Capturing Capucine

There are all sorts of reasons for wanting to capture Capucine (Germaine Hélène Irène Lefebvre, 1928-1990), principal among them being that she was both beguiling and elusive. There were those who were able to capture her momentarily on film, but the woman herself remained an enigma.

The French fashion model named herself after a flower — both the monk and the monkey are rendered “Capuchin”. The root of all of them is the Italian word “cappuccio”, Anglicized as “capuche”, the word for the sort of hood or cowl that monks wear. The flower resembles one, but eventually, the woman herself came to live a monkish life of isolation, one quite contrary to what you would expect from her screen image.

She had appeared in small roles in French films by the time Hollywood talent agent and movie producer Charles K. Feldman discovered her and began grooming her for stardom. He assigned Gregory Ratoff to coach her in both English and acting, which I find amusing (he was both thickly accented, and an eccentric character actor with very little that was glamorous about him). She also became Feldman’s paramour for several years, which is not a small detail. Feldman cast her in his films North to Alaska (1960), Walk on the Wild Side (1962), The 7th Dawn (1964), What’s New, Pussycat? (1965), and The Honey Pot (1967) — though, mysteriously, not in the all-star Casino Royale (1967), which might have been the best vehicle of all for her! During these same years, outside of Feldman productions she was also in Song Without End (1960), The Lion (1962, during which she began a two year affair with William Holden), and The Pink Panther (1963). The latter movie, along with What’s New, Pussycat? I’ll wager, is what most Americans know her from.

Feldman died in 1968. Capucine went on to be in Fellini Satyricon (1969) and about a dozen other films, most of them European. Occasionally she would return and do something in America. One of her very last credits was an episode of Murder, She Wrote. At 58 she was still glamorous and gorgeous:

Capucine’s beauty is intriguing because it verges on ugliness. Almost all of her features were over-sized, almost cartoonish, which the camera loves, but often depends on getting just the right angle in order to capture. (I’ve always thought Illeana Douglas possessed the same kind of beauty.). There are times when Capucine’s feline mein reminds me of Sophia Loren, who I’m pretty sure is the most beautiful woman who ever existed. And other times when the effect was unfortunate. Visconti called her a “horse”. He conceded that she was a beautiful horse, but he wasn’t looking for any kind of a horse. Also — very often she seemed to have dark circles under her eyes, which gave the impression that she had been partying all night. (Maybe she had). That can come off as sexy, or it can come off as off-putting. She often gave off a nervous, breathless energy, too. Gypsy Rose Lee gave off this energy too on the few occasions when she tried acting. I chalk it up to discomfort, to acting not really being her main jam. The astounding thing about Loren is that she was not only so beautiful but also a great actress. Whereas Capucine just sort of fell into it. She was best employed in supporting parts, often gimmicky ones, like Countesses and so forth. I think Feldman was trying to make her a star who could carry pictures. That never quite happened.

Another quality that Capucine radiates on screen is high sensitivity and intelligence. Contrary to a common misconception, these positive attributes can frequently hamper the actor’s art. In short, she seemed deep. Uncomfortable before movie cameras, she spent most of her time during her final years alone in her 8th floor Swiss apartment, reading. On St. Patrick’s Day, 1990, she opened a window — and jumped out.

That’s tragic, but there’s a coincidence attached to that event that’s almost certainly meaningless, but it’s the kind of thing that fascinates me. Capucine shared a birthday with Olga Georges-Picot, who was also a cinematic French sexpot in a Woody Allen picture (Love and Death). In 1997, Georges-Picot ALSO jumped to her death from an apartment window.

Also born January 6: Tom Mix, who died in a freak accident, and Mickey Hargitay, whose ex Jane Mansfield also died in a horrible car accident. Bottom line: if January 6 is your birthday, maybe you should invest in a rabbit’s foot.