I just had a blast re-visiting John Schlesinger's cinematic classic, Darling . . . the 1965 film that launched Julie Christie into Swinging '60s super-stardom, granting her an Academy Award for Best Actress along the way.
It's jazzy and slick, with pitch perfect early-mod style, my favorite example of which occurs in a scene where Christie strips down at a Parisian-Beatnik party, and after many cocktails, winds-up in only a polka-dot hair bow, white Courrèges booties, and a gentleman's shirt & tie. There's also a moment where she's undressing to be with her lover, and as she removes the prim white button-down shirt she's tucked into her pleated plaid wool skirt, she reveals a wild leopard negligee. Now a legendary fashion moment for me.
The soap-opera-esque drama tells the tale of a social-climbing tart, who slides through life on her charm and gorgeous looks, wreaking havoc on the men who attempt to love her. And though she eventually gains all the fame and fortune she could ever dream of, she ends up a prisoner of her own chronic dissatisfaction, leading to a shallow life, lived as an ungrounded bird locked in a gilded cage.
Laurence Harvey plays one of Christie's paramours with sinister aplomb, making me feel a bit melty in a scene where he dances up to Christie in a nightclub, with a devilish smirk and naughty glimmer in his dark eyes. His character's bachelor penthouse is accessorized with Fornasetti, he wears Saville Row like a dream, and I'm considering placing a glossy 8x10 of him on my wall. Christie's other co-star, Dirk Bogarde, ain't so shabby either.
I'm rating this film: 4 Mary Quant lipsticks.