tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-332463332024-03-18T04:00:00.843+01:00WEIRDLANDTAKING A WALK ON THE FILMIC SIDE, TRANSITING THE VINTAGE ROADS.Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.comBlogger5942125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-82626466558678355472024-03-14T22:07:00.007+01:002024-03-14T23:15:27.489+01:00Dick Powell & June Allyson: Many Little things<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimT-ItuZg-S5_bjLUmO0allGBCB00e0N6AAPLDwbH1pLTNSBtW2HQR9WGpvpi6t3gfFwoawcCXGW55v6nA4piYoxt6F4hgMJXWSWoEtKB9wed_q0f63ksKOQTmb6DvyTONoLXsi_UZcMpF4to5F8eNfMET2U3TyTTWb05oae6KPOkqLTZnKCZ57A/s797/Sin%20t%C3%ADtulofff.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="797" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimT-ItuZg-S5_bjLUmO0allGBCB00e0N6AAPLDwbH1pLTNSBtW2HQR9WGpvpi6t3gfFwoawcCXGW55v6nA4piYoxt6F4hgMJXWSWoEtKB9wed_q0f63ksKOQTmb6DvyTONoLXsi_UZcMpF4to5F8eNfMET2U3TyTTWb05oae6KPOkqLTZnKCZ57A/s320/Sin%20t%C3%ADtulofff.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When June Allyson told some of her friends that she was going to St. George, Utah, “to be on location with Richard while he directed <i>The Conqueror</i>, they told her she was making a mistake. “St. George is a nice little town, but in the summer the mercury shoots up to about 130 degrees. It’s no place to go for a rest, Junie.” Mrs. Richard Powell cocked her cute little head to one side. “I’m not going to St. George,” she announced in that perennially husky voice, “to rest. I’m going there to be with Richard." So June climbed into her Ford station wagon and with the Edgar Bergens beside her, headed for the miserable Utah desert. When she got to St. George she was assigned a room with her husband Dick in the Twin Oaks Motel. All Dick and June had was a single motel room. Here, June washed Dick’s socks and hung them in the window to dry. Here, too, she gabbed with Dick’s two children by a previous marriage, Norman and Ellen.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqgXGHfYwPJRN_B4FgvmEHIz2mpx5LoF5fUOG_ZTjfGgpuWsTHlNfRy9AgpHym7FTi3Gfwy0WUgewEIPBuA7VXdISm-4hrNuu67U6R5xe_XmEskn2kKHnfOkahYNncJ_YwAo61c102vsFI26sBgeQ9F9O-ZcW1DL2V0Mh_cqduy7U-JQwrb5XsQ/s771/Little%20Things%20Mean%20A%20Lot%E2%80%94June%20Allyson%20&%20Dick%20Powell%20-%20Vintage%20Paparazzi%20%E2%80%94%20Mozilla%20Firefox%2014032024%20203942.bmp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="771" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqgXGHfYwPJRN_B4FgvmEHIz2mpx5LoF5fUOG_ZTjfGgpuWsTHlNfRy9AgpHym7FTi3Gfwy0WUgewEIPBuA7VXdISm-4hrNuu67U6R5xe_XmEskn2kKHnfOkahYNncJ_YwAo61c102vsFI26sBgeQ9F9O-ZcW1DL2V0Mh_cqduy7U-JQwrb5XsQ/s320/Little%20Things%20Mean%20A%20Lot%E2%80%94June%20Allyson%20&%20Dick%20Powell%20-%20Vintage%20Paparazzi%20%E2%80%94%20Mozilla%20Firefox%2014032024%20203942.bmp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June knew that Ellen’s sixteenth birthday was coming up and she arranged a surprise party for her stepdaughter. No comments were uttered by Ellen's mother Joan Blondell, a bit of a relief. And June hates flying, but one weekend she flew back to Los Angeles to bring her daughter Pamela to St. George. She even rode with Dick on his new motorcycle. She was wonderfully kind to the citizens of St. George. They would knock on her motel door and ask for autographs or ask her to step outside for pictures. June was always gracious and compliant. One time when Dick was out in the middle of the parched desert, June insisted upon driving eight miles over really rough terrain to lunch with him. The production crew had warned her that a cloudburst was in the offing and the roads would be impassable. But June went ahead, anyway. When news of her many family activities waited back to Hollywood, some local observers, jaded and skeptical, found the news difficult to believe. For months they had been whispering that “there’s trouble in the Powell-Allyson household.”</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMspsCg5RekluZR5Qxi8ED4gPFfRFlia0YENvAxlraaKpCRG2GfwfjusXEQtV8ewUpAOhOoqv_m9wNZrvKTEO1Whtc38y0CRHnlBTHeFt3ObFIQyV5cjY3wq28J3FP5TPyYRE7PyKRhVA5M_D6pYAuRgst-VNbmBSpxGXuX1ygH0FSGd7NFvNMg/s1119/Dick%20Powell%20June%20Allyson%20Candid%201940s%20Party%20Original%202%2014%20Camera%20Negative%20%20eBay%20-%20Google%20Chrome%2002032024%20184327.bmp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="1119" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMspsCg5RekluZR5Qxi8ED4gPFfRFlia0YENvAxlraaKpCRG2GfwfjusXEQtV8ewUpAOhOoqv_m9wNZrvKTEO1Whtc38y0CRHnlBTHeFt3ObFIQyV5cjY3wq28J3FP5TPyYRE7PyKRhVA5M_D6pYAuRgst-VNbmBSpxGXuX1ygH0FSGd7NFvNMg/s320/Dick%20Powell%20June%20Allyson%20Candid%201940s%20Party%20Original%202%2014%20Camera%20Negative%20%20eBay%20-%20Google%20Chrome%2002032024%20184327.bmp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This rumor began several months ago when June and Dick were out to dinner with friends. The Powells began to quarrel. June (who is so emotional she cries at card tricks) jumped up from her seat, ran out, and hailed a cab. Next day Hollywood was whispering that the Powell-Allyson marriage had turned sour. Said one know-it-all: “It figures. Let’s face it. They’ve been married nine years. That’s par for the course. It's not like they are too compatible.” Said others: “She’s just tired of playing Trilby . . . Two careers in one family just don’t mix . . . I never expected it to last!” June and Dick were disturbed by these rumors for a while. “Richard and I quarreled,” she admitted. “So what? All married couples have disagreements. It was nothing important. It’s over and done with.” Didn’t they understand that she and Richard had been through so much together, they had become inseparable parts of each other’s lives? Didn’t they realize that only a few months before she had come close to losing her husband on the operating table?</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRaS4jFjSUDE9iyx0IJRTNNfeG-Y-S640y6k_ArU5QNFJ-cwdqqM1UG8e5RtkMnTRycBLYX8Ocd9jZuwS20Y_SgBGQ4w-XVbwzAAPr6gxOx05KAdKCGcybSfzrj7_Nr9b2HfIYfy3cbOJEnZADrrZ-JEs56CoLqyYDLnpEUTjR6OqwcfZRMGJkEg/s1600/430482405_10231767723473924_1550307063168701705_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1249" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRaS4jFjSUDE9iyx0IJRTNNfeG-Y-S640y6k_ArU5QNFJ-cwdqqM1UG8e5RtkMnTRycBLYX8Ocd9jZuwS20Y_SgBGQ4w-XVbwzAAPr6gxOx05KAdKCGcybSfzrj7_Nr9b2HfIYfy3cbOJEnZADrrZ-JEs56CoLqyYDLnpEUTjR6OqwcfZRMGJkEg/s320/430482405_10231767723473924_1550307063168701705_n.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I’ll never forget it,” she says, “so long as I live. It happened last winter just before I started the Glenn Miller job. Richard got up in the middle of the night. He thought he was suffering from indigestion. He took some bicarbonate of soda and went back to bed. Then he took a little brandy. But that didn’t help either. “When morning came I called a doctor. By then the pain had spread all over his stomach and his skin was red and I was really frightened. “The doctor said it was just a virus and told me not to worry. He gave Richard some sedatives and told me everything would be fine. Only Richard’s pain got worse and worse and he was in agony for the next three days. “I stayed with him all the time but on the third night I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I fell asleep right on top of the bedspread and when I awoke, Richard was sitting on my bed and water was running down his face and I remember saying to myself in a daze, ‘That’s funny. Why is he taking a shower at this time of the night?’ And as I tried to shake the sleep out of my eyes, Richard mumbled, ‘Help me, June. Please help me.’ And then he collapsed in a heap at the foot of the bed.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqIwQGjvh5RSmXx22BBjU5af4wh2aT7ZYZAbPi6iFwzUVUkxcBsKYWbX9BCVqMsbTigoSjuVKOQfFmutx9FmMpfg6neWVGC5BN6kRmqU9NUtPejgMmw-sbuktd4_mt0xUdaCimBJ0RJhCDWlOlgie5dN6i0qM0JM2YspLa-df6YJI6yAjb12NEg/s985/s-l1600%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="985" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqIwQGjvh5RSmXx22BBjU5af4wh2aT7ZYZAbPi6iFwzUVUkxcBsKYWbX9BCVqMsbTigoSjuVKOQfFmutx9FmMpfg6neWVGC5BN6kRmqU9NUtPejgMmw-sbuktd4_mt0xUdaCimBJ0RJhCDWlOlgie5dN6i0qM0JM2YspLa-df6YJI6yAjb12NEg/s320/s-l1600%20(3).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I don’t know how I managed but I dragged him to the bed, and it was then that his appendix burst. We rushed him to the hospital for an emergency operation. Richard is allergic to penicillin, so they couldn’t use that to kill the infection and it began to spread through his system. “Then the terrible mental torture began. Suppose he dies, I asked myself. What will I do? How will I ever be able to tell Ricky or Pam? “And Richard was dying. There was no doubt about it. Another operation was necessary. They were giving him blood transfusions and feeding him intravenously and it looked like the end for sure. “A priest went into Richard’s room and then walked out to me and said, ‘You’d better go in, Mrs. Powell.’ “And I can’t tell you how I felt when I walked in and saw Richard on that bed, almost lifeless. I began to talk to him, telling him that he must live, must live. I don’t know what I said. But after a while his eyes opened ever so slowly and he mumbled, ‘This is a helluva way to quit smoking. Isn’t it, June?’ </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTHgz2kvLupLqAG3SEBIh-uvxpm1cvhkqi4ndo2-GpOKXNAkC8CntXqo_6dMxE_yBFK1E_PGfnV0PWFeMpa8VKnAi2bOmXafzvxFKPibBr4fGNOA8nt67plGRJKOk0eFJcnGuS-ggxXesdwVR_uFd3Pf7gOTSTKNfsrCFvvoW7_13XUVU0SscFxw/s840/Little%20Things%20Mean%20A%20Lot%E2%80%94June%20Allyson%20&%20Dick%20Powell%20-%20Vintage%20Paparazzi%20%E2%80%94%20Mozilla%20Firefox%2014032024%20205114.bmp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="583" data-original-width="840" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTHgz2kvLupLqAG3SEBIh-uvxpm1cvhkqi4ndo2-GpOKXNAkC8CntXqo_6dMxE_yBFK1E_PGfnV0PWFeMpa8VKnAi2bOmXafzvxFKPibBr4fGNOA8nt67plGRJKOk0eFJcnGuS-ggxXesdwVR_uFd3Pf7gOTSTKNfsrCFvvoW7_13XUVU0SscFxw/s320/Little%20Things%20Mean%20A%20Lot%E2%80%94June%20Allyson%20&%20Dick%20Powell%20-%20Vintage%20Paparazzi%20%E2%80%94%20Mozilla%20Firefox%2014032024%20205114.bmp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And once he said that I knew he’d pull through.” Such experiences bind a man and wife together and to June it’s incredible that anyone might think a picayune quarrel could nullify such love as theirs. To others it is not incredible at all. A prominent director, for example, who has known the Powells for years, says, “The reason many Hollywood people expected June’s marriage to fail is relatively simple. At the time of their marriage, Junie had nothing in common with Dick except a show business background. She was twenty years younger than he—naive, insecure and incapable of helping him socially, domestically or professionally. “She couldn’t play tennis or golf, didn’t know how to run a house, was wracked by an inferiority complex, stammered when speaking to the servants. In short she was a New York City kid who had been raised in poverty."</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisC8Rc3uSEugYFEUjUXay0lf3pOK0XFDDWD2pwJdey5_cNiUPOeEsO49M1BG2C_v4-aVNnYJQrQkQL6k1hRuaz_agq8nrMbiKiDSw1OgNDAT2mNVNtvLAUG5xU4SSOIPgrfJDiL48YEVdro8lXMlkSJc6q_E0bSc6rw6Gj4zDARLdFaQPVFC7VjA/s612/s-l1600%20(87).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="602" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisC8Rc3uSEugYFEUjUXay0lf3pOK0XFDDWD2pwJdey5_cNiUPOeEsO49M1BG2C_v4-aVNnYJQrQkQL6k1hRuaz_agq8nrMbiKiDSw1OgNDAT2mNVNtvLAUG5xU4SSOIPgrfJDiL48YEVdro8lXMlkSJc6q_E0bSc6rw6Gj4zDARLdFaQPVFC7VjA/s320/s-l1600%20(87).jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Her acting career, however, was going great guns, and Dick’s was not. The wise guys thought that sooner or later jealousy would ruin the marriage. They didn’t understand that June and Dick are intelligent and have great strength of character. Despite the heat, June spent much of her time on the desert location with Dick, was furious at rumors that their nine-year-old marriage was in trouble. “In the years he’s been married to Junie, Dick has taught her a great deal. He still chooses scripts for her, and she still abides by his decisions, because they are wise decisions born of extensive experience. “Some actresses resent their husbands’ counsel. Not June. She respects Dick and loves him for all he’s done. And in the dark days several years ago she always maintained great faith in his ability."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg908QE3izviw9pd38EVbjy2YS67-TvikX724EVvw4KRejKL6L1THhe-fvIKaHYL4UMlyyL7P705xfZvr_eN3Z7YCV-HiiBc3wfaunjLPxg4KzVoV_Sf2yUs2TZB9i3Jbnvd5qh3-eyFjormUxNw69H8BiP9OiXHQ4UtBsjVfvo34AYv9bywp5Khg/s1023/4-18_S_img0003009A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="829" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg908QE3izviw9pd38EVbjy2YS67-TvikX724EVvw4KRejKL6L1THhe-fvIKaHYL4UMlyyL7P705xfZvr_eN3Z7YCV-HiiBc3wfaunjLPxg4KzVoV_Sf2yUs2TZB9i3Jbnvd5qh3-eyFjormUxNw69H8BiP9OiXHQ4UtBsjVfvo34AYv9bywp5Khg/s320/4-18_S_img0003009A.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“That faith has paid off. Today Dick Powell is one of the biggest men in Hollywood. He owns a TV series, Four Star Playhouse, produced by Powell Enterprises and sponsored by Singer Sewing Machine. He alternates with three other top names, Charles Boyer, David Niven, Ida Lupino, and Ronald Colman. “Dick is one of Howard Hughes’ favorites at RKO. Hughes signed him as a director in 1952 and Dick did an excellent directorial job on Split Second. Last year Hughes made him a producer and this year Dick is not only directing and producing but he’s just finished starring with Debbie Reynolds in Susan Slept Here. Under the circumstances, it seems impossible that career problems could cause Dick and June to split up—and unlikely that anything else could. “But the rumors persist because people don’t realize how much Junie has changed in the last ten years. They think she is the same clinging, bewildered kid who married Powell in 1945. Or that she is currently resenting his guidance.” Powell says, “Who has time to deny silly rumors? I’m too busy making a picture.”</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kv4zp_ba0eh6wNSo_AGMrxfp8RrcCcGMhsy1NBwdx5K_dE37MhzgTIETsPyT88WfLrSIuYX1teU7zhuM8Wr8ezgRv6lIy7frojeYE_UT89k7TkeQ3QlY50oR4KhCF4BDvJHywSoWPVhDJJjCtuzGwVex02l6g02N7csclHVHV6xzbp7V51F_Gg/s564/3cb890fdff5a5d27b02018797a3acbf2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="429" data-original-width="564" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kv4zp_ba0eh6wNSo_AGMrxfp8RrcCcGMhsy1NBwdx5K_dE37MhzgTIETsPyT88WfLrSIuYX1teU7zhuM8Wr8ezgRv6lIy7frojeYE_UT89k7TkeQ3QlY50oR4KhCF4BDvJHywSoWPVhDJJjCtuzGwVex02l6g02N7csclHVHV6xzbp7V51F_Gg/s320/3cb890fdff5a5d27b02018797a3acbf2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In St. George, June said. “Dick and I have never been happier. It just hurts me to see him working so hard. Every night after the day’s shooting he holds long conferences with his staff. He’s really a very fine director. I’m sure this picture will prove it. “The reason I’m out here with Richard is because I love him and want to be near him. I was away from him during the shooting of Strategic Air Command.And I don’t like being away from him.” That does not sound like two people on the verge of separation. Of course, conditions might change but this isn’t very likely. Ever since Dick married June, he’s had eyes for no one else. No matter how gauche she was, he never strayed, never grew angry, never got fed up. And as June says, “It began to penetrate my thick skull years ago that Richard loved me for myself. And when I became sure of that I began to grow up.”</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwCR94QrV40FHMUEdLu2y-05neF7FfgLLLivFqcb-pwIXZBgrmNpFnh_nlWCOttRWHi_bpPD4GAjsjYVGRts10W7pcm4J1hAQlDbPBgWX4JofvOKZ5jWnuLPyEfeY1OWt8L7BqPq-_R_Y6hC8x8x2MQiuZNwGZWp0wZVvG580iBJDbKMNwmf49w/s726/familyyyy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="726" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwCR94QrV40FHMUEdLu2y-05neF7FfgLLLivFqcb-pwIXZBgrmNpFnh_nlWCOttRWHi_bpPD4GAjsjYVGRts10W7pcm4J1hAQlDbPBgWX4JofvOKZ5jWnuLPyEfeY1OWt8L7BqPq-_R_Y6hC8x8x2MQiuZNwGZWp0wZVvG580iBJDbKMNwmf49w/s320/familyyyy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At first Dick was chary of adopting children. (He had two by his previous marriage to Joan Blondell). But only because he wasn’t at all sure that June could handle children. In 1948, when Joan Crawford told the Powells about an adoption home in Memphis, Tennessee, they adopted their daughter Pamela from there. Two years later on her way back to Memphis to adopt a brother for Pam, June found that adoption wouldn’t be necessary. She gave birth to Richard Keith on Christmas Eve that year. When Dick married June she had relatively few friends in Hollywood. He introduced her to his own world, a conservative world of prominent, wealthy, influential people. During this adaptation, she dropped the chorus girls she had known and grown up with in New York (Betsy Kelly, Gene’s wife, and Jane Ball, Monte Prosser’s wife) largely because they rarely crossed her path, but partly because she did not feel capable of mixing the two worlds. However, June hired a secretary who once worked in the Copacabana chorus line.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcm1giUhnITd8hCG55SuhoZBljcG-parbDOscEYcYUV80Sx2WnoHnwipi4tcihIzgOVyuNuXgT6sXIppSULVZdSsDp0iTsuH3v6Hcs_fyJ16mEpGNrdrRlHCtq2mf8naZof1OO0WcUTAH_RTspseejmuMKAojTPUUfODB0GEDdCZEPQTPohn0fA/s797/s-l1600%20(72).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcm1giUhnITd8hCG55SuhoZBljcG-parbDOscEYcYUV80Sx2WnoHnwipi4tcihIzgOVyuNuXgT6sXIppSULVZdSsDp0iTsuH3v6Hcs_fyJ16mEpGNrdrRlHCtq2mf8naZof1OO0WcUTAH_RTspseejmuMKAojTPUUfODB0GEDdCZEPQTPohn0fA/s320/s-l1600%20(72).jpg" width="241" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There were suggestions, of course, that she was revolting from Powell’s domination, asserting her own personality at last. But actually June’s real personality never has been submerged. It has been merely in the process of development. It has taken June a long time to get over her fear of assuming responsibility. Now June is sure of her own values and does not hesitate to act on them. “In my book,” she said a few weeks ago, “Richard’s happiness and the happiness of our family come first. If there’s any time left, I’ll think about my career." So long as cute little Junie adheres to that program, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Powell are destined to go on with many years of domestic bliss. -Alice Hoffman for Modern Screen Magazine (October, 1954)</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-81670139014129825122024-02-20T04:13:00.013+01:002024-02-21T07:58:21.685+01:00The MGM Golden Era: June Allyson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgki66EPhzQdSGYtKXCiK2_5UCObuQuB65uQCLL2eQ3XvkygAJ34U5n596Aq_IF2WRuiiQ0h6PwfgNepMsNZNI3VUNOFbbnUASQSgdHVv30mobBfzfw8HFqJlC6YWIe6y1fzS7Gcs2Q4AH1Td_jXbuDhJZB6yBH0LlL7w5KHEnEIwSXi0uCIX3oWw/s1594/31444812_10156189724775053_546409166781022208_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1594" data-original-width="1063" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgki66EPhzQdSGYtKXCiK2_5UCObuQuB65uQCLL2eQ3XvkygAJ34U5n596Aq_IF2WRuiiQ0h6PwfgNepMsNZNI3VUNOFbbnUASQSgdHVv30mobBfzfw8HFqJlC6YWIe6y1fzS7Gcs2Q4AH1Td_jXbuDhJZB6yBH0LlL7w5KHEnEIwSXi0uCIX3oWw/s320/31444812_10156189724775053_546409166781022208_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">"She's skinny; she's a little bowlegged; she can't sing much. She's certainly no raving beauty, and she's got a speaking voice that seems to be crying for cough drops after every syllable." That's how one plain-speaking insider described June Allyson, who, for filmgoers since the 1940s, was always been the wistful girl next door, wearing Peter Pan collars and starched skirts. It was an image which fit neatly into the "family" of MGM stars. She fortuitously began in motion pictures in the middle of America's involvement in World War II, a time when the public held high in esteem the wholesome girlfriend or wife left behind by a soldier going to war. June projected this wholesomeness very convincingly and the public eagerly went to see her films. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASFT3skI8AWDT6vuU6NGeL6bdr-FBlT6QxY0fSv8NDJhs80k7bwBufpNhOz6oodntGQSjkmyyczORbAGBZGQUCHLO5OjBLxV419lyTgH7zp6Rq_Bs9bc8Qumu8ynO6N3EV-s7P6eWZIyPH5FJ3M6Sl-sjOEcu1FwvyQss2joU3GIrs2NuvzBwgQ/s985/44836601_10156621815580053_9006950241127104512_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="985" data-original-width="748" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASFT3skI8AWDT6vuU6NGeL6bdr-FBlT6QxY0fSv8NDJhs80k7bwBufpNhOz6oodntGQSjkmyyczORbAGBZGQUCHLO5OjBLxV419lyTgH7zp6Rq_Bs9bc8Qumu8ynO6N3EV-s7P6eWZIyPH5FJ3M6Sl-sjOEcu1FwvyQss2joU3GIrs2NuvzBwgQ/s320/44836601_10156621815580053_9006950241127104512_n.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As a teenager, June entered Amateur Night dance contests in the Bronx, and even though she never won, she kept on dancing. Things were a little better at home, now an apartment at 1975 Bryant Avenue, since her mother had remarried. After high school June began to seek jobs as a dancer. There was a $50 a week play date at the Club Lido in Montreal and then appearances in several movie shorts for Vitaphone and Educational Films. When June was twenty, she got a part in the chorus line of a Broadway musical <i>Sing Out The News.</i> When that flopped, she joined the chorus line of the Copacabana nightclub until she was hired for the chorus of Jerome Kern–Oscar Hammerstein II's musical <i>Very Warm For May</i>. That show opened in 1939, and one of her colleagues in the chorus was Vera-Ellen. This role got June into Rodgers and Hart's <i>Higher And Higher</i>. She recalls: "I've been in more flops than you can imagine. It was Richard Rodgers who was always keeping them from firing me, as every dance director wanted to do." </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsBvflVl1SSuEWeskmwe5IQtWyi2UH480Z_afrit4pKka3L3_V5kQJvljHQQPjR5MOGlyERrMfAYyzjEM_eZxiwO4NlW05hpYRrFLf7GVy8LnqOrcngFITtTpwHDoJ7gy5t_79ViqcpEBjyktz-4UjmKLk8aZOkTNbYGS5FNHk_iz4GZhNp29Gw/s616/zswwwCaptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="558" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsBvflVl1SSuEWeskmwe5IQtWyi2UH480Z_afrit4pKka3L3_V5kQJvljHQQPjR5MOGlyERrMfAYyzjEM_eZxiwO4NlW05hpYRrFLf7GVy8LnqOrcngFITtTpwHDoJ7gy5t_79ViqcpEBjyktz-4UjmKLk8aZOkTNbYGS5FNHk_iz4GZhNp29Gw/s320/zswwwCaptura.JPG" width="290" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">According to June, it was MGM producer Joe Pasternak who persuaded Louis B. Mayer to look at her screen test by pleading to the studio kingpin: "Please look at this test and do just two things. Look at her eyes and listen to her voice. Don't pay any attention to anything else about her. These are distractions we can iron out." Thus was born the celluloid June Allyson, the diminutive blonde/redhead with the surprisingly husky voice (caused by chronic bronchitis and enlarged vocal cords—in 1961 she underwent a throat operation).</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZsyi_LscBrcmVsUO_m57PRyYhXYtjZU7NQst4GnR3MdaDaWhc5r7ZC4YCLbDNyVLI3234N85FAqoVMecBWOkKnHqZANHCLyEtc_oMoaQUS8n6ONhX-nVBUGaIhi9X0rp0mVWynHAz5HYx430gAQOnx68yC14Wk5b7iiZgR_ipNcF0GBHtLA9CA/s748/junestratton.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="748" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZsyi_LscBrcmVsUO_m57PRyYhXYtjZU7NQst4GnR3MdaDaWhc5r7ZC4YCLbDNyVLI3234N85FAqoVMecBWOkKnHqZANHCLyEtc_oMoaQUS8n6ONhX-nVBUGaIhi9X0rp0mVWynHAz5HYx430gAQOnx68yC14Wk5b7iiZgR_ipNcF0GBHtLA9CA/s320/junestratton.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>The Stratton Story </i>(1949) was a very good biopic starring James Stewart as the baseball player who loses his leg in a hunting accident. June's husband Dick Powell had persuaded her to accept the assignment as the typical wife-next-door, because he was perceptive enough to know she had far more competition in glamorous musical roles. <i>The Stratton Story</i> displays her beautifully in her screen synthesis as an unsophisticated Margaret Sullavan type of screen star. The final straw for June was when the promised role in <i>The Long, Long Trailer </i>(1954) was handed to ex-MGM player Lucille Ball. However, June went into the top-grossing <i>The Glenn Miller Story </i>(1954) at Universal at the special request of James Stewart. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJymAaTxQbx0hxj5vYfBlhgFbQX9XrooICfxVSm_unfhJ63QYV3pa24J8BB96XMWS9_bKaw2b_m2jbihHRu4r_ca91fl3lLqbaS89Wq9Bi9Ddv5-hHItkoQN5UqLVJIjv78-cK4VCgPwyMfYb7__UBMHRvLangmGHX8iv8XeGkLy1bAxkWBcBbkw/s1098/thddddeeeumbnail.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1098" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJymAaTxQbx0hxj5vYfBlhgFbQX9XrooICfxVSm_unfhJ63QYV3pa24J8BB96XMWS9_bKaw2b_m2jbihHRu4r_ca91fl3lLqbaS89Wq9Bi9Ddv5-hHItkoQN5UqLVJIjv78-cK4VCgPwyMfYb7__UBMHRvLangmGHX8iv8XeGkLy1bAxkWBcBbkw/s320/thddddeeeumbnail.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dick Powell, who played Napoleon Bonaparte's younger brother who woos Dixie American Marion Davies in the costume musical <i>Hearts Divided</i> (1936), would recount his experiences on the set to Tony Thomas. Powell recalled that William R Hearst would not allow Marion to perform unless he was on the set. Usually the mogul would be accompanied by three bulky associates, who said nothing but looked about with great intentness. "Those love scenes," Powell remembered, "were sheer torture. If I didn't make them look real, the director [Frank Borzage] would never use me again. If I made them too real, I was sure I was going to get a bullet in the back. Marion was doing her part in the long kissing closeups, but I was damn near choking to death. That picture lasted ten weeks, and I thought I'd die before I got out. I was still shaking months afterwards." By 1937 Hearst's empire was beginning to crumble and Marion at age forty retired from the cinema. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NMX1QbSOHtc?si=vXBlh6JfMwTBYty4" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Her last performance was in a dramatization of <i>The Brat</i> on Lux Radio Theatre in July 1936. On September 22, 1961, Marion died at age sixty-four, leaving an estate of eight million dollars. Perhaps Mary Astor, who worked with Marion in Warner Brothers' <i>Page Miss Glory</i> (1935), summed up the off-screen Marion best: "She was not hard and inquisitive, nor was she a dumb blonde. She was bright and funny. Her warmth and kindness could have taught many of us a great deal about the art of loving." That definition of Marion definitely might cast doubt about her veiled depiction in <i>Center Door Fancy</i> (written by Dick Powell's ex-wife Joan Blondell) as a vengeful shady character. Yet, the worst character portrayed by Blondell is Amy O'Brien (inspired by June Allyson) that maybe reflects more on Blondell's troubled mind than Allyson's alleged "naughtiness."</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2THmubc-_xlayPS8u7Bppd_DsCnOaayH_TJAn415yko9Jj2LJCVJgQsV6jVNRrkTy9xdmcCdFr0kGmDYFAnIwzM_BTX6luRqxA_PjzkIXTwYLIBk9Go4zlWHlBtbziii2zDLKKYjfJDkQ64tE_ja2ZWOnvK145FtcIKrpGMwGwOXiIxQaXa4fiw/s1317/s-l1600%20(9).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1317" data-original-width="1042" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2THmubc-_xlayPS8u7Bppd_DsCnOaayH_TJAn415yko9Jj2LJCVJgQsV6jVNRrkTy9xdmcCdFr0kGmDYFAnIwzM_BTX6luRqxA_PjzkIXTwYLIBk9Go4zlWHlBtbziii2zDLKKYjfJDkQ64tE_ja2ZWOnvK145FtcIKrpGMwGwOXiIxQaXa4fiw/s320/s-l1600%20(9).jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If it were not bad enough that the June Allyson faction at MGM was burying Gloria's film career for good, she up and retired for two years when she wed actor John Payne. However, she looked back on the studio system with fondness: "You lived there, you worked there, you grew up there. You knew everyone around you. We were groomed, step by step, for stardom. Nobody was thrown into something before they were ready for it. And I miss the movies that were made for the sheer entertainment of the audience." Divorced in 1969 from her third husband Richard Fincher (who later became a Florida state senator), in 1971, at the persuasion of her good friend June Allyson, Gloria DeHaven moved back to California. She said of her old glamour MGM years: "I didn't begin to grow up until I was forty; and now I can face reality, but escaping from it via 'sheer entertainment' can be fun."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUr7-gGMMHRrVPfSHidFRtUpYPNWb7zmQqBHFdzPMpOyAIhaH5Rh-mx8E97r6NU_y8Hje2vhmBFfuLm43fL_GYKz-r_cnOQ3GxDWgQqq5bE5dAzlrZvaZzHE9sGPkXlmBl22bXD36eMIee_pGymM5C5-DOIwEImIAR-i2pO47W0o1dqffrpeJ3bQ/s907/740full-adele-jergens.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUr7-gGMMHRrVPfSHidFRtUpYPNWb7zmQqBHFdzPMpOyAIhaH5Rh-mx8E97r6NU_y8Hje2vhmBFfuLm43fL_GYKz-r_cnOQ3GxDWgQqq5bE5dAzlrZvaZzHE9sGPkXlmBl22bXD36eMIee_pGymM5C5-DOIwEImIAR-i2pO47W0o1dqffrpeJ3bQ/s320/740full-adele-jergens.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>Bottle-blonde bombshell of 1940s and 1950s "B" films, Adele Jergens (who dated Ronald Reagan) typically played hardcore floozies and burlesque dancers. In the early 1940s, she worked as a Rockette, and was named the Number One Showgirl in New York City. She got her first break understudying Gypsy Rose Lee as a burlesque strip artist in the Broadway show "Star and Garter" in 1942. Lee fell ill for two weeks during the show's run. A talent scout for Columbia Pictures caught Jergens's performance and signed her to a contract. A year later, in 1943, Joan Blondell had displaced Gypsy Rose Lee as Mike Todd's girlfriend. It was hard on Lee, as Jergens (who played Marilyn Monroe's mother in <i>Ladies of the Chorus) </i>and others observed. Conveniently, Blondell ignored Lee largely in her confessional tome.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7hbDMZI9d_CbN_4RmltK9J7YTt82BDXgUj8z9jKIsHbzQj0nWDVhouW9_CUqJ08xoYasfOFxyJAPEYD_esiXxmkO6osCZYntarZDeMgDlZsgQGb-j4hNpWfL7MJkcc3Ijd9EJqWLQUhpmns7zMN0AHD-T9H1lWCMwmLHLB7_yea6ez0CA0C8oA/s719/s-l1600%20(46).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="572" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7hbDMZI9d_CbN_4RmltK9J7YTt82BDXgUj8z9jKIsHbzQj0nWDVhouW9_CUqJ08xoYasfOFxyJAPEYD_esiXxmkO6osCZYntarZDeMgDlZsgQGb-j4hNpWfL7MJkcc3Ijd9EJqWLQUhpmns7zMN0AHD-T9H1lWCMwmLHLB7_yea6ez0CA0C8oA/s320/s-l1600%20(46).jpg" width="255" /></a></div>In 1954, June Allyson said: "We all seem to have an instinct to blame someone or something for personal tragedy." Was she possibly alluding to Blondell's stubborn accusations and exaggerations towards her? During Allyson and Powell marriage crisis in 1957, Beverly Ott reported that Powell sighed: "Sometimes it seems all the love in the world is not enough for June." Although Powell was thought of as a powerful mogul in Hollywood, at the time of his death, his estate was estimated to be worth 2 million. <span style="text-align: left;">The divorce of June Allyson from Glenn Maxwell was prompted by the terms of Powell's will: She would receive $4,000 monthly if she stayed unmarried. Allyson was quoted as saying that Maxwell was "the nicest man I've ever known—besides Richard." </span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Sources: The MGM Stock Company: The Golden Era (2015) by James Robert Parish and The Dick Powell Story (1992) by Tony Thomas </p></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-86254175065270427122024-02-19T04:56:00.007+01:002024-02-19T05:03:00.422+01:00Distinctiveness and femininity: Diane Chambers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNrf0whHrGB_iZ7czXvxHq3Zra_fw_p1usqINAomIXm3Fvw6vX91etBBq8Sec1LAE8yPqFDvFum_GCGFNZJP1imar6_vRsrF0xsGLrdTaHVT8pz-BwyI4ZRcwKQeHERokoHS3scjjQkBXYoTAl-tmbrQMLNd54mSg18Jx8QsBc6SoL2FIDKohnA/s504/Capsssstura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="504" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNrf0whHrGB_iZ7czXvxHq3Zra_fw_p1usqINAomIXm3Fvw6vX91etBBq8Sec1LAE8yPqFDvFum_GCGFNZJP1imar6_vRsrF0xsGLrdTaHVT8pz-BwyI4ZRcwKQeHERokoHS3scjjQkBXYoTAl-tmbrQMLNd54mSg18Jx8QsBc6SoL2FIDKohnA/s320/Capsssstura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Sam Malone and Diane Chambers may have had their fair share of tension as an on-again off-again couple on "Cheers," but 30 years later, Ted Danson (Malone) thinks Shelley Long (Chambers) has everything to do with the show's success. "You really put us on the map," Danson told Long at the "Cheers" 30th Anniversary Reunion Dinner, according to Entertainment Tonight. "And this is not my opinion," Danson remarked. "This is everybody's. We hadn't seen a character like Diane Chambers for years. You really put 'Cheers' on the map with your astounding performance." Danson told People in 1987: “I cannot say anything bad about my partner. I mean, my wife and I have terrible arguments sometimes, and they’re our business. Our relationship, Shelley’s and mine, has included being happy with each other and not being happy with each other.” Danson recently added, "Shelley's process would have infuriated you if it hadn't been purposeful. But it was purposeful—it was her way of being Diane—and there's not a mean bone in Shelley's body. I was in heaven." Source: huffpost.com</div><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58cCDYlhYRB-sI8WR07p7eXyZSj6UfT38XVsbBlKG96wT-7CpVzO8gPCGgZzoyvKCGrFHcMLBo1wWI02mPZPIubO6N9-vev0wqLjZSBSt5fCG5PVH-pU-FAZMsD2MIz4jyoAJvYf9XyW-Q0YEvgDwBjDUxwtQDka6QBcdF6SOwh7UQsrbErGuxA/s824/498full-shelley-long.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="498" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58cCDYlhYRB-sI8WR07p7eXyZSj6UfT38XVsbBlKG96wT-7CpVzO8gPCGgZzoyvKCGrFHcMLBo1wWI02mPZPIubO6N9-vev0wqLjZSBSt5fCG5PVH-pU-FAZMsD2MIz4jyoAJvYf9XyW-Q0YEvgDwBjDUxwtQDka6QBcdF6SOwh7UQsrbErGuxA/s320/498full-shelley-long.jpg" width="193" /></a></div><i>Distinctiveness and femininity, rather than symmetry and masculinity, affect facial attractiveness across the world.</i> In a new study it was observed that males found the more feminine faces of women to be more beautiful, whereas masculinity had little to no impact on women’s perception of male attractiveness. The study also noted that facial symmetry did not influence attractiveness perceptions. This new research was published in the journal Evolution and Human Behavior Volume 45, Issue 1, January 2024. Female faces exhibiting higher sex-typicality, meaning those appearing more feminine, were universally judged as more attractive. However, increasing the masculinity of male faces did not influence their attractiveness ratings. Overall, women were rated as more attractive than men. Source: https://www.sciencedirect.com</div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-61543603169613319332024-02-14T18:43:00.004+01:002024-02-16T00:36:33.349+01:00Happy Valentine's Day!