Becky Sharp (1935) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch

 

Becky Sharp (1935) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch 

American Film, Drama, History

Venice Film Festival, 1935- Winner: Best Color Film 
Academy Awards, 1936- Nominee: Best Actress in a Leading Role
Berlin Film Festival, 1987- Official Selection
National Film Preservation Board, 2019- Winner: National Film Registry

In 1935, the cinema landscape shifted forever when audiences sat down to watch Becky Sharp. While the story itself was a familiar trek through the social climbing of William Makepeace Thackeray’s Vanity Fair, the screen was doing something entirely new. This wasn't just another drama; it was the first feature-length film to use the three-strip Technicolor process, effectively ending the era of muddy sepia and ushering in a world of vibrant, saturated reality. More on Wikipedia or Mubi 

Becky Sharp (1935)- Technicolor’s Bold Debut 

Directed by Rouben Mamoulian, the film follows the cunning and unapologetic Becky Sharp, played by Miriam Hopkins. Becky is a woman born with nothing but a sharp wit and a complete lack of shame, navigating the rigid class structures of Napoleonic-era England. Hopkins delivers a performance that is high-energy and theatrical, perfectly matching the visual intensity of the film. She doesn’t just walk into a room; she commands the color palette itself.

The real star, however, is the color. At the time, critics were divided. Some found the hues too jarring, like looking at a moving postcard that wouldn't stop screaming. But looking back, Mamoulian’s use of color was incredibly sophisticated for a first attempt. He didn't just use it for novelty; he used it to signal emotion. The famous "Waterloo Ball" sequence uses deepening reds to mirror the mounting dread as the call to arms interrupts the festivities.

Becky Sharp remains a fascinating artifact. It captures a moment where Hollywood was learning a new language. The shadows are deep, the reds are piercing, and the costumes seem to glow with a life of their own. It might feel a bit stagey by today’s standards, but the ambition behind it is undeniable. It was the moment the industry realized that the future of storytelling wasn't just in what we heard, but in every shade of the rainbow we saw.

The Brilliance and the Burden of Becky Sharp

Watching Becky Sharp today is like opening a time capsule that is still radiating heat. It is a film of immense technical importance, but it also carries the growing pains of a medium trying to find its footing in a brand-new world of color.

The Good: A Visual Revolution

The primary reason to watch this film is, without question, the visual experience. Before 1935, color in film was often achieved through tinted lenses or two-color processes that looked washed out and unnatural. Becky Sharp introduced the three-strip Technicolor process, which utilized a massive camera to record cyan, magenta, and yellow light simultaneously.

The result was a level of depth and vibrancy that felt almost hyper-real. The costumes are breathtaking; the satins and silks of the Regency era pop with a luster that black-and-white film simply couldn't capture. Beyond the tech, Rouben Mamoulian’s direction was genuinely inspired. He treated the color like a musical score, shifting the dominance of certain hues to match the mood of the scene. The way he uses the color red during the chaotic transition from the ballroom to the battlefield is still cited today as a masterclass in visual storytelling.

The Bad: Performance and Pacing

Where the film struggles is in its transition from the stage to the screen. Miriam Hopkins, while talented, plays Becky with an intensity that often feels better suited for the back row of a theater than a close-up camera. Her performance is "big"—filled with wide eyes and grand gestures—which can feel exhausting over the course of the movie.

Furthermore, the script tries to condense the massive, sprawling narrative of Vanity Fair into a standard feature runtime. Because so much focus was placed on the technical achievement of the color, the character development sometimes feels secondary. The supporting cast often blends into the background, becoming little more than mannequins for the elaborate costumes.

There is also the "novelty factor." At times, the film seems so distracted by its own ability to show you every color of the rainbow that the pacing grinds to a halt. You might find yourself looking at a beautifully lit bowl of fruit or a vibrant curtain for just a few seconds too long, simply because the filmmakers were so proud they could finally show it to you.

Ultimately, Becky Sharp is essential viewing for anyone interested in how movies became what they are today. It’s a beautiful, flawed, and loud experiment that paved the way for every cinematic masterpiece that followed.