When “Darling” opened in Boston, in the early fall of 1965, audiences weren’t very interested, but the theater owner thought it was a good enough movie that he advertised admission would be free for one day, a Tuesday as it turned out.
The following February, at my all-male prep school north of the city, “Darling” was what we had for our weekly Saturday night movie, which also happened to be our annual Dance Weekend, when girls were invited to the school for our version of a Prom. Presumably, it was considered sophisticated, though the message it conveyed about relationships wasn’t exactly optimistic.
The next morning, at our compulsory Sunday chapel, also attended by seniors and their dates, our Headmaster denounced the film for its decadent morals, specifically referring to a scene where Christie and her gay friend merrily shoplift. We students were taken aback by this attack on what was supposed to be an enjoyable weekend. (To this day, I don’t think he ever understood what the film was saying.)
(Interestingly, during the four years I spent there, Christie was everyone’s ideal woman, while Steve McQueen was their male role model.)
I think the film was way ahead of its time, though, in retrospect, it seems to seesaw between reveling in Diana’s behavior and judging it. And, of course, at the end, per Hollywood tradition, she has to end up unhappy in her gilded cage.
But, in this case at least, I still think my Headmaster came off as a stuffed shirt.