Tools of Characterization
Characterization in Gigi
Dialogue
Why Don't You Sing What You Really Think?
Throughout this fanciful cream puff of a movie, characters are always singing about their innermost thoughts, hopes, and desires, all set to music. So while straight-up spoken dialogue may be sparse and relatively constrained, we never have to wait very long past those opening notes to get to the heart of the matter.
Let's take an example: "I Don't Understand the Parisians." The second song of the musical, just after Honoré 's grinning "Thank Heaven for Little Girls," reveals much about where Gigi is on the journey from girlhood to an adult world.
"I don't understand the Parisians, making love every time they get the chance," she sings, marching through the sculpture-and-fountain landscape of the Paris streets. And so we know right away that she's never fallen in love, has never felt that ooey-gooey impatience at waiting to see the object of your affection come through the door. We know she's about to find that out.
Gaston's always got a song in his heart, too, whether it's about how bored he is with his life or how ambivalent he is about Gigi. It's the older folks who do most of the plain talking although they have some musical moments as well. Alicia and Mamita have the important job of informing the audience about their family's plans for Gigi. And Gigi and Gaston's conversations about their future are also spoken. Maybe that was all a little too nuanced and subtle for a big musical number. We're talking Lerner and Loewe here, not Stephen Sondheim.
Clothing
That drop-dead, head-turning, conversation-stopping white gown that Gigi wears at Maxim's? We don't know how much it cost, but you can buy a poster of Cecil Beaton's photo of Leslie Caron wearing it. For $2170. Beaton, a famous photographer and designer at the time, had a huge challenge in finding all the extravagant costumes Minnelli needed for his 150 extras in the Bois de Boulogne and 20 elegant ladies at Maxim's. He was striving for an authentic but heightened display of Belle Époque Paris (source).
Clothes Make the Man (and Woman)
As Gaston whistles into Madame Alvarez's apartments, Gigi takes his hat, coat, and cane. "You must be rich, to have a cane with gold on it," she says, and of course, she's right. Gaston's dark, tailored tail coats and top-hats show us that he's a man of means and social importance. Honoré wears light grays and whites, tantamount to a retiree's white boat shoes. Their lifestyles require them to be elegantly dressed most of the time.
Elsewhere, Madame Alvarez wears black and her ex-courtesan sister's ornate dresses are a series of pink, white, and gold confections. Sure enough, Madame is the more sedate and sensible of the two sisters.
Our only glimpse of Gaston's mistress Liane is in a gaudy, tasteless dress at Maxim's. And that's just what we're supposed to think about her; she's crass and ostentatious.
Like many young women, Gigi's clothes are different expressions of her emerging identity. She's a schoolgirl in scotch plaid and straw hat; a playful girl in tennis whites, an unpretentious teen in a high necked puffy shirt and long skirt; a girl trying out her own style in a lace dress; and eventually an elegant young woman in a white gown that stops the show at Maxim's.
Even her hairstyles change during the course of the film. Her hair's down with her signature bangs (schoolgirl); up but still with bangs after she and Gaston get closer and she gives up her school clothes; up with no bangs at Maxim's (not herself); up as a married woman, but the bangs are back.
Her clothing also works to distinguish her from the other women in Gaston's world. Her schoolgirl clothes set her apart, of course. At Trouville, we see a woman trying to play tennis, but her corset is so tight she can hardly move. But Gigi's loose white tennis clothes allow her to run around, fall down and generally act more playful and free. The Maxim's gown, simple and white, sets her apart from the other women at the restaurant. Their dresses seem gaudy and common by comparison.
Gaston responds to Gigi's emerging womanhood as he sees her in the different outfits. When he sees her in the lace dress, which Gigi adores, he tells her she looks like a giraffe—he misses the Scotch dress. (He gets over it.) When she appears in the satin gown for Maxim's, he sees her completely as a woman, and this time he's ready for it. It backfires though. Gaston feels strange seeing her in a dress that everyone stares at and gossips about. It's a breakthrough moment.
Gigi's most extravagant gown is in the happily-ever-after moment of the movie, when she walks through the park with Gaston wearing a gigantic pink lace dress with with a matching flouncy feathered hat and stole. There's a sense of fun about the dress, unlike the Maxim's gown which was very serious and decidedly non-frilly. We know she wasn't herself at Maxim's, so this dress lets us know that the old Gigi is back. Married and grown-up now, but not having to compromise with what she really wants. And most likely, she picked out the dress herself.
Food
Think all French food is escargot, foie gras and fancy wine? Not for everyone. In Paris, 1900, food signified social class. Gaston is a sugar prince, who snoozes at seafood and fine wine. To Madame Alvarez, he brings champagne and caramels for a special treat; when the older woman complains conspicuously that she couldn't find any duck at the market, Gaston thinks of nothing of sending "a brace up from the country." (FYI, "brace" is a pair of animals killed in the hunt.) He's got his own private sources.
Mamita's a great cook but makes simple meals. She prepares a simple cassoulet (casserole or stew with some cheap meat and beans) that Gaston craves more than the fancy dinners at Maxim's. In fact, Gaston stands up his own party for 200 people to stay at Mamita's for cassoulet. That's a hint to the viewers that he's not hopeless, not entirely caught up in his snobbish world. There's a shred of authenticity in there somewhere.
Simply knowing how to eat fancy foods is a demonstration of social class. "The bones don't matter," Aunt Alicia instructs, as Gigi miserably chews through the brittle bones of some poor ortolan just so she can show some rich guy that she knows what she's doing. More than any other, the ortolan scene drives home just how ridiculous (not to mention gross) all this fake social posturing is.