detour into the state of Val's parental relations has merits of its own, especially with Angela Lansbury doing another of her classic nasty-Mommy turns.

While it didn't set the world on fire in 1964 and, like its young stars, slipped off the radar screen too soon after its premiere, "Henry Orient" remains an engaging glimpse at American youth post-Salinger but pre-Beatles. Sidewalk placards still advertise color TV, while a rich girl's idea of rebellious fashion sense involves wearing a plaid skirt with a mink coat. Trends come and go, but feelings of the kind celebrated in "The World Of Henry Orient" live on.

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.

I loved this hilarious movie as a teenager and own the video of it

as an adult. The story of two young girls who sweetly stalk a

concert pianist, played with insane panache by Peter Sellars, is

one of the nicest coming-of-age movies of that era. Set in New

York, her is a surprisingly sophisticated and gentle comedy you'll

enjoy over and over again.

Sellars's clueless, womanizing virtuoso never strikes a false

comic note. He's wildly inventive, never more so than in his

scenes with the gorgeous Paula Prentiss as the way-too-nervous

object of his lust. Playing a married woman who is flattered by his

attentions, Prentiss manages to look glamorous and on the verse

of a nervous breakdown all at once. Why this spectacularly gifted

comic actress didn't make it to the top is a mystery to me.

Angela Lansbury's socialite bitch of a mother is another one of her

classic nasty lady roles. Nobody can look down her nose with the

authority of Lansbury. Yes she got found acceptance and respect

on Broadway and on television, but she was a first-rate character

actress on screen too.

Tom Bosley is sympathetic as Tippy Walker's father and Phyllis

Thaxter exudes motherly warmth as Mary Spaeth's divorced Mom.

The Walker and Spaeth should have had futures as screen

actors. Alas, it was not to be. But they are delightful as the young

girls on the verse of womanhood, with a terrific crush on an

undeserving idol.

Nora and Nunnelly Johnson's script (he of course, a Hollywood

legend) wrote a sharp, funny and observant screenplay that is

respectful of teenagers and the adults. George Roy Hill is not a

great director, but when given good material, he rises to the

occasion as he does here. A real gem.

A few points. Elmer Bernstein's musical score is as whimsical as the young girls themselves. George Roy Hill, the director, was sensitive to the musical moods of his films. He had originally intended to be a musician and had a bachelor's in music from Yale. The photographer, Boris Kaufman, has done a splendid job of capturing New York City in the late fall and in mid winter. (He was equally perceptive in getting wintry Hoboken on film in "On the Waterfront.")

The acting is fine, surprisingly, from all the principles. The pavonine Peter Sellers usually steals every scene he's in. When he's trying to seduce Paula Prentiss his voice has an accent that sounds somewhere between Italian and Slovenian. He throws in Italian clichés but sometimes gets mixed up -- "Garcon! Due martinis, per favore." One of his funniest moments is when he's performing a terrible piano concerto. He's skipped the last two rehearsals so he's a bit lost. At one point he rolls dramatically into the upper registers (while the rest of the orchestra play checkers) and ends on a trill. He glances at the conductor who slowly shakes his head in disgust. The wrong key. Unperturbed Sellers starts the roll over again and looks to the conductor, who shakes his head again. After the third failure to find the right key, the conductor shakes his head and mouths -- very clearly and silently -- "B Flat." Satisfied, Sellers plunges ahead.

Paula Prentiss doesn't have a very large role but she's delicious both in looks and in her performance. She's so nervous, so flattered by the attention of Seller's phony pianist that she gulps and staggers slightly from time to time. When Sellers finally gets her to his apartment and begins to woo her with a paean to her "burnished shoulders" and "twin poems," she wavers while sitting on the couch and caresses her body parts as he lauds them. She never appears less than half gassed.

Angela Lansbury is in her bitchy mode here, along the lines of her mother in "The Manchurian Candidate." She never seems to go wrong, regardless of the part. Her husband, Tom Bosley, is kind of a good-natured schlub. Phyllis Thaxter looks just fine, considering that she first appeared in "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo" more than twenty years earlier. Her sweetness might be cloying except that it seems ingrained in her real personality.

The most surprising thing in the performances are the two 14-year-old girls, neither of whom went on to a respectable movie career. They're plain charming, both goofy and funny, but smart and perceptive as well. "Gilbert" (Spaeth) comes from a warm middle-class family. We can tell because on Christmas we see them preparing a turkey and having friends over for dinner. Spaeth went on in real life to become a strong George W. Bush supporter and helped torpedo John Kerry with the Swiftboat Ads in 2004, for what it's worth.

"Valerie Campbell Boyd" (Walker) is a neurotic genius from a dysfunctional rich family. (That name is a great WASP cognomen, by the way). They're two cute kids, believe it or not, especially Tippy Walker who brings a molestable element to her role. Hill seems to recognize this and gives the PREverts in the audience a couple of slow-motion upskirt shots as the two jump over fire hydrants and dance on park benches. But it's all pretty unstressed and one would be hard put to think of a better image for two pleasant and happy kids living in a world of fantasy than to have them laughing and leaping in the air. Where do they find kids who can act so well? Walker has a way of flipping her hair back and gawkily hunching her shoulders that spells Preppiness.

The film has its serious moments but most of it is low-key humorous. I saw it in a drive-in in Riverhead, Long Island. You probably won't regret watching it.