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGQ5G1zpYqCnbh3R7qR6EeiljeBCQpDDKl7ox0-bheoKlNTAdtdJo_cYnWKwQdq3Mst5_wdRcxkzqlljjfCL5fbc7uHOXbNCar3Sd_2Ue5omiEW59VPyR3gxBKWCnWYFku8X-U2TPZrYMOFYdPnyKZptGKwqnWFSpOxiEO8vYNs4l0ar5IfVdIw/s640/photofunny.net_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGQ5G1zpYqCnbh3R7qR6EeiljeBCQpDDKl7ox0-bheoKlNTAdtdJo_cYnWKwQdq3Mst5_wdRcxkzqlljjfCL5fbc7uHOXbNCar3Sd_2Ue5omiEW59VPyR3gxBKWCnWYFku8X-U2TPZrYMOFYdPnyKZptGKwqnWFSpOxiEO8vYNs4l0ar5IfVdIw/s320/photofunny.net_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Dick Powell and Joan Blondell, late 1930s. <div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWSKRK9n_5azK_OpxDdZYIYD8rchQSZ67UFgqXNkZ6tGJn6iCCkQWlI6L_CqyT59KPLkGb_J5LAp9g7XI68TFo9zqzYkjbnCMiltmZIeqvIxVmHG0encLt6ZfbgYhZIs1owRWBO-_a4fCm4z9qrb7lM0LlRsEwkKRDu2I5RZsbqFu1sD6vF5Rzw/s1080/thumbnail%20(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1080" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWSKRK9n_5azK_OpxDdZYIYD8rchQSZ67UFgqXNkZ6tGJn6iCCkQWlI6L_CqyT59KPLkGb_J5LAp9g7XI68TFo9zqzYkjbnCMiltmZIeqvIxVmHG0encLt6ZfbgYhZIs1owRWBO-_a4fCm4z9qrb7lM0LlRsEwkKRDu2I5RZsbqFu1sD6vF5Rzw/s320/thumbnail%20(1).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward.<p></p></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-48857664309489954092024-02-11T04:11:00.078+01:002024-02-12T04:28:56.561+01:00Love and comedy at first sight: Lucille Ball<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2A3ToSxBN2SoB220qL3KcOOt9ZF0_96RbPOgtCqEj1KdsxDjlxUwqtLiH2z4IOG8dgFcTLAxaBdmgvqO0D7DtUOuf-6uAnhIwFK3ha3gpirYN7jIYOUEXiga3a4uxJfrLiyQixoJvCPG-kb0zfy9QKaJ-G_bCje2cqJLpBuz-7R1CCVQ9aDjOg/s659/148263978_10224690950839031_7289069751916020495_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2A3ToSxBN2SoB220qL3KcOOt9ZF0_96RbPOgtCqEj1KdsxDjlxUwqtLiH2z4IOG8dgFcTLAxaBdmgvqO0D7DtUOuf-6uAnhIwFK3ha3gpirYN7jIYOUEXiga3a4uxJfrLiyQixoJvCPG-kb0zfy9QKaJ-G_bCje2cqJLpBuz-7R1CCVQ9aDjOg/s320/148263978_10224690950839031_7289069751916020495_n.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lucille Ball: "The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbG2jAW3SBVJcFjDXJwrFDikknL4xAvmo1B_rG8KE0XLL3IbG-d4QlkE5faYqYm1cPiWc_StJqA6oF5CriALxxmq24glP056aPa9OQaJt0NGRSXv9ebJWnJsG6S840tmlDZUfdZvsAla46NM4yK1X6KSX7x-89kRlhWz39fvabRudqk5rha2c5HQ/s955/740full-ginger-rogers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbG2jAW3SBVJcFjDXJwrFDikknL4xAvmo1B_rG8KE0XLL3IbG-d4QlkE5faYqYm1cPiWc_StJqA6oF5CriALxxmq24glP056aPa9OQaJt0NGRSXv9ebJWnJsG6S840tmlDZUfdZvsAla46NM4yK1X6KSX7x-89kRlhWz39fvabRudqk5rha2c5HQ/s320/740full-ginger-rogers.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Allegedly, Ginger Rogers would confess to her friend Lucille Ball: “Let’s face it: Astaire is a great dancer, perhaps the best, but he has less sex appeal than Gabby Hayes… you know, the sidekick of Roy Rogers with the beady eyes?” It's rumored that Ginger would have a brief fling with Cary Grant when they co-starred in <i>Monkey Business</i> (1952) with Marilyn Monroe. Although Rogers continued to date Desi Arnaz on and off for a few weeks, her romantic attentions soon began to focus on David Niven, with whom she was making <i>Bachelor Mother</i> (1939). It was said that homespun Jimmy Stewart kept a diary of all the beautiful glamour girls he’d seduced, and whereas Ginger’s name was near the top, other conquests included Jean Harlow, Rosalind Russell, Lana Turner, Norma Shearer, Olivia de Havilland, Marlene Dietrich, Margaret Sullavan, and June Allyson.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZeW7yG1QE-uq4rXy1Tg9TyObcIS4SUGh1xUZCsg74iFe8kCYYOBiCyA43iyylqJApsuHHUS3Jes-TQZkDsnFxXnHouG-w0gvpO4cDVM8xXtXd66U7d73UFNQgD9bCjrZv7cqMNfYH5YuDb_IZbyvg62Y_3HIe2CBcM60m93P_ei4di8yhVoOCeA/s500/500full-ginger-rogers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="500" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZeW7yG1QE-uq4rXy1Tg9TyObcIS4SUGh1xUZCsg74iFe8kCYYOBiCyA43iyylqJApsuHHUS3Jes-TQZkDsnFxXnHouG-w0gvpO4cDVM8xXtXd66U7d73UFNQgD9bCjrZv7cqMNfYH5YuDb_IZbyvg62Y_3HIe2CBcM60m93P_ei4di8yhVoOCeA/s320/500full-ginger-rogers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Stewart had lost his virginity to Ginger Rogers. Ginger and Lucille shared something in common: They believed in ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em'. Ginger’s recent victories: She had received a Best Actress Oscar for her dramatic role in <i>Kitty Foyle </i>(1940), for which she beat out both Katharine Hepburn and Bette Davis. Ironically, on that same night, her former lover, James Stewart, won the Best Actor Oscar for <i>The Philadelphia Story</i>, “stealing” the picture from Kate Hepburn and Cary Grant. As sometimes happens in Hollywood, Stewart competed against his best friend Henry Fonda, who had been nominated for his performance in the movie classic, <i>The Grapes of Wrath</i> (1940). The first time Desi Arnaz spotted Lucille Ball, he didn’t know who she was. He mistook her for “some broken-down hooker.” She had taken a lunch break from a fight scene with Maureen O’Hara during the filming of <i>Dance, Girl, Dance</i> (1940). </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6GVq2w8a5RqKD6V3Bn0kUgB-mYmtdwZhIE4TVkulNUz4OsThPzA2A0H2oeroJ-dixXFOdUB4aqYKqi3jnn9uhkKThWuFJ8rit7ypGiTz4kfi12tSFRj09jILJQ248AEOSC9uGQrq8v31ceof0-lZ8tVpyT74r82su-8CW7e6UV3S98dIhK441w/s1264/s-l1600.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1264" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6GVq2w8a5RqKD6V3Bn0kUgB-mYmtdwZhIE4TVkulNUz4OsThPzA2A0H2oeroJ-dixXFOdUB4aqYKqi3jnn9uhkKThWuFJ8rit7ypGiTz4kfi12tSFRj09jILJQ248AEOSC9uGQrq8v31ceof0-lZ8tVpyT74r82su-8CW7e6UV3S98dIhK441w/s320/s-l1600.webp" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Arthur Freed hired Brooklyn-born Edward Buzzell as director of the film adaptation of <i>Best Foot Forward</i>. Both Freed and Buzzell agreed to offer the lead role in <i>Best Foot Forward</i> to Lucille Ball, who would portray a glamorous movie star who visits a military academy filled with young men lusting for her. Harry James and his Orchestra provide the music, performing such numbers as “The Flight of the Bumblebee.” Freed wanted to employ some members of the original Broadway cast, notably June Allyson, Gloria DeHaven and Nancy Walker. According to Lucille, “When I was told that William Gaxton had been cast as my leading man, I told Arthur Freed, ‘You must be kidding.’ Then I found out he was to be my press agent, not my on-screen lover. What a relief.” The New York Daily Mirror proclaimed, “Lucille Ball handles the comedy and lines in a manner reminiscent of the late Carole Lombard.”</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPV3QkziXlJErlD1d9CSyh1NyJsDAv443N-UJTGQOpsSHrQUnZafiK1iTVgQE-SSygY2TqSq1CMS67GgeB3Rg6PiOaxCIDfIMayz4VZdV9xBtEqsiGfGBMKGmaaFV7Ri4y6ZyoP_G1C1HdsZQOP18eEzjgrNLxZu5Bi5JTjqYENUoeQf8X6cRxTg/s886/tumblr_mpr4kkAriD1r6olaxo1_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="886" data-original-width="753" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPV3QkziXlJErlD1d9CSyh1NyJsDAv443N-UJTGQOpsSHrQUnZafiK1iTVgQE-SSygY2TqSq1CMS67GgeB3Rg6PiOaxCIDfIMayz4VZdV9xBtEqsiGfGBMKGmaaFV7Ri4y6ZyoP_G1C1HdsZQOP18eEzjgrNLxZu5Bi5JTjqYENUoeQf8X6cRxTg/s320/tumblr_mpr4kkAriD1r6olaxo1_1280.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Returning from a USO bond tour, Lucille was notified by MGM that her next picture, <i>Meet the People </i>(1944) would co-star Dick Powell. In kidding fashion, June Allyson warned Lucille to keep her hands off Dick Powell, Lucille’s new co-star, even though he was still married to Joan Blondell. Lucille, still in her happy phase of her marriage with Desi, assured June she wouldn't betray their friendship, and she seemed to notice how cold Powell behaved towards Lucille during the shooting. <i>Meet the People</i> bombed at the box office, losing $720,000 for MGM. Dick Powell, cast in <i>Meet the People</i> as “Swanee” Swanson, has won a date with Lucille Ball as part of a fund-raising contest for War Bonds. At the time, though still married to Joan Blondell, a former friend of Lucille’s, Powell was “heavy dating” June Allyson. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfZ5tY1jxp2OiiBbHxU2R4DFky94x_Kk9xK6qCIv61m-Knoe9PbObQWjJuvKHO22F6hU6qLTbGp3o-fYHNEykAUSDB5sXfnEG5Me3gztoSTukUsLRTxj5Vx9Zd7mcW33Pxpk7RDnWORJQ2XBOC9MgmUS_pmzOY6DOKWJ4D0OinUX1hdmWBG-Fmg/s1500/91f4tBZ963L._SL1500_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="969" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfZ5tY1jxp2OiiBbHxU2R4DFky94x_Kk9xK6qCIv61m-Knoe9PbObQWjJuvKHO22F6hU6qLTbGp3o-fYHNEykAUSDB5sXfnEG5Me3gztoSTukUsLRTxj5Vx9Zd7mcW33Pxpk7RDnWORJQ2XBOC9MgmUS_pmzOY6DOKWJ4D0OinUX1hdmWBG-Fmg/s320/91f4tBZ963L._SL1500_.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In his biography, <i>Lucy and Desi,</i> Warren G. Harris wrote: “To get back at Desi, Lucy started going out on public dates with other men, usually younger actors from MGM like Peter Lawford and Scott McKay. Each of them at different times was seen escorting her to such popular spots as Ciro’s or Cocoanut Grove.” She never spoke publicly about her affair with Lawford, although she sometimes discussed it with her longtime confidant Barbara Pepper. “I agree with George Cukor,” she confessed. “Peter is a lousy lay. Where is Desi when I need him?” For an actor who allegedly was such a lousy lay, Lawford seduced a number of world class beauties and movie stars: Anne Baxter, Dorothy Dandridge, Ava Gardner, Judy Garland, Rita Hayworth, Rhonda Fleming, Janet Leigh, Marilyn Maxwell, Lana Turner, Kim Novak, and June Allyson. Lawford was also a key player in the life of Marilyn Monroe, to whom he became scandalously linked, especially at the time of her murder.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE90J2ngOLUznPPaJ0HjhxgyOYhETkkoWzFSvDC2XhJWH_mK0RAGDQxFwvfvS-k6SCMJxxuvoYdL5yMDilc-gOdZl5LuHEW5ZVU3y5I-bxTD5HK62wjzqL7Uhnyo1JVFhfQa1XpuRIk94F6OXkLVmD6WvTlJrVzFYEzgiqmQcQe-uXP-dMd5z_Lw/s1600/Easy-Living-3-1600x900-c-default.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE90J2ngOLUznPPaJ0HjhxgyOYhETkkoWzFSvDC2XhJWH_mK0RAGDQxFwvfvS-k6SCMJxxuvoYdL5yMDilc-gOdZl5LuHEW5ZVU3y5I-bxTD5HK62wjzqL7Uhnyo1JVFhfQa1XpuRIk94F6OXkLVmD6WvTlJrVzFYEzgiqmQcQe-uXP-dMd5z_Lw/s320/Easy-Living-3-1600x900-c-default.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lucille did not like her role in <i>Easy Living</i> as a secretary to Lloyd Nolan playing Coach Lenahan. She and Nolan had worked smoothly together ever since filming <i>Two Smart People</i> (1946) with John Hodiak. Victor Mature played Pete Wilson, the star professional quarterback who has no future in football. His doctor had diagnosed him with a diseased heart because of a childhood bout with rheumatic fever. He doesn’t want to tell his scheming wife, Liza (Lizabeth Scott), who wants to be a big success as an interior designer, and will go far to achieve her goal, even if it means getting involved with other influential men. Pete’s best friend is Pappy McCarr (Sonny Tufts), who will eventually replace Pete as the team’s star football player. As his secretary, Lucille is in love with Pete, but in the end, he returns to his errant wife, who (unconvincingly) promises to mend her ways. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPy_dcjuosqCUFLPvPI0Ky5nMq6qJehueLk54r-uwvWeWMYexiOQKZfIXwDM1Jke7baET5ZG00-uWqpDYt9Dqg2MWBEWJ5mVaFEroljD7u04g1qAIBO8F1gzkSfcai-WhTIaApCggwYcNnLEH30OAM0xNWP9EqvrrQyzM0HYRvTp1foIvZ8H77A/s1600/dddrrrr.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1322" data-original-width="1600" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPy_dcjuosqCUFLPvPI0Ky5nMq6qJehueLk54r-uwvWeWMYexiOQKZfIXwDM1Jke7baET5ZG00-uWqpDYt9Dqg2MWBEWJ5mVaFEroljD7u04g1qAIBO8F1gzkSfcai-WhTIaApCggwYcNnLEH30OAM0xNWP9EqvrrQyzM0HYRvTp1foIvZ8H77A/s320/dddrrrr.webp" width="320" /></a></div>In third billing, Liza, the wife of footballer Mature, Lizabeth Scott had a far better role than Lucille’s. One critic later called Scott “the most beautiful face of film noir to emerge from the late 1940s and early ‘50s.” Lucille had seen only one of her movies, <i>The Strange Love of Martha Ivers</i> (1946) in which Scott had co-starred with Kirk Douglas and Barbara Stanwyck. “Scott made me feel like a relic of the 1930s,” Lucille said. “Here I was still impersonating Carole Lombard as the wise-cracking, sexy, self-actualizing type in one of her screwball types.”</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKl-EuQMreGzIaubvOl6XtY9UvkK1pqBYBup6L_bOdbVmdc727m2cIpansXyvvKukJz-lxqdv1xwsu3tAMX4lE8gVesC2mtAwiVvrg06OLqAvd-YuoAgYgByRDy87CMq7f1KvOmrvec_Zqnt8gF0U91EB6CeKiFq0rXjaqgwp20wgLHv39Vl3yJg/s1600/004-lucille-ball-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1131" data-original-width="1600" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKl-EuQMreGzIaubvOl6XtY9UvkK1pqBYBup6L_bOdbVmdc727m2cIpansXyvvKukJz-lxqdv1xwsu3tAMX4lE8gVesC2mtAwiVvrg06OLqAvd-YuoAgYgByRDy87CMq7f1KvOmrvec_Zqnt8gF0U91EB6CeKiFq0rXjaqgwp20wgLHv39Vl3yJg/s320/004-lucille-ball-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lucille met with producer Robert Sparks, who was better known as the husband of Penny Singleton, who played “Blondie Bumstead” in the late 1930s and early 1940s. He was one of the early members of the film colony urging Lucille to consider the newly emerging medium of television. In time, he would leave the movie industry altogether and join CBS as a producer, developing such superhit TV series as<i> Gunsmoke</i> (1955) and <i>Perry Mason</i> (1957), among other shows. Lucille became an expert on Manhattan after dark. She danced at the Cotton Club in Harlem to the music of Louis Armstrong. Still fully dressed in her evening clothes, she often watched the sun rise over Central Park, sometimes—after a long night—ordering breakfast in Greenwich Village. She was a familiar sight at supper clubs and at lavish parties.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgabecDqTqiivqQkUpT7Fl3FD9Y8oZLqocnSTFUyZst8SntqBisz53VPgykDae8sUuCyS5EoKM0y8YpkyFR2Lu7Sf6PKs0O9-loskAzEqMLuFjRBYA-Q8cQywq8qis6fOI44VOoQms5kD7oAPwwQrNOOZ-rG54o69Jw17KEvT0EhHsVY2WNOuOQ/s620/563full-carole-landis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="563" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgabecDqTqiivqQkUpT7Fl3FD9Y8oZLqocnSTFUyZst8SntqBisz53VPgykDae8sUuCyS5EoKM0y8YpkyFR2Lu7Sf6PKs0O9-loskAzEqMLuFjRBYA-Q8cQywq8qis6fOI44VOoQms5kD7oAPwwQrNOOZ-rG54o69Jw17KEvT0EhHsVY2WNOuOQ/s320/563full-carole-landis.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>Lucille Ball and Joan Blondell possibly dated film producer Pat DiCicco (who married Thelma Todd in 1932). Carole Landis was another one of Pat DiCicco's lovers. When she worked as a band singer in San Francisco, she allegedly turned tricks on the side and later Carole landed a job in the chorus at Warners she dated Busby Berkeley who featured her prominently in <i>Hollywood Hotel </i>and in the big dance finale of <i>Varsity Show.</i> Carole also tried her luck with Dick Powell during <i>Varsity Show</i> (1937) and with Ronald Reagan in 1938 (when Reagan co-starred with Joan Blondell's sister Gloria in<i> Accidents Will Happen). </i><span style="text-align: left;">Berkeley wanted to marry Carole but his mother did not approve of their romance. In the spring of 1938 Irving Wheeler, Carole's estranged husband, sued Busby Berkeley for alienation of affection. The story made headlines all over the country and although Wheeler lost the case the bad publicity hurt her reputation. Carole's romance with Busby Berkeley ended in the summer of 1938.</span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRpVuvW4VQQcFYmuYHfKKmxW0kOci_c9Ctf20AX-o9n-sI40cBv4C0-zaVIIA76GAfVGTVCyC2t0VK81urrT9n18PKDjI6hjlpr7QBzp-MiB__QYWj2vMjW2pAfmRjo1IfK-NjocZA3nezEMwe70uzq7ZQXxSaAgwnFrlv2IUtesWE5g7ZrUunw/s899/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="899" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRpVuvW4VQQcFYmuYHfKKmxW0kOci_c9Ctf20AX-o9n-sI40cBv4C0-zaVIIA76GAfVGTVCyC2t0VK81urrT9n18PKDjI6hjlpr7QBzp-MiB__QYWj2vMjW2pAfmRjo1IfK-NjocZA3nezEMwe70uzq7ZQXxSaAgwnFrlv2IUtesWE5g7ZrUunw/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lucille Ball was originally offered the Carole Landis role in the film noir<i> I Wake Up Screaming.</i> Wanting to star in <i>The Big Street,</i> Lucille turned down the role, in which she would have played the sister of Betty Grable, a former lover of Desi Arnaz, and the pinup girl of World War II. Lucille had long known of Betty Grable’s affair with Desi for a while. In 1959, at a recent dinner party, a former co-worker asked Lucille Ball and Ann Sothern if RKO Studios had changed since the days when they worked there together. 'Yes,' Ann replied, 'Lucille owns it now.' Lucille added: 'And Ann made over the wardrobe department for her dressing room.' Two decades ago, both Lucille and Ann were struggling for roles and recognition at RKO. In late 1950s, Lucille and Desi Arnaz were proprietors of the lot. 'I love Lucille and I know she loves me,' remarked Ann Sothern in her luxurious dressing room. 'Furthermore, I'm one of the few people who call her Lucille.'</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizYY3grsqg6qHvPNRQ8cwvDedkB1rLa_5C8fZ4E1IIf86AJpQnbFedtYFqhW8XzZuXa8XZvfxE6THSoihVnxA6dcd2tMmSDKc0r-4Tx-IwY-kCMb_WZufLIcWiUInk5m-8RBbLtttwav4F_XYPFZcf3L98281_TUmJOnEgk4EQQMvoh_SNL0KWLQ/s525/Cvvvvaptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="464" data-original-width="525" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizYY3grsqg6qHvPNRQ8cwvDedkB1rLa_5C8fZ4E1IIf86AJpQnbFedtYFqhW8XzZuXa8XZvfxE6THSoihVnxA6dcd2tMmSDKc0r-4Tx-IwY-kCMb_WZufLIcWiUInk5m-8RBbLtttwav4F_XYPFZcf3L98281_TUmJOnEgk4EQQMvoh_SNL0KWLQ/s320/Cvvvvaptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">'I understand her. A lot of people think she is gruff and tough. But that's just her way. She's soft inside.' 'My career was built on the roles Ann turned down,' Lucille claimed. 'I doubt that,' Ann countered. 'I wasn't that important.' 'Yes, but she didn't know some of the things that went on behind the scenes.' Lucille replied. At any rate, they became fast friends. Lucille recalls going to Ann with a problem: Her family was coming to California to stay and she wasn't making enough to fix up a house in the manner she hoped for. Ann went in and decorated the place with her unerring taste. 'I've always spent money,' Ann admitted. 'My theory is that whatever you spend will eventually come back to you. I've spent money even when I didn't have it.' —"<span style="text-align: left;">Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz: They Weren't Lucy and Ricky Ricardo" (Blood Moon Productions, 2021)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRr6WyKn2-tNxH7ulxB64b6jLep1yZCtgB7W0PGdzvPaN5-y0d85PVQYtOD2BKrk4h_Xn-KFdJWf98gTer6Jv-z1Tb7eX5KtohlwSJCYVTybjVOxxV02Z-E3eM4MUdhnwETVW820kSsU88qjM9pWdyaGYfFMjayMsxQFZD0zdAOTPzm4aaRxEPFg/s1486/s-6666(1).webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1486" data-original-width="1145" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRr6WyKn2-tNxH7ulxB64b6jLep1yZCtgB7W0PGdzvPaN5-y0d85PVQYtOD2BKrk4h_Xn-KFdJWf98gTer6Jv-z1Tb7eX5KtohlwSJCYVTybjVOxxV02Z-E3eM4MUdhnwETVW820kSsU88qjM9pWdyaGYfFMjayMsxQFZD0zdAOTPzm4aaRxEPFg/s320/s-6666(1).webp" width="247" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">About her meeting Desi Arnaz for the first time, Lucille Ball replied: "It wasn't love at first sight. It took a full five minutes."</div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWupUQrAaZATnuN3178neqK8QlrlVIVIB9NuLyYyl7KcnbjzCdSc8u3IblTp7-qpTLtao10MQNMRlrNjvR61rQRV3y0_6_qD2KB6XCwt6b9XdbdNatJhzHTkQ8RmT9HEU_K4LH2o1kdydpxmS4Ua2H091TET5xfwFmVXbfS5HAtoMTmbiPof7Tdg/s1752/lucille-ball-henry-fonda.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1752" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWupUQrAaZATnuN3178neqK8QlrlVIVIB9NuLyYyl7KcnbjzCdSc8u3IblTp7-qpTLtao10MQNMRlrNjvR61rQRV3y0_6_qD2KB6XCwt6b9XdbdNatJhzHTkQ8RmT9HEU_K4LH2o1kdydpxmS4Ua2H091TET5xfwFmVXbfS5HAtoMTmbiPof7Tdg/s320/lucille-ball-henry-fonda.webp" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Passionate love is rooted in the reward circuitry of the brain—the same area that is active when humans feel a rush from cocaine. In fact, the cravings, motivations and withdrawals involved in love have a great deal in common with addiction. Its most intense forms tend to be associated with the early stages of a relationship, which then give way to a calmer attachment form of love one feels with a long-term partner. This has a slightly different chemistry but still involves the reward centres of the brain. What all this means is that one special person can become chemically rewarding to the brain of another. </div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwi8dL9gfVolK0d4bg9y3YcqISd-wBRwGHctj18sr0TcS6c44l_knYOymBHh11Oz5Y2gA3b_Qaw9A6oEDXkuBNsw3stYNe5j0pIXo10vTLdEVFmIWvcJXLC3IlI-rJLrdq27IC61BQRMAlkrGEFhOvRpoNIgCdL7XDSlmhsh-_7WJArSr-tjxaOw/s454/139096949_442583017107842_3185873691751889464_n.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="404" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwi8dL9gfVolK0d4bg9y3YcqISd-wBRwGHctj18sr0TcS6c44l_knYOymBHh11Oz5Y2gA3b_Qaw9A6oEDXkuBNsw3stYNe5j0pIXo10vTLdEVFmIWvcJXLC3IlI-rJLrdq27IC61BQRMAlkrGEFhOvRpoNIgCdL7XDSlmhsh-_7WJArSr-tjxaOw/s320/139096949_442583017107842_3185873691751889464_n.png" width="285" /></a></div>Love at first sight is possible if the mechanism for generating long-term attachment can be triggered quickly. One line of evidence is that people are able to decide within a fraction of a second how attractive they find another person. This decision appears to be related to facial attractiveness, although men also favour women with a waist-to-hip ratio of 0.7, no matter what their overall weight is. Ayala Malack-Pines, a psychologist at Ben-Gurion University, found that a small fraction (11%) of people in long-term relationships said that they began with love at first sight. In other words, in some couples the initial favorable impressions of attractiveness triggered love which sustained a lengthy bond. It is also clear that some couples need to form their bonds over a longer period, and popular culture tells many tales of friends who become lovers. One might also speculate that if a person is looking for a partner with traits that cannot be quantified instantly, such as compassion, intellect or a good sense of humour, then it would be hard to form a relationship on the basis of love at first sight. Those more concerned only with visual appearances, though, might find this easier. Source: www.economist.com</div></div></span></div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-33720618492199891092024-02-04T06:49:00.043+01:002024-02-21T08:25:32.100+01:00When Lucille Ball met June Allyson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAX0x4PdVoZi6KS06khNyV9yqSixvl-NJmyt0KvJpyPQWfT2yb_dNjD8uTme0bNGOgT4ThxDUBd047YpHWz6F8pRN2OANZV3RCV8JNxO8H8wdpWMx6S7T5PQGASOOLwvVY6zJaNMJUVIrTiouVnIcaFBTCzg9kj-xHKStP4whO3EnWMAQWHLQ/s559/zzzzzCaptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="552" data-original-width="559" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAX0x4PdVoZi6KS06khNyV9yqSixvl-NJmyt0KvJpyPQWfT2yb_dNjD8uTme0bNGOgT4ThxDUBd047YpHWz6F8pRN2OANZV3RCV8JNxO8H8wdpWMx6S7T5PQGASOOLwvVY6zJaNMJUVIrTiouVnIcaFBTCzg9kj-xHKStP4whO3EnWMAQWHLQ/s320/zzzzzCaptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>When June Allyson flew to New York in the winter of 1960, the last person anyone expected her to look up was Lucille Ball. And yet now it seemed that this was the very reason June had come three thousand miles—to see Lucy. Why? What was going on? In a matter of weeks, the answer was obvious. Right after her meeting with Lucy, June suddenly stopped squashing the rumors that all was not well with her marriage to Dick Powell. And early in January 1961, when an openly weeping June told reporters outright that she and Dick had separated and she would seek a divorce, the mystery seemed to be solved. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlF7-N91Nmrlqm5P0LBX1Ziifng6d-ZoVu2j-E7bWlA7aC2tcs74s2ttVY8DS7XG8k-ATKCzbsiZLQJJ-OU1zMarmYES6hj9-JZPmXc-hme-_ubvm8LJOc_uVa0bHqBg-rpHQ2-ohMVos-3IeXhicz415wz9t2Sl1OdFUkh4rfUseg-DMEbE/s599/zzssfffffffggg.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="487" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlF7-N91Nmrlqm5P0LBX1Ziifng6d-ZoVu2j-E7bWlA7aC2tcs74s2ttVY8DS7XG8k-ATKCzbsiZLQJJ-OU1zMarmYES6hj9-JZPmXc-hme-_ubvm8LJOc_uVa0bHqBg-rpHQ2-ohMVos-3IeXhicz415wz9t2Sl1OdFUkh4rfUseg-DMEbE/s320/zzssfffffffggg.JPG" width="260" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June Allyson was faced with the breakup of her marriage. There was only one other woman in the world who had ever been faced with just her unique and difficult position-and that was Lucille Ball. Lucy seemed to be the only person June could turn to for the understanding and advice she needed. Neither woman was willing to comment on what they talked about. But there were no denials either. After their meeting, people were quick to point out that Lucy, having been through the division of Desilu Studios, might well give June some financial advice. After all, June and Dick also shared an entertainment empire, Four Star Productions. June Allyson and Lucille Ball were born, a few years apart, in New York. As children they dreamed of show business careers. Each girl underwent a tragic experience that almost crippled her for life. For June it was an accident. Her spine had been injured. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7I7Zj-beyqENfE43Ifa9R4iz8KNJR7pY4bWhCevOLpy4LRwgjUtZka7hMy1cOTgauESWs04g83Vu4HYUIqJotdgfBuAYbpMlkMKEZ9ZJJXvCthsg0rPBoA7mjT01d4SFGTe6y6Yq5Mgs29TrF6G-Ng0M-E_xRTCrC0t0UHCF9fQJxFZdLw0/s500/460full-lucille-ball.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="460" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7I7Zj-beyqENfE43Ifa9R4iz8KNJR7pY4bWhCevOLpy4LRwgjUtZka7hMy1cOTgauESWs04g83Vu4HYUIqJotdgfBuAYbpMlkMKEZ9ZJJXvCthsg0rPBoA7mjT01d4SFGTe6y6Yq5Mgs29TrF6G-Ng0M-E_xRTCrC0t0UHCF9fQJxFZdLw0/s320/460full-lucille-ball.jpg" width="294" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For Lucille, it was an illness; she contracted pneumonia. Whether through improper treatment, or simply because of the violence of the attack, it left her paralyzed. For eight months she lay in bed, struggling to move a toe, an ankle, a knee. She had planned to begin her show business career as a chorus girl. Now she was told she might never walk again. Yet neither girl would consider giving up. Shy, delicate-boned, tiny June Allyson, and raucous, wide-mouthed, tall Lucille Ball—they shared an incredible determination. By effort, by sheer will power, they set about restoring themselves to health. For June there were long hours in a swimming pool, to help move her stiff and aching legs. And then there were the movies to help forget. She loved Fred Astaire’s “The Gay Divorcee,” which she watched eighteen times. She knew every step of the dance routines. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEeiDTC-Yh9o-iu7BFyA2QgNRXgOFzZzdD-LZVvI_OYjCFdg6SOMoXaEH64xcCvqDACftn0sZhJGksTe4N3lY8MIUxgjXhlPGkWIu6-Pl3OD-f-laUoaOeAC6Bgt3aZxfHEngdDqUQQDwyupu4nZCpe4bHZQOZjxN3o3yzR1PIUWdFdgnYTk/s2048/licensed-image.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1635" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEeiDTC-Yh9o-iu7BFyA2QgNRXgOFzZzdD-LZVvI_OYjCFdg6SOMoXaEH64xcCvqDACftn0sZhJGksTe4N3lY8MIUxgjXhlPGkWIu6-Pl3OD-f-laUoaOeAC6Bgt3aZxfHEngdDqUQQDwyupu4nZCpe4bHZQOZjxN3o3yzR1PIUWdFdgnYTk/s320/licensed-image.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For Lucille, there were exercises that were much the same—and scars that were very different. For three long years she struggled to regain control of her legs. She spent hours listening to the radio, studying the great comedians, their tricks, their timing. The one thing she wanted was to make people laugh. At one point, some relative brought a drama coach to see her, to encourage her gallant fight. At the end of the session the man rose, bit his lip, and told her that she did not have a chance. Sick or well, the man said with pity she simply had no talent. As stubbornly as June Allyson kept her eyes from her face in the mirror, so Lucille Ball kept her thoughts from that man, his condescension and his judgment. Despite him, despite her unwilling legs, she would be a dancer and a famous comedienne. Both women went to the West, to Hollywood, where they would meet each other for the first time during the production of<i> Best Foot Forward. </i></div><p></p><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvoSvGYr43po1vfgWAMXiRuGtVVZeLvKsJipEebYalmWCVJGoQXytxS3J_SBt11EHxWdsxwohIeRdHiPwni6qPzV0eeEyr8Kd4BZgW-XByy3iB98JSz-gcoqN3KddSWf3lAK8d9_C6rmc6ZunWoCyMZ83aEj8zYQdAOG-cvRwADXTZYvHxcI/s3500/bestfootforward1943.68488.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2280" data-original-width="3500" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvoSvGYr43po1vfgWAMXiRuGtVVZeLvKsJipEebYalmWCVJGoQXytxS3J_SBt11EHxWdsxwohIeRdHiPwni6qPzV0eeEyr8Kd4BZgW-XByy3iB98JSz-gcoqN3KddSWf3lAK8d9_C6rmc6ZunWoCyMZ83aEj8zYQdAOG-cvRwADXTZYvHxcI/s320/bestfootforward1943.68488.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic;">Best Foot Forward</i><i> </i>was a 1943 American musical film adapted from the 1941 Broadway musical comedy of the same title, based on an unpublished play by John Cecil Holm. The film was released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and starred Lucille Ball, William Gaxton, June Allyson, Gloria DeHaven, and Nancy Walker. Produced by George Abbott, the production opened on Broadway on October 1, 1941 at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, where it ran for 326 performances. It was directed by Abbott, with choreography by Gene Kelly, and starred Rosemary Lane. The show was Nancy Walker's Broadway debut and also launched June Allyson to fame. Brooks Atkinson of The New York Times liked the "good humored" show, especially praising the score and choreography, singling out June Allyson and Nancy Walker. Maureen Cannon (<i>Best Foot Forward)</i> was friendly with Rosemary Lane and June Allyson, and she witnessed in the summer of 1942 the introduction of June Allyson to Dick Powell by mutual friend Rosemary Lane. This clearly would contradict Joan Blondell's madcap account of the meeting in her memoir <i>Center Door Fancy</i>. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlncKVKuA51F12ZLyPtvF_Te4y4w-IDut1jkBeaQ7fikGM0SQ8hQT1XQ6Z4azcD_FiKwSez5ZVhwTroSpplS_LToJe2og7Bhl0-IJzOG3TT2d1uIFPqt7E0e7guwF00ZmLfwGrsa1yI1mh8-dt0uAm5zyVM2XR2P1tOElT_O0933QM-Rwtgk/s1038/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="1038" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlncKVKuA51F12ZLyPtvF_Te4y4w-IDut1jkBeaQ7fikGM0SQ8hQT1XQ6Z4azcD_FiKwSez5ZVhwTroSpplS_LToJe2og7Bhl0-IJzOG3TT2d1uIFPqt7E0e7guwF00ZmLfwGrsa1yI1mh8-dt0uAm5zyVM2XR2P1tOElT_O0933QM-Rwtgk/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While shooting <i>Meet the People</i> (1944), co-starring Dick Powell, Lucille Ball helped her friend June Allyson to hide her and Dick Powell from the press. Lucille also observed Joan Blondell's erratic conduct and her tendency to spread false rumors about Allyson. Blondell's official divorce from Powell would happen in July 1945. In August, 19, 1945, Dick Powell would marry her third and last wife, June Allyson. After getting nervous in her first wedding night with Powell, Allyson felt more on ease the next day, explaining: "The next morning he took me to the Santana, and there we had our second wedding night in broad daylight. What had I been afraid of? This was truly the gold at the end of the rainbow. I didn't want to get off the boat, ever." This would also contradict Powell's bedroom customs that Joan Blondell mentioned in <i>Center Door Fancy</i>, complaining of a prudish Powell wanting to make love only in the darkness. </div></div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BK8qmrbqdsxYN3uqrC6ZWr712Z8w6cYDrsGSHx39xXMZsW3NK0aeGbOF3sjwl_txMDrsuyWaUpoErDcPBArt9h50P--J62cYBjnNQrOSrjynaD7_6PUa2UfoF0pAsRfGcgoFaeA4x-p9rvUqDtdccEFRB9_WqjU9hmZSC1wo6kkRQSzWLzM/s688/zzggeerrr.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="688" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BK8qmrbqdsxYN3uqrC6ZWr712Z8w6cYDrsGSHx39xXMZsW3NK0aeGbOF3sjwl_txMDrsuyWaUpoErDcPBArt9h50P--J62cYBjnNQrOSrjynaD7_6PUa2UfoF0pAsRfGcgoFaeA4x-p9rvUqDtdccEFRB9_WqjU9hmZSC1wo6kkRQSzWLzM/s320/zzggeerrr.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Joan Blondell alleges, in the most libelous passage of <i>Center Door Fancy,</i> that Allyson's reputation was in the public domain and she had been a call-girl in NYC, according to Mike Todd. Blondell mustn't have figured that future biographers of Allyson would confirm or debunk these awful allegations. And multiples sources deny these off-base accusations. First, Mike Todd was a shady, sexist fabulist who only could know about Allyson through third-party sources. As a youngster, June Allyson lived on 3rd Avenue Elevated, also known as Bronx El, on a clanking street of tenements, bars, and hock shops. To help her family, at 16 she was working as a nightclub singer and dancer. It was typical of the era tongue wagging about a young woman in such an environment. Whilst, Lucille Ball studied dance under Martha Graham Dance Company before Graham asked her to drop the class. “You’re hopeless as a dancer,” Graham told her. “You’re like a quarterback taking up ballet. Perhaps you could find work as a soda jerk.” Reportedly, at 14, Ball wound up in a relationship with 23-year-old Johnny DaVita, who, some authors speculated, ran illegal booze from Canada. In 1928, Lucy began working for Hattie Carnegie as an in-house model. Later Lucy Ball was hired by theatre impresario Earl Carroll for his <i>Vanities</i> Broadway revue, and by Florenz Ziegfeld Jr. for the <i>Rio Rita </i>stage musical. After a stint in <i>Roman Scandals </i>(1933), Lucille Ball moved to Hollywood as a contract player for RKO. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GIbQ9Scrd3wpxgozhzFtzR2FbnO7yB-eddGpPI-HmJ_koKWfnjPkp3d947U_GDcfkM2ZiV24wrhjtpNb3Gy91SdD0vHrcOKR_hvsUzd3o5DnX0j50a3pvAjWg9Ie8jhqC-2XITh2cOXPe-by-avUyCI1iSKqPAWr7xFSPA8wL2tVIGDGXFM/s653/arnaz-lucy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="653" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GIbQ9Scrd3wpxgozhzFtzR2FbnO7yB-eddGpPI-HmJ_koKWfnjPkp3d947U_GDcfkM2ZiV24wrhjtpNb3Gy91SdD0vHrcOKR_hvsUzd3o5DnX0j50a3pvAjWg9Ie8jhqC-2XITh2cOXPe-by-avUyCI1iSKqPAWr7xFSPA8wL2tVIGDGXFM/s320/arnaz-lucy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>On March 3, 1960, (one day after filming the final episode of The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour), Lucille Ball filed papers in Santa Monica Superior Court, claiming married life with Desi Arnaz was "a nightmare" and nothing at all as it appeared on <i>I Love Lucy</i>. On May 4, 1960, they were officially divorced. Both the show and the couple’s marriage ended in 1960. However, until his death in 1986, Arnaz and Ball remained friends and often spoke fondly of each other. <span style="text-align: left;">Lucille’s marriage had taken place in 1940. June’s in 1945. Lucille chose a temperamental Cuban bandleader, Desi Arnaz, five years younger. June had married a respected, long-established movie star, Dick Powell—thirteen years her senior. </span>At the beginning, there was the strain of being apart.</div></div><div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJ1rD0BAwDDayppPkUi5oMLPniqmoLcAWMdxf59evE2v976vh_FF7qvr8tvFs6lzPwM2VA56V_rbX5u8hJo52KcdXWpjx-kqD10FJROwn2jVFZa0TsOh80ahlBFkcZ1TsHqZeOzsj5rdjlmnToG1Q43RrU7OqwyDmP7IIZNR9qsHfHoYO3XI/s720/b24e39292daefa741263761f4d1bdb24.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="535" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJ1rD0BAwDDayppPkUi5oMLPniqmoLcAWMdxf59evE2v976vh_FF7qvr8tvFs6lzPwM2VA56V_rbX5u8hJo52KcdXWpjx-kqD10FJROwn2jVFZa0TsOh80ahlBFkcZ1TsHqZeOzsj5rdjlmnToG1Q43RrU7OqwyDmP7IIZNR9qsHfHoYO3XI/s320/b24e39292daefa741263761f4d1bdb24.