In Roman Holiday (1953), directed and produced by William Wyler, Ann (Audrey Hepburn), A European princess, and Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck), a U.S. expat news reporter, spend a day together in Rome going through an extraordinary set of circumstances. The night before they do, Ann takes a sedative then sneaks out of the Embassy, falling asleep on a public bench. Joe finds her and takes her back to his apartment to sleep. The morning after is comic gold. Ann is lowkey delighted reading about her disappearance in the newspaper and the frenzy over it, as Joe realizes that the missing princess is in his home, casually getting ready for the day with no intention to return to said Embassy.
Ann then goes out by herself to a local market and also gets her hair cut, something short, ruthlessly trendy. She reunites with Joe for a dance party on the river, which her barber invites her to. Sure, a kinetic connection of sorts is developing between the two; Wyler gives us soft embraces, tender glances, and french kisses to make that clear. However, something more important is happening.
Joe’s way of being Ann’s friend is this: he protects her from being discovered and exploited by the paparazzi that day, helping her keep her whereabouts a secret for the time being because he understands she doesn’t want to go back. With the time Ann has, she makes decisions for herself and chats with people as she walks the streets, carefree and incognito. These are important self-provocations for her to experience — what comes through free thinking and communicating — that oppose her restrictive royal, public figure life.
Her friendship with Joe for that twenty-four hours, thus, understands her needs and supports her opening up to these experiences. There is literal beauty to the two of them dancing happily, on the river, a moment she manifests for both of them. Their connection and what adventures they get into are a reflection of Ann’s new freedom. (A police chase on the boat is soon to follow, played for some folly, and Ann and Joe win, gaining a bit more time together.)
Roman Holiday is considered one of the great romance stories of 1950s classic cinema, yet, the film is more making a statement about the profound experience two people can discover by prioritizing their connection and not rushing into romantic couplehood simply because there is attraction there. If you focus on the other person, understand who they are, and feed into their energy, aren’t possibilities for mutual stimulation and individual learning endless as the thing begins?
The film’s finale, for those who see a story of star-crossed lovers, is easy to read as heartbreak: (spoiler) Ann and Joe do not end up together. In fact, the way in which they do not end up together — their final moment is Joe giving Ann photographs of her during her day, and they hold private smiles in themselves and with each other — reifies the strength of their bond. Letting each other go, as friends, as people who might be something more in a different realm of a lifetime, is less about integrity (I’m looking at you, conscious uncoupling) and more about pure humanity; Ann and Joe understand that what they experienced was the actual gift, and now it’s time for them to each integrate that experience into their lives and move on richer, having lived through what they did.
For Joe, the experience offers a new perspective on expatriate living, incorporating an evolving self-awareness on what it means to be a North American writer based in Western Europe, observing and responding to events in Rome and, by wider context, Italy and the Mediterranean region. There might be ideas around foreign-hood, notions of alienation, and community. For Ann, the day gives her a chance to figure out how to stay connected with the public, that is, people outside the palace. Her desire to feel what is happening in “real,” not just royal, life is clarified. Perhaps, she comes up with community service initiatives or focuses on advancing women’s rights, as part of her work within the Royal family.
And, on a relationship level of lessoning, the film is saying, if two people are attracted, there are options besides couplehood; they don’t even need to be together, physically, to have “won” with each other. Roman Holiday asks us, what is a holiday capable of giving? A holiday, by definition — its etymological meaning is a “holy day” — takes us away from our routine doing. But, what if a holiday gives us an opportunity to access more of the surprising, innermost parts of ourselves that are there all along? Letting go, going deep, is a gift we give to ourselves. If there is someone who vibes at that frequency with you, let that access loose.
