My Fair Lady, Metamorphosis, and McDonalds

I don’t get out much, but when I do, it’s to see a Broadway play in Detroit. 

For my birthday this year (as with most years) I couldn’t think of anything I needed or even wanted, so I asked for what I truly desired: a night out with my hubby seeing a play or a symphony or something. That’s my jam. 

So we got two tickets to see My Fair Lady at the Fisher Theatre in downtown Detroit. My wonderful sister-in-law watched the kids at bedtime, I got (over)dressed in a black dress, and we enjoyed one of my favorite musicals from the vantage point of the fourth row. And afterward we hit up the McDonalds drive-thru so I could eat, like, a million chicken nuggets. I’m nothing if not classy. 

The evening was a delight, and the play itself was as good as I’d hoped.  Afterward I found myself contemplating one of the major themes of the play: transformation. 

Pygmalion and My Fair Lady

Hopefully you’ve watched the old 1964 film of My Fair Lady starring Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison. Regardless, you’re probably familiar with the gist of the story because it shows up in various forms throughout literature and culture. 

The first iteration of the story is a Greek myth. Pygmalion, a king and sculptor, carves a woman out of ivory and then falls in love with her. He prays to Aphrodite, and the goddess brings the statue to life. Pygmalion marries her and they live happily ever after. Centuries later in 1913, George Bernard Shaw wrote a play called Pygmalion. This play inspired a Broadway musical called My Fair Lady, which prompted a movie by the same name. I haven’t spent much time studying the myth, but I’ve fallen in love with every other version of the story. 

The Particulars of the Plot

The play Pygmalion is not actually a retelling of the myth but a tale about transformation of another sort. Henry Higgins, a brilliant but heartless professor of phonetics, undertakes the challenge of recreating Eliza Doolittle, a coarse and uncouth London flower girl. She wants to rise above her low birth to become the kind of lady who sells flowers in a shop, not out of a basket in the street. To achieve this, she would need to overcome a lifetime of ghastly pronunciation and boorish mannerisms.

Professor Higgins boasts that he could do that and more—even pass her off as a princess within six months. His arrogance and obsession take over. He commits to her transformation, heedless of the cautions of Mrs. Pierce, his housekeeper, and Colonel Pickering, his friend and fellow linguist. The professor will do whatever it takes to recreate her. 

The Characters 

While the wit and humor of the script are well worth the read, it’s the characters that really make Pygmalion a classic. The play is well-named in light of the transformation that takes place not in Eliza Doolittle but in Professor Higgins. But the plot is also influenced by another one of my favorite plays—Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. Professor Higgins is ruthless in his training of poor Eliza, but when the metamorphosis is complete, she emerges as an entirely new creature—one he eventually finds hard to resist. Eliza, however, is not so easily won. 

As I said, the characters are the best part of the story. Specifically, I enjoy the contrast between the main men. George Bernard Shaw captures four of the most diverse and yet relatable character types and showcases their effects on poor Eliza. 

Alfred P. Doolittle

First, Eliza’s father, the ingratiating drunk. He’s never done a thing for her in his life, and yet he mooches off her continually. He guilts her into sharing her hard-earned money and then immediately spends it in the bar. He has no morals, no conscience, and no true guilt. Eliza tolerates him as family but can’t love him as a father.

Freddy Eynsfor-Hill

Next comes Freddy Eynsford-Hill, the rich, silly romantic. He falls in love with Eliza at the middle of her transformation—the point where her speech is flawless but her topics are far from acceptable in high society. He finds her enchanting and hilarious. Initially, Eliza is unmoved by his devotion, but she comes around in the end.

Colonel Pickering

The third man is Colonel Pickering, a true gentleman in every sense. While he agrees to help Higgins train Eliza, he never forgets that she’s a person with feelings and a future. He is her advocate and ally, treating her like a lady even before she looks or sounds like one. Eliza flourishes under his attention. She aspires to live up to his view of her. 

Henry Higgins

The last and most important man is Professor Henry Higgins, the chauvinistic narcissist. From the first moment of the story, Higgins shows himself to care nothing for other people and everything for his research. To him, Eliza is merely an embodied challenge, a chance to prove his magnificent talent as a phonetic genius. He never stops to think of her as a human soul until it’s too late. In response to his overly-demanding treatment, Eliza stiffens and digs in her heels. She refuses to be bludgeoned into change. She flourishes in her own time and her own way.

What Causes Change?

The theme of transformation gives us a chance to ask the question, what causes people to change? Eliza didn’t change as a result of Higgins’ browbeating, blustering, or bullying. Instead, she responded to respect—the respectful way Colonel Pickering treated her, the acceptance as an equal from Freddy Eynsfor-Hill and even Higgins’ own mother, and the respect with which she comes to view herself. And that’s true of us all. We may modify our behavior to avoid mistreatment, but we change for the better under loving instruction. 

That’s why the ending of The Taming of the Shrew doesn’t ring true to me. When I wrote a play as a retelling of that story, I was forced to change the ending. Threats don’t produce affection; compassion does. George Bernard Shaw recognized this, and it motivated his conclusion of the play. 

The Metamorphosis Is Complete

In the end, Higgins proves that he can pass Eliza off as a princess. He couldn’t have been prouder…of himself. But Eliza’s true transformation isn’t a matter of mere phonetics but of perception. The moment she’s able to scorn his dismissive opinion of her is the moment she finally “comes alive,” as did Pygmalion’s statue. Her metamorphosis gives her the confidence to change more than her dialect; she changes her expectations which changes her future. 

The play really is a work of art, right down to hilarious, insightful the stage directions. Please read it. And if you aren’t in the mood to put on your fancy clothes and sit through a Broadway production, at least promise me you’ll rent the movie My Fair Lady. I know you’ll love it. You could even do one better than I did and eat your chicken nuggets during the performance. Winner winner, chicken dinner.