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For June and Dick, enforced separations were not really long or frequent. They were apart only when location shooting was required for either of them, and this seldom meant more than a few weeks. But for Lucy and Desi Arnaz, enforced separations were far more severe. Lucy once estimated that in the early years of their marriage they spent far less than half their time together. In each marriage, the result was one of increased tension. Lucy and Desi’s broke down first in 1944. For June and Dick the first serious split came in 1957, when Dick moved out of their Mandeville Canyon home. In both cases the decision was made by the woman. And in both cases the women changed their minds and decided to reconcile. Both men had a shrewd business sense. Four Star Productions and Desilu became names to be reckoned within the world of TV. But just as strains had emerged from the success of the two women, new tensions appeared born of their husbands’ triumphs. Lucille Ball sold Desilu's stock for 17 million dollars in 1967, which amounts to $130 millions today. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpIkqXrh98w4YPsYA2riJWcCRhZYdbHmHIDVnNgaxOObz4BNSM4aKrfNdssTA3Yt9zBdfq4MgXBvBiOiwlXfRXegF8hw93dWRGJgnCWVa7gGDusDqFfgTfLvmFX5qbjhEpujxWNJx8SvQfebK0FMDju2qgifF8K4H3Grojtt36Vsgui9vc7uIEQ/s1600/Lucille%20Ball_Orig.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpIkqXrh98w4YPsYA2riJWcCRhZYdbHmHIDVnNgaxOObz4BNSM4aKrfNdssTA3Yt9zBdfq4MgXBvBiOiwlXfRXegF8hw93dWRGJgnCWVa7gGDusDqFfgTfLvmFX5qbjhEpujxWNJx8SvQfebK0FMDju2qgifF8K4H3Grojtt36Vsgui9vc7uIEQ/s320/Lucille%20Ball_Orig.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>When Lucille was a young actress, she was known as a wild and rough woman, very unpolished and scrappy and willing to brawl, and she wasn't liked by everyone because she was sassy. Again, like her <i>Stage Door </i>character, she admitted: 'I'm a bitch in the boardroom, a bore in the bedroom and a bear on the toilet, so watch your back!' Lucille Ball clashed with Joan Crawford during the filming of "Lucy & The Lost Star." Not being used to the sitcom format, Crawford was filled with trepidation and turned to alcohol to calm her nerves, which greatly displeased the demanding and perfectionistic Ball. After Crawford failed to perform a Charleston dance routine to Ball's satisfaction, Ball loudly threatened to fire her in front of the entire cast and crew, causing Crawford to flee to her dressing room in tears. There, she uttered the infamous quote: "And they call me a bitch!" It is said that Desi Arnaz and Vanda Barra gave Crawford pep talks which helped get her through the shoot, and the episode became a big hit. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqp2jSm1nW-dU0ygJvFF7ZJyE7j74jGGkTDfirx8lcaQBdSdfzXqHDC8-UmUTmqHRZnCc6Xc-_h-CfVWds9DXODIa3myEDSfa_E6URt6EIRYZh4DvsvhSbsoifMse6H8ZPR8y0NwAm95xqwX6bDRSf9HYib0UyR4K1t5M0oxYIRY7dY-M6LnlHnA/s1638/Lucille_Ball_1943.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1638" data-original-width="1327" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqp2jSm1nW-dU0ygJvFF7ZJyE7j74jGGkTDfirx8lcaQBdSdfzXqHDC8-UmUTmqHRZnCc6Xc-_h-CfVWds9DXODIa3myEDSfa_E6URt6EIRYZh4DvsvhSbsoifMse6H8ZPR8y0NwAm95xqwX6bDRSf9HYib0UyR4K1t5M0oxYIRY7dY-M6LnlHnA/s320/Lucille_Ball_1943.jpg" width="259" /></a></div>Lucille Ball could be a comic wisecracker, but Ginger Rogers, Joan Blondell, and Eve Arden did it better. She's very good in <i>The Big Street,</i> but dramas were never going to be her bread and butter. She couldn't sing, she could move well but wasn't a dancer. Once the hair went red and she developed and was allowed to showcase her amazing talent for physical comedy she became a huge star in an emerging new medium. From a respectable but middling career to #1 at age 40. “On the set of The Lucy Show she could be a holy terror,” said one of the technicians who watched Lucy in action. Joan Blondell, who had known Lucy since their starlet days in the 1930s, had become a stage comedienne in middle age. Lucy booked her on the show, then expressed dissatisfaction with the way Blondell read her lines. After one take, her friend Herb Kenwith reported, the director yelled “Cut” and “Lucille pulled an imaginary chain. . . as if flushing an old-fashioned toilet.” Blondell turned away but caught the tailend of the gesture.“ ‘What does that mean,’ she demanded. Lucille said, ‘It means that stunk!’ Joan looked her right in the eye and said, ‘Fuck you, Lucille Ball!’ and left. The studio audience was stunned. You didn’t hear words like that in those days.” Blondell never came back.</span></div></div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrTn8TAH0xrh7QyJ2u7itOANt0MBxv2ne3RnOxyl4Ecs79inBrwa3GVL_nd48C57mzXDaXW5sfKpDMGAKQ6LDGmACpadz94MN_hf1nG8gp3XUoHoG94vyjcoc8hh4kIqCspFyxfq6bmzwLvUPxaVH5FEif_9PVTkLGtQ7flbYNI2OKIK87t30HA/s1200/descarga.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrTn8TAH0xrh7QyJ2u7itOANt0MBxv2ne3RnOxyl4Ecs79inBrwa3GVL_nd48C57mzXDaXW5sfKpDMGAKQ6LDGmACpadz94MN_hf1nG8gp3XUoHoG94vyjcoc8hh4kIqCspFyxfq6bmzwLvUPxaVH5FEif_9PVTkLGtQ7flbYNI2OKIK87t30HA/s320/descarga.webp" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lucille Ball was very conservative and didn't invest in land properties, like a lot of other celebrities. Fred MacMurray made a fortune off of early Hollywood land valued over 60 millions at the end of his life, the same amount that Lucille Ball was worth: $60 million dollars at the time of her death in 1989. Dick Powell had been shrewd with property as well and was one of the founding investment developers of a big leisure complex at Beverly Boulevard and Fairfax Avenue that included an ice hockey arena, a bowling alley, stores, and restaurants. Although his workaholic ethic might have given the impression he would have amassed near an equal fortune as MacMurray's, Powell's estate was just valued around 5 million. After their tumultuous honeymoon, Joan Blondell and Dick Powell left New York by train on 17 October, 1936, stopping at the tony South Shore Country Club in Chicago.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUg1ocruEKuFMCIyImNjPM2VNLKQEMbOvr4AShXqKmFk7PDdxuJ8UXCbGS-JNMSwODR-MpabAo8vXhU2eXQPxc7S6jK0EBioiWjP3xSjAOYaZOZoQkJsK8SJ1liIV3kwnIrJVQa3Z3DeuGO1bEOGYelS2w01E2Xvhmq9ZyfcPuXRtOSgPg5dfLA/s1020/rrrrrr.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="1020" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUg1ocruEKuFMCIyImNjPM2VNLKQEMbOvr4AShXqKmFk7PDdxuJ8UXCbGS-JNMSwODR-MpabAo8vXhU2eXQPxc7S6jK0EBioiWjP3xSjAOYaZOZoQkJsK8SJ1liIV3kwnIrJVQa3Z3DeuGO1bEOGYelS2w01E2Xvhmq9ZyfcPuXRtOSgPg5dfLA/s320/rrrrrr.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Some fans had difficulty separating reality from the movies. Joan Blondell complained bitterly: "People took all that love stuff so literally with Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler, who were always playing opposite each other, that several times the fans were actually furious that I took him away from Ruby. When we got married, they thought she should marry him. It didn't bother them one bit that she was married to Al Jolson." Vivian Vance fondly remembered that during the days of the "I Love Lucy", she would regularly go over to Lucille's house at night to henna and perm Lucy's hair. Ann Sothern and Ethel Merman attended these hair sessions too. Merman, Vance and Ball were having a party at Chez Roxbury and getting pretty drunk in the process. Merman announced she had slept with Desi Arnaz when he was appearing in <i>Too Many Girls </i>(1940)<i>,</i> before he went to Hollywood and met Lucy. Merman was also having an affair with Sherman Billingsley, owner of the Stork Club, and married William Smith in 1940.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQYHP6_KJwfUNj9kmKY9lpGbBw1aLQ4hOLiJdDg_2gqHvn8C3qw7YyI0EFTgzK_Fj1rXR14D2joXUSFp5I9v8lwv4l-8AKUSOkXx_Tkn9Iz8abPlW6b662ngY4QcTBdDL5Tgf_ZKUHqlI9JocDQWaKLLdevTLrS1VEqBy7-86odjKGYMGf2W2Yuw/s1600/square-1476569034-gettyimages-3227646-index.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQYHP6_KJwfUNj9kmKY9lpGbBw1aLQ4hOLiJdDg_2gqHvn8C3qw7YyI0EFTgzK_Fj1rXR14D2joXUSFp5I9v8lwv4l-8AKUSOkXx_Tkn9Iz8abPlW6b662ngY4QcTBdDL5Tgf_ZKUHqlI9JocDQWaKLLdevTLrS1VEqBy7-86odjKGYMGf2W2Yuw/s320/square-1476569034-gettyimages-3227646-index.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The story took place on the evening after Lucille Ball threw a wedding shower at Desilu studios for Ethel Merman prior to her marriage to Ernest Borgnine, which would put the time in June 1964. "Lucille threw a party for Merman at her Beverly Hills house. Her husband, Gary Morton, and her children Lucie and Desi Jr. were sent away while Lucille Ball, Ethel Merman, and Vivian Vance spent the evening with bottles of scotch. The three ladies reminisced about being young together in Broadway and Hollywood. Ethel Merman had known Vivian Vance for twenty nine years and Lucille a little longer. They had done movies and Broadway together and had just finished filming a two part "Lucy Show" for airing on CBS. The more they drank, the freer everyone's tongues got. Merman admitted to her one night stand with Desi in 1939, which Vivian found hysterical. Lucille was not amused and wondered out loud that Ernest Borgnine "must be great in bed at night because he is nothing to look at in the daylight." Finally, the three dames dissolved into laughter and made coffee." </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI-wP4ERyvhlORLZdySPBkp-UNUYnoJ5uzLPr8rsMmIQVSuO8hpUPBp9bvf4Ee72nrn-g38trQYPTPodTAzx3CgK31ebP2CMw3bZ0fNberju-LikiwBkPf6yLa3mD8IZIAVKQJShihyEXjqgjl_kkd579FmSZ4btvsQbZvQ3XlEZTPBuBKLynUA/s1007/740full-lucille-ball.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1007" data-original-width="740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI-wP4ERyvhlORLZdySPBkp-UNUYnoJ5uzLPr8rsMmIQVSuO8hpUPBp9bvf4Ee72nrn-g38trQYPTPodTAzx3CgK31ebP2CMw3bZ0fNberju-LikiwBkPf6yLa3mD8IZIAVKQJShihyEXjqgjl_kkd579FmSZ4btvsQbZvQ3XlEZTPBuBKLynUA/s320/740full-lucille-ball.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>After her death, more of Lucille Ball's life story surfaced: her reputation back in Jamestown, NY, the rumors about Lucy being a call girl in NYC, like June Allyson, being both stories by all accounts patently false, byproduct of jealousy. In another girl night, June talked about Lucy having an affair with Pandro Berman, head of RKO. Lucy said she had dated Berman but she fended off Harry Cohn's advances in Columbia. Lucy seemed curious about June and Dick's intimate life, asking if was June satisfied? "I cannot have enough of it," laughed June. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUk7GxzwxtsYtqnJSL8HbaO6lOKj8IUwh0skKshCHweOdDW_cv5NY3YOLrssMXXRkaWGMUC7kcDlFsyAqeTId737HJElV1ONUY66uMdHuRzCUMkbMuSHESkk3ICpdbn9FZiNNoaReuoKglBm9s_GyUIKCNvo0PnpxU7b_q9_67WvBF2Ofu4_D2UQ/s375/MeetthePeople4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="375" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUk7GxzwxtsYtqnJSL8HbaO6lOKj8IUwh0skKshCHweOdDW_cv5NY3YOLrssMXXRkaWGMUC7kcDlFsyAqeTId737HJElV1ONUY66uMdHuRzCUMkbMuSHESkk3ICpdbn9FZiNNoaReuoKglBm9s_GyUIKCNvo0PnpxU7b_q9_67WvBF2Ofu4_D2UQ/s320/MeetthePeople4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Lucy just seemed bluntly cranky. She advised June not to "mess with the Rat guys" (Sinatra, Lawford, Dino). Allyson shaked her head in disgust. Changing subject, Lucy said: "No matter how I get dressed up, I always look like the cigarette girl at the Trocadero." She added she wanted to redecorate her Roxbury Drive house. She seemed to dominate her second husband Gary Morton. Only Vivian Vance, Ann Sothern and June Allyson could stand up to Lucy's formidable character. Her friends sometimes heard Lucy snicker: "Goddammit Gary, I said no ice! I can't drink this. Make me another one and remember no ice! It's useless. Oh, and can you get me another pack of Pall Malls from the cupboard? Can you manage to do that? Jesus Christ!" —"If Lucy Ball saw June Allyson, what would she tell her now?" article by Charlotte Dinter for Photoplay magazine (April 1961), "Lucille Ball & Desi Arnaz: They Weren’t Lucy & Ricky" (2020), and "Affairs, Romances, Feuds" (2023) by Allan Royle</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><p></p></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-45807678921663270122024-02-02T20:39:00.018+01:002024-02-03T06:55:25.518+01:00Glamour and Heartbreak in the Golden Age<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepAzM_9UvhMEHV90QVynYvrsPzHbioEVLL7HwYwFurxGG3Z9JhWEpx4L3cSrkwIUXuJ75SimgGjZ3BEhNfxbFZx-DhDOsV2pcFSaUp7DHtNBBLZ4R8SWU_TLWZ8wFVcQoO-PEh2mAaA66s5Q4velz8qDHXm0sT1xSkcdsqDrRdbz7LdU8T8q53w/s500/519gxUvVoJL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepAzM_9UvhMEHV90QVynYvrsPzHbioEVLL7HwYwFurxGG3Z9JhWEpx4L3cSrkwIUXuJ75SimgGjZ3BEhNfxbFZx-DhDOsV2pcFSaUp7DHtNBBLZ4R8SWU_TLWZ8wFVcQoO-PEh2mAaA66s5Q4velz8qDHXm0sT1xSkcdsqDrRdbz7LdU8T8q53w/s320/519gxUvVoJL.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">"In perhaps no other decade did the Hollywood film industry and its product look so different at its conclusion as compared to its beginning" (Ina Hark, <i>American Cinema of the 1930s</i>). At the beginning of 1933, with box office receipts 40 percent of what they had been in 1931 and both RKO and Paramount in receivership, the studios agreed, as they had in the 1920s under Will Hays, to police their films and the onscreen as well as offscreen behavior of their stars. Thus was ushered in the "Age of Order" or the "New Deal," as the "Don'ts and Be Carefuls" of the Hays Code of the 1920s gave way to the "uniform interpretation" of the Production Code in 1934 under the administration of Joseph Breen. If sexuality and violence did not disappear from the American movie screen, both were considerably tamed by the Code. By the summer of 1936, "all of the major studios were running in the black for the first time since 1931", and it was estimated that 80 million people went to the movies every week.' </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdca8_vkcxV6Jlb6Co-SLp4OKZJinhkqqbbUBqNEmeoMyFXRcARZABVhupWRfDoQSWA04bXzLHbaQcxIMECo7lsxYgQSCVBumIbfUo2YwXyOv5QiMeAsET3FNtq69z6MRi6NVhhD3g-CBvc1kjohvOx9LeBdmrG92sMwA_nbv1dL3oMLTjTzlxQ/s1600/s-l1600%20(7).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1222" data-original-width="1600" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdca8_vkcxV6Jlb6Co-SLp4OKZJinhkqqbbUBqNEmeoMyFXRcARZABVhupWRfDoQSWA04bXzLHbaQcxIMECo7lsxYgQSCVBumIbfUo2YwXyOv5QiMeAsET3FNtq69z6MRi6NVhhD3g-CBvc1kjohvOx9LeBdmrG92sMwA_nbv1dL3oMLTjTzlxQ/s320/s-l1600%20(7).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But there was a recession in 1937 for Hollywood as for the rest of the country, and the net earnings of the studios fell off 41.6 percent from 1937 to 1938, and another 11.4 percent from 1938 to 1939 - this despite the hyperbolic claims of Will Hays, in the foreword to a 1937 book by Barrett Kiesling called <i>Talking Pictures: How They Are Made, How to Appreciate Them</i>, that on a "strip of film are caught and held the best in art, the best in music, the best in acting, the best in drama, and the best in literature." Leo Rosten wrote in 1941: "Hollywood means movies and movies mean stars. No group in Hollywood receives as much attention as the men and women whose personalities are featured in films and around whom entire movie organizations have been geared." About 80 percent of all actors were the studios' property, thanks to the nonreciprocal "option contract" - complete with a "morality clause" designed to exempt a studio from damage caused by irrecuperably profligate behavior - that gave a studio exclusive rights to command their players "to act, sing, pose, speak or perform in such roles as the producer may designate," if stardom was achieved seven years and more (Kiesling 129; Klaprat 375).</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmXH2pJE2Em_VsBKSy9Bldw5-uvmij__HrC_CiS5lDkQjk1v4qnx0r-4XTXih-__NJOZsLIeHH8PEGVTuS1riu3ucZXhcHlrkcDO_TEOqiWj6oKBZJ9Oa8AIlRfTN0JWiSxUcz0HnVR7WNvHK-t4Tm3el6lANPDHCR8gcee3xUosbVluzS97GKYA/s426/41l6NAPBzML._AC_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="371" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmXH2pJE2Em_VsBKSy9Bldw5-uvmij__HrC_CiS5lDkQjk1v4qnx0r-4XTXih-__NJOZsLIeHH8PEGVTuS1riu3ucZXhcHlrkcDO_TEOqiWj6oKBZJ9Oa8AIlRfTN0JWiSxUcz0HnVR7WNvHK-t4Tm3el6lANPDHCR8gcee3xUosbVluzS97GKYA/s320/41l6NAPBzML._AC_.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">According to Margaret Thorp, there were 17,000 motion picture theaters in the United States in the 1930s; even the smallest towns, "numbering their citizens by the hundreds," had movie theaters. Moreover, "it is in the small town that tastes are most definitely marked," she writes. Foreign stars, like Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich (whose popularity abroad was of considerable value until the war shut down overseas markets), fared particularly badly in small-town America. Warner Bros. had Al Jolson, George Arliss, Joan Blondell, Edward G. Robinson, James Cagney, George Brent, Ruby Keeler, Dick Powell, Barbara Stanwyck (until 1935), Bette Davis, Kay Francis, Paul Muni, Humphrey Bogart, Pat O'Brien, Olivia de Havilland, Errol Flynn, Claude Rains, and Ann Sheridan. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGuQZBCHoa8rkMA1SPV-PAOja5tCYit9Z8IDL24wrYo7qYE2e8ILSkKimk7Z6bcb_sc7WZeMDoFafPwTHK0l1rsahQqPnVcNZi3uT6kFrfsT1_TYNO8IWNKtnzlNaOvByhqud7E82RfhyuLei9WjWxJj32ihuUINHLlqd9h08WJwl6iDq2UrsV0w/s585/rubykeeler-dickpowell.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="570" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGuQZBCHoa8rkMA1SPV-PAOja5tCYit9Z8IDL24wrYo7qYE2e8ILSkKimk7Z6bcb_sc7WZeMDoFafPwTHK0l1rsahQqPnVcNZi3uT6kFrfsT1_TYNO8IWNKtnzlNaOvByhqud7E82RfhyuLei9WjWxJj32ihuUINHLlqd9h08WJwl6iDq2UrsV0w/s320/rubykeeler-dickpowell.JPG" width="312" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Like screwball comedy, musicals, too, linked stars, especially dancing stars, to competence and entertainment values that were dependent upon beauty and sexual attractiveness. Backstage musicals were popular from 1933 on, when Ruby Keeler's wide-eyed innocence and earnest tap-dancing, supported by crooner Dick Powell and assorted other wisecracking personnel (including Ginger Rogers, whose best was yet to come) and surrounded by Busby Berkeley's extravagant numbers, made <i>42nd Street</i> truly the "New Deal in Entertainment" that its promotion promised. Margaret Thorp wrote: "No capitalist civilization, measuring success by material possessions, can afford to abandon completely the refreshment of release by identification with an ideal personality, the necessity for escape by dreams." Analogous to its male stars, Warners' women tended to he either tough-talking dames or shrinking violets; on the one hand were Joan Blondell, Glenda Farrell, Ruth Donnelly, and later Ann Sheridan, on the other Ruby Keeler, Kay Francis, Anita Louise, and the Lane sisters. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7PMJsoeiieb9oo9YTdOpsS2E3yqIe5p35b7LOj6Nf-4Kkawp5jgGBT1GQROV7KdKgBzWoyc2MoMnYt5dIyDFSCO6lmteuBQPH-f_QYT-yITFjcX9_JoGxhQfBAvqL6RxZ8B8sSMZcyCxQtSFTYDaMSHLeSZEXCM9pLlmXiSOCiWJQLfVLvUlIg/s685/zzwithmaryvbbr.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="685" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7PMJsoeiieb9oo9YTdOpsS2E3yqIe5p35b7LOj6Nf-4Kkawp5jgGBT1GQROV7KdKgBzWoyc2MoMnYt5dIyDFSCO6lmteuBQPH-f_QYT-yITFjcX9_JoGxhQfBAvqL6RxZ8B8sSMZcyCxQtSFTYDaMSHLeSZEXCM9pLlmXiSOCiWJQLfVLvUlIg/s320/zzwithmaryvbbr.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Dick Powell was considered one of Hollywood's most eligible bachelors after his memorable performance in "Blessed Event." "He always seemed to be in good humor. He gave the impression of always enjoying what he was doing," said his short-time fiancé Mary Brian. Out of the blue, Powell quit his commitment to Brian and fell by the spell of his habitual co-star Joan Blondell. By the time they made <i>Broadway Gondolier</i>, they had already appeared in four movies together. They were first spotted dating in late September of 1935, less than one month after Joan’s divorce from cinematographer George Barnes. On 17 September, they announced that they would be married in two days on the yacht Santa Paula at San Pedro to sail through the Panama Canal. Blondell wrote veiledly about her three husbands in the last chapters of <i>Center Door Fancy</i>. She critizices George Barnes (who started as a still photographer for Thomas H. Ince, the man who died on Hearst' yatch) for being remote and not wanting children. Later, after divorcing him, she finds out he suffered a terrible childhood. The most baffling reproachments against the collected crooner are quite contradictory. For example it's clear she was looking for security with Dick Powell, who was a practical family man. In fact, she leads Jim (Powell) to break up with May Gould (Mary Brian) making him doubt of his feelings. Blondell also expresses doubts to Sally (Glenda Farrell) about her true feelings towards Powell, saying "he's too nice to hurt."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMU6GwMhWw7EvOwpwAL1BbwHhN-SUTnhHzbm1Jw2-BbWk-dLDqLlQALpUPye7fmaeHoQyL4I_7mLO_kkd7AarQTZnr35fMKEyUHMta0LntdvhxGQ39Bfr1BCmy4zJzXBLcWtH2qQ2JU-lj2FtA_MS3ez9J_xcXjeurVW2VwpvZ1H6ZHdI0HbY2Q/s750/41%20g%20default.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="750" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMU6GwMhWw7EvOwpwAL1BbwHhN-SUTnhHzbm1Jw2-BbWk-dLDqLlQALpUPye7fmaeHoQyL4I_7mLO_kkd7AarQTZnr35fMKEyUHMta0LntdvhxGQ39Bfr1BCmy4zJzXBLcWtH2qQ2JU-lj2FtA_MS3ez9J_xcXjeurVW2VwpvZ1H6ZHdI0HbY2Q/s320/41%20g%20default.png" width="320" /></a></div>Joan always conceded that Dick made a wonderful father. Such acknowledgment did not stop her from arming herself with lawyers and filing for divorce on 9 June 1944. Joan announced publicly her separation from Dick: “I am going to file against Dick as soon as he returns from the East. . . and after I have talked the matter over with him. The matter of a divorce is final, however.” Norman Powell said in 1996: “My mother said she was taken with the kindness and gentleness that he exhibited toward her, and the fact that he really seemed to love me. I think that’s what attracted her to him more than any other thing.” Once Joan sets her sights on Mike Todd, she proceeds to depicts Powell as "corny, unsure of himself, a cold fish, a cold-assed Don Juan, and surprisingly prudish", adding that "He will make love only in the dark, furtively. I’ve got a new guy, and Jim [Powell] would die of envy if he knew how we feel." Blondell tells her mother: "Mom. It doesn’t matter about the little crumb [June Allyson] who’s after him. I heard their voices on the detectives’ recording, and she’s so corny—pleading with him to marry her, guide her career. It’s like a cheesy B-picture. Doesn’t he know about his Amy? Everybody else does. Her reputation is in the public domain. She’s a tramp dressed like a little kid. She was a call girl in New York—exhibitions her specialty. Flynn, and even a New York doctor, told me they knew some of the guys she ‘entertained.’ She’s using Jim—can’t he see? It would be a giant step for her to get the Star Husband of the Year. You know something crazy? He thinks I don’t know about her. And he doesn’t mention Jeff. We’re both silent.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5r11h6q3D3PIv9l8KCu5a7FUHPGAE_7m4syhGpdGrSCIB4s2DZWd_xXEJlY1LI-624Bf5uNVFTJrMpy8VnPaI0JoSJ1KwvarXO8Q5jYM5K7FXwdoojcezTBpESquST2xhjssmjWXqlTB95wXEvGdJ5cbLPZ7dEUvYxJDqFJMQOeRo0cdk2QU5zQ/s1024/gettyimages-138573123-1024x1024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="975" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5r11h6q3D3PIv9l8KCu5a7FUHPGAE_7m4syhGpdGrSCIB4s2DZWd_xXEJlY1LI-624Bf5uNVFTJrMpy8VnPaI0JoSJ1KwvarXO8Q5jYM5K7FXwdoojcezTBpESquST2xhjssmjWXqlTB95wXEvGdJ5cbLPZ7dEUvYxJDqFJMQOeRo0cdk2QU5zQ/s320/gettyimages-138573123-1024x1024.jpg" width="305" /></a></div>Dick Powell yells after Blondell announces her petition of divorce: “I, Jim Wilson, did not marry a bum!” Blondells writes: "Jim slammed the door shut and was gone. I was sitting up in bed, my lawyer standing by the window. He had been talking to me for over an hour about the division of property and finances. By law, everything we had should be divided, and the lawyer was urging me to use the proof I had against Amy O’Brien to get what was coming to me. I told him I couldn't prove anything. “I’ll sign it, whatever it is—let’s get it over with. I can’t stand the sight of Jim around the house any longer.” Blondell writes that Powell moved to a rented house in Beverly Hills, and Mike Todd many times a day talked to her from New York. Also, Blondell has Frances Marion suggesting that June Allyson slept her way to the top. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGUACfpPDpF-d67M4JjnpCEhuxIGB0JGqQZcwBMEKFyMG_JcRBgKQLz7FTy-vT8F0wBs3QrhNzM01E3S5-1JkviyMUehcOGPvkafeP7nRXPdE_q5S8GLnKqusypf6VZUb5E_7705yqOXvN27G05_aH0EsBJCtORobFY0lGzUyIJdw9G0eOncD1A/s616/zzsrreee3333333333Captura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="616" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGUACfpPDpF-d67M4JjnpCEhuxIGB0JGqQZcwBMEKFyMG_JcRBgKQLz7FTy-vT8F0wBs3QrhNzM01E3S5-1JkviyMUehcOGPvkafeP7nRXPdE_q5S8GLnKqusypf6VZUb5E_7705yqOXvN27G05_aH0EsBJCtORobFY0lGzUyIJdw9G0eOncD1A/s320/zzsrreee3333333333Captura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>June Allyson wrote in her 1983 memoirs: "Joan's account of this meeting in 'Center Door Fancy', a fictionalized autobiography, is loaded against me. Most of the names have been changed, but the true identities are obvious. Joan is Nora, David is first husband George Barnes, Jim is Dick Powell, Amy is me, Teresa is Marion Davies, and Jeff is Mike Todd. She wrote that I simpered and came down the steps pigeon-toed and cooed that I slept with his letter under my pillow every night. I had no letter. I never wrote a fan letter. I had no picture or letter from him or any star. It was ridiculous, but then, so was her charge that I had stolen her husband away, starting that night. In fact, Richard recorded his own account of our first meeting in his diary, and it differs substantially from Joan's: "Why I bother to put this down I don't know except that she certainly is the cutest thing anybody ever saw. Last night, I went to catch 'Best Foot Forward' and there was this little blonde character named June Allyson who sang so loud that the veins stood out on her neck like garden hose. I sat and guffawed through the whole routine. Really a funny act although I don't know if the producer meant it that way. Anyway, this afternoon I had to attend a formal luncheon and I got stuck with the most stubborn hunk of chicken I've ever had the displeasure of eating. It took all my attention and I was struggling with it until I guess my face turned red. Then, suddenly, I felt someone's eyes on me and I looked up. And there was this same cute little character from the show last night and she was convulsed with laughter. Laughing at me! I don't know whether or not I particularly like that girl, but she sure is cute." Once I called Richard's home, Joan did not seem interested and irritably called his husband to the phone. Then she came back on and said, with biting sarcasm:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIlDcRmQavZahTcVfzSEhmrR6hyqMsSdwe-OMWuo26abYxMnPBsAQK4Peb0j3ka8FE86dBqAc2wbbgqwWM6v7eM0bT2UTl1vMaXRYkzFl2QPrlq6ZRUrF2Xft2gimdn_cgrQ1TJiNUxs_7m5SodH5cu9Mdmv1J8fvFVY-H5ZtNph37g6YF_WJk3g/s511/stagestruck.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIlDcRmQavZahTcVfzSEhmrR6hyqMsSdwe-OMWuo26abYxMnPBsAQK4Peb0j3ka8FE86dBqAc2wbbgqwWM6v7eM0bT2UTl1vMaXRYkzFl2QPrlq6ZRUrF2Xft2gimdn_cgrQ1TJiNUxs_7m5SodH5cu9Mdmv1J8fvFVY-H5ZtNph37g6YF_WJk3g/s320/stagestruck.JPG" width="257" /></a></div>"You want my husband? Well, you can have him." Richard was on the phone and I tried to hide my embarrassment as I said, "I've got a script from MGM and they want me to do this picture called 'Two Girls and a Sailor.' Joan Blondell was convinced that I was after her husband. I wasn't, even though Dick Powell gave me palpitations and shortness of breath just to look at him. I tried not to think of him, except as my mentor. Every major actress gets whispered about. With me it was the nymphomaniac thing. "She's not Goody Two Shoes, she's Goody Round Heels," said the malicious rumors. But the only man who really made my heart flutter was, of course, Dick Powell. And he was determined to protect my reputation." Another time, June writes "Richard was taking me to Ciro's and I was ready. But when he saw me, he was speechless with my new sophisticated look. He slumped on a couch in the living room. He pulled me down on his lap. Richard grabbed me and started smooching. "Whew, you scared me this time," he said. "I'm here because being around you is like being in a fresh breeze. So don't go dramatic on me, right?" "Yes, sir," I said. "Goody Two Shoes reporting for duty." "Let's go," he said. "No, wait a minute." He kissed me again. "Monkeyface, I love you." In 'Center Door Fancy', Joan gave me the name of Amy, possibly after the selfish sister in 'Little Women' who steals Jo's boyfriend and marries him. How bitter she must have been to have written about me: "Doesn't he know about his Amy? Everybody else does. Her reputation is in the public domain. She's a tramp dressed like a little kid. She was a call girl in New York, exhibitions her specialty." I could not believe it. How untrue, and how cruel.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJVCixHYM3FZ4mn4eyKN04U2gQ4pzIHCrfcJk1pKunQSxIgxpRTfdOaRQ15EWcNi7ynB7pqvIi50cCICqH5oRLgGzMSz-vY7fhsa_loBBiR7JJjtntk7kypSLX7GP5klECAwsjSFfVC7cr0vPNLHpfrt6XG3KufpLIRdDMZBawFugwavo8HeHn_A/s620/421854977_10231597042767013_1348814329945764463_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="510" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJVCixHYM3FZ4mn4eyKN04U2gQ4pzIHCrfcJk1pKunQSxIgxpRTfdOaRQ15EWcNi7ynB7pqvIi50cCICqH5oRLgGzMSz-vY7fhsa_loBBiR7JJjtntk7kypSLX7GP5klECAwsjSFfVC7cr0vPNLHpfrt6XG3KufpLIRdDMZBawFugwavo8HeHn_A/s320/421854977_10231597042767013_1348814329945764463_n.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>In 1943 Joan Blondell had began going solo to the exclusive Cub Room of the Stork Club, that see-and-be-seen nightclub on East Fifty-third frequented by the café society of Broadway, Hollywood, and Washington. Mike Todd frequented the Stork Club as well. The man was singularly charismatic. He could walk into a room and suck up all the available oxygen with his bear-trap mouth, ubiquitous cigar, and rattling voice. <i>Beat the Band</i> was an incidental moment in an outsized life, except that it offered him an introduction to Dick Powell’s wife. A sort of weariness had settled into Powell and Blondell's marriage as soon as 1941. No longer were they on the town arm in arm. Now they were stepping out separately, offering excuses of family duties or the flu to account for the oft-absent spouse. Dick went alone to see "Best Foot Forward" at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre and was taken with sprightly young cast member June Allyson, who sang the praises of the barrelhouse, blues, and boogie-woogie in the “Three B’s” showstopper. Dick went with Joan a second time, and backstage Dick asked Rosemary Lane to be introduced to June Allyson, who was agape that a star of his rank would single her out. In 1961, Allyson and Powell reconciled, went home and made love, after which he said that he would never leave her because "there is a lot of lovemaking but real love like ours is rare." --Sources: "<span style="text-align: left;">Glamour in a Golden Age: Movie Stars of the 1930s" (2010) by Adrienne L. McLean, "Center Door Fancy" (1972) by Joan Blondell and "June Allyson" (1983) by June Allyson</span></div></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-72623800455005891052024-01-31T02:56:00.018+01:002024-02-01T05:04:38.117+01:00June Allyson (Truth without Consequences)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIMLtORq6fsYkVF_RnS9mOnuklVOkKKTFhY_Dn5oxB2lAh0RxO1y41F-Ije2R8_9vc8swtcSbuaI7DruDwhw9NMAaRCLT2k36cf8NKbVDIRsbRbfteJFew3JtAnUefwX2pvi9Sp84fJC6WCi3moXbLgYFFy9NfAOHCTF-I7dd4byXoN6fF0ijRg/s1399/s-l1600.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1399" data-original-width="1141" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIMLtORq6fsYkVF_RnS9mOnuklVOkKKTFhY_Dn5oxB2lAh0RxO1y41F-Ije2R8_9vc8swtcSbuaI7DruDwhw9NMAaRCLT2k36cf8NKbVDIRsbRbfteJFew3JtAnUefwX2pvi9Sp84fJC6WCi3moXbLgYFFy9NfAOHCTF-I7dd4byXoN6fF0ijRg/s320/s-l1600.png" width="261" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The rumor that there was a new June Allyson running around Hollywood brought us face to face with June—Mrs. Richard Powell. June’s kingdom—her kids Pam and Ricky, and the man she loves, Dick Powell. And when she’s not busy rough-housing with her energetic bundles of joy, she looks back and remembers some of-the dreams she used to wish for . . . and the funny way dreams have of coming true sometimes when you’re not even looking. June agreed to play a new game with us. It’s called truth without consequences, looking for the truth about June Allyson 1958 style. . . and a smiling, pert mother of two who happens to be a movie star. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Q: Is it true that there’s a new June? A girl who insists on leading her own life?</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">June Allyson: Maybe it just shows more now, but I’ve always been June Allyson, girl-individual. Even though Richard plays the boss, I make my own decisions about most things. I played in <i>The Shrike,</i> even though Richard was against it.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: Do you think you can be a real wife and a real help to your husband without sacrificing your independence?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: Absolutely. I lead my own life, but here I am like a hen hovering over my brood. So of course, I think independence and family life can go together.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: How about the eternally ticklish problem of separate interests?</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOM6YxkVJfK69Qx2boNuyYg0jtr1YirgvJPKasZnV1zDhTHHXaucxTO7WqTrvMvpbszSfejsVpVXssEIhheq_6pIobWspzrYM-EtytPPB6jSSQfcIQke_8PQJMAkySLAPTVkIewSFrKhKZlm2Ut22D85jwblZDnraXluw-ylY9NiT7weIS8WDs1Q/s612/401508572_10231258270417916_6390885716850988271_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="483" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOM6YxkVJfK69Qx2boNuyYg0jtr1YirgvJPKasZnV1zDhTHHXaucxTO7WqTrvMvpbszSfejsVpVXssEIhheq_6pIobWspzrYM-EtytPPB6jSSQfcIQke_8PQJMAkySLAPTVkIewSFrKhKZlm2Ut22D85jwblZDnraXluw-ylY9NiT7weIS8WDs1Q/s320/401508572_10231258270417916_6390885716850988271_n.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June: I think just about everybody has separate interests. It depends on how you handle the problem. I believe in not forcing your interests on your loving spouse. And I think, by now, Richard agrees with me. We tried to force our pet projects on each other once. Wow! Like that time I asked Richard to go skiing with me to Sun Valley. P.S.—he broke his shoulder. And one time, he took me on the boat he’d bought. Naturally I got terribly sick. P.S.—we sold the boat.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: Who are your best friends?