Why I love Audrey Hepburn’s per­for­mance in Sabrina

Sab­ri­na, which turns 65 this month, is a Cin­derel­la sto­ry. It’s also a time cap­sule of post­war Amer­i­ca that com­ments on class, gen­der roles and dis­par­i­ties between the haves and have nots. As view­ers, our entry point into this world is through Audrey Hepburn’s nar­ra­tion as she pith­ily describes the frills of the Larrabee family’s large East Coast estate where the major­i­ty of the film is set: ​“The out­door ten­nis court and the indoor ten­nis court. The out­door swim­ming pool and the indoor swim­ming pool…” Her cadence makes it clear she is pok­ing fun at the grandios­i­ty of the place, and it endears us to her immediately.

When we first see Sab­ri­na, daugh­ter of the Larrabees’ chauf­feur, she’s dressed in a pinafore, stand­ing bare­foot in water that has pooled on the dri­ve­way while she and her father wash a Rolls Royce. Dis­tract­ed from the task at hand, the cam­era tracks Hep­burn as she moves in a dreamy trance and climbs up into the large tree that sep­a­rates their liv­ing quar­ters from the main house where a fab­u­lous par­ty is tak­ing place. It is from this van­tage point that Sab­ri­na observes the object of her unre­quit­ed teenage affec­tion, the Larrabees’ youngest son, David (William Hold­en). Dur­ing ado­les­cence every expe­ri­ence can feel emo­tion­al­ly engulf­ing, and the way Hep­burn con­veys Sabrina’s long­ing to be noticed and induct­ed into that sphere of evening gowns and cham­pagne is infi­nite­ly relatable.

Hold­en and Hep­burn fell in love dur­ing pro­duc­tion on Sab­ri­na. Hold­en, 11 years Hepburn’s senior, promised to leave his wife but it all fell apart when Hep­burn learned he wouldn’t be able to give her the chil­dren she desired due to his elec­tive vasec­to­my years pri­or. One can only spec­u­late as to how this may have impact­ed 24-year-old Hepburn’s per­for­mance. There is an easy chem­istry between Sab­ri­na and David that speaks to an inti­ma­cy between actors that would be dif­fi­cult to fake.

Equal­ly impres­sive is Hepburn’s nuanced por­tray­al of Sabrina’s dete­ri­o­rat­ing men­tal health fol­low­ing her attempt­ed sui­cide. Her eyes seem vacant and it’s clear all ratio­nal thought has been aban­doned. Her body shrinks into itself as Sab­ri­na goes through the motions of writ­ing a part­ing note then turn­ing on every car engine in the garage she plans to seal her­self in. The scene is ulti­mate­ly played for laughs (undoubt­ed­ly to avoid alien­ation of a main­stream 1950s audi­ence) and writ­ten off as noth­ing but juve­nile the­atrics, result­ing in the sil­ly girl res­cued by adult man Linus Larrabee (Humphrey Bog­a­rt), but it’s impos­si­ble to ignore the emo­tion­al hon­esty Hep­burn brings.

Hepburn’s lik­a­bil­i­ty always aug­ment­ed her char­ac­ters and Sabrina’s glam­orous trans­for­ma­tion fol­low­ing a stint at a Paris culi­nary school shows how this func­tioned with­in a nar­ra­tive. Sab­ri­na arrives back in Long Island at the start of the film’s sec­ond act and waits at the sta­tion for a ride home to the manor. Hepburn’s phys­i­cal­i­ty has changed; her shoul­ders pulled back and her head lift­ed, she exudes a con­fi­dence that could only be gained from expe­ri­enc­ing life beyond the Larrabees. It’s a visu­al con­fec­tion – dark suit with a cinched waist, gloves and heels – and a prime exam­ple of empow­er­ment through fem­i­nin­i­ty. There’s some­thing delight­ful about watch­ing dumb play­boy David fawn over this new­ly self-assured Sab­ri­na, but beyond that it’s excit­ing to recog­nise a young woman in a clas­sic roman­tic com­e­dy acquir­ing self-esteem through means oth­er than a man’s affection.

The love tri­an­gle between Sab­ri­na, David and worka­holic cur­mud­geon Linus is the least com­pelling aspect of the film, yet the way Hep­burn com­mands the screen in only her sec­ond lead­ing role, more than hold­ing her own along­side a sea­soned pro like Bog­a­rt, is a rev­e­la­tion. She is play­ful with him, soft­en­ing his gumshoe, scenery-chew­ing ten­den­cies. Bog­a­rt tried to get Lau­ren Bacall into the role, but relent­ed when direc­tor Bil­ly Wilder insist­ed that Hep­burn was per­fect for the part. Bogie sulked his way through film­ing in retaliation.

Hep­burn mas­ter­ful­ly han­dles the heav­ier emo­tion­al beats, for instance dur­ing the final scene in which a dev­as­tat­ed Sab­ri­na dis­cov­ers Linus’ plan to send her back to Paris alone under the pre­tence that he will be join­ing her lat­er as her boyfriend. Cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er Charles Lang ensures that our atten­tion is firm­ly fixed on Hep­burn as her bale­ful eyes search Linus’ face. She plays it with a potent mix of unspo­ken heart­break and the kind of qui­et resilience indica­tive of Sabrina’s upbring­ing and cir­cum­stance. It doesn’t mat­ter if the pair ends up togeth­er (which they do, of course), our com­pas­sion for Sab­ri­na is of greater importance.

At the film’s mid­way point, Sabrina’s father tells her that she’s reach­ing for the moon, refer­ring to David and the life she cov­ets – but she refus­es to be deterred from all she desires. ​“No father,” she says, ​“the moon is reach­ing for me!”