The sign of a truly great film is if its entire premise can be condensed into a single sentence, albeit one that perfectly encapsulates the spirit of the story, while still piquing our curiosity to want to explore further than this brief synopsis. In the case of Victor/Victoria, the concept of “a woman pretends to be a man who pretends to be a woman” is immediately captivating, and it only helps that it hails from Blake Edwards, one of the most creative and inventive directors to ever work in the genre of comedy. The most exciting part of this film, which sees the esteemed filmmaker venturing to Paris in the 1930s, telling the story of the effortlessly talented Victoria Grant, who conspires with the flamboyant but brilliant Carroll “Toddy” Todd to take the city by storm by creating the character of “Victor Gravinsky”, a Polish count who just so happens to be the best female impersonator in Europe – so much that he is too good to even be recognized by anyone along the way. A brilliant, dazzling piece of filmmaking that shows that less isn’t always more, and that maximalism can be very effective when coming from a director who knows how to handle slightly more challenging material, making it look effortlessly easy in the process. Like many of Edwards’ films, Victor/Victoria is driven by a sense of both spectacle and meaning, with the layers of complexity that he brings to an otherwise very simple story being remarkable, and while it may not reach the heights of some of his other films, it is undeniably one of his stronger efforts, a charming, free-wheeling comedy-of-manners that represents everything that made him such an extraordinary filmmaker, even when it could have developed certain ideas further rather than focusing on themes that are not as essential. Charming as it can be, with a vibrant sense of humour and a genuine emotional core, Victor/Victoria is as much a triumph today as it was over four decades ago, which is quite an achievement for a film driven by such a simple concept.

Victor/Victoria certainly occupies an unconventional position when it comes to queer cinema – this is not a film necessarily made about queerness directly, but it touches on issues that would come to be major talking points in later years, often being quite ahead of the culture in a way that felt revolutionary. Edwards, taking his cue from films like Some Like It Hot and Sylvia Scarlett (which are both uproarious comedies that present the concept of gender-bending, and are heavily steeped in the classical tradition of using drag as a form of theatre), adopts it to the overall premise of the original text, the German farce Viktor und Viktoria (which predates the year in which this film was set), adding nuances and details that existed in the original film, but not quite as explicitly as they were shown here. A film like this should not be praised for starting the conversation on queer issues, because it doesn’t contribute much directly. However, its efforts do not go unnoticed, especially since the primary reason this film works is that it is willing to use the correct vernacular, which is remarkable at a time in which the queer community could only hope that they were treated respectfully on screen, rather than being the punchline or the source of the humour on its own. There is quite a limited view on the concept of non-binary performance, which was not part of the cultural vocabulary at the time but very much indicative of eventual developments towards gender identity, but the very fact that it starts this conversation and rarely uses it as fodder for comedic conversations in isolation is a remarkable achievement and one that shows precisely how a film like this makes invaluable contributions, often in very different ways. It isn’t perfect, but much like Tootsie, another similarly-themed film released in the same year, Victor/Victoria understands that the concept of a man in a dress (or in this case, the inverse) is not inherently funny – it’s what made Wilder’s masterpiece a few decades before magical, since it was never about laughing at the adopted gender, but rather the circumstances that occur in the aftermath of adopting this persona. We have to remember that this film was made over four decades ago, so it is only logical that some of the language and context would be lacking in precision, at least from a modern perspective – yet, there is a level of pathos that drives this film and makes it so endearing.