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: Pam and Ricky. I feel if you can’t be friends with your kids, what good is anything? Oh, I’m strict with them. But I’m strict only because I want them to be liked. Many times I’ll chastise one of them and then go to my room and cry. But sometimes it’s got to be done. Like one time when Ricky was planning to have lunch with the carpenter who works for us. It’s a big treat for him. But he was a bad boy that morning and I had to forbid him to go. Well, he sobbed and sobbed. It took all the strength I have to stop myself from wiping the tears from his eyes and sending him off to his lunch treat. But I didn’t. And the next day—well, it would make a better story to tell you he was bad the next day. But he was as good as gold. And he even forgave me.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQAakOSr-cyhLp5vOydBIJevviP6kuAj9tDSynMr0V_BBV_NU2t0pJuMGvM4qTUmCS4R8EZIm4t9xGVks_PDxQgxVuXwy6fMyRza0RGgYVv9KOyi5LXzqnDPiTajmk0kaqLt3e0BR_5i3St6JeKh7R0FTFaI0k0w_D0wV8ZIB1NU3aVFFpa28ULg/s827/thumbnail%20(1).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="735" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQAakOSr-cyhLp5vOydBIJevviP6kuAj9tDSynMr0V_BBV_NU2t0pJuMGvM4qTUmCS4R8EZIm4t9xGVks_PDxQgxVuXwy6fMyRza0RGgYVv9KOyi5LXzqnDPiTajmk0kaqLt3e0BR_5i3St6JeKh7R0FTFaI0k0w_D0wV8ZIB1NU3aVFFpa28ULg/s320/thumbnail%20(1).jpeg" width="284" /></a></div>Q: How about you, June? Are you sentimental?<p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: Are you kidding? Everything makes me melt. I’m soft-hearted Sally, a sitting duck. Richard claims that I cry at the commercials on television. But that hasn’t been proved yet. Richard is sentimental too. But you’ll never get him to admit it.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: Do you think marriage to Dick has changed you in any important ways?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: Yes. In at least one very important way. I’m not so selfish any more. In marriage you’ve just got to think of the other person. You give up things that you wanted very much, by adjusting to your husband. And then, suddenly, you find you didn’t really want those things at all. What you really want is a happy marriage. Last Monday was our anniversary and Richard gave me my heart’s desire: a big, large, gigantic, new refrigerator!</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: That’s a nice small dream to have come true. Have you had any big dreams come true lately?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: When I was a little girl I wanted more than anything else to be—not a nurse, like most girls, but a doctor. But we never had enough money. And, do you know what? My brother lives with us now, in a cottage near the house and he’s going to medical school. So, in a way, it’s my old dream coming true. Not for me, but for my brother.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: Is there a big dream hidden away somewhere right now?</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS09MNFVPcHKU5G6GNHLLWeF-H2KdsBEE-KMDFJFLoykWRVcRKKAef6lZfRiud-pzxhF5Vfh0vKRSekefZQwHP24SOQkpcqiPmCbw96pP1bSmdZJs32ALpKPdyNXUzzO3kCy-joovdxc2dHgorj74jnXUXc-9XRQvCbtWxHbbeYAKpXmrnClFDpQ/s445/ede92529ce78a5deff7f48e4d49e937d.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="355" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS09MNFVPcHKU5G6GNHLLWeF-H2KdsBEE-KMDFJFLoykWRVcRKKAef6lZfRiud-pzxhF5Vfh0vKRSekefZQwHP24SOQkpcqiPmCbw96pP1bSmdZJs32ALpKPdyNXUzzO3kCy-joovdxc2dHgorj74jnXUXc-9XRQvCbtWxHbbeYAKpXmrnClFDpQ/s320/ede92529ce78a5deff7f48e4d49e937d.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June: The answer to that is emphatically yes! Except it’s not hidden very well. I want more than anything else to be able to sing, really sing! And with more lessons and some patience from my family while I practice, I’ll do it! I want to fulfill all the talents I neglected when I was a kid. I started out as a singer-dancer. People forget that and are so surprised when I’m mentioned for a musical picture. I know it sounds funny but Mrs. June Powell was a chorus girl in New York years ago.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: What was the most awful day of your life?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: Hmmm. I won’t say it was the most awful, but the day I have in mind was the saddest. It was Christmas Eve and I had just gotten a job in a Broadway show. And on Christmas, I lost the job. I went down to the bus stop the next day and saw the company off with real tears in my eyes. It was like an unhappy ending to a fairy tale. It was even snowing as I waved good-bye to the company.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: Doesn’t that make Christmas a pretty sad memory?</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRTEc5OYjlXtDC1RV1EEILegqRoqTHad2_LFk387dLmQIyKTgsp4F4ACIGJbkvkdj-bgqA0awJBYvPx_Ip7r0J-JLLpcL804mZWAZ72uYdxGplyIvR3uDgo9-B60pshhr3VnDxHbSMiFAOkwEC6biLKQiXG6wsED8gfgQK3G8re6JkTQuvBOcgg/s850/410941993_10231405713823909_5088014062737779662_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="850" data-original-width="752" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRTEc5OYjlXtDC1RV1EEILegqRoqTHad2_LFk387dLmQIyKTgsp4F4ACIGJbkvkdj-bgqA0awJBYvPx_Ip7r0J-JLLpcL804mZWAZ72uYdxGplyIvR3uDgo9-B60pshhr3VnDxHbSMiFAOkwEC6biLKQiXG6wsED8gfgQK3G8re6JkTQuvBOcgg/s320/410941993_10231405713823909_5088014062737779662_n.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June: No. Because some years later, after little June came to Hollywood, she married and lived happily ever after—she had a child. A boy named Ricky. And he was born on Christmas Eve. All during my pregnancy I used to joke with Richard saying, “I’ll give you a Christmas present no one can match.” And I wanted to give birth at Christmas time so very much that I really think I kind of willed it to happen just at the right time. My doctor doesn’t go along with this theory. I do.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: June, have you ever lost hope completely? Ever given in to despair?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: There was one time. When Richard almost died. He was in the bedroom with me when he suddenly collapsed on the floor with a burst appendix. Somehow I’ll never know how, I managed to drag him to the bed and call the doctor. I lost twenty pounds in the first four days he was in the hospital. They’d given him up for dead. I stayed there day and night until finally one of the Sisters at the hospital sent me home to change my clothes. As soon as I got to the house the phone rang. It was the hospital. I was to come back right away. They’d given Richard the last rites. I tell you, I didn’t cry any more, or pray any more. I was drained of everything. There was nothing left inside of me. Four weeks later, thanks to God and Dick’s own good strength, they brought him home almost well. Then I cried, finally, and prayed in gratitude.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: People have said you’re a very temperamental star. Is that true?</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiwrgoeyZoFwrX7qT25Ed-Nk3exA2Zs2AVrLJ8T8-zLeHp1J8F808DOBbgI0on3een8fTNhlexaHsGJHezr2669DDKH4703SejVMOu9mV03DtzWX0R0KvoRDSl_SiDGur05wiShX2gGSd80oNZa-b6vPJmFECxFXwLmCSE14tMzZpKSI0_BcZ-A/s915/22228663_10214157802956917_8574603180137874224_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="915" data-original-width="740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiwrgoeyZoFwrX7qT25Ed-Nk3exA2Zs2AVrLJ8T8-zLeHp1J8F808DOBbgI0on3een8fTNhlexaHsGJHezr2669DDKH4703SejVMOu9mV03DtzWX0R0KvoRDSl_SiDGur05wiShX2gGSd80oNZa-b6vPJmFECxFXwLmCSE14tMzZpKSI0_BcZ-A/s320/22228663_10214157802956917_8574603180137874224_n.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June: Absolutely not; I do not go flouncing off sets and throwing dresses at people. I don’t know how that got started, but people used to write these things about me. Then when I showed up on the set of a new picture everybody expected me to be impossible to work with. I’ve had prop men and make-up people come to me and apologize for the ideas they’d had about me.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: How about the fact that some people (probably the same ones) have said that youre a—dare we repeat it?—scatterbrain?</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIC3kY41Zt06vqUK1eQi-UdJdQTHRA6YkR9jSmIUkC0SM1RlnmKvyJG3Ko2cUvS-XBbGRh-Hvim4wdz4aBXuhAwwF7JwlMfb51cMXW85f2ZV4CR-IxwmDtEXaozmq_-yT2MnDMkw8XniPRs76VIPv654fzMB8voAT4WmKAboEUXLHWPTq5gaX-Q/s966/627252_10200249776144939_228709805_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="647" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIC3kY41Zt06vqUK1eQi-UdJdQTHRA6YkR9jSmIUkC0SM1RlnmKvyJG3Ko2cUvS-XBbGRh-Hvim4wdz4aBXuhAwwF7JwlMfb51cMXW85f2ZV4CR-IxwmDtEXaozmq_-yT2MnDMkw8XniPRs76VIPv654fzMB8voAT4WmKAboEUXLHWPTq5gaX-Q/s320/627252_10200249776144939_228709805_o.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June: That’s an easy one to answer. Once again I think that’s a fantasy based on a few parts I’ve played in movies. The same as the “Girl In The Peter Pan Collar” idea. I’m level-headed, not scrambled-brained, and next week I’m going to a party and I’ll wear a lovely dress.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: Do you have an ideal image of the kind of woman you admire, would want to be like?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: My ideal has always been Ginger Rogers. And Ginger is now my very good friend.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: What do you think is a woman’s greatest need?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">June: (WITH A BROAD GRIN) A great big large, gigantic, new. . . refrigerator.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Q: Every public figure, especially a movie star, is often the center of a lot of conjecture . . . some true, some false. What do you most wish people would stop thinking, saying and writing about you?</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga3-XJ9yOLafecu8swgQ5KKdC4X_23_dTy_rsrnA7HDsK8t1UYQi8LHvjOxN_tv0gWFj6Lbluc6GrgzsMtcICG_bubEk9Xv1kiHhkxV8tFts-dEBPyjLLxFEbF28JrYoVboJq9dIG75vJwSCh7tR26nlm7MCPM8duwnKc5FI5aAIjiHwx1y_k1iw/s609/419824705_10231523665572629_8409039299886342566_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga3-XJ9yOLafecu8swgQ5KKdC4X_23_dTy_rsrnA7HDsK8t1UYQi8LHvjOxN_tv0gWFj6Lbluc6GrgzsMtcICG_bubEk9Xv1kiHhkxV8tFts-dEBPyjLLxFEbF28JrYoVboJq9dIG75vJwSCh7tR26nlm7MCPM8duwnKc5FI5aAIjiHwx1y_k1iw/s320/419824705_10231523665572629_8409039299886342566_n.jpg" width="303" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June: Most of all I wish that people would stop saying that Richard and I are breaking up again. It’s fantastic really. A while ago, Richard and I had a sort of second honeymoon. We went to Honolulu and had a sun-drenched, romantic holiday to end all sun-drenched romantic holidays. Then, in the middle of the night, suddenly the phone rang. Richard answered. It was my agent. “Listen,” he said to Dick, “I’m sorry to wake you, but there have been reports that you and June are in Honolulu together but that you’re living at separate hotels.” Richard scrubbed his eyes sleepily and answered, “Well, there’s a bed next to mine. And in that bed there’s a blonde. I think I recognize the hair. . . one minute while I check the face. Yep, it’s my wife June all right. So I guess somebody must be wrong.” And whoever’s wrong it’s not Richard and me. Because we’re right. We’re as right as two people can be. —MODERN SCREEN MAGAZINE (MAY 1958)</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-57213659988618246472024-01-13T07:03:00.041+01:002024-01-15T03:03:38.946+01:00Doris Day and June Allyson<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecNP4wobUIJlAfz3T4EU8oEcxivnMFUYQ3xn9lUhf1lRgInh3v4aDV1qhnQSvcKkWY-nE0P4xoy7xA6LhnAcyG_mAIe8VrPwobxr0f4k3b71ON0neOot-0OEO3qZGS2eZv7pqoaGNap9jIioWR5GgTEI2gRT23yyUi0QCfDvg4DYft-HRDt20qA/s700/tumblr_nln1nxxQu81qjmn31o1_500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecNP4wobUIJlAfz3T4EU8oEcxivnMFUYQ3xn9lUhf1lRgInh3v4aDV1qhnQSvcKkWY-nE0P4xoy7xA6LhnAcyG_mAIe8VrPwobxr0f4k3b71ON0neOot-0OEO3qZGS2eZv7pqoaGNap9jIioWR5GgTEI2gRT23yyUi0QCfDvg4DYft-HRDt20qA/s320/tumblr_nln1nxxQu81qjmn31o1_500.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Although few think of Doris Day or June Allyson as comediennes, both were comedy and musical movie stars. In their personal lives, they were very different. Doris Day had a dark side behind her vacuous façade. Day began suffering panic attacks with frequent episodes of palpitations; she had been prone to heartburn since the days when she wolfed down hamburgers and huge portions of raw onions in the front of Al Jorden’s car. She was convinced she was about to succumb to a heart attack. On at least two occasions she had an attack in a restaurant and almost choked to death. Her friendship with Allyson was only intermittent, but they were not close. Day was more around musical comedy star Charlotte Greenwood and Judy Garland. Judy was a law unto herself, and she did offer Doris some sound advice: ‘Ditch the religion bullshit!’–which she, in her Christian Science under-the-spell state, chose to ignore. A ‘cure’ was therefore effected by more readings from Mary Baker Eddy and benders with Judy, which, though just as detrimental to Doris’ health as her imaginary illnesses, certainly enabled her to forget all about them until the next morning’s hangover. Away from the studio Doris Day became edgy and antisocial.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCLQ66ESF5J1TeyBRImA5lzSFghK_XDFJfgaLY6jeeywphjZGfotuo2zDpo_36T5hyphenhyphens3TKgkacf-Xf-HAOhWUWboQ4sF3g8oS1wjlHqvYE7sJ3bgZoyiTsWJS9lp8I4ualOWXMdpWuaBJH_wi6BxgfvZO9vE1ewqzHlb1zw2QwqIU9irs8XBMlg/s548/8d6dbe68eeeafb7559aad0947e1225d0.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="437" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCLQ66ESF5J1TeyBRImA5lzSFghK_XDFJfgaLY6jeeywphjZGfotuo2zDpo_36T5hyphenhyphens3TKgkacf-Xf-HAOhWUWboQ4sF3g8oS1wjlHqvYE7sJ3bgZoyiTsWJS9lp8I4ualOWXMdpWuaBJH_wi6BxgfvZO9vE1ewqzHlb1zw2QwqIU9irs8XBMlg/s320/8d6dbe68eeeafb7559aad0947e1225d0.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Christopher Frayling on BBC broached the subject of Mamie Van Doren’s attitude towards Doris Day's alleged ‘temperamental’ episode while they were making <i>Teacher’s Pet.</i> Van Doren’s memoirs had recently been published so she was currently in the media spotlight. ‘She is not well,’ Doris says of her. ‘This lady is making it up… I feel sorry for her to say something like that. I don’t behave like that!’ Steve Cochran was a very handsome and virile actor who oozed sexuality and said more with his heavy-lidded eyes than other actors could put into words. A former cowpuncher, he appeared in Mae West’s scandalous Broadway revival of <i>Diamond Lil </i>and invariably played the cynical, hard-edged thug whereas away from the set he was regarded as one of the nicest, gentlest men in Hollywood. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCffFTOwWBH0xkq_iesMWDGM38eNAD-BNvotdmg8w_oqPn83pUWyYXGg1p1rmDGlTLu31YVyU9QnumR0LpBbwUI3Ho-Vk6ksFnDaWpF4XyUz5qXAwJLlgigw-ylOvtOPrmbDpE2eNTp5PQ1oj0ldIFMbUp3Lr6xo7CEOZLVVokIxwx6gTF084j1w/s400/!B8VjEI!CWk~$(KGrHqUOKowEy+jC1ZsBBM2vzCP0vg~~0_12.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="319" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCffFTOwWBH0xkq_iesMWDGM38eNAD-BNvotdmg8w_oqPn83pUWyYXGg1p1rmDGlTLu31YVyU9QnumR0LpBbwUI3Ho-Vk6ksFnDaWpF4XyUz5qXAwJLlgigw-ylOvtOPrmbDpE2eNTp5PQ1oj0ldIFMbUp3Lr6xo7CEOZLVVokIxwx6gTF084j1w/s320/!B8VjEI!CWk~$(KGrHqUOKowEy+jC1ZsBBM2vzCP0vg~~0_12.JPG" width="255" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Cochran also had a fearless reputation as a womaniser: besides Joan Crawford and Mae West his scores of conquests included Jayne Mansfield, Sabrina, Merle Oberon, Ida Lupino–and Mamie Van Doren, in whose memoirs no details about their sex-life are spared especially when discussing his legendary appendage which had earned him the nickname ‘Mr King Size’. Cochran’s lovers and friends, Doris Day included, were devastated when, in June 1965, shortly after his forty-eighth birthday, this fun-loving man died aboard his yacht of an acute lung infection, a tragedy made even worse by the fact that his body lay aboard the craft for 10 days until it drifted into Guatemala.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6qbYL7E1IgES3sgGRj5HRcAbqBvu4sTmCh8fe4U1t60xD_Ju2nFvHh2VjjYrNLoSFJPIIoYZtXj-IseSrhJ5oXuqMKmt_UxeYsstbzuYztjV7lrcAGmpLzpDNq05bmjKt5LF2k8DBXqm5jMlW7PjVWe4GlEtSH85kS86Qr3eA4SfsQ6lcp8NMQ/s496/308full-doris-day.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="308" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6qbYL7E1IgES3sgGRj5HRcAbqBvu4sTmCh8fe4U1t60xD_Ju2nFvHh2VjjYrNLoSFJPIIoYZtXj-IseSrhJ5oXuqMKmt_UxeYsstbzuYztjV7lrcAGmpLzpDNq05bmjKt5LF2k8DBXqm5jMlW7PjVWe4GlEtSH85kS86Qr3eA4SfsQ6lcp8NMQ/s320/308full-doris-day.jpg" width="199" /></a></div>Besides of the rumors of being a nympho, Doris Day also seemed to suffer a compulsive eating disorder. Her first husband criticised her table manners; something that can be said to leave much to be desired in her formative years. Doris had a fondness for wolfing down hamburgers with huge portions of ketchup and raw onions (usually in Al Jorden’s car on their way home) and dropping chunks of food everywhere because of his reckless driving. She also had a habit of talking with her mouth full and spitting, which cannot have helped his mood swings. Whereas, June Allyson was not such a neurotic or hypochondriac personality. Legend has it that June was<span style="text-align: left;"> being tested by Hollywood and the best she could muster when asked if she considered herself a leading lady was, “Oh, I suppose”? It’s a scene that no screenwriter could possibly invent. It’s almost impossible to believe, and yet the clichéd Hollywood film image of a movieland wannabe eagerly putting her best foot forward does in fact morph into this very real-life picture of June Allyson’s ingenuity. This girl (Allyson, unlike Day) couldn’t pretend, and it’s a very big reason why she went on to become one the biggest female stars in post—World War II America. </span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEUEKtm1X2Tg9_55xV9IbqBC9qIG5ccmJAR7oi2ywktiGpqBraJqu2q1DsQYfl7cUdA4RnupE4lSg7OoM2EzJgiXbTYflxdIKWHYtDFsF9k5r-MmP_ho-yD_aoPYLKQ_Ou8ZXVamubo6jnscJB2dhIqZM3ZGkOai71SumasiryTHiP78USQ5RIw/s640/1db5331ddba4b0eb8a1dc20d04ed7d3c.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="506" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEUEKtm1X2Tg9_55xV9IbqBC9qIG5ccmJAR7oi2ywktiGpqBraJqu2q1DsQYfl7cUdA4RnupE4lSg7OoM2EzJgiXbTYflxdIKWHYtDFsF9k5r-MmP_ho-yD_aoPYLKQ_Ou8ZXVamubo6jnscJB2dhIqZM3ZGkOai71SumasiryTHiP78USQ5RIw/s320/1db5331ddba4b0eb8a1dc20d04ed7d3c.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another difference is whilst Allyson got along well with James Stewart in their romantic film trilogy, Doris did not want to work with James Stewart, a Hitchcock favourite. Such was her determination to have her way that she overrode Marty Melcher and provisionally agreed to do another film with Howard Keel–a remake of Clare Luce’s <i>The Women</i>, which George Cukor had directed in 1936. Doris was to have attempted the Shearer role–that of mild-mannered Mary Haines whose husband is having an affair with vampish Crystal Allen, formerly played by Joan Crawford and now assigned to Joan Collins. But Melcher would not hear of this. Taking a leaf out of Marty Snyder’s book, he forbade Doris to sign the contract (the part of Mary went to June Allyson, while Leslie Nielson took over from Howard Keel), and told her to accept Hitchcock’s offer and get along with James Stewart. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikLET8JqP5sHR90IUfH9hHXTWzlZsIpjHCaLPuRPSx6k2ds9n3jJHbSGs8flVswmBaKGKKAqoK_Mxs9hRYNzcECY7FBluzjZAi6RjhytKAQiJX5IYYLie4350RgYJHfEJ6MlPMRY7b8dfaEm686CcxCYR0s-J51udCuTlqyxjTC6iSWe7-IsxPqA/s509/7099173_orig.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="397" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikLET8JqP5sHR90IUfH9hHXTWzlZsIpjHCaLPuRPSx6k2ds9n3jJHbSGs8flVswmBaKGKKAqoK_Mxs9hRYNzcECY7FBluzjZAi6RjhytKAQiJX5IYYLie4350RgYJHfEJ6MlPMRY7b8dfaEm686CcxCYR0s-J51udCuTlqyxjTC6iSWe7-IsxPqA/s320/7099173_orig.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To a certain extent their antagonism comes across on the screen and maybe Hitchcock planned this to get better performances out of his stars–the fact that they felt uneasy working together contributed to their on-screen tension. Angry over Hitchcock’s treatment of pets, Doris Day wandered around the pens and paddocks with a bottle of Jack Daniels, toasting each and every one and promising them a better life until she could scarcely stand on her feet, all the while ‘yelling more expletives than a legionnaire on dockside leave.’ Doris also made it clear that had there been another child, she would not have wanted Marty Melcher to be the father.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpr6gVc1dIvweMPf1hg9cTBaZbiGsOdshLUB72DteKmZF-WMpIxb6Gk8Rshp47lkhjsV3evsLSHFwQe4BTVBv_orrEdwKd225g8jmYMnMfuIu8lflWFPS1WUKKt_nicKxStiZ-64bXExK7uFiyoqZGKbBKAo3Pk2tu5Oo0Mmyea8-jXp1iqjKhvQ/s458/alanladd-deepsix.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="358" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpr6gVc1dIvweMPf1hg9cTBaZbiGsOdshLUB72DteKmZF-WMpIxb6Gk8Rshp47lkhjsV3evsLSHFwQe4BTVBv_orrEdwKd225g8jmYMnMfuIu8lflWFPS1WUKKt_nicKxStiZ-64bXExK7uFiyoqZGKbBKAo3Pk2tu5Oo0Mmyea8-jXp1iqjKhvQ/s320/alanladd-deepsix.JPG" width="250" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While she was incapacitated, Melcher was approached by director Rudolph Mare, who wanted Doris to star opposite diminutive actor Alan Ladd and William Bendix in <i>The Deep Six.</i> This centred round a Quaker naval officer (Ladd), who is reluctant to enlist to fight in World War II because of his religious beliefs. Mare was told that Doris would never appear in such a film owing to her religious beliefs and the part was given to the lesser-known Dianne Foster. Doris, who had always admired and wanted to work with Ladd, was said to have hit the roof. On the other hand, June Allyson not only would co-star with Ladd in<i> The McConnell Story </i>(1955), they would develop romantic feelings for each other. Doris renewed her recording contract with Columbia for a staggering $1 million per film. Her husband Marty Melcher negotiated an additional $50,000 for expenses that he promptly pocketed. Later they paid $150,000 for a ‘modest’ exclusive home in Beverly Hills on North Crescent Drive. When her estranged father passed away, Doris Day nonchalantly said to the press: ‘I never go to funerals,’ ‘I mourn the passing of someone dear to me in my own way. I don’t approve of public grief.’ But for her father, there would be no private grief either. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLa_4_mHS6tfo8NYzDt_a6Vsm4-TMVUnJ1s_mYAb2UjQ8dE0KEaFVJ4KDnMexmgxleyTzlk5ja3ADA8E6U8LGtNKzVryKYf-uXoaC_00_NyWx4uEqm-RkWmSpilTjYB5ldZ0vGqH37vXzMRPsoeLGWPuUCh0OGo9EX_7mh9h98Gw1idcFdV-cxFw/s600/477full-doris-day.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="477" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLa_4_mHS6tfo8NYzDt_a6Vsm4-TMVUnJ1s_mYAb2UjQ8dE0KEaFVJ4KDnMexmgxleyTzlk5ja3ADA8E6U8LGtNKzVryKYf-uXoaC_00_NyWx4uEqm-RkWmSpilTjYB5ldZ0vGqH37vXzMRPsoeLGWPuUCh0OGo9EX_7mh9h98Gw1idcFdV-cxFw/s320/477full-doris-day.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Among the roles that she declined was that of Mrs. Robinson in <i>The Graduate,</i> a role that eventually went to Anne Bancroft. In her memoirs, Day said that she had rejected the part on moral grounds, finding the script "vulgar and offensive." She had a reputation for being difficult and wasn't especially well-liked in Hollywood. Even Audrey Hepburn thought Doris seemed self-absorbed and dumb after the studio arranged for the two to have lunch. If you watch some of her interviews, you can see that Doris was no walk in the park. She didnt really have a strong loving relationship with her son, Terry Melcher. She always looked to him as an advisor figure. When older, Doris had a scarce relationship with her only living relative, her grandson Ryan.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6TYZ5miZUKlwOxvBozWs5uT7hVOOyDI4i4HtfQRZDND1cCAYs8NXkexBsc6oJ_2pzcEijQMWdQoeOBGQyIhbIUsebrL34X1iJmyG3znGt5vL14YNMvPltNoVn2BBLLJpZlBa-urmeA77jtG2mqufCLHDCbOjNL__qc75V2Ay43sj6RP_q7NQCw/s320/thumbnail%20(60).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="303" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6TYZ5miZUKlwOxvBozWs5uT7hVOOyDI4i4HtfQRZDND1cCAYs8NXkexBsc6oJ_2pzcEijQMWdQoeOBGQyIhbIUsebrL34X1iJmyG3znGt5vL14YNMvPltNoVn2BBLLJpZlBa-urmeA77jtG2mqufCLHDCbOjNL__qc75V2Ay43sj6RP_q7NQCw/s1600/thumbnail%20(60).jpg" width="303" /></a></div>Even though he apparently never made his intentions known to Doris Day, Ronald Reagan talked about the possibility of proposing marriage to Doris to his friends George Murphy, Dick Powell and June Allyson. Reagan even went so far as to discuss with George Murphy the business angle of such a liaison. “I didn’t want to become Mr. Jane Wyman, but I’m thinking over being Mr. Doris Day, as I move into middle age. The roles are already drying up. I could be very aggressive, get the best movie deals for her, the best recording contracts. I’d make a great manager for her.” On the set of <i>It’s a Great Feeling</i> (1949), Reagan met the film's director David Butler. Reagan soon learned that Butler also had developed an unreciprocated crush on Doris Day.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGaHCBTeKS4_CobNslUu-EO8D_6t0CSwKEIp8sPcr55nwRl5OVQFrr7T32_3Be93OY6EyV2P6IDE_LLHD5Y20HLMD_ZANTUVsw9hyGh3ueWorwF4yEeFrRxfLvuJg7cxVL4UGSEWAljWY3Z1qro1GLhxCC8MdeVjWumQSAuPHm9imxT1Ewz3m1sg/s563/81a2029d246cf7818d3cc3ab066201c6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="563" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGaHCBTeKS4_CobNslUu-EO8D_6t0CSwKEIp8sPcr55nwRl5OVQFrr7T32_3Be93OY6EyV2P6IDE_LLHD5Y20HLMD_ZANTUVsw9hyGh3ueWorwF4yEeFrRxfLvuJg7cxVL4UGSEWAljWY3Z1qro1GLhxCC8MdeVjWumQSAuPHm9imxT1Ewz3m1sg/s320/81a2029d246cf7818d3cc3ab066201c6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>June Allyson's <i>Thou Swell </i>(<span style="text-align: left;">Connecticut Yankee)</span> number with the Blackburn Twins was one of the highlights of <i>Word and Music</i> (1948), although the high spot is reserved for “Slaughter on Tenth Avenue” danced by Gene Kelly and Vera-Ellen. Even grumpy New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther wrote in his December 10, 1948 review: "To be sure, there is much that is appealing—specially to us reminiscent folks—about certain of the musical numbers that sit like islands in the swamp of the plot. It is pleasant to hear Betty Garrett, for a starter, sing “There’s a Small Hotel” or to watch little crinkle-faced June Allyson head a big production rendering of “Thou Swell.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwLuS2K672SxbBZQ7Rtwp0V5w_4EP-87q5lkQCbhPwJF_cLL2lu3E8jN6WeCCzExVINdQcuD_3AhsctVL0jiL7soxGqDHnnDIPWAbp9J9nG71UFfu12kwMgpf401aWUIfmUWsTWKG2p1gVvz0FjtOtntDcOcBwOOAeyXRFapVQlbAPqIP9J2DLQ/s595/595full-frank-sinatra.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="595" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwLuS2K672SxbBZQ7Rtwp0V5w_4EP-87q5lkQCbhPwJF_cLL2lu3E8jN6WeCCzExVINdQcuD_3AhsctVL0jiL7soxGqDHnnDIPWAbp9J9nG71UFfu12kwMgpf401aWUIfmUWsTWKG2p1gVvz0FjtOtntDcOcBwOOAeyXRFapVQlbAPqIP9J2DLQ/s320/595full-frank-sinatra.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Frank Sinatra had been given preferential treatment for a long time by MGM. Look at the finale of the Jerome Kern Juke-Box musical <i>Till the Clouds Roll By</i> (1946) when he sings <i>Old Man River.</i> No singer had gotten such a luxurious set-up in the history of movie musicals. Then Sinatra made an unfortunate remark about a former mistress of Louis B. Mayer (Ginny Simms) and Mayer was through with him. Mayer had fallen off a horse and sprained an ankle. Sinatra said Mayer had fallen off of Ginny Simms. That comment raced through MGM like a wildfire. No wonder LB Mayer kept casting Peter Lawford in musical leads when Sinatra was more talented. At one point Sinatra was pencilled in for Lawford’s part in <i>Easter Parade </i>(1948)<i>.</i> Mayer thought there was no way Sinatra could have been cast as a football hero in<i> Good News</i> (1947), starring Peter Lawford and June Allyson. <i>In The Good Old Summertime</i> (1949) was also originally planned for Frank Sinatra and June Allyson, which starred instead Van Johnson and Judy Garland. When Sinatra co-starred with Doris Day in <i>Young at Heart</i> (1954), he said Doris was "the most remote person" he'd known.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGtHyTUetIuzpjvKfad9S5PtupTaf0W5OqwT7PGfLzYVoA2Bn4JwSnYXlmfvd8KGLZg_g5fdgPhGpT_IvtHl6KIT3mSqA4cRpkcoSBWEH6gJPdGp8DeLqe-E3GbO9eID4SwzVxqUdIykcD21vLauu7UaD4BPFIAq7Ttydes4UaTU3r7myhpy_7g/s960/736full-doris-day.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGtHyTUetIuzpjvKfad9S5PtupTaf0W5OqwT7PGfLzYVoA2Bn4JwSnYXlmfvd8KGLZg_g5fdgPhGpT_IvtHl6KIT3mSqA4cRpkcoSBWEH6gJPdGp8DeLqe-E3GbO9eID4SwzVxqUdIykcD21vLauu7UaD4BPFIAq7Ttydes4UaTU3r7myhpy_7g/s320/736full-doris-day.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>In the strong literary voice and narrative constructed or her by A. E. Hotchner, Doris Day recounted her marriage to Martin Melcher, a well-meaning but domineering former agent who "managed" his wife's career until he died in 1968 of heart failure at 52. Feminist author Carolyn G. Heilbrun wrote that "an autobiographical subject's papers will often reveal a confident, hard-driving, ambitious woman of the type that is totally denied in the same woman's memoirs." Day herself saw <i>Pillow Talk</i> as the turning point toward a more grown-up, contemporary persona. The script, she recalled, offered "very sophisticated comedy, high chic, the leading lady an interior decorator, a lady very much tuned into the current New York scene. The plot, for 1959, was quite sexy.... clearly not the kind of part I had ever played before." <i>Pillow Talk </i>would win Doris Day her an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress, the only one of her career. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCA2Pc_7qpirxXt16lD1YsBcyfZOLy6wYZOLSfgoz1B-999OIntkq-FnKJcdKnVSwjLmKlfVM1v8pLcoO3AYbfxHVL78gRkvx8brYbVcWEz6oYwiAU6tLyIP37JthgqMaVCLsrM_Fn5kYGhmq0xJckj05qnwRlqQWJo1_NJuo0B3mpnectzj4ANQ/s609/s-l1600%20-%202024-01-12T232056.611.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCA2Pc_7qpirxXt16lD1YsBcyfZOLy6wYZOLSfgoz1B-999OIntkq-FnKJcdKnVSwjLmKlfVM1v8pLcoO3AYbfxHVL78gRkvx8brYbVcWEz6oYwiAU6tLyIP37JthgqMaVCLsrM_Fn5kYGhmq0xJckj05qnwRlqQWJo1_NJuo0B3mpnectzj4ANQ/s320/s-l1600%20-%202024-01-12T232056.611.jpg" width="303" /></a></div>Doris Day never found her ideal romantic partner in real life and she even sounds a bit jealous when she pronounced in Photoplay magazine (August 1953): "Dick Powell is one of the most intelligent, nicest and richest men in Hollywood. Did a tall, beautiful, madly-dressed doll get him? No, Dick belongs to a wonderful gal with a sense of humor and a big heart, June Allyson." One of the most telling differences is that Doris Day didn't really love Marty Melcher; whereas June Allyson in her memoirs acknowledges the opposite, that Dick Powell was the love of her life, and she was certain his husband loved her.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgois8KyhTOVxCf0zApwCY1eEPo8VrQnLtkWcKyWckojUk_1F0WsaR7AL09qHtYuZ7gsQxiPsqVme06zxqLZfNDCSdubE7TlnJN1OXruqDcJKko0u2Bv_bHkOyf7ByFI2ULy3i7ruZwRFCy4aEcoahR1JxyV6iyMk4b8JycxthlUWCWntvY2_r06w/s720/christmas-in-july.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgois8KyhTOVxCf0zApwCY1eEPo8VrQnLtkWcKyWckojUk_1F0WsaR7AL09qHtYuZ7gsQxiPsqVme06zxqLZfNDCSdubE7TlnJN1OXruqDcJKko0u2Bv_bHkOyf7ByFI2ULy3i7ruZwRFCy4aEcoahR1JxyV6iyMk4b8JycxthlUWCWntvY2_r06w/s320/christmas-in-july.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Jonathan Rosenbaum (December, 2023): <i>Christmas in July</i> (1940) is an undervalued satire. For all the rising popularity of Preston Sturges as a master writer-director of screwy, satirical farces, his second feature continues to be one of his most neglected, even though its story about winning a contest to furnish a brand of coffee with the best advertising slogan is among his most memorable. In fact, the office clerk (Dick Powell) who believes he’s won the contest with his own slogan (”If you can’t sleep at night, it isn’t the coffee, it’s the bunk”) is actually the victim of a hoax concocted by his fellow workers. But after he runs off and spends a fortune purchasing gifts for himself, his fiancée (Ellen Drew), and his neighbors, believing that he’s struck the jackpot, his coworkers grow increasingly reluctant to inform him about their prank. This manic comedy has a great deal to do with the desperate fantasies of opulence developed during the Depression, with especially fragrant moments of eloquence and bluster. —Sources: "Doris Day: Reluctant Star" (2009) by David Bret and "June Allyson: Her Life and Career" (2023) by Peter Shelley</div></div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-65407949728262433892024-01-05T01:58:00.009+01:002024-01-06T01:23:01.148+01:00"European Perspectives" by Alexander Jacob<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BEmZjAiw48A/YAubF8siYaI/AAAAAAABthw/EFdGIByrutUzGYbWD5gEVh7_1PzFOi9RQCLcBGAsYHQ/s705/EuropeanPerspectivesFront-scaled-1-467x705.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="705" data-original-width="467" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BEmZjAiw48A/YAubF8siYaI/AAAAAAABthw/EFdGIByrutUzGYbWD5gEVh7_1PzFOi9RQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/EuropeanPerspectivesFront-scaled-1-467x705.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In <i>European Perspectives: Essays </i>(2020), Dr. Alexander <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">Jacob seeks to differentiate Jewish-derived Marxist socialism from the German-derived spiritual socialism. Although “a professed anti-Semite,” Marx had a “Jewish mentality” that manifested itself in a “materialistic view of life”. This is in contrast to what might be called the communitarian ethos of Werner Sombart’s German socialism and Oswald Spengler’s Prussian socialism. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">One useful feature of European Perspectives is its assessment of a number of important European thinkers: Werner Sombart, Oswald Spengler, Erik von Kuehnelt–Leddihn, Julius Evola, Theodor Adorno, Hans–Jürgen Syberberg, Max Weber, Hannah Arendt and Theodor Herzl. Sombart, one of Jacob’s favorite scholars, believed “that the modern system of commercial capitalism was due not mainly to English Protestantism as Max Weber had proclaimed but to Judaism.” Jacob is an admirer of Spengler’s Prussian socialism which does not seek to destroy capitalism. Early on, Spengler saw that “democracy, in general, is an unholy alliance of urban masses, cosmopolitan intellectuals, and finance capitalists. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjVKaufEaQkE1At3IrPifphDT3CYl-QdADt-kQQJFkyWHQsw0ilp0UaTfhn7tFCr6BjmnA0X_fhIeWHCPZjnIWEwjsQQ6XzuywB-Ntr2TdD5Pr-cAT5N8EIlOag0Vgy_jrlrzsiFpH-Qaqo2JnR3zLUFrfDBKpEIkfDdG1MMwQGB6_LIvALpcYg/s900/Great-Depression-photos-American-Union.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="900" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjVKaufEaQkE1At3IrPifphDT3CYl-QdADt-kQQJFkyWHQsw0ilp0UaTfhn7tFCr6BjmnA0X_fhIeWHCPZjnIWEwjsQQ6XzuywB-Ntr2TdD5Pr-cAT5N8EIlOag0Vgy_jrlrzsiFpH-Qaqo2JnR3zLUFrfDBKpEIkfDdG1MMwQGB6_LIvALpcYg/s320/Great-Depression-photos-American-Union.