(I revisited Roman Holiday at 9 AM on a Saturday at Hyde Park Picture House as part of the Leeds International Film Festival’s free screening. The film was not too different from what I remember, but I picked up some nuances since I first saw it as a kid.)
*spoiler alert*
So, what are you going to do with your life after a holiday?
Roman Holiday (1953) offers the best answer to this question. The film, starring Audrey Hepburn and Geogory Peck, tells a story of a princess’s escape from her royal duties on a state visit to Rome.
At the beginning of the film, we are introduced to Crown Princess Ann on a tour to various European capitals: London, Amsterdam, Paris and Rome. The princess is the direct heir to one of Europe’s oldest royal houses, though her nationality is unspecified. The voice-over says that her visit to France is to ‘cement the trade relation between her country and the Western European nation’, which perhaps implies that her country is not in that region. The princess’s status as the future monarch in post-war Europe indicates the responsibilities and stress beyond posing and smiling (even just the latter two seem tiring).
In Rome, the discomfort of wearing high heels to greet all the dignitaries preludes the princess’s mental breakdown. Hearing the lady-in-waiting reading aloud the schedule, the princess could not decline any event. She screamed and could not bear it anymore. A doctor was called in to give her a sedative injection to calm her down so that she could get on with it the next day as usual.
But she runs away. When she is about to fall asleep in the street, here comes Joe Bradley, a journalist from the American News Service based in Rome. What follows is a series of events, from Joe reluctantly letting the princess crash at his flat through his discovery of the princess’s identity to a cunning plan for an exclusive report involving his photographer friend, Irving Radovich.
Unaware of all this, the princess, under the alias’ Anya Smith’, has a blast in Rome. She initially decides to go back to her royal duties for the rest of that day but is distracted by the vibrant ‘mundane’ life of walking through an open market, buying a pair of flat shoes, window shopping, hair cutting, and eating a gelato on the Spanish Steps. Joe, of course, follows her all along and pretends to bump into her on the steps, convincing (not that it is needed anyway) her to let the steam loose and have a bit of fun. They surely do, together with Irving secretly papping along. Mischiefs escalate. The princess’s unlicensed driving of a Vesper leads to an arrest and the group’s comedic appearance in the police station. The group of three then shows up at a boat dance, where government agents sent from her home country try to take the princess back to the embassy but fail amid chaos.
A good time was had by all. What now? The princess’s disappearance has caused great distress amongst her entourage and in her family. The entourage cancels all the events of that day, citing the princess’s ‘sudden illness’, whilst seeking support from their palace to find her. After the princess and Joe escape from the government agents sent by the palace and go back to Joe’s flat, the royal family’s concern about the ‘sick’ (missing) princess is transmitted over the radio waves. The princess knows it’s time to go home.
I think Roman Holiday is the best escapism film because of how this holiday is structured against work with its strain and accountability. The pretext for her escape is understandable, and her decision to return is laudable. When she talks about her dad’s ‘job’, she can see that, like her dad, she will be committed to performing her duties for life. When she reappears at the embassy, she does not need any reminder of her duties or reproach for the apparent lack of them. As she responds to the general, she does not have to return, but she chooses to.
The escape is also critical to her growth. She realises she can be independent. As she told Joe, she has learnt all the life skills, such as cooking and sewing, but she has not had the chance to use them. Her return to the royal duties is a decision. The brief getaway allows her to discover the independence within her and exercise that autonomy. She is no longer willing to let the lady-in-waiting or anyone else take charge of her life and firmly, politely sets her boundaries.
The character’s transition is also fittingly expressed through changes in costume designs and settings. At the beginning of the film, the princess is dressed up for a ball with aristocrats. The weary princess in a formal, traditional-looking gown tears apart the fairytale façade. At the end, the princess appears at the press conference in modern attire, elegant and efficient, this time with journalists representing the ordinary people she finally had a close encounter with on a holiday in Rome.
For these reasons, Roman Holiday would win the Best Escapism Award if there were one. Escapism, in a self-explanatory way, is to get away from what is normal and to come back refreshed. Roman Holiday offers the best escapism not only because of the time spent on the scenic spots, which is undoubtedly pleasant, but not a full cure to the daily grind. It provides the best escapism not because the film is the cornerstone of romantic comedy. When one is single and on holiday, it is easy to have sparks with a stranger. Adrenaline is high, and dopamine is abundant. But love at first sight? Hell no. The film is the best piece of escapism not because of the princess’s aura; instead, it’s how the princess rebels against the unbearable stress no one else seems to care to mitigate, has fun, and returns as a future queen. Rome was not built in a day, but one day in Rome can change a person.