If there was a quality that Edwards would always make sure that he followed, it would be to adhere to the theatricality of the production. There is certainly a version of Victor/Victoria that is more serious and down-to-earth, especially since we have culturally moved past the era in which every comedy needed to be outrageous and off-the-wall. However, taking away the spectacle would essentially remove a large portion of what makes this such a cherished film, and likely make it far less entertaining, since a lot of the most valuable content in this film comes in the form of the eccentricity that pulsates throughout it, challenging conventions with panache and deep sincerity, and a wickedly dark sense of humour. Edwards, who was never against making his artistic influence clear, was inspired by filmmakers and writers like Ernst Lubitsch and Sacha Guitry, whose charming films frequently blended gentle comedy with scathing dark humour, often aiming for the division between classes and the generally staid nature of society, especially in the years between the two World Wars, which was a watershed moment for the global culture as a whole. Victor/Victoria is a very traditional comedy-of-manners that also happens to possess a more jagged edge, which Edwards uses to his advantage, developing his ideas beyond that of simply a traditional story about questioning gender at a time when such discussions were simply not conducted amongst the mainstream and instead elevating it to something more compelling. The oscillation between hilarious humour and some fascinating satirical jabs is the primary reason Victor/Victoria feels so fresh, and even when its conversations around gender are somewhat dated, they work perfectly in the context of the overall narrative, which is carefully curated by Edwards and his cohorts as they construct this story, which goes in many unexpected directions, but in a way that feels authentic and very meaningful, rather than being as conventional as it seems based on a cursory glance.

Part of the appeal of this film comes in the form of the performances that sit right at its core, and essentially define it in ways that the narrative itself would not be able to describe. Primarily, the film serves to be a vehicle for the incredible talents of Julie Andrews, who was collaborating once again with Edwards, her longtime creative and personal partner, and the person who brought out some of her very best work. The challenging aspect of Andrews’ performance is that she is objectively very good throughout the film, and it feels like the kind of performance that is much more rich and evocative than it appears on the surface. The difference is that, as gifted as she may be, she is not the most convincing in the parts where she is supposed to be imitating a man – understandably, the laws of logic don’t apply as heavily in this film as they would in reality, so the fact that it stretches the boundaries of plausibility is not at all an impediment on the film, but rather an observation, primarily in the sense that it prevents Andrews’ performance from being as perfect as it may have been with further work done to help create the masculine illusion that supposedly defined the interactions between these characters. The real star of the film is unsurprisingly Robert Preston – in a role initially intended to be occupied by Peter Sellers before his death, Edwards chooses to cast a veteran of stage and screen, someone who had barely attained the status of being a marquee name, and instead mainly worked in smaller roles or productions that were not immediately striking. Yet, he was unquestionably one of our most gifted actors, and the role of Toddy would be a gift to any actor. Preston is one of those immensely talented showmen who would often play to the rafters, but in a way that always felt genuine. He was a ham, but the kind that we adore, and who frequently carries himself with an otherworldly grandeur, the kind we rarely see these days. Perhaps his best screen performance, outside of maybe his iconic reprisal of Harold Hill in The Music Man (his signature role), his portrayal in Victor/Victoria is a tour-de-force, a scene-stealing, heartfelt depiction of a character who is on his final legs getting a victory lap – and if this isn’t an appropriate allegory for Preston himself, then nothing else about this film warrants discussion.

As a whole, Victor/Victoria thoroughly earns its place within the artistic lexicon – it may not push the boundaries quite as far as perhaps may have been possible (especially at the time in which it was made – many filmmakers took the opportunity to make slightly more complex, meaningful works through the process of having more open-minded audiences, or rather executives that believed that viewers were able to now process more challenging themes), but it is still a very charming, well-crafted and meaningful comedy that knows exactly how to capture our attention. It may veer towards being slightly too long since there were quite a few moments that could have considerably shaved off some of the less necessary details in its 140-minute running time, but it all feels very much derived from a place of genuine fondness for the material, especially in those sequences where Edwards is playfully subverting expectations. Whether we are attracted to the spectacle, with the production design and costuming being extraordinary, or the people who occupy this film, we are in for quite an adventure. A very charming and insightful comedy that touches on many fascinating issues, all through the lens of being an outrageous romp of a film, Victor/Victoria is as refreshing today as it was over forty years ago, with Julie Andrews doing some of her most compelling work, and Robert Preston being the embodiment of talent, their chemistry being the anchor to the entire film and the reason everything is so resoundingly compelling, even at its most unorthodox. Victor/Victoria is an absolute triumph, a film that has aged superbly and with a lot of elegance, all of which is the primary reason behind the resounding success of this magnificently funny and charming musical comedy that has truly stood the test of time, and remains one of the most entertaining films of this era.