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The masses themselves are manipulated by the latter two elements through their specific agencies: the press and the parties.” Jacob’s ideology synthesizes Kuehnelt-Leddihn and Evola’s beliefs. He accepts Evola’s criticism of modern Jewry and the bourgeoisie, but appears to reject his disparagement of Catholicism. Jacob concludes that Syberberg wanted to use “art as a redemptive influence on society,” while Adorno used it “as an instrument of revenge.” In the fourth essay Jacob shifts gears to examine two books, both written in 2011, that analyze the success of Western civilization: <i>The Uniqueness of Western Civilization</i> by Ricardo Duchesne and <i>The West and the Rest</i> by Niall Ferguson. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">Duchesne’s thesis is that the West has always been different, more creative, than other civilizations. The source of this creativity is the “aristocratic egalitarianism” of Indo-European societies. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnt3FB0rRGb7EU7a5hzSffaB97b2j3P9BFe6GxG-OUrD3tab-2U8eet-DXkVg_mjmGjiGJ2Bz_8wBXmkspP1ryGNu0beSflu7EdQaLjft4rYOfFcXnsviNBD3J8Yluf1YwPR_70CBRTXz6p6bDsy4MCyt7Ueq2pxU4nYq1ahty8FV622GwDJm4A/s1024/Theodore_Roosevelt_and_family.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="1024" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnt3FB0rRGb7EU7a5hzSffaB97b2j3P9BFe6GxG-OUrD3tab-2U8eet-DXkVg_mjmGjiGJ2Bz_8wBXmkspP1ryGNu0beSflu7EdQaLjft4rYOfFcXnsviNBD3J8Yluf1YwPR_70CBRTXz6p6bDsy4MCyt7Ueq2pxU4nYq1ahty8FV622GwDJm4A/s320/Theodore_Roosevelt_and_family.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This unique aristocratic egalitarianism was made possible by a political arrangement that provided “relative freedom and autonomy from centralised authority”. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">For Ferguson, the West’s greatness can be found in: “science, competition, property rights, medicine, the consumer society, and the work ethic”. Like Duchesne, Ferguson sees a lack of centralized power as a Western asset as opposed to the centralized bureaucracy of China. He believes property rights are closely associated with “the rule of law and representative government”. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">Ferguson is not, however, completely sanguine regarding the future of the Occident. He warns that the greatest threat to the West is “our own loss of faith in the civilization we inherited from our ancestors,” while Duchesne expresses similar concerns about the “nihilism, cultural relativism, and weariness” of the West.</span></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GTcwBqNPnEI/YAudyZxZl-I/AAAAAAABth4/jQ2rRK29UOc3u0wXiBAYEfrPi1730eeMQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2045/81IdEWNoR8L.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2045" data-original-width="1334" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GTcwBqNPnEI/YAudyZxZl-I/AAAAAAABth4/jQ2rRK29UOc3u0wXiBAYEfrPi1730eeMQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/81IdEWNoR8L.jpg" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">To Jacob’s thinking, what Fukuyama considers 'the end of history' is Jewish “economic utopianism which manifested itself in the twentieth century as totalitarian Communism and was transformed in the new ‘promised land’ into totalitarian liberalism of the ‘American Dream.’” Jacob concludes that </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">“</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">Fukuyama’s neo-conservatism illustrates the incompatibility of the American system with genuinely European systems of political thought.” </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">Jacob traces how the English, and later the Americans, deviated from traditional European values. In essence: the rise of Puritanism led to the English Civil War, the Revolution of 1688, the American Revolution, and the French Revolution. Puritans with their individualism and industry came to see “citizens as economic units of production not unlike those of the later Communist utopia of Marx.” Then, increasingly during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the Jews in America were able to transform the remnant of Puritanism into their own political/economic system, with the end results that we see today. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">There is a desperate need for a new aristocracy in Western societies. At present we are ruled by elites who are hostile to the interests of Western peoples. Before an aristocracy can develop, we need to create a revolutionary cadre from which a new elite will emerge. The historical peoples of the West are now slated to become minorities in their own homelands. We need new elites to propagate a new ideology and that is a monumental task. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; text-align: left;">Nothing could be more difficult, yet nothing less will do. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; text-align: left;">Alexander Jacob obtained his doctorate in Intellectual History at the Pennsylvania State University. His publications include <i>Nobilitas: A Study of European Aristocratic Philosophy from Ancient Greece to the early Twentieth Century </i>(2000), and <i>Richard Wagner on Tragedy, Christianity and the State</i> (2019). </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;">Source: unz.com</span></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-49831610703023635872024-01-01T23:53:00.006+01:002024-01-02T03:00:05.790+01:00Happy New Year 2024!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaaoSInrp6nejWoXRAGo2dqe3hKU8eWoh9-yAPL34Gos284Sjdbx9b8Bl469tfMMqGeNahOvF8wB3__-mPpC1mFQ7G4-Fc8SxTi84p_ms66suQHY-fQc1jU1BC6KDgQkR9EQ2vEvZT0QY8IMUPMdrqkPSkhdPBOdQLXoUs4Mb9WZAjiRwcdUupg/s725/26219286_10214845046417574_6513752240851104460_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="725" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaaoSInrp6nejWoXRAGo2dqe3hKU8eWoh9-yAPL34Gos284Sjdbx9b8Bl469tfMMqGeNahOvF8wB3__-mPpC1mFQ7G4-Fc8SxTi84p_ms66suQHY-fQc1jU1BC6KDgQkR9EQ2vEvZT0QY8IMUPMdrqkPSkhdPBOdQLXoUs4Mb9WZAjiRwcdUupg/s320/26219286_10214845046417574_6513752240851104460_n.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><b>Rhonda Fleming.</b><p></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHI3HqPHjkYi94luo2-Ahc71QGK9MMua9ZaAGmyaAi7QalditZ6mGvjCPXwUTS6XGnM5S5B_4OiydvOX2yUk8V0jEfcts2plwqIYDEvU2DvG-U_2fXG4ZaLDB-Yq2RGEK6Yrl-MTqNepLgzd2FK2g7iOtVpfKU-_oh3NYbMTQ-u_qEfr1DGZDgqg/s657/81440233_10220989640748592_9041495758305492992_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="523" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHI3HqPHjkYi94luo2-Ahc71QGK9MMua9ZaAGmyaAi7QalditZ6mGvjCPXwUTS6XGnM5S5B_4OiydvOX2yUk8V0jEfcts2plwqIYDEvU2DvG-U_2fXG4ZaLDB-Yq2RGEK6Yrl-MTqNepLgzd2FK2g7iOtVpfKU-_oh3NYbMTQ-u_qEfr1DGZDgqg/s320/81440233_10220989640748592_9041495758305492992_n.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><b>Joan Crawford.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJp8YAbEjpUmyWy5I2bIuDtFuWSv_B1nv3kkhoC0KrpoblWMC4CtIWtp21RqgNG7g52r5diTVvjR-jFNTajiHBBkhXyLbFCk_YQkkeIxp_FNw7LpreDIxqW24P75gsr8uvLZa52WK7InrSGLiQyUjF8Mmh3oUYTEfLyglj9Kzk1wo2pKAWRO-LQ/s1336/414475818_10231464399331010_1908195974293623051_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1336" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJp8YAbEjpUmyWy5I2bIuDtFuWSv_B1nv3kkhoC0KrpoblWMC4CtIWtp21RqgNG7g52r5diTVvjR-jFNTajiHBBkhXyLbFCk_YQkkeIxp_FNw7LpreDIxqW24P75gsr8uvLZa52WK7InrSGLiQyUjF8Mmh3oUYTEfLyglj9Kzk1wo2pKAWRO-LQ/s320/414475818_10231464399331010_1908195974293623051_n.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><b>Mae West.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEGdk28msaPk-cgK1NBeOUBzcuQ4NusBjzt63t8uhHabZPZEE3J5Cys9j8J2Q6NfK2oPBAE8N9S52fadzD4-V0_GUQw5yScYfdfGLfsbtDfT6ktmavg3KqoJX2g7b89MoAMvpywNvcbpQI7HPbRfZiS22TDL_xUF6pzcdiOL3GqjcKflEBhsd5LA/s2034/414455961_10231462633486865_4687955505520627938_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2034" data-original-width="1760" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEGdk28msaPk-cgK1NBeOUBzcuQ4NusBjzt63t8uhHabZPZEE3J5Cys9j8J2Q6NfK2oPBAE8N9S52fadzD4-V0_GUQw5yScYfdfGLfsbtDfT6ktmavg3KqoJX2g7b89MoAMvpywNvcbpQI7HPbRfZiS22TDL_xUF6pzcdiOL3GqjcKflEBhsd5LA/s320/414455961_10231462633486865_4687955505520627938_n.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><b>Joan Blondell.</b><br /><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHC5Lxoe74ZGvi8L8K3FtkLabGlIdzhM_IxCrnS1LzdnsLLNVD8gZEYxmmcg9MugTwTenahcWhSZJCCiczjUgGa_Wj4Y-6aemt7xqSI3DUFWnC-J0O66pQgctTKN17-Sq3RDYG7RcGuNfBum7QJUKFKxMNlTc3PWsfRiD4yG2zCW_xd3RUML7xSQ/s1080/414477255_10231468796520937_1667207315525213936_n%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="1080" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHC5Lxoe74ZGvi8L8K3FtkLabGlIdzhM_IxCrnS1LzdnsLLNVD8gZEYxmmcg9MugTwTenahcWhSZJCCiczjUgGa_Wj4Y-6aemt7xqSI3DUFWnC-J0O66pQgctTKN17-Sq3RDYG7RcGuNfBum7QJUKFKxMNlTc3PWsfRiD4yG2zCW_xd3RUML7xSQ/s320/414477255_10231468796520937_1667207315525213936_n%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>June Allyson and Dick Powell.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7sY8gjDdzdbYXSNEB1ES7b9XgGneQOpijjy8vGI7mbuVKo6GEsCzSejeVh0m3QmxIDKqDhIrhAz0eaMfBzfQqQZBJHvUume3hNhYlgy9_-DmTYkiNHzIgtPF2nOWOGYMphLdOauGEm0PxPMf5wfyJw861KhIy6-rdcdylztm4XS3VTNw15sMUg/s663/416107901_10231463815156406_2548907040417285338_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="663" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7sY8gjDdzdbYXSNEB1ES7b9XgGneQOpijjy8vGI7mbuVKo6GEsCzSejeVh0m3QmxIDKqDhIrhAz0eaMfBzfQqQZBJHvUume3hNhYlgy9_-DmTYkiNHzIgtPF2nOWOGYMphLdOauGEm0PxPMf5wfyJw861KhIy6-rdcdylztm4XS3VTNw15sMUg/s320/416107901_10231463815156406_2548907040417285338_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>Loretta Young.</b></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-8602227655421356812023-12-28T02:11:00.008+01:002023-12-29T01:41:11.826+01:00Sexual Armony and Disagreements, June Allyson & Dick Powell (Modern Screen)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgloghVFglO6VWVrgPHlm0XcE4OhjC4BPuS1hyphenhyphenOfxKovuniKcnrjNlb2c_aEKeIaZU-7VA8pCnehLkTHrZQgbMZj_D2QyD3PFHi9vkwxM1hurzmvUCGEw53MlKp0OdQ1VgHti9lpIOevcjWHoyM5U1M0vdB_BDcOGAZPFDwMSz7CzlL0XwWU_-dWA/s742/04abbb4a9cdc6f50d2f7314288168d15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgloghVFglO6VWVrgPHlm0XcE4OhjC4BPuS1hyphenhyphenOfxKovuniKcnrjNlb2c_aEKeIaZU-7VA8pCnehLkTHrZQgbMZj_D2QyD3PFHi9vkwxM1hurzmvUCGEw53MlKp0OdQ1VgHti9lpIOevcjWHoyM5U1M0vdB_BDcOGAZPFDwMSz7CzlL0XwWU_-dWA/s320/04abbb4a9cdc6f50d2f7314288168d15.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sexual disagreements in relationships are more strongly associated with women considering ending their relationships than men, according to a new study published in the Journal of Sex Research on November 14, 2023. This finding, emerging from an analysis of thousands of participants, challenges traditional notions about the impact of sexual harmony on relationship stability. "Based on traditional gender ideologies, we would expect that sexual disagreements are associated with instability more strongly among men than among women,” said study author Dominika Perdoch Sladká, a researcher and a PhD student at the Department of Sociology at Masaryk University. “Some previous studies found that men judge their relationships by the quality of their sexual life more often than women. We were interested in testing if the gendered relationship between sexual disagreements and union instability found in earlier studies from the United States still exists in the 21st century. Our study included both married and cohabiting partners.”</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5OMPjz5a5V_EzYuhZpLouFRtUr1BYDTiUjCvXzkagapYYG9mhz70g5vl2DT3dPmZyByUtll1flivniRCyWhjnm_liDxNSPCGLno1dn_27aHsvaFIS2-5q5f6rqANTIh09gYaJxkep7xsmMP5w-LP_fQR7VrhCvLf2iOzI2VBfc0bJ4TmxK-Cnw/s960/2vvvv.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="725" data-original-width="960" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5OMPjz5a5V_EzYuhZpLouFRtUr1BYDTiUjCvXzkagapYYG9mhz70g5vl2DT3dPmZyByUtll1flivniRCyWhjnm_liDxNSPCGLno1dn_27aHsvaFIS2-5q5f6rqANTIh09gYaJxkep7xsmMP5w-LP_fQR7VrhCvLf2iOzI2VBfc0bJ4TmxK-Cnw/s320/2vvvv.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In comparison to those who never had such disagreements, women who frequently experienced sexual disagreements were 13.1 percentage points more likely to consider separation. In contrast, men with frequent sexual disagreements showed only a 5 percentage point increase in separation proneness compared to those with no disagreements. The researchers also found that, at every level of sexual disagreement, women were more inclined towards separation proneness than men. This difference was most stark among those with frequent disagreements, underscoring a notable gender disparity. The study, “Sexual Disagreements: Differences Between Men and Women in a Culturally Diverse Sample” was authored by Dominika Perdoch Sladká and Martin Kreidl. Source: https://www.tandfonline.com</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO2rl84TRhAWckVKRJyT5vKaibz5CtCYutx78oVH22u9HYTwVC-PQkk3FcUug4P0jrdCukYma9UDLPv01UAoLpNccWP2IrTI-2i9g-K6Z7Ih3k-DBU_0FEAo0FqsSdrKbJkg9PPMVDRmrN7vQFJgEGpJg3XKAnj8-5pleecgcwTX7Sz8UOejbEow/s829/norman23fddfsxdd.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="829" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO2rl84TRhAWckVKRJyT5vKaibz5CtCYutx78oVH22u9HYTwVC-PQkk3FcUug4P0jrdCukYma9UDLPv01UAoLpNccWP2IrTI-2i9g-K6Z7Ih3k-DBU_0FEAo0FqsSdrKbJkg9PPMVDRmrN7vQFJgEGpJg3XKAnj8-5pleecgcwTX7Sz8UOejbEow/s320/norman23fddfsxdd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June Allyson: Did you ever take a ride on the elevator of a skyscraper? Of course, well, you know how it feels when the elevator surges upward. . . phew, your head sinks to your toes—but soon, with a little effort everything returns to normal and you’re on a level keel again. And so it is with most stars, as they rise rapidly their heads swim but with a little effort the leveling off period is not far away. Sure, some stars never level off. I feel I am most fortunate being married to a man like Richard, my husband and loving critic. He has helped me to stay on that level keel, at least I’ve had my two feet on the ground. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8ct6GLWRNDPnTLQ5rmC02XWTey0VX7f0J5_iGNzObPtADag4rlbli3yMLPuG_FSi8gJr2jGPFE8Ps8a2qMvWXunoQb8D1TFSxQfRxwzuNbGFLNWW5UBUSgLncCFsQvMrG2eLcBQ96cgkttoHE9tRkpEHTs7ygBGIVq0bZXu6JpSp30XluvPiDw/s1600/ReformerRedheadPubStill.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1230" data-original-width="1600" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8ct6GLWRNDPnTLQ5rmC02XWTey0VX7f0J5_iGNzObPtADag4rlbli3yMLPuG_FSi8gJr2jGPFE8Ps8a2qMvWXunoQb8D1TFSxQfRxwzuNbGFLNWW5UBUSgLncCFsQvMrG2eLcBQ96cgkttoHE9tRkpEHTs7ygBGIVq0bZXu6JpSp30XluvPiDw/s320/ReformerRedheadPubStill.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">How do I get along with Richard? Fans write they hear rumors that I’m hypnotized, that I’m on strings, or that he’s a Svengali. Nothing could be further from the truth. So get your pencil and jot this down. When the lights are out at night, I lie in bed and thank God for my marital happiness with Richard. . . And I pray that my kids will find the happiness in his future marriages that I have found in mine. This all comes from my heart and I hope you realize that Richard is not twisting my arm. If this doesn’t kick the pins out from under the wagging tongues, well, then I’ll give up trying. Personally I couldn’t care less what gossips think and say . . . but since I have this opportunity to put it in the record—you’ve got it.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8iohOripWdzq7CIble5uSlzOaWFY5x_ELUFn-6eyg4-4d1stH12i0lMiUCa11z888j9BijCXtLW8HsUKTKW0N70dTDTf5vIkmqgaQjvD13G994uD80UhXJhTb5qAE4_mtPfT-G6j855rV8h8FYPT_Akiz7b6mn2vnxCPGqj9s7DOAmhvtoVKNQ/s1600/s-l1ggg600%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1306" data-original-width="1600" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8iohOripWdzq7CIble5uSlzOaWFY5x_ELUFn-6eyg4-4d1stH12i0lMiUCa11z888j9BijCXtLW8HsUKTKW0N70dTDTf5vIkmqgaQjvD13G994uD80UhXJhTb5qAE4_mtPfT-G6j855rV8h8FYPT_Akiz7b6mn2vnxCPGqj9s7DOAmhvtoVKNQ/s320/s-l1ggg600%20(4).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I truly wish that most husbands would be as considerate of their wives as mine is to me. Richard has a wonderful sense of humor. He knows how to make me laugh and does. He can always be expected to do the unexpected. He has no inhibitions and he exercises his prerogative as a husband to take the initiative, but always in good taste—he’s a man a girl can lean upon. Usually I lunch in my dressing room. This gives me a chance to slip into a robe and quietly relax. Here again I want to spike rumors that I’m aloof and don’t eat with the gang in the commissary. I love the gang, I love people, but I feel the picture comes first and that I must have a period of relaxation before starting the long afternoon. A little cat-nap does wonders, believe me. My favorite foods are steak and French fried onions, salads, Italian and Cantonese.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGn-5yXenyqGzV4DHQKstukPDriQ0AWxmZP3S2WNdMUlH8mVPVPtXiLG4mWsuymx04rUxoFHYZiRJwebsLGQ8S8ZF_y5bPlajSgQfZ1y1Dj1r3GNVvX37JjgjOWCCXLWONX7cO7DxdHougMviiLMYu_xnTeHEBIxF6NPGePnzTMlGdjVG16DI5kw/s564/5196e2aabcef93d6b2e93a4d0df8ecd5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="564" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGn-5yXenyqGzV4DHQKstukPDriQ0AWxmZP3S2WNdMUlH8mVPVPtXiLG4mWsuymx04rUxoFHYZiRJwebsLGQ8S8ZF_y5bPlajSgQfZ1y1Dj1r3GNVvX37JjgjOWCCXLWONX7cO7DxdHougMviiLMYu_xnTeHEBIxF6NPGePnzTMlGdjVG16DI5kw/s320/5196e2aabcef93d6b2e93a4d0df8ecd5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One evening in San Francisco we decided on an Italian dinner and were recommended to Vanessi’s. Well, “Uncle Joe” Vanessi, as he insisted we call him, ordered our dinner for us. It took three hours of eating our way through “Uncle Joe’s” hospitality before we could make our way out to our car. To me shopping in new places is the greatest. I always make the rounds of all the shops, see what everyone has to offer and then go back to where I saw something I liked. The trouble is, though, most of the time I forget where the shop is, or I don’t have the time to get back. Now, you asked me about traveling. We very often go to Palm Springs, about 100 miles south of Los Angeles. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-MS6jXr-HqtWjt1F3Q10qW4S-hHWoWC8MQwiVM4_ZQ7wIWHbvAvQwivGTeWJynb2tTHrxmdMTBuVtmkNz_hkIygod4ir1EgbUaJA7PPfKo_fnlm6ez0Y_4-SPY7O6jEU1XpZFHkW74Pay52gt37H-46y5p1X9zL30KmHYJD2nIwCtrYZxAEo7w/s960/636349411013621871-pc000352-Marion-Davies-The-Fountain-Room-The-Desert-Inn.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="960" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-MS6jXr-HqtWjt1F3Q10qW4S-hHWoWC8MQwiVM4_ZQ7wIWHbvAvQwivGTeWJynb2tTHrxmdMTBuVtmkNz_hkIygod4ir1EgbUaJA7PPfKo_fnlm6ez0Y_4-SPY7O6jEU1XpZFHkW74Pay52gt37H-46y5p1X9zL30KmHYJD2nIwCtrYZxAEo7w/s320/636349411013621871-pc000352-Marion-Davies-The-Fountain-Room-The-Desert-Inn.webp" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We spent a full week at Marion Davies Desert Inn, relaxing, playing tennis, golf and lying in the sun. Give us a hot day, a bottle of sun-tan oil and we’re in business. Sun-bathing is a bit mild for Richard, though; not enough action, he says. Later I went on a shopping tour with Richard. While I looked for clothes, Richard was looking at property. Yes, I love to travel. It’s fun to get away from the house but always twice as nice to return home. Who dresses me? By this I hope you mean who selects my clothes? But if you really mean “Who dresses me”—well, I’m a big girl now and I dress myself. The answer to the latter question is the same. I select my own clothes and I love to shop for myself. Richard has excellent taste in selecting clothes for me and loves nice things and likes to surprise me. I love tailored clothes, suits and lots of slacks and tops. And lots of full cottons for summer, and I adore evening gowns. It’s such fun getting dressed up for a party.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZ6UHgivslHf0O1e01mlb6r4sbKdmkx16-u3FdF4RhKKXeOjruG5Eng1kYdUNxbbOn7MTM_hOO43UMyE28eWVF1TNZuH12YeI431xwcMSFX99SHu_jM2F4MsUJ_gd83OJ99h67a0i4QWr68q_eXtGKP1pLWOx7YEBtYrKhUft2XYWfYiOKZ6fjg/s768/vlcsnap-2023-06-10-02h06m52s998.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="768" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZ6UHgivslHf0O1e01mlb6r4sbKdmkx16-u3FdF4RhKKXeOjruG5Eng1kYdUNxbbOn7MTM_hOO43UMyE28eWVF1TNZuH12YeI431xwcMSFX99SHu_jM2F4MsUJ_gd83OJ99h67a0i4QWr68q_eXtGKP1pLWOx7YEBtYrKhUft2XYWfYiOKZ6fjg/s320/vlcsnap-2023-06-10-02h06m52s998.png" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes I feel embarrassed when people stare at me in public. I jump when I hear my name spoken at nearby tables. I often wonder if other stars feel the same way, like a gold fish in a bowl—with no privacy. It seems to be a must in show business to maul and paw you with a greeting. To plant a big kiss on your cheek. I resent this when it’s done to me. I’m annoyed at over-demonstrative people. I’m sure it’s fun at home but I just don’t go for that bit . . . in public. I also resent some women being over-demonstrative with my husband and I don’t spare the horses in telling them off, I’ll tell you, I’m never annoyed by the same person twice. We see our friends and enjoy each other with small dinner parties at home. If a big group gets together, it becomes involved as to where to go, what to do and somehow, Richard always winds up as the social director. He automatically becomes the leader. It was funny when Jack Benny arrived one night with a whistle on a chain for Richard! Friends, fine friends, are where you find them. As the saying goes, “Show me your friends and I’ll know who you are.” Gosh, I’ve really been on a soap box, and here comes that man for his box, so I’ll step down. Sure, I’ll answer some more questions—some other time. —Modern Screen magazine, July 1956</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-13038422219750870242023-12-24T02:59:00.004+01:002023-12-24T03:01:36.507+01:00Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!"As long as we know in our hearts what Christmas ought to be, Christmas is." -Eric Sevareid (American author and journalist)<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d7EAz3Y_YBE/UrpgM_698YI/AAAAAAABZaQ/i1ehC-CJYwE/s600/rememberthenight_1940_ps_07_1200_100820090454.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d7EAz3Y_YBE/UrpgM_698YI/AAAAAAABZaQ/i1ehC-CJYwE/s320/rememberthenight_1940_ps_07_1200_100820090454.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck in "Remember the Night" (1940) directed by Mitchell Leisen</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jiSSoNsWBBs/UrpiMWRPo8I/AAAAAAABZac/zGygYuld-QI/s600/fredbs&leisen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jiSSoNsWBBs/UrpiMWRPo8I/AAAAAAABZac/zGygYuld-QI/s320/fredbs&leisen.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">From DeMille’s Irish postmistress at end of track to Clifford Odets’s worldweary “tramp from Newark,” Barbara Stanwyck was to play a seen-it-all, light-fingered jewel thief on trial in New York for shoplifting a blindingly sparkling bracelet. Mitchell Leisen, one of Paramount’s leading directors, was assigned the picture. Each of Leisen’s fourteen pictures had been a box-office success. Leisen was Paramount’s answer to George Cukor. Leisen wanted Barbara for the part of Lee Leander, jewel thief. He felt the part was written for her. Fred MacMurray was to be the hard-driving assistant district attorney prosecuting the case who, instead of sending her to jail, falls in love with her. Leisen thought MacMurray a goodlooking actor but he was quiet, genial, modest, and inexperienced. Though Preston Sturges came from the top and Barbara from the bottom—he from a European bohemian aristocracy and she from a showgirl street life—Barbara felt a great compatibility with Sturges. She thought him enormously talented and his script one of the best she’d ever read. “What’s on paper is on the screen,” she said. Sturges and Leisen were an interesting combination of sensibilities. Sturges wrote comedy with flashes of feeling and warmth; Leisen directed pictures that were warm with bursts of comedy.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Dk3b1z4gWlQ/Urpjhbu1Y3I/AAAAAAABZao/HYNygOz7noE/s600/nightremember.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Dk3b1z4gWlQ/Urpjhbu1Y3I/AAAAAAABZao/HYNygOz7noE/s320/nightremember.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The DA (Fred MacMurray) is getting ready to drive home to Wabash, Indiana, for the holidays to the family farm to see his mother and aunt. In the spirit of Christmas, he bails out the girl he’s about to prosecute so she won’t have to spend the holiday behind bars. The bondsman delivers her —with his compliments and a wink— to the DA’s apartment, the last thing he wants or expects (“What are you doing here?” he asks her. “I don’t know,” she says, “but I’ve got a rough idea”). Now he’s stuck with her; she’s been locked out of her hotel; she’s got nowhere to go, and she’s in his custody.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wCysUwu6cww/UrplF50Z1-I/AAAAAAABZa0/TYVZFIu6ev0/s600/nightremem.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wCysUwu6cww/UrplF50Z1-I/AAAAAAABZa0/TYVZFIu6ev0/s320/nightremem.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the scene in which the family has gathered in the parlor around the Christmas tree, MacMurray plays the piano and sings “Swanee River,” and Barbara plays “A Perfect Day” on the piano as Willie (Sterling Holloway) sings. Leisen knew how to use visual business in a scene to create character, mood, story. His subtle eloquence and deftness was called the Leisen magic. Barbara teased MacMurray for being shy about filming love scenes. Barbara handled it by saying to the crew, “This is really going to be something, I am supposed to be kissed passionately by Fred.” She kidded Fred about it, as did the crew. When the day arrived, MacMurray gritted his teeth, determined to show them he wasn’t such a bad lover, and did the scene perfectly.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ojHX4PaeqkI/Urpmi9JjkhI/AAAAAAABZbA/j80gb_akX5E/s600/barbaras.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ojHX4PaeqkI/Urpmi9JjkhI/AAAAAAABZbA/j80gb_akX5E/s320/barbaras.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Barbara never looked more beautiful, more luminous, than she does in <i>Remember the Night</i>. In the end of Sturges’s script, “love reformed her and corrupted him, which gave us the finely balanced moral,” said Sturges, “that one man’s meat is another man’s poison, or caveat emptor.” In Remember the Night, Barbara is both classy and shopgirlish. Sturges was a loner, as Barbara had been before Bob Taylor came into her life. Barbara operates on many levels in 'Remember the Night': she is a believable crook; believably vulgar; believably sensitive and vulnerable; rebellious (in the scene with her mother, it is clear her defiance is bonded to her mother’s take on her). What Sturges gives Stanwyck is her longing for roots, her longing to go home for Christmas.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X4u53ahOUcY/Urpnnh8rxOI/AAAAAAABZbM/O_iWcQrc4QY/s1600/rememberthenight_1940_ss_26_1200_110420090538.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X4u53ahOUcY/Urpnnh8rxOI/AAAAAAABZbM/O_iWcQrc4QY/s320/rememberthenight_1940_ss_26_1200_110420090538.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The combination of Barbara and MacMurray works: he is light and a good egg; she is breezy, grounded, larcenous, with a heart of gold and a yearning for home, like Sturges himself, who had such an uprooted childhood. “As it turned out,” said Sturges, “the picture had quite a lot of schmaltz, a good dose of schmerz and just enough schmutz to make it box office.” It was Leisen’s best picture to date and Barbara’s best performance. -"A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel True (1907-1940)" by Victoria Wilson</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NlypaPwFVYY/Urprqy796II/AAAAAAABZbY/szs_XgRH3OQ/s600/rememberthenight_1940_ss_03_1200_100820090102.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NlypaPwFVYY/Urprqy796II/AAAAAAABZbY/szs_XgRH3OQ/s320/rememberthenight_1940_ss_03_1200_100820090102.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">They go out to eat and talk about their situation. “Sounds like a play, doesn’t it?” asks Lee, which is Sturges acknowledging the whole “movie pitch idea” of his basic screenplay, then mocking it when John replies, “Sounds like a flop.” In 'Remember the Night,' this exchange leads us directly into the most important scene in the film, where Lee tries to explain her concept of right and wrong to John. Mrs. Sargent, who knows the truth about her, gently warns Lee that she might spoil John’s career if they were to get married. Lee is standing in front of a mirror, and when Mrs. Sargent puts her hands on Lee’s shoulders, Stanwyck freezes, with her mouth wide open, one arm up holding a comb, a vision of complete Mouchette-style awkwardness. Mirrors always bring out Stanwyck’s deepest feelings. Leisen films the hushed parting between John and Lee with real tenderness, but the complexities of the early scenes get politely swept under the rug. In many ways, it was a kind of holiday movie for Stanwyck. She said that the atmosphere on a Capra set was “like a cathedral,” while on a Sturges set it was “a carnival.” -"Barbara Stanwyck: The Miracle Woman" (2012) by Dan Callahan</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-89712966413120935512023-12-16T04:18:00.013+01:002023-12-16T04:45:13.542+01:00Saltburn (2023): Style vs Substance<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprp3XUOWY1QyWmopVD3S5rfhuX41RwVh7TsAGOpz1_bHRaKa_IMh1MmUibIItgtQvEfzmRRCLyfVYfspGyiwCSnDW-KQN9-SS4ZDPXGfKvL1FqRftRNWiV35P2DeDddceqkRePaJen0yA3hisLLl_eFgBSzeMXJg00-6IQpqAmELxh432e86aYA/s690/zzzzgggaddCaptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="690" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprp3XUOWY1QyWmopVD3S5rfhuX41RwVh7TsAGOpz1_bHRaKa_IMh1MmUibIItgtQvEfzmRRCLyfVYfspGyiwCSnDW-KQN9-SS4ZDPXGfKvL1FqRftRNWiV35P2DeDddceqkRePaJen0yA3hisLLl_eFgBSzeMXJg00-6IQpqAmELxh432e86aYA/s320/zzzzgggaddCaptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One way to read <i>Saltburn</i> is, like <i>Parasite,</i> as a film focused on economic class disparities. Felix and the Catton family represent the top-end ultra-wealthy. While Oliver is the rest of us. Even though it’s set in 2006/2007, it’s about now. Specifically, about the pursuit of style over substance. Style at the cost of substance. Emerald Fennell’s Oliver Quick is like American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman. No humanity, no morality. Simply a yearning. The end of Saltburn begins in the aftermath of Oliver’s successful takeover of Saltburn through the systematic annihilation of the Catton family. We do have the brief bit where Oliver provides exposition to Elsbeth before removing her breathing tube. It’s a continuation of the film’s opening where Oliver ponders if he was in love with Felix. Oliver explains that he actually hated Felix. “I hated all of you.” Early in the Oxford portion of <i>Saltburn</i>, Oliver reads an essay to his professor. Both the professor and Farleigh try to hide their extreme boredom. But Farleigh eventually criticizes Oliver for using “thus” four times. To which Oliver responds that Farlegih’s attacking the style rather than the substance.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGfG6UEUn1-QKnw0mKHHGcjB6D4qembzqtqt84fHCrmytbENPNDXBAjReKYt613bvc_-_7nOej_f1xCAllVpRKBZF5lTryEWPwYsZ3EP7Y5u1N9lyTuAPztvMMBCi8Odm7VuJWi9UZ1UY7jB07d2Ln5UyOyfIuEkOwvrm5KI5ZHlQz5zKS7SvqGA/s674/keoghan.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="674" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGfG6UEUn1-QKnw0mKHHGcjB6D4qembzqtqt84fHCrmytbENPNDXBAjReKYt613bvc_-_7nOej_f1xCAllVpRKBZF5lTryEWPwYsZ3EP7Y5u1N9lyTuAPztvMMBCi8Odm7VuJWi9UZ1UY7jB07d2Ln5UyOyfIuEkOwvrm5KI5ZHlQz5zKS7SvqGA/s320/keoghan.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Viewed this way, <i>Saltburn</i> becomes a story about the pursuit of style. It’s less a commentary on class dynamics (<i>Parasite</i>) and more a cautionary tale about the kind of person who would sacrifice all his/her substance in order to appear a certain way. <i>American Psycho</i> (2001) was originally a reaction to the Wall Street culture of the late-80s. <i>American Psycho</i> opts for hyperbole. Patrick Bateman serves as a kind of mythologized final-form for someone who belongs to that culture. A warning sign. A line not to cross. In <i>Saltburn</i> we can also infer that conniving superficiality is a recipe for success. In politics, on social media, in business. So a lot of what’s going on at the end of <i>Saltburn</i> has this style versus substance dynamic at its core. In the Greek mythology, Theseus is a seemingly heroic figure who kills a rival in a maze, then ditches the person who had helped him, and inherits an entire kingdom because he tricks his father into suicide. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguml00f-hmnIpEsylxvAISe82I64juG-lxf1N_rTiicQMQ60U5JMC7ndJaxuctLzGSe4kZ7T1MfAK4d150MWfErwV0pZjQtaO10aEhyphenhyphenSgiuaY2ZOrHosUG2OkH3NL745mUscA695EjVqJRlcia8OX54WbkiYEwcmGd8hNQr605JNymUYu9BZdpAQ/s1142/Csssaptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="1142" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguml00f-hmnIpEsylxvAISe82I64juG-lxf1N_rTiicQMQ60U5JMC7ndJaxuctLzGSe4kZ7T1MfAK4d150MWfErwV0pZjQtaO10aEhyphenhyphenSgiuaY2ZOrHosUG2OkH3NL745mUscA695EjVqJRlcia8OX54WbkiYEwcmGd8hNQr605JNymUYu9BZdpAQ/s320/Csssaptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Oliver Quick (a spectacular Barry Keoghan) is a seemingly likable guy who kills someone in a maze, then inherits an entire estate because he murders the people who had helped him. Likewise, in <i>Nightcrawler (2014) </i>Jake Gyllenhaal's character starts a small business, works hard to overcome fierce competition, and manages to maneuver his way to success. That’s the American dream, right? Except the character does this by lying, manipulating, and setting someone up to die. He’s actually despicable but thinks he’s a good guy. <i>Nightcrawler</i> makes the hero a villain and uses that to make a sharp criticism of modern capitalism and the kind of behavior and person it now rewards. The person who succeeds is no longer the one who does things the right way, the honest way. It’s the bad guy. <i>Saltburn </i>follows a similar pattern. It uses the Theseus myth but flips the hero into a villain. A broader commentary on the kind of person who is rising up in the world and how they’re getting there. Oliver presents himself as gentle and kind but is, behind the scenes, devious and irredeemable. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRJ5HTbsu4J5NwSiom-b7HAjjFMKg8zva4uvdbvzOugYIvqWMxf4woJdQzYeNcqytmeFnT2LCfzjambwy0otSjh6GNqiTZjE6mcTNSRozMegWGnSY3TFfrJku8ficd4ZwRF8t8xjqoOmJeQADESn4-rf3DWzx2ejpTHIW2B7BzhHUw2uR-_GQhg/s1200/saltburn-barry-keoghan.