Writer-director, Jules Dassin (Rififi, Topkapi), and actress, Melina Mercouri, were married in real life, in 1966. Years after meeting, and having worked together sporadically since 1957. Dassin, an American, plonked himself in Europe, and fell in love with the Greek way of life, as well as Mercouri. The main thread of 1960’s Never on Sunday, is very much influenced by that change in fortunes.
Both Dassin and Mercouri were pretty political already. He was part of the McCarthy era fiasco, and was blacklisted – choosing exile from his country. Mercouri was also expelled from her land, Greece, soon after they were married. When she returned years later, Mercouri became a member of Parliament, and then the cultural minister of Greece for a time.
Never on Sunday, an enlightening romantic comedy, sends out sparks of political and social to and fros. Dessin, as the stranger in a strange land, takes his character, Homer (of course), into the wilderness of the warm, fascinating Greek community. A devotion to their way of life is so intimate and true, from the love of the sea, to the comfort of the bustling tavernas.
Mercouri, at the centre of it all, plays a happy-go-lucky prostitute (you can’t say that?). With a swing in her step and firecracker retorts at every turn, Ilya exudes a bond with her comrades rarely depicted in cinema through such an occupation. She is a free-spirited woman, dictated by nobody, and playing by her own rules.
When Homer visits the Greek port city, Piraeus, he stands out like a sore thumb. Shell-shocked by the culture shift, but also extremely keen to fit in and declare his potential influence over the country’s history. Later he says, rather profoundly, he wants to walk on the very same ground which the likes of great philosophers Socrates, or Aristotle, or Plato once roamed.
When Homer first meets the flamboyant Ilya, he is somewhat smitten. But not so much in romantic terms, also that he feels a need to educate her into a more moral way of living (the Pygmalion comparisons I’ll accept). A foolish notion, but he hardly knows this yet, that very journey will form much of the character’s arc. Ilya, too, tries a change of lifestyle temporarily, but it’s just not for her. In the process, she too gets a peek at an alternative outlook.
Much of the comedy derives from those early scenes. With Homer planting himself in the middle of rowdy, happy Greeks, he orders himself a coffee. The tender gives him a look of casual disdain, as though it is Homer who needs the education. “What is everyone drinking here?” Homer inquires. “Ouzo.” the tender’s response. “It’s what men drink.” Homer gets the hint.
Never on Sunday catapults us into the infectious realm of the Greeks. Knowing this all too well myself, it seems not a lot has changed. Their arms outstretched approach to life, and sometimes misinterpreted tone of voice, is heart-warming to any of us that have experienced these wonderful people ourselves. Homer will learn this himself, already thrust into a kind of admiration of them. Caring enough, I guess, to want to make a difference. Like he’s going to resist anyway.
From the introduction to Ilya, as she plunges into the sea for her regular swim – with ogling eyes on her from all sides – Homer is the one caught. The rapport and respect Ilya has from the locals is both fun and envious to behold. Interaction of said locals with Homer, also provide comedy from a different standpoint. One scene, when Homer claps a dancer, he lands himself in hot water. The narrative explains why this is the case, and a slapstick wrestle ensues.
Director and screenwriter, Jules Dassin, has certainly put his heart and soul into this. And although sprinkled with political dust, Never on Sunday is refreshingly light for the most part. Snappy dialogue, bouncing from one scene to the next, as well as a finely balanced black and white cinematography. The real star here, though, is Melina Mercouri.
The actress, as her soon-to-be-husband hoped for, showed us everything she has. And I am talking the brash, exuberant, magnetic presence she provides us every minute she is on screen. Her Ilya is a terrifically layered character, and instantly recognisable as someone well-liked and highly-favoured. Mercouri would win the Best Actress prize at the Cannes Film Festival, and receive a nomination at the Academy Awards to boot.
Never on Sunday actually bagged an impressive five Oscar nominations – Actress, Director, Costume Design, Writing, Song. Something which some American critics sniffed at – like how dare a foreign film take spots that could have been filled by Hollywood movies. Gross. In my eyes, that’s an irrelevant controversy, and a bagful of politics far less significant than the movie inherits so deservedly.
Manos Hatzidakis won the film’s only Oscar, for Best Music – Original Song, “Ta paidia tou Peiraia” (“Never on Sunday”). A tune often hummed in my former household, and one which might ring a few bells with many of you. The soundtrack of Never on Sunday (and the music of Greece generally), is essential. The bouzouki never fails to have feet tapping, and that urge to get out of your seat and just dance. Any day of the week.
Discover more from Filmotomy
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