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRJ5HTbsu4J5NwSiom-b7HAjjFMKg8zva4uvdbvzOugYIvqWMxf4woJdQzYeNcqytmeFnT2LCfzjambwy0otSjh6GNqiTZjE6mcTNSRozMegWGnSY3TFfrJku8ficd4ZwRF8t8xjqoOmJeQADESn4-rf3DWzx2ejpTHIW2B7BzhHUw2uR-_GQhg/s320/saltburn-barry-keoghan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Oliver Quick is a new kind of figure. A Theseus for the 21st century. With terrifying implications. When Oliver brings down the Catton family and takes Saltburn for himself, you can view this as kind of a revolutionary message, both culturally and politically. But not all revolutions are good, right? As we said in the ending discussion, Oliver echoes the story of Theseus. But instead of the heroic figure, he’s the villain. This brings us back to the comparison to <i>The Social Network. </i>That film wasn’t saying all Millennial Internet entrepreneurs will be anti-social creeps. Just that there’s a cultural archetype that has been forming lately and that we should be aware of it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE4-1dPqhw1xg5iSQ0eh0GJelYlLVWnffo87dywv2mlHhpFon907oO2gJ0umdkyLR0l4Z5GiK7igIHvQ3_LOpPjOYaLJlBUWq397drDhAgHysgPAyIMgH_cQ3gEOQ5Im5Zk6X03i4qea_zo_XBWl8ST3G14CjvHJU_HkoWoDi6_x0w0IBvS31fQ/s928/Capteeeura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="928" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE4-1dPqhw1xg5iSQ0eh0GJelYlLVWnffo87dywv2mlHhpFon907oO2gJ0umdkyLR0l4Z5GiK7igIHvQ3_LOpPjOYaLJlBUWq397drDhAgHysgPAyIMgH_cQ3gEOQ5Im5Zk6X03i4qea_zo_XBWl8ST3G14CjvHJU_HkoWoDi6_x0w0IBvS31fQ/s320/Capteeeura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Likewise, <i>Saltburn</i> isn’t saying middle class people are like Oliver or that all Millennials are like him. Just that now it’s kind of easier than ever to be a grifter. And that con artists and superficiality seem to be winning a lot more than anyone should like. And we’re entering into a new era because of it. Being the superior film, American Psycho articulated the spiritual crisis much better: "My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape." Oliver Quick, like Patrick Bateman, has eradicated his individuality in order to fit in, but he lacks Bateman's self-awareness. Source: filmcolossus.com</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-56044620663346462512023-12-09T21:45:00.012+01:002023-12-10T19:11:58.846+01:00The Killer by David Fincher: Critique of Capitalism<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq1QcRDzgFxu10V_1KbjjEx_nKDr5s5Z6QbBTKlCkDnvoJGKi7ymQ8fT0D_Xr4zXSoU8RRTUb3c45FXfBcC391lsEuoXkBkBFTb7JkkPRkFUuqZ2Tn6BLm1reuW_wttvY3r6yhpwKs_5S2aFGl14qZfop8SI-O0HcUSfAdDh7XMJNYjWxg_r7cxg/s1095/Captdddura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="1095" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq1QcRDzgFxu10V_1KbjjEx_nKDr5s5Z6QbBTKlCkDnvoJGKi7ymQ8fT0D_Xr4zXSoU8RRTUb3c45FXfBcC391lsEuoXkBkBFTb7JkkPRkFUuqZ2Tn6BLm1reuW_wttvY3r6yhpwKs_5S2aFGl14qZfop8SI-O0HcUSfAdDh7XMJNYjWxg_r7cxg/s320/Captdddura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">How to interpret <i>The Killer</i> by David Fincher? It's a story about the vacuous soul of the gig economy? Or a tale of violent class struggle in a post-capitalist society?</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">1. THE KILLER = THE WORKING CLASS</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The “Killer” is a man seemingly stripped of any humanity, character or backstory. He is the embodiment of a worker – a tool, an agent defined by serving those who pay for his services. He serves “no God or country, I fly no flag”. The opening chapter is solely focussed on his “purely logistical” process, his craft. Where does the opening chapter take place? At a WeWork office. What does the working class do? We work. The Killer is shapeshifting and takes on the appearance of various working class roles/gig workers. He is a janitor, an Amazon delivery guy etc. The key idea put forward in the opening chapter is “the few exploiting the many”. This, I contest, is the central theme and conflict of the movie (this isn’t a concept that is owned by Marxian thought, but for fun) I am going to analyse the movie purely from a Marxist worldview). As the Killer explains, this is the “cornerstone of civilization” since the “beginning of history.”</p><p style="text-align: justify;">2. MODERN CLASS STRUGGLE</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoKITe2MSeOHBTVrnaFb0ce78KcXFU9krxd5zdDOtAw8yC_1fPi6b9ry23OcrSZmCtrvTzPrwSiYQ6jLnistijwAof45JCVLOn-1IGZS36QBZiCpooJ0dDKG17Bkhg2QhgPUlaJN_E7QVIEloAzvVk1DpG2tmlkAM1f1zp_hg2c7vnofbCu-7zcA/s918/paris.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="918" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoKITe2MSeOHBTVrnaFb0ce78KcXFU9krxd5zdDOtAw8yC_1fPi6b9ry23OcrSZmCtrvTzPrwSiYQ6jLnistijwAof45JCVLOn-1IGZS36QBZiCpooJ0dDKG17Bkhg2QhgPUlaJN_E7QVIEloAzvVk1DpG2tmlkAM1f1zp_hg2c7vnofbCu-7zcA/s320/paris.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We begin in Paris, home of the Paris Commune – the place of the very first Communist society in 1871. The Killer observes the life of a classic Parisian bourgeoisie neighbourhood in a voyeuristic, <i>Rear Window</i> style. This can be viewed as the inciting incident where he gains “class consciousness”. His murder gone wrong is the point at which the existing power structures turn against him and force him into a conflict against those that seek to oppress him. This sets the Killer on a path of overthrowing the capitalist superstructure which oppresses the working class. His obstacles (Leo, Hodges, the Brute, the Expert) challenge his proletariat identity in some way. Leo represents intra-class conflict – the way in which the lower classes are pitted against each other. Hodges represents how government and legal systems uphold a capitalist hierarchical structure. He is framed by a set of legal scales and he presents himself as acting in accordance with standard procedure. Hodges's secretary Dolores is a government bureaucrat simply doing her job. They are nevertheless complicit in the system which oppresses the working class. The Brute represents the use of violence (military power) to subjugate further the working classes. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7gNAuYh10Azu2wYZeoyuFBsGxuooXEv0AW9Q_1qqQSqABXcP3XXp6OyN8dEoAcL_hqlt-w10Jw5sSdKFV1seOIQjrpTE9-xXR-oiqHpF0s0UmriMRsR5XH7EG7KCJMV4TMsjMRqO28lUFoTHO3Eegj6Ue-x_Rg4EZV79g6H6yh9D-DclJuuOPQ/s856/Capssssstura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="856" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7gNAuYh10Azu2wYZeoyuFBsGxuooXEv0AW9Q_1qqQSqABXcP3XXp6OyN8dEoAcL_hqlt-w10Jw5sSdKFV1seOIQjrpTE9-xXR-oiqHpF0s0UmriMRsR5XH7EG7KCJMV4TMsjMRqO28lUFoTHO3Eegj6Ue-x_Rg4EZV79g6H6yh9D-DclJuuOPQ/s320/Capssssstura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Expert is a representation of the seduction of wealth to the working class. Finally, the Client (Claybourne) represents the very top of the capitalist hierarchy whom the other characters serve. He bargains his fate in transactional terms – offering cash, asking “what can I do for you?”. Being the “Client”, Claybourne serves nobody else. However, having used violence to upend the existing hierarchy, the Killer has placed himself above the Client. By the end of the film, the Killer has altered the balance of power against the Client and those that wish to harm him. He hasn’t tipped up the capitalist system, only changed his position within it – he has reconciled his identity as one of the many whilst securing his own position. The final lines of the film confirm his identity as a worker – “maybe you’re just like me, one of the many.”</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpJzhbKPYuaIxcemn4BldHNwJR0L74aWIzQmRYQ2SS1SmnH7fn1bGb7fHu0PuUexczeNl7kWEFnSjQwEg6lh4ECYNnaiP7UzlFiIJVyUHm9062iWzEkijSZbjpwDA-5RwTk2mZ_OhezoZTIkTdTqKqGejRJcjX-gtkaWzzf4nale467KWxIizaqg/s997/Csdddaptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="997" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpJzhbKPYuaIxcemn4BldHNwJR0L74aWIzQmRYQ2SS1SmnH7fn1bGb7fHu0PuUexczeNl7kWEFnSjQwEg6lh4ECYNnaiP7UzlFiIJVyUHm9062iWzEkijSZbjpwDA-5RwTk2mZ_OhezoZTIkTdTqKqGejRJcjX-gtkaWzzf4nale467KWxIizaqg/s320/Csdddaptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>3. CRITIQUE OF CAPITALISM IN 2023<p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The arc of <i>The Killer</i> reflects a transition from a worker merely existing in the dog-eat-dog capitalist paradigm to one that has gained class consciousness and upended the system he existed in. Guillermo del Toro wrote a twitter post about Fincher's <i>The Killer</i> saying: "<i>The Killer</i> is a movie as if penned by Sartre and filmed by Melville with the briskness of Siegel. I simply love when Fincher swings with a mean genre beat. Nimble and clockwork precise and fun. The breeziest film I have seen in a long time. It's great when you can see a film and a movie at the same time." Source: medium.com</p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-23758069766737733282023-11-29T01:58:00.013+01:002023-11-30T00:38:32.904+01:00Gloria Grahame: TCM Star of the Month<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDSkKQ6InHLYNOxIBMSTXA2IJmcq-Lmflqi4b1teM_yHHMfwINloS2cR0P5dmmow439vPXL8opo0g5iPqs4q_R3z6ktZVd-qj7XPiYAdscg8EgSY05wmXvvwlfZWW_VJjdC9w3Gp48PnYzW5POuEn8QAniMH5-7bHwQa8x9JFQWL3aEaANREceLw/s1600/014-the-biig-heat-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1225" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDSkKQ6InHLYNOxIBMSTXA2IJmcq-Lmflqi4b1teM_yHHMfwINloS2cR0P5dmmow439vPXL8opo0g5iPqs4q_R3z6ktZVd-qj7XPiYAdscg8EgSY05wmXvvwlfZWW_VJjdC9w3Gp48PnYzW5POuEn8QAniMH5-7bHwQa8x9JFQWL3aEaANREceLw/s320/014-the-biig-heat-theredlist.jpg" width="245" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Today marks the centennial of Gloria Grahame. She is currently the "Star of the Month" on Turner Classic Movies: TCM will show four of her films tonight starting at 5:00pm PST. Grahame made her biggest impact in film noir, nailing the peculiar blend of fragile femininity and hard-as-nails practicality that came to define the femme fatale in a series of roles that ranged from blowsy ditz to brassy moll to downright deadly schemer. Grahame was a startling talent, an Oscar-winning actress with an intense work ethic that kept her acting until her final days and exploring “method” techniques before there was even a word for that style of acting. Known for her peroxide blond hair and her distinctive pout, Grahame crafted a film and public persona as a woman with a unique blend of sexuality, warmth, and existential ennui.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmMn77blu9wNM7_rcUAANYXNYqPSqmUQCnYS1U97_a4DoHKGY7g3WBYCqIrkVKIHJwgKdKxDiSDrUxats4iYJCaiRMUTYEY-CmpyyadD19Bbh31f2-S_u8El6yA7-A03nE_L9CzEu2M0O2M5SKn1PisHnUAIITcDlr54FZGjr2ls4IwITd7vBSA/s1000/1389-gloria-fur6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmMn77blu9wNM7_rcUAANYXNYqPSqmUQCnYS1U97_a4DoHKGY7g3WBYCqIrkVKIHJwgKdKxDiSDrUxats4iYJCaiRMUTYEY-CmpyyadD19Bbh31f2-S_u8El6yA7-A03nE_L9CzEu2M0O2M5SKn1PisHnUAIITcDlr54FZGjr2ls4IwITd7vBSA/s320/1389-gloria-fur6.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Born in Pasadena on November 28, 1923, raised in Los Angeles by her English father and Scottish mother (who was also an actress), 19-year-old Gloria Hallward was discovered on Broadway in 1944. A talent scout saw her in “A Highland Fling,” a play starring Ralph Forbes and John Ireland, and raved about the young actress to Louis B. Mayer. Mayer promptly saw the show and signed Hallward to a contract at MGM, under the name Gloria Grahame. (“Grahame” was her grandmother’s maiden name.) Grahame made her screen debut in <i>Blonde Fever</i> (1944), a comedy starring Mary Astor. With the supporting role of a waitress named Sally Murfin, MGM featured her prominently in the film’s advertising. “Meet Gloria Grahame,” read the poster. “She’s gorgeous! She’s dangerous!” Variety, in its review, reported, “Gloria Grahame, as the blonde waitress, shows possibilities, but is given a conflicting, indefinite role in this opus.” </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxSd4SFwraDcqAzZkkzJnsJesSVHSIfAcAQLFm-I3PKT3V0EZrR6oWQ_6jqrrU_iwI8XbaH04O_ySFU9-jsfID_J0d40kvuTDBi5rzk00wP2qiezfbOm3B3kh5SsMhRbtHXUKVfCz7eNMKN5X0HpxijXvkuKotaSfiOZxj3NPn7Yh61fb8xL_nA/s623/488full-gloria-grahame.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="488" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxSd4SFwraDcqAzZkkzJnsJesSVHSIfAcAQLFm-I3PKT3V0EZrR6oWQ_6jqrrU_iwI8XbaH04O_ySFU9-jsfID_J0d40kvuTDBi5rzk00wP2qiezfbOm3B3kh5SsMhRbtHXUKVfCz7eNMKN5X0HpxijXvkuKotaSfiOZxj3NPn7Yh61fb8xL_nA/s320/488full-gloria-grahame.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That may as well have described Grahame’s overall tenure as an MGM contract player, which lasted over two years. She made only four other films at the studio during this time—Without Love (1945), It Happened in Brooklyn (1947), Song of the Thin Man (1947) and Merton of the Movies (1947)—all of which are included in this tribute, and all of which show MGM not really knowing what to do with her. Her best films in the period were loan-outs: It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) for Frank Capra’s Liberty Films and Crossfire (1947) for RKO, which was lauded in its day and is now seen as one of the great examples of film noir. Crossfire was produced by Dore Schary, who had a great interest in making films with socially conscious themes. She later paid tribute to the film’s dialogue director, Bill Watts, who coached her and helped her to really understand the craft of acting. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxHKZh1VldGSGuwdEIxqbFA2nHD0pYcrj0UDPZCSqOlhz3YrnhmdbqL8M5Wb0rzfZw-E1WVlOK3NggZR6XUi0ylRtT-AtpEQRjmebAwYFEqrQs29-lSNWUbQStPclBuZJyxZw43LuZPIYrgBh3E8CEfzcWF8oxglTtWpnc1MQi_M_ZAl6eMx6j2g/s641/gloria-grahame-in-naked-alibi-jerry-hopper.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxHKZh1VldGSGuwdEIxqbFA2nHD0pYcrj0UDPZCSqOlhz3YrnhmdbqL8M5Wb0rzfZw-E1WVlOK3NggZR6XUi0ylRtT-AtpEQRjmebAwYFEqrQs29-lSNWUbQStPclBuZJyxZw43LuZPIYrgBh3E8CEfzcWF8oxglTtWpnc1MQi_M_ZAl6eMx6j2g/s320/gloria-grahame-in-naked-alibi-jerry-hopper.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As Grahame said, “It’s thinking. I was doing my hair for a scene and he said, ‘forget the hair.’ And he [talked] to me about who the character was, where she was, what she was, until I was so immersed in what it was all about. After that... I did it for myself.” Grahame received her first Oscar nomination for Crossfire, which drew five nominations in all and lost Best Picture to Gentlemen’s Agreement (1947). But of the two, time has been kinder to Crossfire. Schary was so impressed with Grahame that he bought her contract from MGM in June 1947. While Grahame was indeed more suited to the grit of RKO than she was to the glossy glamour of MGM, even RKO struggled to find her the right roles. Her first picture there, Roughshod (1949), a rare western for Grahame, was shelved for two years after it was completed. Next came A Woman’s Secret (1949), which was also shelved for about a year and became a significant flop. That film, however, was significant for introducing Grahame to its director, Nicholas Ray, and the two developed a romance. After filming, Grahame got a divorce from her husband, Stanley Clements, and married Nick Ray later the same day. Five months later, she gave birth to their son, Timothy.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjYYBsL3k7GBfTmJpFrKjzfy0RBZfNeRav5OnvWdJW8XwMTd5k1lifRZej1XvCALJNPQtpWlAH53WuOiqrmM6Pexyw1Yb3PGHbdZz-eggPTLW4Xo9hFqtb1BQ17Mbj6OflNKfj2OzwlNqdGBLtH9w3eL0JAVfTGVsDp1N0DHXhphdCyMZvu6OUA/s768/lonelyplace3%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="768" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjYYBsL3k7GBfTmJpFrKjzfy0RBZfNeRav5OnvWdJW8XwMTd5k1lifRZej1XvCALJNPQtpWlAH53WuOiqrmM6Pexyw1Yb3PGHbdZz-eggPTLW4Xo9hFqtb1BQ17Mbj6OflNKfj2OzwlNqdGBLtH9w3eL0JAVfTGVsDp1N0DHXhphdCyMZvu6OUA/s320/lonelyplace3%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A year and a half later, Grahame was loaned out to Columbia to star opposite Humphrey Bogart in In a Lonely Place (1950), a heartbreaking film noir romance again directed by Nicholas Ray. By this point, however, their marriage had turned rocky, and shortly after filming began, they secretly separated, maintaining a fiction that all was fine between them for fear that the studio would otherwise fire them or stop production. All the while, Ray directed Grahame to one of her greatest performances. She is unforgettable as Laurel Gray, the beautiful and enigmatic neighbor of screenwriter Dixon Steele (Bogart). Dix’s dark personality and emotional instability leads everyone around him, and the police, to suspect him of being a killer. The plot of the film paralleled the disintegration of the real-life marriage between Ray and Grahame, and when production was over, their marriage continued to crumble until they divorced in 1952. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NQ-4_v__9uuN5J-SDxfZguDMxng4KPBQ2Dg7gdXCQNcH18vfoufVvFMVl3xyEUaCqztKeSmQ5KB02PCMTeTaFwYLc2oW2e5FoT0hgWV83lneZN0B0HyesPFCooRKFi__wsfZdxvQ9ALrq1AO6FoYHAdwhyphenhyphen0xyRRUVm6yKkIrMS8VjiOIa4Af7g/s899/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="899" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NQ-4_v__9uuN5J-SDxfZguDMxng4KPBQ2Dg7gdXCQNcH18vfoufVvFMVl3xyEUaCqztKeSmQ5KB02PCMTeTaFwYLc2oW2e5FoT0hgWV83lneZN0B0HyesPFCooRKFi__wsfZdxvQ9ALrq1AO6FoYHAdwhyphenhyphen0xyRRUVm6yKkIrMS8VjiOIa4Af7g/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Howard Hughes instead wanted Grahame for an RKO film noir called Macao (1952), which no one otherwise involved in its making, including stars Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell, wanted to make. A troubled production, it was credited to director Josef von Sternberg but largely re-shot by Nicholas Ray and was shelved for two years before being released in 1952. Grahame is billed fifth in a film that has not stood the test of time. A Place in the Sun, meanwhile, was an enormous hit nominated for nine Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Actress for Shelley Winters, and stands as an all-time classic. After Macao, Hughes released Grahame from her RKO contract and she went freelance, now entering the richest part of her career with three important movies released in 1952 alone (aside from Macao): The Greatest Show on Earth, which would win the Oscar for Best Picture, Sudden Fear, in which she was perfectly cast as Jack Palance’s treacherous girlfriend, and The Bad and the Beautiful, produced by her former studio of MGM. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhen9wWxMN_921joj-Zkion56Aq_jQQLXLFq4huRoSmpxJVEbEA0d-H9oA8ak424htMFy3DGV3YAJxEbRlazeBlVe3nWHxvbap5A5XdiXbayRYzagph3YY8PiWiGY5SvW7UQg9CRC5Pz2sBMAk1m6I8G3jjiXmuCvTa_TGSMC2JNPlIPIHXl5qrDA/s720/5edbdde6e9614f57ffdef1119cb78a12.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhen9wWxMN_921joj-Zkion56Aq_jQQLXLFq4huRoSmpxJVEbEA0d-H9oA8ak424htMFy3DGV3YAJxEbRlazeBlVe3nWHxvbap5A5XdiXbayRYzagph3YY8PiWiGY5SvW7UQg9CRC5Pz2sBMAk1m6I8G3jjiXmuCvTa_TGSMC2JNPlIPIHXl5qrDA/s320/5edbdde6e9614f57ffdef1119cb78a12.png" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One of the great critical films about Hollywood, The Bad and the Beautiful (1952) was directed by Vincente Minnelli and stars Kirk Douglas as a movie producer who ruthlessly rises from making cheap B movies to reach the top of Hollywood, betraying three friends along the way: Lana Turner playing a movie star, Barry Sullivan as a director and Dick Powell as a screenwriter. Gloria Grahame plays Dick Powell’s wife, partly because producer Dore Schary (who was now at MGM) saw himself in the Dick Powell character and thought that Grahame resembled Schary’s own wife. Whatever the reason she got the role, Grahame played it beautifully and wound up winning her first and only Oscar, as Best Supporting Actress in 1953. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6SSeSaXYcTosGgZku0_BBJI2hfPQT7JWRDhPRl_mZtlz5soSw50Qo5axtVQWDpc22u78WB26dkCiFKquCTsdiHhEd2D_FyTdDXhXpGHJwSk1c39VYs8EraghNfH9qWGylN2i28LAxZpqx1WQ3FvLZCzZ7NG1EM8mC8_Fdadlr6uNakozF4ltCw/s612/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="490" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6SSeSaXYcTosGgZku0_BBJI2hfPQT7JWRDhPRl_mZtlz5soSw50Qo5axtVQWDpc22u78WB26dkCiFKquCTsdiHhEd2D_FyTdDXhXpGHJwSk1c39VYs8EraghNfH9qWGylN2i28LAxZpqx1WQ3FvLZCzZ7NG1EM8mC8_Fdadlr6uNakozF4ltCw/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>Grahame was now at the peak of her stardom, but followed up The Bad and the Beautiful with two offbeat titles. In The Glass Wall (1953), an independently made production distributed by Columbia, she plays a deglamorized factory worker helping a Hungarian stowaway who has illegally entered the United States. In Man on a Tightrope (1953), directed by Elia Kazan for 20th Century Fox, she plays the young floozy wife of a Czech circus owner (Fredric March) who is contemplating an escape from the Communist east to freedom in the west.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-epNKyyODrdzTjbO7PdIn7fGlXYd-OIX2pw9LanL-O9M_XGxj2z-_I8njfN6i4Y9fMvHRX6qVbYtYC1c8BEGmAVXeGjria7oLUair0HODKAvT7ZfB7OpvfUBK1Eu7lZEP03eQPkbZurgyCJxEQNL7uqlk3DVaMGlbYzslv0JbCNs78d6gct0WA/s657/tumblr_nmzivjxEkF1qkbfyxo1_500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-epNKyyODrdzTjbO7PdIn7fGlXYd-OIX2pw9LanL-O9M_XGxj2z-_I8njfN6i4Y9fMvHRX6qVbYtYC1c8BEGmAVXeGjria7oLUair0HODKAvT7ZfB7OpvfUBK1Eu7lZEP03eQPkbZurgyCJxEQNL7uqlk3DVaMGlbYzslv0JbCNs78d6gct0WA/s320/tumblr_nmzivjxEkF1qkbfyxo1_500.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As biographer Robert Lentz put it: “She is the gorgeous dame who wants some of the action and isn’t above murder to get it; the mobster’s moll who just wants to be ensconced in mink; the bored woman too busy enjoying nightlife to pay any attention to her husband." Columbia then cast her in Human Desire (1954), reuniting her with her The Big Heat co-star Glenn Ford and director Fritz Lang in another noir, but this one didn’t come together as well. Ironically, her next film, the underrated Naked Alibi (1954), produced by Universal, actually did bear a strong and successful similarity to The Big Heat. It’s set in a border town with Grahame as a gangster’s moll who helps a decent cop played by Sterling Hayden. Grahame loved making this film so much that afterwards she sent a note to producer Ross Hunter saying it was one of her happiest experiences.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVTnkG_y-rYROjkDW0mkrfVDYcFCd1uPWtKOzQ12tI4cUPNxYL8dk2epidogzZdSAq7Kwnd_3kqhfXU7m0WULaUZcb3Ty5te-7DZdvFPhPNCXgFxnhlmKks72qlukc0LIpWo20tqZIGyNpWpTn37u9Q6nAgrUhrjtmonBCZuNAJxPulrtDG3ktw/s612/s-l1600%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="490" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVTnkG_y-rYROjkDW0mkrfVDYcFCd1uPWtKOzQ12tI4cUPNxYL8dk2epidogzZdSAq7Kwnd_3kqhfXU7m0WULaUZcb3Ty5te-7DZdvFPhPNCXgFxnhlmKks72qlukc0LIpWo20tqZIGyNpWpTn37u9Q6nAgrUhrjtmonBCZuNAJxPulrtDG3ktw/s320/s-l1600%20(3).jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She would make six more feature films through the decade, before disappearing from the big screen for seven years. Three of those six are included in this tribute: The Cobweb (1955), a drama from Vincente Minnelli set at a psychiatric clinic headed by Richard Widmark, Stanley Kramer’s Not as a Stranger (1955), a star-laden drama again set in the medical world and Odds Against Tomorrow (1959), one of the last gasps of film noir from a major studio. Grahame has a small role. Martin Scorsese has written of this film: “Odds Against Tomorrow was made just as the old studio era was ending and different approaches and impulses in cinema were coming alive all over the world, and it’s comprised of so many distinctive elements that it feels unlike any other picture of its time.” Source: tcm.com</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-8102020575971177732023-11-26T02:55:00.067+01:002023-12-05T03:20:00.435+01:00June Allyson & Dick Powell: Can It Last?<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhWG_BFWaJnwypwYDUgFBL_tupSzL5F4RktUa2RLzCWXeQgEm8ORsDKEV9qJQsssp8EvBelz5g3HAYs8wIxp2u3xJCL7Mf9LPXFYxqpFeGM72fovZ6yMJglL5VxriE7dcuZdG1H6Oz3CyDI7Do4V9B3MzcHgj9UHZzOXz2Hg_PbOZMrnR7ITcrQ/s949/s-l1600%20-%202023-11-16T222507.742.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="949" data-original-width="774" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhWG_BFWaJnwypwYDUgFBL_tupSzL5F4RktUa2RLzCWXeQgEm8ORsDKEV9qJQsssp8EvBelz5g3HAYs8wIxp2u3xJCL7Mf9LPXFYxqpFeGM72fovZ6yMJglL5VxriE7dcuZdG1H6Oz3CyDI7Do4V9B3MzcHgj9UHZzOXz2Hg_PbOZMrnR7ITcrQ/s320/s-l1600%20-%202023-11-16T222507.742.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>Robert Michael Pyle (who played Lt. Zander in the mystery drama <i>Two Wrongs Make a Right</i>): Dick Powell was a terrific, full-throttle, vibrant singer and all-around charismatic screen presence, perfect for the Warners musicals of the 30s, so his transformation into a non-singing actor was long overdue by the time of "Christmas in July" (1940). Older relatives of mine who lived in Pittsburgh remembered him as a local theatre personality, and reacted to his appearance in his movies of late as to an old friend. Now I live in Indianapolis, and used to work with a man who remembered Powell in 1928 working at the old Illinois Theater where he came once and played the saxophone in a small band. Shades of the beginning of Fred MacMurray. The man with whom I worked - long since dead and evidently a former musician himself - said that Powell was as nice a guy as you'd want to meet, but quite a loner. There is a short on the GOLD DIGGERS OF 1935 DVD that shows Powell helping Busby Berkeley pick out winners of some beauty contest. Powell is visiting from the set of MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM, and he looks really good. Just look at how the beauty contestants are looking at him as he passes by them. It's like they never noticed what a handsome man he was. Source: nitrateville.com<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLP_YNSzY55kwgW58usMgofac5CgizA3-FQd8ef2ig6HnCbZFjwXvodngrZ2YYunoasof-wBzxp5UYlaRU8t42ODSdvSMH755RW_anW6JWuXNj_SO8D3gJNj0MkC4BkjgJvH2bjz8kPmMEFlmMKbg4pHcqGnkOEyZKSkHBL3eRPFLBy-d0WaS3kQ/s669/Sdddin%20t%C3%ADtulo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="669" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLP_YNSzY55kwgW58usMgofac5CgizA3-FQd8ef2ig6HnCbZFjwXvodngrZ2YYunoasof-wBzxp5UYlaRU8t42ODSdvSMH755RW_anW6JWuXNj_SO8D3gJNj0MkC4BkjgJvH2bjz8kPmMEFlmMKbg4pHcqGnkOEyZKSkHBL3eRPFLBy-d0WaS3kQ/s320/Sdddin%20t%C3%ADtulo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>“What’s with June Allyson?” a newsman asked a girl on the set of <i>The McConnell Story</i> at Warner Brothers. “Don’t you know?” she asked. “It’s all over the lot!” “What’s all over the lot?” asked the newsman. The extra smiled. “You’re kidding,” she said. “You must be kidding. Little Junie has fallen head over heels in love with Alan Ladd, and he with her.” It sounds incredible, but that’s the story that was making the rounds in Hollywood several weeks ago, and the vicious rumor caught on like a prairie fire. A columnist had printed the tip-off: “June Allyson and Dick Powell are quarreling and it’s serious.” The next thing anyone knew, Dick Powell and Sue Ladd were having a telephone conference. They had been singed and hurt, but they were determined to extinguish the gossip. And Dick began to take June out practically every night. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRZjG7hyLsaByMDMChtR0bVXX4Iw6tBcfsvAEOuc1cZsQJBJHc1SbnuDj9shWZ9gsvunUCCw-3McJzMhI2qvH0O5odgT0KK3f6_GUugkL7SutNbyCqYLvsnKTdIH-QCRXJaG-8qgUV022wA7Oaa2Ly_Cjq8bUNMa4au7nBfrxvzjBoeVBVUKJgA/s910/s-l1600%20(34).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="910" data-original-width="764" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRZjG7hyLsaByMDMChtR0bVXX4Iw6tBcfsvAEOuc1cZsQJBJHc1SbnuDj9shWZ9gsvunUCCw-3McJzMhI2qvH0O5odgT0KK3f6_GUugkL7SutNbyCqYLvsnKTdIH-QCRXJaG-8qgUV022wA7Oaa2Ly_Cjq8bUNMa4au7nBfrxvzjBoeVBVUKJgA/s320/s-l1600%20(34).jpg" width="269" /></a></div>“By practice,” Dick explained, “June and I are not nightclub habitués, but we’re determined to show people that our marriage is swell. There’s nothing wrong with it, no matter what you hear.” Dick and June showed up at Ciro’s to see Sammy Davis, Jr. Then they attended Sonja Henie’s circus party. They made the club rounds, living and loving it up, and when they thought they had dispelled the ugly rumors, they took off—just the two of them—to Sun Valley for a month of relaxation and winter sports. Alan Ladd drove down to a resort, Rancho Santa Fe, alone, taking time separated from his wife. Whilst, Sue Ladd went to Las Vegas with her friends and her aunt. This year (1955) marks the tenth anniversary of the June Allyson-Dick Powell wedding. They were married on August 19, 1945, in the home of Johnny Green, the loquacious MGM musical director. Dick is thirteen years older than June. She was his third wife, and at the time there were many who insisted that the marriage would not work out.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncnj4ZHtQkUhS0IcFUlUgrkqF1Ohpbml05FtDvJslyNGYLGwvJcYwqwEsUzl5R-a7scyQY4QmM2BIhJ2pRUXeZigfvL1XUIRz4M0Hlt1QsyrextXeDZM0xu-Q9BnoitZAMiuJ4F4mg-W3AvQAoTqMbzd3iW0Gq7_9B3mRMhVkQX6oyQ_fTakkDg/s760/index%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="562" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncnj4ZHtQkUhS0IcFUlUgrkqF1Ohpbml05FtDvJslyNGYLGwvJcYwqwEsUzl5R-a7scyQY4QmM2BIhJ2pRUXeZigfvL1XUIRz4M0Hlt1QsyrextXeDZM0xu-Q9BnoitZAMiuJ4F4mg-W3AvQAoTqMbzd3iW0Gq7_9B3mRMhVkQX6oyQ_fTakkDg/s320/index%20(1).jpg" width="237" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">They said that Dick was too professorial, that he sometimes treated June like a wayward little girl, and that sooner or later she would come to resent Dick’s domination of her life. The record shows that the Powells have had several quarrels in the last ten years. “Which married couple hasn’t?” Dick asks. But their marriage is more secure than ever, thanks to these very quarrels and to Dick Powell’s great understanding. Last year June was reported to have been romanced by the Rat Pack's VP Dean Martin, much to the chagrin of Dick, who reportedly was howling in pain. While Dean and June were seeing each other in New York (June was there on a shopping spree), Dick Powell waiting back in Hollywood assured he trusted his wife. June Allyson was a grown-up girl and could handle herself very nicely. On another previous occasion, Peter Lawford had been another of June Allyson’s ardent admirers. Dick Powell wouldn’t even dignify that particular rumor with a reply.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlW8Pja2Z4zOG7t8kCGZjSxdsXOVGjXPkaKCL5vKLY-EAvMc5F2L6yycfIAFIb3i2kT_skdDfKpkXwfDM9ka3JL2xNw8GoVUBiMTwKQOLnVjN386wEPk9juzFj2pKACyY2jB9bdszyepVNZADuQLce7a2cmNAdoqxQryjrMvxXEZRNUEJ9FVEluA/s1092/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1092" data-original-width="904" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlW8Pja2Z4zOG7t8kCGZjSxdsXOVGjXPkaKCL5vKLY-EAvMc5F2L6yycfIAFIb3i2kT_skdDfKpkXwfDM9ka3JL2xNw8GoVUBiMTwKQOLnVjN386wEPk9juzFj2pKACyY2jB9bdszyepVNZADuQLce7a2cmNAdoqxQryjrMvxXEZRNUEJ9FVEluA/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As to the gossip about June and Alan Ladd, here’s what June confided to a friend. “I don’t know how it got started. I really don’t. Sure, I like Alan. Who doesn’t? He’s a wonderful guy. But how anyone could imply there was anything serious between us I don’t know. After all, Sue Ladd was on the set a good deal of the time." June conceded: "Sure, Richard and I have had our spats. But the latest one had nothing to do with Alan. Thank heaven, Richard is sensible enough to discount these stories. He’s an actor and he knows how easily rumors can begin about a leading lady. I’ve had reporters call me day after day. They want to know about Alan and me. I told them it was ridiculous, crazy. But once these stories start, what a time they’ve got! By the time we get back from Sun Valley, I sure hope the whole thing has blown over.”</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8b3QvjHQBCkKkiBAPUKNfkZ8BcaMLHSNQTk8We0uk1DUUyHhpm-fgxDNA6ve-PJOt9rBfQwze7ontRATFDx7dNIFV4hqJoZFTVgEYTN6As3VoMPI1q3BY-1aqvkt0HILEve1P6HDNuvCGUh7fsdhmx06xc_p5vp4HmR0pbr1f5ihTPeeLQpF6w/s1010/tzzzzzzzzddddddhumbnail.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8b3QvjHQBCkKkiBAPUKNfkZ8BcaMLHSNQTk8We0uk1DUUyHhpm-fgxDNA6ve-PJOt9rBfQwze7ontRATFDx7dNIFV4hqJoZFTVgEYTN6As3VoMPI1q3BY-1aqvkt0HILEve1P6HDNuvCGUh7fsdhmx06xc_p5vp4HmR0pbr1f5ihTPeeLQpF6w/s320/tzzzzzzzzddddddhumbnail.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thrusting the Alan Ladd canard to one side, what factors are there that could possibly cause dissension in the Powell household? In Pamela and Rick, the Powells have two of the most adorable children in Mandeville Canyon. They have all the money they will ever need. They own a fifty-eight-acre estate, three cars, the Four Star corporation. What could possibly be wrong at home? First, June has been working too long. In the past eleven months, she has worked unceasingly in <i>Strategic Air Command, Woman’s World, The Shrike</i> and<i> The McConnell Story</i>. Between pictures she has gone on location with Richard, shopped for and decorated their new house. And most important of all, she has changed her way of life to include her stepdaughter Ellen, and her half-brother Arthur Peters, twenty-one. Ellen and Arthur came to live with the Powells this year. What this means is that June has a houseful of children ranging in age from four to twenty-one. Managing such a household is a wearing job. Ellen Powell, at sixteen, is entering the problem years. Arthur is a medical student. Pamela and little Ricky see their mother much less than they’d like. The Powells have about seven people in service, plus four dogs, two cats and two horses. June’s job to see that the household functions smoothly has taken its toll in her temperament. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nZFjBxAU85uaFH1cO4GFfApb1xAFoqQ0ciyHygGC00R0xYwaPVPslMlGrBaqQnixHvZN0egfId6mBi6Zljt9Kplph7BkS1KgexO0GRxeBqWZw2FMZQaCHejfzcN6UfSo7H4BFGuhtTSEikpX7B1xnnPpkt9n5BvQ97yUMTuThXjdN2xxFutvRA/s612/sxxxzz-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="612" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nZFjBxAU85uaFH1cO4GFfApb1xAFoqQ0ciyHygGC00R0xYwaPVPslMlGrBaqQnixHvZN0egfId6mBi6Zljt9Kplph7BkS1KgexO0GRxeBqWZw2FMZQaCHejfzcN6UfSo7H4BFGuhtTSEikpX7B1xnnPpkt9n5BvQ97yUMTuThXjdN2xxFutvRA/s320/sxxxzz-l1600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dick works very hard on his various enterprises all day long—he has just finished editing <i>The Conqueror </i>for Howard Hughes, an outstanding film he directed last summer—and when he comes home, he likes everything to be in order. He wants his Scotch and water, his seat by the fireplace, and a few minutes of relaxation. “As a matter of fact,” June said, “Richard and I haven’t had very much time together. That’s why this Sun Valley vacation will be a very good thing.” In Sun Valley, Dick and June vacationed and skied, until Dick turned up in bandages. Headquarters for their stay was the Sun Valley Lodge—near the skiing area. The first morning there they took the chair lift to the highest slope. June learned to ski only a few years ago. Dick has been at it longer. Dick, a camera bug, snapped her, sent photos home to the kids. Later they relaxed during a long sleigh ride. And then... calamity! Dick took a bad fall on skis and broke his shoulder. Originally, June and Dick planned to hire a tourist cabin in Ketchum, a small town near Sun Valley. June was going to cook for her husband. It would be another honeymoon, idyllic and peaceful. “It’s not that June doesn’t cook well,” Dick later explained, after he canceled the cabin routine. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnWrqjtAx-fftHm398IA45LoK5kFI3kB4hPbneOgkGc3njQVjjNGZKcuZXlTUnJRo3xYd6PP8wtNY3Ce5EzWrmrgAx-_0pJy7lwhGM59wQvN2qjEUbnTUED2yuusH9TgiBwdjtz8tbyHY14hnfcoZjO1_CCxdJCPOoaZ6d11HzVw-0b-iTKEZOlw/s653/Capssssstura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="653" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnWrqjtAx-fftHm398IA45LoK5kFI3kB4hPbneOgkGc3njQVjjNGZKcuZXlTUnJRo3xYd6PP8wtNY3Ce5EzWrmrgAx-_0pJy7lwhGM59wQvN2qjEUbnTUED2yuusH9TgiBwdjtz8tbyHY14hnfcoZjO1_CCxdJCPOoaZ6d11HzVw-0b-iTKEZOlw/s320/Capssssstura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“It’s just that we thought Sun Valley Lodge and the hotel service would be a little more appropriate for a vacation.” June and Dick are both pretty good skiers, because they are both supple and light on their feet. Originally a dancer, June surprised the Sun Valley ski instructors by learning how to slalom so quickly. There’s a story about their skiing that’s told around Hollywood with great relish. When the Powells went to Sun Valley a year or so ago, June bought the most expensive clothes and ski equipment. She also hired the best ski teachers. Dick thought it was all a lot of nonsense. But he’s a camera bug, and likes to run family motion pictures, so he hired a man to take movies of him and June skiing down the mountainside. One night he ran off the movies at home to the accompaniment of wisecracks. “See that figure coming down the mountainside?” he asked his children. “See that figure with her skis spread a mile apart? See that figure who looks as though she’s ready to fall head-first into the snow? Well, that’s your mother after five hundred dollars’ worth of instruction!” </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUA9KMsaNo1BPmKHbacQIffIfe8f6MHp-bQymDuV49Z-3vyAH3iLYu6Fj0B9OxQEbxfpWog0pnV8Jkldr_qc5mICyTK5qpsyJg9t02nm8Nbk2qo6YQrc7qV0QOqwyWkMesY63gTEvUz-ShByt7QQSEMxF-GZd7wTEOl_Mjmhd-zEXYjFgLmRVjNA/s1143/Cavvvvptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="1143" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUA9KMsaNo1BPmKHbacQIffIfe8f6MHp-bQymDuV49Z-3vyAH3iLYu6Fj0B9OxQEbxfpWog0pnV8Jkldr_qc5mICyTK5qpsyJg9t02nm8Nbk2qo6YQrc7qV0QOqwyWkMesY63gTEvUz-ShByt7QQSEMxF-GZd7wTEOl_Mjmhd-zEXYjFgLmRVjNA/s320/Cavvvvptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The figure Dick was talking about was rather fuzzy on film. Once the camera moved in for a close-up, however, the figure turned out to be Dick himself! The family roared. Actually, Dick is a better skier than June but not by much. “Another season on skis,” says Leif Odmark, a Sun Valley instructor, “and Mrs. Powell will be very good. She has rhythm and grace. She’s come a long way.” June Allyson has come a long way in other ways, too. Ten years ago when she became Mrs. Richard Powell, she was scared stiff. She was shy, insecure, frightened, completely dependent on her husband. She knew nothing about housekeeping, nothing about personnel, nothing about budgets. It was Dick who did the hiring and firing, Dick who chose the furnishings. June seemed ashamed of her background and avoided probing interviewers. Interior decorators reported that she had no idea of what should be in her home. Lovingly, Dick used to judge her scripts, give her advice, tried to bolster her courage and inflate her ego. And now it has been suggested that subconsciously June resented her total dependence on Dick. If so, she never showed it publicly.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJEoy_F4laN4dUAEAjDiUutyd09GYlMQSFRjOIGHyA02r_COPt9femUGfKzLIGiRvRAhlggcTBZoxZkYzXASiNY5yKcL4FweA0Y82C6a0DbVYiTtnFAQXb85EsQxzhNej_b-GtK16frB1X3bBHIyLzS_JgGtg_PtYPUrAEDRr2KPrasMkMkohDNA/s813/0b29c688bf0123ec54927cadfc3cdbda.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="813" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJEoy_F4laN4dUAEAjDiUutyd09GYlMQSFRjOIGHyA02r_COPt9femUGfKzLIGiRvRAhlggcTBZoxZkYzXASiNY5yKcL4FweA0Y82C6a0DbVYiTtnFAQXb85EsQxzhNej_b-GtK16frB1X3bBHIyLzS_JgGtg_PtYPUrAEDRr2KPrasMkMkohDNA/s320/0b29c688bf0123ec54927cadfc3cdbda.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At first, June didn’t want to star in <i>The Stratton Story</i>. Dick said, “Don’t be foolish. With Jimmy Stewart you’ll have a big hit.’ Dick was right. He’s been frequently so. A little over a year ago, June said that she was tired of the stories MGM was giving her. She wanted to quit. “Only I lacked the courage to free lance. After all, I’d been at Metro almost ten years. My contract had been renegotiated twice. The studio had been kind to me, but I knew I couldn’t go along forever playing opposite Van Johnson. Richard said if I felt that way, I should quit, that I’d have no trouble getting work as a free lancer. I was hesitant. He told me to put my foot down. I listened to him and I left the studio. I’ve never been happier in my career. I’ve had the most wonderful offers. I’ve worked at Paramount, Warners, 20th Century Fox, and I’ve been able to choose my own stories.” Before June and Dick left for Sun Valley, June gave her first dinner party. “It was the first time I arranged everything myself—ordered the food, arranged the guest list and so forth.” The party was for Harold Cohen, a Pittsburgh screen critic, and it came off beautifully. “I knew I could do it,” June said proudly. It has taken her ten years to mature, but now her personality is coming to the fore, ready to assert itself. June has found renewed confidence. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kM8tIWirOEpFag56C5LRHm1j723rGITgd16ddm5aJgIPNPjNdJbPDBuRhyTfeIeNVxquzyiwq_Ks6dxSEzFsXbb92EANqdG87NpcDMQc6xjPJRDxUcdfzDJjboBsRuJ7HYu2uF4-3IKoyCn_EGvGim3bUnU1fu1mSA6QdsNPUPQN1WT1f1ZdxQ/s590/index%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="503" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kM8tIWirOEpFag56C5LRHm1j723rGITgd16ddm5aJgIPNPjNdJbPDBuRhyTfeIeNVxquzyiwq_Ks6dxSEzFsXbb92EANqdG87NpcDMQc6xjPJRDxUcdfzDJjboBsRuJ7HYu2uF4-3IKoyCn_EGvGim3bUnU1fu1mSA6QdsNPUPQN1WT1f1ZdxQ/s320/index%20(3).jpg" width="273" /></a></div>And her relationship with Dick reflects those changes due to it. <span style="text-align: left;">Being the kind of husband Dick is, warm-hearted, understanding and considerate, Dick Powell thinks June’s growth is a very good thing. For years he has been telling June that she has absolutely no reason to suffer from feelings of inferiority. “You’ve got good looks, ability and talent,” he once told her, “and you can do anything you set your mind to!” June realizes, of course, that she owes her character development to Dick, that it was he who brought her potential out. No one was happier than Dick when June insisted upon furnishing their new home herself. </span><span style="text-align: left;">June has reached the point where she is ready to give orders in her house. That goes not only for Rick and Pam but for Ellen and Arthur as well. When she has something to say, she wants Richard to listen to her as an equal, not as a precocious child feeling her oats. Not too long ago, the Powells had a quarrel in public at the Mocambo. June left the table when she felt like a pressure cooker about to explode.</span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYx2hyphenhyphen1pO9vSkn6Ll9x0PXMSUAgsZCytWp58rjELgLNBAIned6pgXhSZNCV2g1smgKm1XwxBEbvoLHAA6WYszI6c0lxbvHK00Np-L1DWZrQR5sPq7roZAot1nY9VoZujaXqTimwUZ1ArKUt3xdXvrpfgmdcEnwrCOhVkqdPXcOu9xPLj0B-ptYRA/s567/index%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="567" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYx2hyphenhyphen1pO9vSkn6Ll9x0PXMSUAgsZCytWp58rjELgLNBAIned6pgXhSZNCV2g1smgKm1XwxBEbvoLHAA6WYszI6c0lxbvHK00Np-L1DWZrQR5sPq7roZAot1nY9VoZujaXqTimwUZ1ArKUt3xdXvrpfgmdcEnwrCOhVkqdPXcOu9xPLj0B-ptYRA/s320/index%20(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She went out, ordered a cab and went home alone, having demonstrated her independence. It has been hinted of late that June’s new success has given her a rate of growth faster than Dick anticipated. Many say, “June Allyson is outgrowing her husband. It’s just a question of time before they begin to differ about major things. She was elected Number One box-office star of 1954. She’s coming along fast.” Yes, but let's not forget that Dick Powell is the mastermind behind June’s new success. June is adamant that his husband was her first mentor. When June met him, Dick knew every avenue of show business. He'd started as a saxophone player and crooner. At Little Rock College, Powell formed a band called Peter Pan. Powell’s professional career began in 1925, when he toured the Midwest with the Royal Peacocks dance band. He made his first recordings for Gennett Records in late 1927 and for Vocalion in 1928, recorded in Indianapolis with the Charlie Davis orchestra, including "Was It a Dream?" Then he graduated to master of ceremonies in the Enright theatre in Pittsburgh in 1929.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAiqlPNxo7Z_buFlXtdU6Ivrr0A5DmX9K_fpuRsx_Wujy2e1sNKUjuxlLpwvxbTcZOibx5SPrrpBVcs8ipeMtz6DzKPnGnal6kkBqdJTN7LsZUMWyvNjo7FZHJBTDrCL3MdbQh0opt797OXFULwmvXfxmZG4uZiLGjVZAyTdsNIiau6M3cf91-Lg/s1429/zzzzzzddddds-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1429" data-original-width="1182" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAiqlPNxo7Z_buFlXtdU6Ivrr0A5DmX9K_fpuRsx_Wujy2e1sNKUjuxlLpwvxbTcZOibx5SPrrpBVcs8ipeMtz6DzKPnGnal6kkBqdJTN7LsZUMWyvNjo7FZHJBTDrCL3MdbQh0opt797OXFULwmvXfxmZG4uZiLGjVZAyTdsNIiau6M3cf91-Lg/s320/zzzzzzddddds-l1600.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>Dick turned himself into a musical comedy star in Warners, then into a serious straight actor. He also combined his film career with his own radio programs. Powell was a guest on Bing Crosby's Philco Radio show around 1948 and it's interesting to hear him sing several of the old WB songs. Powell also plugged his own "Richard Diamond" radio show by playing sleuth with Crosby. When challenged to prove his detecting skills, Dick says that Bing had an argument with his wife Dixie before leaving home. Crosby admits that's true and asks Powell how he knew. Dick says he observed a lump on Bing's head! Presently Powell has become a director, producer and president of a show business corporation. Additionally, he is also an attentive father, a charming host and a shrewd businessman. Dick Powell mentored Jane Powell and Mary Tyler Moore's careers. In 1954, he helped launch Kim Novak's career in Columbia. Powell heard they were filming a noir film starring Fred MacMurray (<i>Pushover</i>), and he thought Novak would be ideal for the femme-fatale role. Columbia intended for Novak to be their successor to Rita Hayworth; also that Novak would bring them the same box-office success Marilyn Monroe brought 20th Century-Fox. Novak's first role for the studio was indeed in <i>Pushover</i> (1954), and quickly became one of Hollywood's top box office stars. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8XjzOUkuVIrfbvP7JEiNvjY6KkqE8fs-xYYHOo7s5JYkmUu7jaKsGpQNHzA0eW-xR_3TyCcO_coEWnKGUqTsAs7kkl_qaOZP2h_3m4RAJ9MNtwO8z_Ol1GIgpmvFKUuypevodKxbsfmqyZkgZWnwNaIfLm1uAL7EV4uNgEr1N1IjJiSNrcIx55w/s1600/s-l1600%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8XjzOUkuVIrfbvP7JEiNvjY6KkqE8fs-xYYHOo7s5JYkmUu7jaKsGpQNHzA0eW-xR_3TyCcO_coEWnKGUqTsAs7kkl_qaOZP2h_3m4RAJ9MNtwO8z_Ol1GIgpmvFKUuypevodKxbsfmqyZkgZWnwNaIfLm1uAL7EV4uNgEr1N1IjJiSNrcIx55w/s320/s-l1600%20(5).jpg" width="256" /></a></div>Dick Powell predicted that Debbie Reynolds would become a big star. He did record the two songs from <i>Susan Slept Here</i> for Bell Records in 1954. Later, at a dinner party after the whole Liz-Eddie-Debbie saga, June kept mistakenly calling Liz Taylor 'Debbie', and she was understanding for the first few times but by the end, Liz snapped: "Why don't you just call me George? Just call me George." Powell helped to defuse the bad mood. Also, June said that Joan Fontaine would come to dinner parties and talk business the entire time with Dick. So, would June ever give all this up? She was once asked that question. Her answer: “I would never give it up for anything. The most important thing in my whole life is my husband. And he always will be!” It looks as though the Powell-Allyson marriage will last a long time. Each of the participants has much of what the other needs, wants and loves. —"June Allyson & Dick Powell: How Long Can It Last?" article by William Barbour for Modern Screen magazine (May, 1955)</div><p></p></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-73845619374450942132023-11-12T22:09:00.128+01:002023-11-14T01:37:27.063+01:00Bombshells and The Opposite Sex: Barbara Payton, Evelyn Keyes, Joan Blondell<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6d935G48fl7mjnSgeX-5j7zrtdIZwuYOWW0Vj3ahtMTdQhIG89MvFUG8_LvkRJwT33qqtOqneXtOJ_PCBo1KeaHBw_0OwzNSkUP8EsoYIeNP-HB6uukcFpLSLRGuQ-zgv6JmiB19YqvJ_Nm6YFAutt63uYVFamvFdD0XOJbbxRpeOnvNf-T_EQ/s1017/s-l1600%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1017" data-original-width="818" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6d935G48fl7mjnSgeX-5j7zrtdIZwuYOWW0Vj3ahtMTdQhIG89MvFUG8_LvkRJwT33qqtOqneXtOJ_PCBo1KeaHBw_0OwzNSkUP8EsoYIeNP-HB6uukcFpLSLRGuQ-zgv6JmiB19YqvJ_Nm6YFAutt63uYVFamvFdD0XOJbbxRpeOnvNf-T_EQ/s320/s-l1600%20(1).jpg" width="257" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bombshells: Hollywood’s Leading Ladies (Winnetka-Northfield Public Library, November 2023): Hollywood has had its fair share of leading ladies, with many of them remaining iconic to this day as studio bombshells. Join Film Historian Dr. Annette Bochenek as she presents the history of the Hollywood bombshell, some of the top Hollywood bombshells, and their legacies today. The program will include a multimedia presentation consisting of photos, video clips, and captivating stories. The registration link will be made available closer to the presentation date. Source: www.wnpld.org</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXe9Ok_5XnCJuuIXwHbi066lC5xbISE4T-X1pX9zYalgFXAVE2Ndf2yS1ZSuUERP12sEKRQDHsshZCdBkFQnJKU5jcF1o-HwBMLAJ9o9FmvFSWbArCuKJbJucRbegaGkSOHGoleOisDQWLws0vnprpv8B3rhnIFgQoe48dlOk7IwAAm5IilJEWw/s600/barbarapayton.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXe9Ok_5XnCJuuIXwHbi066lC5xbISE4T-X1pX9zYalgFXAVE2Ndf2yS1ZSuUERP12sEKRQDHsshZCdBkFQnJKU5jcF1o-HwBMLAJ9o9FmvFSWbArCuKJbJucRbegaGkSOHGoleOisDQWLws0vnprpv8B3rhnIFgQoe48dlOk7IwAAm5IilJEWw/s320/barbarapayton.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Irish Screenwriter/Director and U.S. Celebrity Biographer team up to bring the story of Actress Barbara Payton to the big screen: <i>Forever is Just a Weekend</i>. It's a project more than 25 years in the making. Now the story of actress Barbara Payton is getting ready to head to the big screen, where it essentially started – explosive as a firecracker – and burned out just as quickly. Author and celebrity biographer John O'Dowd has teamed with award-winning Irish screenwriter and director Ciaran Creagh to write the quintessential movie script about this beautiful and talented young actress, who garnered a salary of $10,000 a week in the 1950s, then ended up on skid row little more than a decade later. It was O'Dowd's dedication to telling the whole poignant tale of Barbara's life, with integrity and empathy, that allowed him to write the full story in a way no previous author had done.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViZQsV563rIb5k80phXgzkbToopafaMj6-tNh9F48KoKWiZR6LDSKSkCTeEALr2EiEgNITRJD6GWwr8Q2Nw7PknYAGVBx-HgORrrBCBHfywsMhnRyNSPooTLVjy8oDNwy4I0UhYZK9A9lDkYegegtoTWlVNJbeegeasRXj5Fpi1ydrSMKAysncQ/s610/602440_4635708688584_1481163925_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="490" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViZQsV563rIb5k80phXgzkbToopafaMj6-tNh9F48KoKWiZR6LDSKSkCTeEALr2EiEgNITRJD6GWwr8Q2Nw7PknYAGVBx-HgORrrBCBHfywsMhnRyNSPooTLVjy8oDNwy4I0UhYZK9A9lDkYegegtoTWlVNJbeegeasRXj5Fpi1ydrSMKAysncQ/s320/602440_4635708688584_1481163925_n.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After years of working to get his book made into a screenplay worthy of production, O'Dowd joined forces with Creagh. The pair have worked diligently to transform O'Dowd's two books on Payton – the biography and his exquisitely crafted second book "Barbara Payton – A Life in Pictures," into the new screenplay, which they hope to bring to the big screen very soon. O'Dowd, a native of New Jersey, first encountered Payton as a small boy watching her film "Bride of the Gorilla." He was captivated by her beauty and began what would become a lifelong journey to learn about and tell her story. As he grew up and became a celebrity interviewer and biographer, he set out to write the consummate book about the rapid rise and downfall of the blonde beauty. Creagh discovered Payton similarly by watching one of her films. This time it was her performance with Gregory Peck in the western "Only the Valiant." Creagh found O'Dowd's works about the fallen star. Creagh, whose latest film "Ann" is gaining acclaim and awards, has helped lift O'Dowd's work on the Payton story to a whole new level as they teamed up to co-write this screenplay. Currently his feature “Cry from the Sea” has just wrapped shooting in Ireland. Source: instagram.com </div><p></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlRGVjXUbzpu-O53OVqivDXVe_7Jnu47drnZZmMG44tskvciy9srUmgCccPb58lOeUqUnPsDnMTjSH2GeE7c0a76SZt3rweXn95WKM2TyFd344_XLm2dYy5zwM9DVYA5807M3cpnyd1_6ygXtTCRlyXrUSFlpnqWg_BuI9aR8Df_S-zYfqOg_UQ/s676/bpayton.bmp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="548" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlRGVjXUbzpu-O53OVqivDXVe_7Jnu47drnZZmMG44tskvciy9srUmgCccPb58lOeUqUnPsDnMTjSH2GeE7c0a76SZt3rweXn95WKM2TyFd344_XLm2dYy5zwM9DVYA5807M3cpnyd1_6ygXtTCRlyXrUSFlpnqWg_BuI9aR8Df_S-zYfqOg_UQ/s320/bpayton.bmp.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“What seems like it might be a flippant topic to study, hairdressers cutting off too much hair, is actually quite serious,” said Danielle Sulikowski, a senior lecturer at Charles Sturt University and president of the Australasian Society for Human Behaviour and Evolution. “The hairdresser scenario is just a vehicle for asking questions about how women sabotage in subtle, barely detectable ways. Female aggression tends not to manifest as physical violence. Rather, female aggression is well-known to take the form of reputation damage. In adolescence this involves scurrilous rumors that can be socially devastating. In adulthood, it can involve malicious allegations which if taken seriously, can destroy reputations, livelihoods, marriages and relationships.” The researchers found that women who reported higher levels of intrasexual competitiveness were more likely to recommend that clients have more hair cut off. The reason behind this recommendation might be to subtly diminish the physical attractiveness of other women. The study, “Off with her hair: Intrasexually competitive women advise other women to cut off more hair“, was authored by Danielle Sulikowski, Melinda Williams, Gautami Nair, Brittany Shepherd, Anne Wilson, Audrey Tran, and Danielle Wagstaff. Source: www.psypost.org</div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPoYUbrvbw1DMuMpbLeCc9AnuhLp8ojujYE6hifFJoVXcYErXmi2otooz2bE0OMo3vrT68wn6lkXSw1788oVpnFP3JgTg43-OSEwoLZAf6TENNQC3Kpx4NaOWVJtbSMcJVZ9U6LUakwhpK1UJMwAQRAZEmB8UoVbCA-9oeW1idwyf5fu3HyLu4kA/s1024/gettyimages-156485440-1024x1024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1024" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPoYUbrvbw1DMuMpbLeCc9AnuhLp8ojujYE6hifFJoVXcYErXmi2otooz2bE0OMo3vrT68wn6lkXSw1788oVpnFP3JgTg43-OSEwoLZAf6TENNQC3Kpx4NaOWVJtbSMcJVZ9U6LUakwhpK1UJMwAQRAZEmB8UoVbCA-9oeW1idwyf5fu3HyLu4kA/s320/gettyimages-156485440-1024x1024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">MGM generously included Joan Blondell into the snazzy all-star fashion farce <i>The Opposite Sex</i> in 1956 and cleverly invented a logical way to include her fuller figure by being pregnant and the family mother with other kids. There was no point in having her compete with the much younger glamourpuss actresses in their spectacular outfits, and so Joan was wisely and generously fitted as 'the mother hen' character. One sly joke is at the theatre watching a musical number about Bananas where she says she feels pregnant sick and clearly has had enough of 'that banana'. The film was praised by Variety; Bosley Crowther in The New York Times wrote that June Allyson did an excellent job, but the film was not a box office success. Allyson has a one-on-one scene with Joan Blondell who plays Edith. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQURhkrD2Rp-vwWFE0EHsvfWgYtI-pRoLnVkxGKReN2NPbn0s20vzOFOM793QP_UOgWrYGI8OiVibo0GQSHNJMA9w1svz2AY6SyTczYnUn5VJnOf14f5tv020Btfs_qGyKfCC1tXVIqMm1dO5q7tOmJiWVmh6gKghR-SFzqwH7_V1ZsTTvJItkQ/s1422/dims.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1422" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQURhkrD2Rp-vwWFE0EHsvfWgYtI-pRoLnVkxGKReN2NPbn0s20vzOFOM793QP_UOgWrYGI8OiVibo0GQSHNJMA9w1svz2AY6SyTczYnUn5VJnOf14f5tv020Btfs_qGyKfCC1tXVIqMm1dO5q7tOmJiWVmh6gKghR-SFzqwH7_V1ZsTTvJItkQ/s320/dims.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Allyson reported that the latter scene was very awkward since Blondell had called Powell to say his wife had tried to keep her out of the film. Allyson said this was not true; she didn’t even know that Blondell wanted to be in it. Allyson thought Blondell was great in the film. Blondell was also reportedly insecure because she had not been in a film since 1951’s <i>The Blue Veil.</i> Except for Joan Blondell's irrational dislike of Allyson, all the actresses boosted and praised each other on the set. Blondell asked that Allyson not be on set to read lines off-camera for her in their scene together. Allyson insisted that she do it, and later Blondell thanked her for it. Despite June Allyson's good intentions towards Joan Blondell, Joan would try to convince herself that Dick and June both had extramarital affairs; the latter June Allyson denied in her autobiography, claiming Dick Powell never gave her any motive for suspecting of his unfaithfulness. ―Source: June Allyson: Her Life and Career (2023) by Peter Shelley</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG5-qOY5nELixUo6mFl8bIdNu67xxCis-ZXNiYla2DA5pz6Cho1RDgJrfsmvx6ECBfissAEzmCp6pqSAlf0CRn6E0k5USyqByagaBnGKu5ykGS-UR1ctTPSfRM_3nsrShhxoN-gSGlWXffSOp3614IW3KE03wHzTPEu11j-l-pkBkWCt30QfN4hQ/s827/thumbnail%20(1).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="735" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG5-qOY5nELixUo6mFl8bIdNu67xxCis-ZXNiYla2DA5pz6Cho1RDgJrfsmvx6ECBfissAEzmCp6pqSAlf0CRn6E0k5USyqByagaBnGKu5ykGS-UR1ctTPSfRM_3nsrShhxoN-gSGlWXffSOp3614IW3KE03wHzTPEu11j-l-pkBkWCt30QfN4hQ/s320/thumbnail%20(1).jpeg" width="284" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dina Shore: June Allyson explained it to me afterwards, when we were alone for a moment. The gossip columnists had been wagging their tongues about her marriage; she and Richard had been quarrelling, they had said. It wasn’t true. “We have our spats, of course,” Junie told me. “All married people do. But we never quarrel, why Richard is the sweetest, the most thoughtful man.” But that wasn’t what was worrying her. She and Richard were secure in their marriage; they needn’t care what the gossips said. Except, and this was what really hurt, June was afraid the rumors would hurt her chances of getting a baby. I know the helpless feeling you have when anyone writes something about you which may jeopardize a relationship or a situation. If only they really understood what damage just a few idle words can do. All I could say to June was that I was sure the agency wouldn’t pay any attention to malicious gossip. Five more long months went by, though, before June’s wish came true. Finally Richard gave in and they put their names on the waiting list at the Tennessee Children’s home. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUvIJUYPvKPAkIs0kyT2OH9nt0cP_xzoASZCX7qgIywzVUhufXpX8QtKOFGjKW-AO3_SH5fWNtbi-6LAplM9ldPIYJVchA4UuyJtW_3KZqcq7-BeJotD9uf1ZB75H2Pd59v63lGYEGT0HQEDOT7XfkYTJpJBtrn8vo5X33SlvJhRUn6WN7AaCRQ/s1118/s-l1600%20(48).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1118" data-original-width="1036" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUvIJUYPvKPAkIs0kyT2OH9nt0cP_xzoASZCX7qgIywzVUhufXpX8QtKOFGjKW-AO3_SH5fWNtbi-6LAplM9ldPIYJVchA4UuyJtW_3KZqcq7-BeJotD9uf1ZB75H2Pd59v63lGYEGT0HQEDOT7XfkYTJpJBtrn8vo5X33SlvJhRUn6WN7AaCRQ/s320/s-l1600%20(48).jpg" width="297" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then came the Hollywood gossip. There had been rumors before, but the Powells had shrugged them off. Now they threatened to do real damage. June had to go to New York for radio shows. Richard couldn’t go with her. And the rumors flew again. When they reached Richard he realized that they might cost them their baby. He knew that those in charge of the home might hear the irresponsible talk and postpone or cancel the adoption. He called Tennessee to reassure the officials that all was well. And he convinced them. “An advantage working with your wife,” Dick Powell says teasingly. “You can yell at your wife and you can’t at professional actresses. I'm joking here, June knows I love working with her anyway,” he adds. “She’s fun.” They had once hoped to co-star in a tender love story, “Mrs. Mike.” Their initial starrer, however, turned out to be a hilarious comedy and their love scenes were played with live lions stalking them in “The Reformer and the Redhead” —Photoplay magazine (November 1956)</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicfP3B7Hmbll1bp9pCamRRo99RVh7YlJNXfW4-M2yKIIuYvhkfhS6CxTZEcgDVopDzheH3e_NBiBkRbeEWmQQACP3f5hCsHuh9nBCJVZjKr5Lvx3Wk_Rz_deqj-WjL7H27mmwUQjbQyiignZ0JhD071gLURUTA4bcZI8qg0OTJq9bwzLKWq9UuPA/s800/playback-fm_colorize-photo_12773ecca681b6c0fe9631fb10ad6b06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="654" data-original-width="800" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicfP3B7Hmbll1bp9pCamRRo99RVh7YlJNXfW4-M2yKIIuYvhkfhS6CxTZEcgDVopDzheH3e_NBiBkRbeEWmQQACP3f5hCsHuh9nBCJVZjKr5Lvx3Wk_Rz_deqj-WjL7H27mmwUQjbQyiignZ0JhD071gLURUTA4bcZI8qg0OTJq9bwzLKWq9UuPA/s320/playback-fm_colorize-photo_12773ecca681b6c0fe9631fb10ad6b06.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In <i>Dark City Dames: The Wicked Women of Film Noir</i> (2001), Eddie Muller recounts Evelyn Keyes showing him a film poster from <i>Johnny O'Clock</i> hanging on her bedroom's wall, "featuring a youthful golden-maned Evelyn being manhandled by Dick Powell." "What did you do to kill a man?" Harry Cohn had asked her when Keyes' first husband committed suicide. Evelyn Keyes alluded in her memoirs to a brief affair with Powell. While they shooted <i>Mrs Mike</i> in 1949, Dick Powell was reportedly burn-out due to the rumors spread by Confidential magazine of an affair between his wife June Allyson and Dean Martin. Robert Osborne on TCM said the camera liked more than loved Evelyn Keyes, but she could walk into a room and people would turn away from Hedy Lamarr and flock to her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Gxow7mGTswqsn7bogfcbNiwTFFBKhVJ-0cjyYi5dBapKqK6tjc4M4Ufc1h1dATk9WH3mmm1LL5XfxQJRdXqf_QnQa5Sj7HW82JCTR-uH5bGxXN9NbORX72oGYcJfZ9s7zgNEs83r1imXoJlQ4_TN-Vhpd8oEprece3VdBDGKElOWfvb_nc3vuw/s960/385720_4567884153013_1134517282_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Gxow7mGTswqsn7bogfcbNiwTFFBKhVJ-0cjyYi5dBapKqK6tjc4M4Ufc1h1dATk9WH3mmm1LL5XfxQJRdXqf_QnQa5Sj7HW82JCTR-uH5bGxXN9NbORX72oGYcJfZ9s7zgNEs83r1imXoJlQ4_TN-Vhpd8oEprece3VdBDGKElOWfvb_nc3vuw/s320/385720_4567884153013_1134517282_n.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>The London Film Review's film critic Derek Winnert (author of <i>The Ultimate Encyclopedia of the Movies</i> in 1995) mentioned in 2017 the affair between Powell and Keyes in his reviews of <i>Johnny O'Clock</i> and <i>Mrs. Mike,</i> writing: "Evelyn Keyes said <i>Mrs Mike</i> was her best film. She also admitted she had to fend off studio boss Harry Cohn’s advances during her career at Columbia. Among the many Hollywood affairs she recounted was one with Dick Powell." Some of Evelyn Keyes's best performances in film noir were: <i>Face Behind the Mask, Ladies in Retirement, Johnny O’Clock, The Killer That Stalked New York, 99 River Street, </i>and <i>The Prowler.</i> However, Keyes' favorite film was <i>Mrs. Mike,</i> co-starring Dick Powell, and directed by Louis King. Dick Powell was one of the co-producers of <i>Mrs Mike</i> through his company Regal Films. Powell had personally requested Evelyn Keyes for the leading female role of Kathy Flannigan, after their successful pairing in the previous <i>Johnny O'Clock</i>. Source: www.derekwinnert.com</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxpFkmxhix8qpjgcPml-f4IWHMC8xQXFOOUtwtFtdNYx-1Jv8QnhYgZvK2OZft6xsWo_gN91who03tToaENsSUeKj1G-Q0pRG0rVhCknW0eRJ-k80ZJEnUUYkg1ejYFGjFwSMRdR6UomMfFFQbkuFfz5gnrAnsVIMv9ajkiEJhyJ-sYEnVzLrIw/s1456/s-l1vvvdeeee600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1456" data-original-width="1070" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxpFkmxhix8qpjgcPml-f4IWHMC8xQXFOOUtwtFtdNYx-1Jv8QnhYgZvK2OZft6xsWo_gN91who03tToaENsSUeKj1G-Q0pRG0rVhCknW0eRJ-k80ZJEnUUYkg1ejYFGjFwSMRdR6UomMfFFQbkuFfz5gnrAnsVIMv9ajkiEJhyJ-sYEnVzLrIw/s320/s-l1vvvdeeee600.jpg" width="235" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Evelyn Keyes expressed her opinion that <i>Mrs. Mike</i> (1949) was her best film. Among her many love affairs in Hollywood she recounted in <i>Scarlett O'Hara's Younger Sister,</i> were those with film producer Michael Todd (who left her for Elizabeth Taylor), actors Glenn Ford, Sterling Hayden, Dick Powell, and Kirk Douglas. Keyes was married to businessman Barton Oliver Bainbridge from 1938 until his death from suicide in 1940. Later, she married and divorced director Charles Vidor (1943–1945), director John Huston (1946–1950), and bandleader Artie Shaw (1957–1985). Keyes said of her marriages in 1977: “With Artie Shaw, it was really a marriage.” About her four husbands and dozens of lovers, she said: “I wrote about them all with affection.” The only malice in the book, she added, was directed toward Fredric March, with whom she had a small role in <i>The Buccaneer</i> (1938). Except for March, Miss Keyes said she was careful not to mention explicitly the name of a man who was married at the time [Dick Powell] or who might be embarrassed by the notoriety [Harry Belafonte]. Source: nytimes.com</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghmUTj1dE8ELL-Sg9GXqkB47rYm9w3lXAYPBRUTzs-FIInA9jtI3yod4u0POVElTwWPVDfsxMdm6qiJOJyOyIripIlBFz6TIqPt0B2GiWQ0248UfLFNFPZ_PLSHqHB-TX3lSWjXUpmCM7r0HwJPxXiF9Gusssf04E2Ynym4UuyVQ50LoYzbDyE0A/s878/evelyn-keyes-2.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghmUTj1dE8ELL-Sg9GXqkB47rYm9w3lXAYPBRUTzs-FIInA9jtI3yod4u0POVElTwWPVDfsxMdm6qiJOJyOyIripIlBFz6TIqPt0B2GiWQ0248UfLFNFPZ_PLSHqHB-TX3lSWjXUpmCM7r0HwJPxXiF9Gusssf04E2Ynym4UuyVQ50LoYzbDyE0A/s320/evelyn-keyes-2.webp" width="255" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Evelyn Keyes showing her wedding ring to director Robert Rossen on the set of “Johnny O’Clock” (1947) after she returned from Las Vegas where she married John Huston on July 23, 1946. </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcjtLMRiVw9BawnWoWPo5KSgl-yvNhdyxCnizQc2pTKGaTagnsiTAeS9A5qKpjxTydUTx1Um39lFOrU23bBWbfbTmQaUQc1ONvAX7MMYPiu1NDZaNnfp0fP3mqEVYAaw7hFMhEUb0AOhoRuBny9Q2XXkHa2sypN6OocZw-OP0Kqb6YdCy2Me-NPw/s1016/thumbnail.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="770" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcjtLMRiVw9BawnWoWPo5KSgl-yvNhdyxCnizQc2pTKGaTagnsiTAeS9A5qKpjxTydUTx1Um39lFOrU23bBWbfbTmQaUQc1ONvAX7MMYPiu1NDZaNnfp0fP3mqEVYAaw7hFMhEUb0AOhoRuBny9Q2XXkHa2sypN6OocZw-OP0Kqb6YdCy2Me-NPw/s320/thumbnail.jpeg" width="243" /></a></div>In 1971 Keyes wrote a novel loosely based on her life, <i>I Am a Billboard</i>, about a southern girl named Christabelle Jones who becomes an overnight star in Hollywood. It's no coincidence the model that editor Lyle Stuart chose for the cover resembled Joan Blondell. Eddie Muller: "Perry Bullington worked in casting at Canon Films. One night a book fell off the shelf above and conked him: it was Evelyn Keyes's novel <i>I Am A Billboard.</i> Perry knew a good thing when it hit him on the head. He raved to Glaser-Hunter Productions about the story, and once Allan Glaser and I read the thinly veiled memoir about a young Georgia girl's coming-of-age in the 1930s and her journey to Hollywood, we agreed it would make a terrific movie. The screenplay was re-named <i>Blues in the Night </i>and Allan Glaser rekindled interest by engaging Four Seasons Entertainment to possibly produce it. Peter Bogdonavich was invited to a dinner as a potential director. Bogdonavich was anxious to meet Evelyn, but she wouldn't see her story reflected on the silver screen."</div><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPMrlDO8utDDsqOEWus9hOell-Z4BIbGQ-o-3lI3UKkd39Raqpvu9kquk6aS4Jq_GXv36CqDqJY3soGQbVRANvBvOcjybHPbGebLSbSTAY_lr-If3gCn-YJ79IN6ypI37cXbR2AaT3aDZnb_6fa0gZjF5A842DWsWfLsuPXdKhiX2TJhR86ffEQ/s1064/s-l1600%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="877" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPMrlDO8utDDsqOEWus9hOell-Z4BIbGQ-o-3lI3UKkd39Raqpvu9kquk6aS4Jq_GXv36CqDqJY3soGQbVRANvBvOcjybHPbGebLSbSTAY_lr-If3gCn-YJ79IN6ypI37cXbR2AaT3aDZnb_6fa0gZjF5A842DWsWfLsuPXdKhiX2TJhR86ffEQ/s320/s-l1600%20(5).jpg" width="264" /></a></div>Evelyn Keyes: "I was voted N#1 Star of Tomorrow in 1946. I was ranked as one of Columbia’s most reliable leading ladies. “Johnny O’Clock” (1947), Robert Rossen’s first directorial job, became another highlight in my career. Dick Powell played an honest gambler in trouble and I was his girlfriend. During the shooting of “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” (1948), Betty Bacall and I hung around on the set, went shopping, or were sunbathing near the swimming pool. I really liked Betty, and I envied Bogart’s devotion to her. Betty used to call John [Huston] ‘The Monster.’ Variety described my performance in “Mrs. Mike” in its review of December 12, 1949, as a ‘portrayal that has excellent emotional depth and just the right touch of humor.’ So Louella Parsons thought I should have won an Oscar for “Mrs. Mike and lobbied for me.” Source: filmtalk.org</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHIiPc5HUEKDjR-2vU0OtWuWpL_wuFON_FecACRMC95kCrTEjN6wcFFeohZhs04ZI07FOOz9orUpbcK9j-UL2WAhGpDWSyrq51p38ElRCQmZpsV8_tmAbpJaNp0VMYEzMgz3QHZI_NgQDSFEanMYqAfu2yzRrPMFQgIS3V26DQsIiHFH6fsbkaGg/s1195/386642209_6671998232921492_9196193123641246980_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1195" data-original-width="1055" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHIiPc5HUEKDjR-2vU0OtWuWpL_wuFON_FecACRMC95kCrTEjN6wcFFeohZhs04ZI07FOOz9orUpbcK9j-UL2WAhGpDWSyrq51p38ElRCQmZpsV8_tmAbpJaNp0VMYEzMgz3QHZI_NgQDSFEanMYqAfu2yzRrPMFQgIS3V26DQsIiHFH6fsbkaGg/s320/386642209_6671998232921492_9196193123641246980_n.jpg" width="283" /></a></div>Unlike Joan Blondell, who clearly came to detest Mike Todd (whom she divorced in 1950), Evelyn Keyes described Todd as attentive, generous and ambitious. In 1953, Evelyn Keyes became the constant companion of the brash, flamboyant and often volatile producer Mike Todd, who lavished Evelyn with attention, gifts and journeys to far-off locales. Soon she was head-over-heels in love with him. She worked very little during her time with Todd. Evelyn Keyes states in her memoirs: "Thanks to Mike Todd, I never had to worry about money again. He gave me a 15-carat diamond engagement ring while we worked on our wedding details [late 1956]. All was going well, I thought, until the day I picked up the phone and before I could say anything, Mike blurted out: 'I'm in love with Elizabeth Taylor'. Anyway, I always maintained a fondness for him." Keyes compared Todd favorably over John Huston ("an irredeemable womanizer") and she thought Todd's main faults were his poor manners and a streak of jealousy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijF2zOu5Kewt7sOx1e8Fvxp0ukzTxtFDnaXLoDVEUt_OuAncqw2WLv49-SumA4Fp0bJSc10FmZebtcImtUy1UAEZGsDDgIVTn2XoPJ3OyaoRx89QkuWDPrvi9d1QSC88MDKmDGpxRw_pKyte1QJsSvOhqpREFofys13dFDUyFXJTPrmHQjF8csVw/s751/imago0098593469w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="751" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijF2zOu5Kewt7sOx1e8Fvxp0ukzTxtFDnaXLoDVEUt_OuAncqw2WLv49-SumA4Fp0bJSc10FmZebtcImtUy1UAEZGsDDgIVTn2XoPJ3OyaoRx89QkuWDPrvi9d1QSC88MDKmDGpxRw_pKyte1QJsSvOhqpREFofys13dFDUyFXJTPrmHQjF8csVw/s320/imago0098593469w.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Maybe was Dick Powell the love of her life? Difficult to fathom, since Evelyn Keyes always remained skeptical of the opposite sex, as their memoirs (specially<i> I'm a Billboard</i>) indicate. What is known is her odd obsession with <i>Mrs Mike </i>and her vague allusions to a courteous romance with Powell seemingly out of a fairly tale (with references to a Hollywood bungalow and a Murphy bed), in stark contrast with her other lovers. "I said I didn't want to be a lady. I wanted to be a billboard." But Philip [Dick Powell's <i>I'm a Billboard</i> stand-in] assures her she always will be a lady in his eyes. Keyes stated to Eddie Muller for <i>Dark City Dames: </i>"I never had to hustle in Hollywood. I always had someone taking care of me. I never learned to fight. If the men close to me didn't disappear, I'd pick the ones who would do. And if they didn't go, I would do things secretly to ensure they'd go and let me alone." </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXGzwVlWRqp4GkgpDX4cCY7Ns3pJALkS3IuOT1Sopd8tDkt02NJ00gPb0vv2w1EsBIm7yQ_F7J5AZ9zPC0q6Us2Vi5mZTJcE6an0ki3m3wCDFObIQhQBWP3VcK__6lbKhHc8JwkfiOuAdOtGCi4vdh42c3FGMVwMFhgcQvu-P-VR5iK-U4hOuoQ/s821/evkdpowell.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="821" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXGzwVlWRqp4GkgpDX4cCY7Ns3pJALkS3IuOT1Sopd8tDkt02NJ00gPb0vv2w1EsBIm7yQ_F7J5AZ9zPC0q6Us2Vi5mZTJcE6an0ki3m3wCDFObIQhQBWP3VcK__6lbKhHc8JwkfiOuAdOtGCi4vdh42c3FGMVwMFhgcQvu-P-VR5iK-U4hOuoQ/s320/evkdpowell.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>A fiercely independent and complicated woman, Evelyn Keyes probably scared off Dick Powell, who had already endured a previous volatile marriage to bombshell Joan Blondell. In the mid-30s, the press took notice of the odd pairing from Warner Bros, giving them nicknames such as "Floozie and Dopey." But Powell was no dope, as his career as a producer, director and tough guy star would prove later. Accustomed to neurotic and possesive partners, Dick Powell appears in <i>I'm a Billboard</i> as that rare specimen who didn't ever try to manipulate Keyes, a chivalrous old-fashioned man who was so gentle with her (intimately and profesionally) that she didn't know how to respond to that kind of man. Philip Grimes (the producer whose company has purchased the rights of a best-selling novel) is probably the stand-in for Dick Powell. Grimes displays "a deep sincerity, the kindest smile." "Every morning the coffee was ready on her personalized mug when Christabelle arrived. She never let him know she disliked coffee in the mornings." —I Am A Billboard (1971) by Evelyn Keyes</div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-87482691027237854232023-11-07T01:35:00.012+01:002023-11-07T01:43:39.906+01:00CBK: Carolyn Bessette Kennedy: A Life in Fashion <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5780fj5whUK6yzaKZpLivKlhSiwfSrTLIWzdKQD0eZsWi3vciD_9XKlE6Dk4eM8gxbz5Ss5G2I2l_S1vhslEYKGDwMnuxOhl8dM7cgG9dBIA9JTtTtFwzSKhonjMp89SHQKBvbX1muccDpii8LXHAcMY_tskjshqfYP8VBX52t0Km7o-Vb7smHw/s858/54533f2b7093f4ccd4d3ed7d456fd972.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="858" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5780fj5whUK6yzaKZpLivKlhSiwfSrTLIWzdKQD0eZsWi3vciD_9XKlE6Dk4eM8gxbz5Ss5G2I2l_S1vhslEYKGDwMnuxOhl8dM7cgG9dBIA9JTtTtFwzSKhonjMp89SHQKBvbX1muccDpii8LXHAcMY_tskjshqfYP8VBX52t0Km7o-Vb7smHw/s320/54533f2b7093f4ccd4d3ed7d456fd972.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">"MY NAME IS JOHN KENNEDY, AND I AM THE MAN WHO IS ACCOMPANYING CAROLYN BESSETTE TO MILAN. I AM HONORED TO TELL YOU SHE IS MY WIFE." —JOHN F. KENNEDY JR. (WWD magazine, July 1999)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkC77YmOgXgpEOyaxwAym19zWDx917VXQhASy30AHceHzZAh4vQSdNHxJ9hCo-IFZax2RAyqWi3Nk9xMWNwK51P6u5d6jzW_FRBQWy2flleqwsT2AU5iqaTY7_50YmFD5AkhetMpF0hOIgUiv-2PFe8FxEHyhCRD900szJ1mnr_sZHeo4TyZpvw/s829/cd95f6c196d12a17596ea74f79e4811b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkC77YmOgXgpEOyaxwAym19zWDx917VXQhASy30AHceHzZAh4vQSdNHxJ9hCo-IFZax2RAyqWi3Nk9xMWNwK51P6u5d6jzW_FRBQWy2flleqwsT2AU5iqaTY7_50YmFD5AkhetMpF0hOIgUiv-2PFe8FxEHyhCRD900szJ1mnr_sZHeo4TyZpvw/s320/cd95f6c196d12a17596ea74f79e4811b.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Seemingly measured and thoughtful in her fashion life, color actually had Carolyn’s full attention. Her wardrobe was a deliberate “absence of color,” a term coined by fashion designer Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel when explaining the absolute beauty in black and white. Carolyn had once advised a former Calvin Klein colleague that if you can’t afford expensive fabrics or designs then you should stick to black. She even spoke about color during her brief interview with Glamour magazine in 1992, saying, “I like very classic colors, black, navy, grey and white. If I want to add some impact, I’ll do it with texture.” She didn’t mention beige though. Countless times, however, she chose to wear it in the form of pants, skirts, dresses, and coats while walking her dog Friday, running errands, or attending evening events, but she never publicly mentioned her love of the color. Privately, according to designer Stephan Janson, she expressed her preference for black and shades of brown while shopping for her Milan trip in 1997. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kSmQHfSWpwKF6oHabNQBtKzczG6BjrMTiKJEuZJGMyI4fKAdPX37eyRcpiDPfpOdxlnnA8ofT3BvtE190iu6w_0Rwuaz_USVC-hGJy1_fZCR7leHgstM_TDBc1ICnOwcZrJZo1gOnxZyy550afet5Lb6W368hOuXUS8f2qUrGQB3YZwyIPnixA/s480/ebf9a6a84f79862b8db88e47d07e3b13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="345" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kSmQHfSWpwKF6oHabNQBtKzczG6BjrMTiKJEuZJGMyI4fKAdPX37eyRcpiDPfpOdxlnnA8ofT3BvtE190iu6w_0Rwuaz_USVC-hGJy1_fZCR7leHgstM_TDBc1ICnOwcZrJZo1gOnxZyy550afet5Lb6W368hOuXUS8f2qUrGQB3YZwyIPnixA/s320/ebf9a6a84f79862b8db88e47d07e3b13.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There can be no doubt that beige seemed to be the color she chose to break and redirect her stream of black consciousness. At Calvin Klein, where Carolyn worked from 1989 to 1996, beige and all shades thereof—brown, khaki, camel, and ecru—were considered a color standard for the house. Calvin Klein archivist Jessica Barber says that most people associate black with the brand; she reasons this was because most leading fashion photography was being shot in monochrome leading to the mistaken color conclusion. The designer went as far as owning a Mercedes in brown; his stores all reflected similar shades, a natural, organic side to his vision. Beige as a color has long been synonymous with heritage, think a Burberry trench coat or riding jodhpurs. The color evolved from army camouflage to function for aviator Amelia Earhart, and by the time Richard Avedon lensed model Veruschka in 1968 wearing a beige YSL safari jacket complete with dagger and rifle, the color had accrued plenty of “maverick/explorer” connotations to it. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bXHpn_Dz_IwlMwSe1aJWQNUL7lxJLmyrPfbmoad7D8c8n_uYyry5-TaL2qfQUG_lRjBhTEqEuKhOMZ9SlfvRVZipiEGfygp1sbPRUGiYNOmCdIxQwsoWKW1fQEQgQM0UVXIJiqfsTbLQkCnJwrVI9DxnfutafUBpkCllSPam2I_zWAbu0FUWWg/s1003/395409304_2681996505291238_1097063096237660128_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="722" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bXHpn_Dz_IwlMwSe1aJWQNUL7lxJLmyrPfbmoad7D8c8n_uYyry5-TaL2qfQUG_lRjBhTEqEuKhOMZ9SlfvRVZipiEGfygp1sbPRUGiYNOmCdIxQwsoWKW1fQEQgQM0UVXIJiqfsTbLQkCnJwrVI9DxnfutafUBpkCllSPam2I_zWAbu0FUWWg/s320/395409304_2681996505291238_1097063096237660128_n.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Camouflage, adventure, and heritage are solid tags for beige and its variations. Carolyn never wore a full look in the color, but her equation of black plus beige or camel was a regular feature for her. It was significant enough for it to be chosen at her formal press introduction as the new Mrs. John Kennedy. She chose Prada, wearing a full look including runway model hair. In that moment, she was a picture of completeness, an authority, as her own woman who happened to marry a Kennedy. She is the one you are looking at, not John. It became a memorable image that she knew would be shared globally. Her colleagues at Calvin Klein were not surprised by the choice, affirming that everyone was wearing Prada or Calvin Klein in the office at the time. She stuck to what she knew and didn’t go off-piste for her first photo op. Just as Carolyn had opined on the color black and its ability to disguise cheap fabric, beige is the opposite. The color relies solely on garment construction and the silhouette it creates. Tacky textiles, flashy patterns, cheap textures, or insipid design elements do not belong to the house of beige; it is the epitome of luxury, and Carolyn, ever the keen curator of her image, knew that.</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSJanOmvnMx1tkqoEd-aOEAxGKuHTS-k8doFX1ysNQWS7qJe5GR1jG6YzPtmKm5KsNKPPzbGdHKgnNNVobkBjDG05p3J5IoWByr2v5fTHRH966RvmWFqB2-m7k-juarrUqSWA0kH5H3cN_H_KeUhpze8tMBBqZBryWfjHbIVNsjkG4GmmebhHig/s545/Caeeeeptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="476" data-original-width="545" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSJanOmvnMx1tkqoEd-aOEAxGKuHTS-k8doFX1ysNQWS7qJe5GR1jG6YzPtmKm5KsNKPPzbGdHKgnNNVobkBjDG05p3J5IoWByr2v5fTHRH966RvmWFqB2-m7k-juarrUqSWA0kH5H3cN_H_KeUhpze8tMBBqZBryWfjHbIVNsjkG4GmmebhHig/s320/Caeeeeptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Wayne Scot Lukas (Celebrity fashion stylist): "Carolyn was larger than life. She made you feel like everything—she was like your big sister, your gay best friend. She would put pieces together in this “no fucks given” kind of way; it was incredibly sexy. When I first met her, she had this California girl look: curves, hair that tumbled down or was wrapped in a messy bun. She was just beautiful; she sucked the air out of any room she was in. She had a warm relationship with everyone. She would get close when she was talking to you—a master manipulatorbut you didn’t mind it happening to you. Carolyn created her looks so simply, but without her confidence and inner strength I feel like they would have been nothing. She dressed from the inside out and that’s what made her different. For the Met Gala in 1994 she wears this black slip dress; that’s it. For her, it was all in the details. She made fashion real and accessible, and no one could do sexy and pretty at the same time like her, no one. If she wore a CK wrap dress she would make it sit low and loosely tie it. Look at the tulle gloves she wore for her wedding—that’s Carolyn. The long tight boots with a long tailored coat—that’s Carolyn. You are either gorgeous or a master of minimalist style but usually not both unless you are her. She didn’t just break the rules of fashion minimalism. She rewrote them."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4zcFs8-lM-9OTBEMBFLZ6Hh7V_kikaItz6pewBe2EY6j_TCkDYzvQlKm4cVcxdfZd387k1GmPA1QjfO7PWoeIlKe-JBk5PShgmBgWx1WaaVqEMRViYzUZ_8kA_OLIphAO4eUxGo9Lh4oJ7ZuP5FUF3N-SvogwNXJaMjLJVZvSe_6EkOK2URXmQ/s500/f86f94aedd0748ae3dd09d8efe54fb06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="500" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4zcFs8-lM-9OTBEMBFLZ6Hh7V_kikaItz6pewBe2EY6j_TCkDYzvQlKm4cVcxdfZd387k1GmPA1QjfO7PWoeIlKe-JBk5PShgmBgWx1WaaVqEMRViYzUZ_8kA_OLIphAO4eUxGo9Lh4oJ7ZuP5FUF3N-SvogwNXJaMjLJVZvSe_6EkOK2URXmQ/s320/f86f94aedd0748ae3dd09d8efe54fb06.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sasha Chermayeff (Close friend of John Jr.): "We were in Martha’s Vineyard, and I was walking into the bedroom because John wanted to show me something. Carolyn happened to be lying there half asleep, curled up, her hair and face all crumpled up. She looked up and smiled at me—like this sleepy little kid, but innocent and beautiful at the same time. I couldn’t help it, and I breathlessly said, “Carolyn you are incredible.” John followed my stare, and said, “I know, she looks like that all the time.” I mean, when I remember that scene, she was like a reclining Velázquez, just so utterly beautiful, beyond words, almost unreal. Let’s not forget her inner beauty as well. My children found her eternally attractive."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipzlNcyFWrvuzfbpncLwPFB0zN7xBYRpiEKCAJiTUfpJDzy8WH5EO-N9iCqYvW1D5Zkk-3V6G3XRn_1EfuC7tlSzyKfuAfv0Eqi4ngh9-NWJ7VTH67VxjC4sps7KtktaHbNw7sbqwU2Ll-mo4yQHabK49lpb02JDnvbmlRnM0nEYcGanLsonElUw/s596/cbk.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="596" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipzlNcyFWrvuzfbpncLwPFB0zN7xBYRpiEKCAJiTUfpJDzy8WH5EO-N9iCqYvW1D5Zkk-3V6G3XRn_1EfuC7tlSzyKfuAfv0Eqi4ngh9-NWJ7VTH67VxjC4sps7KtktaHbNw7sbqwU2Ll-mo4yQHabK49lpb02JDnvbmlRnM0nEYcGanLsonElUw/s320/cbk.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In 1992, W magazine described twenty-five-year-old Carolyn as someone “with mannequin proportions,” and as a “sultry blue-eyed beauty” who sees herself as “merely a physically blessed real person, sort of.” She was just promoted to the Collection position at Calvin Klein at the time. She revealed how she decided against pursuing a career in teaching despite majoring in elementary education in college. “At the time, I felt a little underdeveloped myself to be completely responsible for twenty-five other people’s children, and to a large extent, I felt it wouldn’t be provocative enough for me.” The fairy tale of New York usually consists of the protagonist, a small towner, fervently dreaming of a better, starry life, packing their bags, taking the quantum leap and heading to the Big Apple. As her colleague Julie Muszynski remembers, “black leggings with a big red sweater—she could have worn a sack and it would look good on her.” Sue Sartor shared an office with Carolyn for a brief time and remembers “a super smart, stylish, compassionate, and very funny girl. She was always encouraging to everyone. I would ask her what pieces to spend my clothing allowance on, and she would always advise on the ones that would last, design and trend wise; she was a master stylist even then.”</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrBOtUVM2L0ifSrXcWMz1D035tvV3XfgQ9zoTG3o9yShx67xdtySMbZsxkiXfL0Fs-Y_vH5peFjkDkClB9DsesHZZJshs5TpW84C3hu1F5JnVPNyAYF3sVhCzl-ZPuMRPPP-KZqJ73H7hDlLh3wZFdWOQ-5UsVyxE3U5vz957yMVkL6V54Q7jow/s563/cbcb.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="525" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrBOtUVM2L0ifSrXcWMz1D035tvV3XfgQ9zoTG3o9yShx67xdtySMbZsxkiXfL0Fs-Y_vH5peFjkDkClB9DsesHZZJshs5TpW84C3hu1F5JnVPNyAYF3sVhCzl-ZPuMRPPP-KZqJ73H7hDlLh3wZFdWOQ-5UsVyxE3U5vz957yMVkL6V54Q7jow/s320/cbcb.JPG" width="298" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another staffer remembers that the designers in Zack Carr’s office wore Comme des Garçons and Yohji Yamamoto most of the time, an early brush for Carolyn with the Japanese avant-garde designers. Tony Melillo, a friend of Carolyn and Kelly Klein, remembers “people admiring her from day one. Calvin used her just like Kelly as a muse; he looked to them both to understand what was good and bad. As an insider I think he really enjoyed seeing Carolyn in her natural state—coming into the office, going out, different parts of her but still the same girl.” Clare Waight Keller, the former designer at Givenchy who started her career at Calvin Klein, recalls that Carolyn “would come into the office like she just rolled out of bed, and then when she had meetings, she would transform herself from this super cool street casual to the most elegant thing you have ever seen.”</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiHEuunF5cvrWXtwED0iPSFrLz3HkDqQcwqom-LbmPMwd0LELpd4TE1dRVKdzjSPHFoAkCLOgbalEp4xjtw40o7y_W75TKdxUJkbiSvzYnGXCSFiGdC1YTua7HmU6c9ZuuAcM5EjiuS5ZkGGmYm3ETkRjkOnGr_h4FME_TYuGUYxnEsFaXSqKhw/s750/narciso1994.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiHEuunF5cvrWXtwED0iPSFrLz3HkDqQcwqom-LbmPMwd0LELpd4TE1dRVKdzjSPHFoAkCLOgbalEp4xjtw40o7y_W75TKdxUJkbiSvzYnGXCSFiGdC1YTua7HmU6c9ZuuAcM5EjiuS5ZkGGmYm3ETkRjkOnGr_h4FME_TYuGUYxnEsFaXSqKhw/s320/narciso1994.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Carolyn’s people, her friends and colleagues, echoed similar adjectives, smart, feisty, a force, kind, complex, witty, graceful, beautiful, and of course stylish; brush strokes used to paint a picture of their Carolyn, to us. She was a woman very much in her own right, the real deal, her sartorial choices were merely a mirror of this inner assuredness. A flicker of Carolyn passed my mind, her getting ready for an event; her Yohji Yamamoto armor attire in place, putting on her red lipstick to face the pack of photographers outside, a cacophony of shutters and flashing lights. It occurred to me that she wasn’t reclaiming her power in front of the cameras or to the public, she never needed too, she always had it. —"CBK: Carolyn Bessette Kennedy: A Life in Fashion" (2023) by Sunita Kumar Nair</div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-70928435389552896402023-10-28T22:56:00.048+02:002023-10-29T18:59:56.766+01:00"From Under My Hat" (1952) by Hedda Hopper<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-M0ZLkqnyw7kB3zigVbGqWzVQBCQbs_Z7PIW3o6ryvRLgAgWdaFYSjnW-jZ2m1HRQtOs21Y1087BGYbpnDDhl-5dv5SqYzfScjntTvnrARdumM6njZnZlYJ2-25L0fp8tqBm_jl92cqifjokrnZETt2sB4wsw69-Zs9o-9dtyeob-EE4u45u1w/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1198" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-M0ZLkqnyw7kB3zigVbGqWzVQBCQbs_Z7PIW3o6ryvRLgAgWdaFYSjnW-jZ2m1HRQtOs21Y1087BGYbpnDDhl-5dv5SqYzfScjntTvnrARdumM6njZnZlYJ2-25L0fp8tqBm_jl92cqifjokrnZETt2sB4wsw69-Zs9o-9dtyeob-EE4u45u1w/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After John Barrymore had married Elaine Barrie, and I had become a Hollywood columnist, Mitch Leisen gave me a call to come to Paramount and be a member of his gang—Claudette Colbert, Jack Barrymore, Don Ameche, Elaine Barrie, and Billy Daniel—in a little opus called <i>Midnight </i>(1939). When I got the phone call I ran and I was there before the contract was dry. In <i>Midnight</i> I was a rather nice character (Stephanie) for a change. The engagement was pure joy from start to finish because of Barrymore’s fund of stories. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7lZy5QYMMLGK6Eq7-uB3Bd2UGJQz93IlqKVxJqHpbHXvP6Uh0MIjHlYIWQ4kjHD3tdFnXojl-T5wXz-n0tO9Oq5FV97owKNx1XCnXYFFYEyBy4AeSJ6OnJguzM-SQaZ0FYWjvNWtuYxXHVmrG93ZucDIuQhsf5NmNuw3EyUO7Uyxctpoqv67DQ/s1473/winning_of_barbara_worth_A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1227" data-original-width="1473" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7lZy5QYMMLGK6Eq7-uB3Bd2UGJQz93IlqKVxJqHpbHXvP6Uh0MIjHlYIWQ4kjHD3tdFnXojl-T5wXz-n0tO9Oq5FV97owKNx1XCnXYFFYEyBy4AeSJ6OnJguzM-SQaZ0FYWjvNWtuYxXHVmrG93ZucDIuQhsf5NmNuw3EyUO7Uyxctpoqv67DQ/s320/winning_of_barbara_worth_A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Frances Marion wrote <i>The Winning of Barbara Worth </i>(1926),<i> </i>which starred Vilma Banky and Ronald Colman. As she was going into Sam Goldwyn’s office for a story conference she noticed a rugged young man dressed like a cowboy leaning against the wall of the studio building. He was talking through the open window to Sam’s secretary. He was Marion’s type, she gave him a second look, and as she went through the door even risked a third. Inside, Sam was raging. He had been failed by his minions! The cast was assembled—all except a young steel-spring type to play the cowboy. How could he get star material without paying a fortune? Sam demanded. Whom could he get anyhow? Frances said, “I can get you a young man who won’t cost much—he looks like good material to me.” “Who?” Sam demanded suspiciously. “Hold your horses, Sam. I’ll let you know in five minutes.” Frances went out and said to the secretary, “Does that young man want to act?” </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjszeaIro_sGf2SShqrVEz3DygwdE5qxiU1xQQFGm2myogJrfIEDerpFpHzhM-hlA12g2QpLgtl4Q-zIsy-7k3QNKpKMCTIufIDTfnm8u7Gao72qgcGnksDPRGFT5DKXpXFWHgbkLNwok9aWH8LphQT_-QhA3ynSBPmeaXZ-0Z-N_x7L-SgLIVeA/s1500/Annex%20-%20Cooper,%20Gary%20(Winning%20of%20Barbara%20Worth,%20The)_01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1182" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjszeaIro_sGf2SShqrVEz3DygwdE5qxiU1xQQFGm2myogJrfIEDerpFpHzhM-hlA12g2QpLgtl4Q-zIsy-7k3QNKpKMCTIufIDTfnm8u7Gao72qgcGnksDPRGFT5DKXpXFWHgbkLNwok9aWH8LphQT_-QhA3ynSBPmeaXZ-0Z-N_x7L-SgLIVeA/s320/Annex%20-%20Cooper,%20Gary%20(Winning%20of%20Barbara%20Worth,%20The)_01.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’ve heard a dozen people claim to have discovered him. Sure he would have been found eventually. Frances just beat everyone to it. His name was Gary Cooper. Some spy at Paramount saw the preview of<i> The Winning of Barbara Worth</i>. When it came time to make <i>Children of Divorce </i>(1927), with Clara Bow, they needed such a man as Cooper. He was sent for, interviewed, interviewed, and opined that he’d sure like to take a whack at it. Director Frank Lloyd said okay. It’s one of the few instances of Sam Goldwyn letting the other fellow get ahead of him. To this day he’ll thank you not to remind him that he was caught flat-footed. Throughout the years he’s had Coop in many pictures, but it still gripes him to think he let him get away without even a struggle. During the second day’s shooting I took Coop off-set and said, “You don’t know me from Adam’s ox, but I have a son—you remind me of him. He’d feel as you do having to play a silly scene like this. But why let it scare you? It’s not a matter of life or death—only celluloid. They’ve got plenty more to put in that box. Relax, boy! Get that poker out of your spinal column.” I even took him by the shoulders and shook him. He shuddered. “I can’t. I never did things like this.” </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcNf5ZY44cXIzZm2sSpw0cjtZSt1ipUfUdupShVSPZ9Q0MXf23eXukvTtFQNRKXDJjSSSlFfMVs_GjuTzD9ZzWLAvJRnaZfVaglBRpsLecqxybF3KuOanjsEhgo346xdmlMNaAd7daiwcoZbVaw1gPTga4MRBWEA0jCZswtrRXpvivykgKigF0OQ/s1200/oie_9214830MYKiJ8Qh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="947" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcNf5ZY44cXIzZm2sSpw0cjtZSt1ipUfUdupShVSPZ9Q0MXf23eXukvTtFQNRKXDJjSSSlFfMVs_GjuTzD9ZzWLAvJRnaZfVaglBRpsLecqxybF3KuOanjsEhgo346xdmlMNaAd7daiwcoZbVaw1gPTga4MRBWEA0jCZswtrRXpvivykgKigF0OQ/s320/oie_9214830MYKiJ8Qh.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Relax he could not, and Frank Lloyd, the gentlest of men, began to lose his temper. Clara Bow already had lost hers. I liked Cooper from the start, and said to Frank, “Look. There’s only one way you’ll ever get that guy through this picture. Get him into a romantic clinch with Clara. She’ll relax him—she’s the only one who can.” “Okay,” said Frank. “Go to work on it—it’s your idea.” “Who, me? My business is acting.” Too often my ideas turned and bit me! Yet the idea intrigued me, so I started to work on Clara. The idea shocked her out of a year’s growth. “Me—fall in love with that gawky lout who can’t act and never will learn?” Then she yelped, “Where did they find him, anyway?” “They lassoed him on the range in Montana,” I said, “and he’s pretty hot stuff. He’s going to be a star, too, you mark my words. It rushes." Even though Gary’s acting was horrible, they detected something on the screen. What Cooper had on screen, even then, was an inward force, a smoldering something. You felt, “Golly, if the guy ever opens up and lets go, he’ll singe the celluloid!” You still feel it in some of his scenes, but as Al Jolson might have said, “You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.” </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrdW235GDKOvraGVkv9ubh1Xlv6RKQTEioHytwYydz7BVgw0IpuOb23JzUCcZib8RgiuQIFY_Ot8Lsq5hYlK6g7hlMoJe1TAF6kQ4M9oGT_FixAT-DlwxNx6bTnN-CMUwyUQVkv2Sy0fWdE9OdFd-v8OxCTdB7oSxF1aL5Fv5smXmRNi1dYqpo9w/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1303" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrdW235GDKOvraGVkv9ubh1Xlv6RKQTEioHytwYydz7BVgw0IpuOb23JzUCcZib8RgiuQIFY_Ot8Lsq5hYlK6g7hlMoJe1TAF6kQ4M9oGT_FixAT-DlwxNx6bTnN-CMUwyUQVkv2Sy0fWdE9OdFd-v8OxCTdB7oSxF1aL5Fv5smXmRNi1dYqpo9w/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The big aviation news of ’27 was Charles A. Lindbergh. After his breath-taking flight across the Atlantic, he came to Los Angeles and was given a party at the Ambassador Hotel, with Marion Davies as hostess. Marion Davies’ secretary, “Bill” Williams, happened by and yelled, “Hey! You belong inside.” I shook my head and pointed to my companions. “Bring ’em along.” I needed no more urging. The room was packed with stars, so I grabbed a small table and sat with my back to the crowd so Bill could watch the celebrities. When Charles Lindberg arrived, I put Bill in my place in the receiving line to shake the hero’s hand, and for twenty-four hours couldn’t get my son to wash his hands. I didn’t blame him; I felt the same way. When we pushed our way into the hotel lobby we learned that Lindbergh was upstairs talking to Mr. Hearst. My admiration for Lindberg has never diminished, even when he was purged by F.D.R. I believed Lindbergh, not our President.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHehiD3H0yUwOuNbmNRuT9aWPWt-58S0LCPEG-9KbpADdkmT-V5fvbQWqTvyc6f3tBebmTvlY_goZUb6V6LUakJACcb6Yra6VATlHzv1UowpPlBuRCHKxeoHhjIYItfk7xGEtYZwCGWT48qsKr7w8SS4HJWNn73333VPE5-kEJ1DxQrXxAY82iPg/s640/Marion_CCP_FIGX_WFP-MAR091.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="522" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHehiD3H0yUwOuNbmNRuT9aWPWt-58S0LCPEG-9KbpADdkmT-V5fvbQWqTvyc6f3tBebmTvlY_goZUb6V6LUakJACcb6Yra6VATlHzv1UowpPlBuRCHKxeoHhjIYItfk7xGEtYZwCGWT48qsKr7w8SS4HJWNn73333VPE5-kEJ1DxQrXxAY82iPg/s320/Marion_CCP_FIGX_WFP-MAR091.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I ecstatically phoned Frances Marion at San Simeon, where she was visiting Marion Davies and William Randolph Hearst. Living in that cradle of luxury had changed Frances’ perspective. John Gilbert had begged Greta Garbo in vain to marry him. He even had a suite of rooms arranged in his house for her. According to hearsay, the black marble bathroom set him back fifteen thousand dollars. When it was finished he showed it to her. Later he described how she put her slender, beautiful hands over her eyes and murmured, “The marble—it is too shiny—” John Gilbert said he brought in workmen with chisels, who fluted the marble to take the shine off. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj42VigB5w4aWYCXSDUR74UENOyH_R1xAr-pwl7ft_7Kq-ZYcyCXeGx_QThbtef6DLlqTj219rZqMeG4akdTgqIA_ZKExvGmCUxHolrPRin07jM4YAoPEh2FqEFFpqFIHdB8IbxGhWEm7pfmMhhek9cwVzkGL-xl9X4RiQfSt1n7qOYNgZN1K5HQA/s907/s-l1600%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="680" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj42VigB5w4aWYCXSDUR74UENOyH_R1xAr-pwl7ft_7Kq-ZYcyCXeGx_QThbtef6DLlqTj219rZqMeG4akdTgqIA_ZKExvGmCUxHolrPRin07jM4YAoPEh2FqEFFpqFIHdB8IbxGhWEm7pfmMhhek9cwVzkGL-xl9X4RiQfSt1n7qOYNgZN1K5HQA/s320/s-l1600%20(1).jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Gilbert fell in love with Garbo. It would have been hard not to do so. Lionel Barrymore, in his book <i>We Barrymores,</i> says she “had the true nimbus of greatness; but she was difficult to understand." Gilbert was so hurt over Garbo’s refusal to marry him that when the famous stage star Ina Claire came to town to make a picture, he began wooing her like mad almost the minute he met her. In the beginning I think the idea was to make Garbo jealous, but he misjudged the distance. I don’t believe Garbo has ever been jealous of anybody or anything in her whole life. Perhaps she was as surprised as the rest of us, therefore, when we got the news that Ina and Jack had eloped to Las Vegas.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01NDoX1qtDw4tLhnCooLsvhFGGuP5o2flH1WtJuuhGA49ux-B3W0OtbLnrQej-umXyW_EyRSa1vhLIYwBSg84T5Ljze1fjcdjdMvz6KSUfCyaPp7CMHqy8tQKBOeUxvwXV0yTOobG8qF7SVgTp7ag_N8c3Iv1mRxZy9GzEKSohKczgpjDz3tjfg/s1036/s-l1600%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="790" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01NDoX1qtDw4tLhnCooLsvhFGGuP5o2flH1WtJuuhGA49ux-B3W0OtbLnrQej-umXyW_EyRSa1vhLIYwBSg84T5Ljze1fjcdjdMvz6KSUfCyaPp7CMHqy8tQKBOeUxvwXV0yTOobG8qF7SVgTp7ag_N8c3Iv1mRxZy9GzEKSohKczgpjDz3tjfg/s320/s-l1600%20(1).jpg" width="244" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Things started rosy for me that year of 1929. I had a contract at a good salary and was making money in the stock market. I heard the shocking news over the radio before receiving a telephone call from my broker, Eliot Gibbons, who said, “It’s a washout, Hedda—everything’s gone. You haven’t a penny. I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, the boat you’re in is crowded.” It was no consolation. Then I did something I haven’t been able to explain. I walked to the bookshelves, found my Oxford Book of English Verse, went to my bedroom, locked the door, sat down, thumbed through the pages till I came to<i> Ode to a Skylark</i> by Percy Bysshe Shelley and read it straight through.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0VFYLZXo1iP0BM5t7y7ENUc4cU-lDdlt9s0Iyhu_1noLtxMzX6I0vvYOmepn_Nj-O47FH9ehwaa9_N0lArfiX-_24qSRHzQJ75JX9SSbntCVCMxibqOrFe6Rr4CQM9IUPOYey5FWwFoEqkwKQWDENaFEvltsEX4sfRsbmbZcru6CsAAKSlNacw/s1600/s-l1600%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0VFYLZXo1iP0BM5t7y7ENUc4cU-lDdlt9s0Iyhu_1noLtxMzX6I0vvYOmepn_Nj-O47FH9ehwaa9_N0lArfiX-_24qSRHzQJ75JX9SSbntCVCMxibqOrFe6Rr4CQM9IUPOYey5FWwFoEqkwKQWDENaFEvltsEX4sfRsbmbZcru6CsAAKSlNacw/s320/s-l1600%20(5).jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Marion Davies was on the line. “Will you come up to Wyntoon for a visit?” I said, “Thank you, Marion, I will.” Hours later I was on the train. Mr. Hearst’s mother had built Wyntoon, which looked for all the world like a castle on the Rhine. It took shelter under the long shadow of Mount Shasta, and rising behind the house was a virgin forest of pine trees. The air had a special elixir, born in the bluish folds of snow-capped peaks. Marion took the girls shopping at I. Magnin’s, and before she finished all six of us had new coats, dresses, hats, shoes, gloves, and bags. Marion loved to shop for her friends. Soon after we reached home, Wyntoon had burned down. A watchman had been left to guard things. Maybe a cigarette had fallen in the wrong place. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FBWimw8vV2JJIEHLtTbxyFWs5OmMX4nCnjhMyBKzaHBX9M_OTSXE164te5YIStNCQOLAtqMxCiUcaoVFKVE_bGCzAz2Sbt9CBr2ps96rhWB4KjmHdervJoGAIgApdjFyYzB7EqTnDzIObdavbDsJehlJkUqf3jIJoF6TkcYAqRNb0sccEdDocw/s594/gettyimages-526898854-594x594.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="594" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FBWimw8vV2JJIEHLtTbxyFWs5OmMX4nCnjhMyBKzaHBX9M_OTSXE164te5YIStNCQOLAtqMxCiUcaoVFKVE_bGCzAz2Sbt9CBr2ps96rhWB4KjmHdervJoGAIgApdjFyYzB7EqTnDzIObdavbDsJehlJkUqf3jIJoF6TkcYAqRNb0sccEdDocw/s320/gettyimages-526898854-594x594.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I had a hunch that shenanigans like these put Dick Powell off Marion's company as much as her long romance with WR Hearst. Although I wasn't exactly bosom buddies with Powell, due to his allegiance to Louella, I knew enough about him through Marion's confidences. She talked of him in very lofty terms, saying he was an old-fashioned gentleman and a sweet young actor. I think they had a flickering, secret relationship that lasted until 1935; one of those hurried romances that Marion was so fond of having like her champagne parties. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2PCAVuy30-zwexSPXKEODBWq6WIAm7W0HshpNWc5quUZneDt2OeeuzGiaA_HSzzopSEaCjS3qS2se-pZhe8i-pJpeY2bjxrFxTBNTLXvyodT0GH2xLvdFhybKrnOAX97XRj7-pHPZunH7tRgUCA7A-o0K6p3s7GSXoUEPcd4t8jUb03ZLA9d5A/s1358/Image-front-cover_rb_modalcover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1358" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2PCAVuy30-zwexSPXKEODBWq6WIAm7W0HshpNWc5quUZneDt2OeeuzGiaA_HSzzopSEaCjS3qS2se-pZhe8i-pJpeY2bjxrFxTBNTLXvyodT0GH2xLvdFhybKrnOAX97XRj7-pHPZunH7tRgUCA7A-o0K6p3s7GSXoUEPcd4t8jUb03ZLA9d5A/s320/Image-front-cover_rb_modalcover.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Eight weeks after my column started, Ida Koverman, then assistant to Mr. Big Louis B. Mayer, gave a hen party for me, which meant she was putting her stamp of approval on my new activity. She invited every female in town—Norma Shearer, Jeanette MacDonald, Rosa Ponselle, Claudette Colbert, Joan Crawford, Sophie Tucker—they all came. All but one exception—Louella Parsons. At Paramount Studios, Marlene Dietrich, Claudette Colbert, Carole Lombard, Joan Crawford, Norma Shearer and Kay Francis competed for parts as sophisticated women.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzC2UHVgTXfELAOsjOxyOM_45eoFSAGMCpwPMQ6cBGKQLxHGYa9V961ftUeY699PZsx6L6si6gV_r6KPQPcht8Xbw6TJpu10qKdNQvT9Aw7FPA6XM-tj2v9NasI0kYvGjVTb00J_uCCbyxyFnd1pwvD3U4P23U0zqV4RgruvYhTleyEB_a1ni5-w/s640/Screen%20Shot%202015-10-24%20at%204.08.04%20PM.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="640" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzC2UHVgTXfELAOsjOxyOM_45eoFSAGMCpwPMQ6cBGKQLxHGYa9V961ftUeY699PZsx6L6si6gV_r6KPQPcht8Xbw6TJpu10qKdNQvT9Aw7FPA6XM-tj2v9NasI0kYvGjVTb00J_uCCbyxyFnd1pwvD3U4P23U0zqV4RgruvYhTleyEB_a1ni5-w/s320/Screen%20Shot%202015-10-24%20at%204.08.04%20PM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When Joan Crawford turned out what I thought was her best performance in <i>Mildred Pierce</i>, I was the first to write that she should be rewarded with an Oscar. I knew about Joan’s early life—her ambitions, loves, disappointments. Many lesser actresses, who hadn’t given half her service, had received Academy Awards. I don’t say my plugging got her the Oscar, but it certainly didn’t hurt her. First news she made after winning was her divorce from Phil Terry. Louella got the story exclusively. Later I heard that Joan had said, “After all, Hedda’s my friend. She’ll understand.” I didn’t. We’ve since made up, but I never will understand why friendship isn’t a two-way street.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0-Xwh5IJjddr0pdr6T2h9ArQXOkPeMwOGyeMjEr5lI-Q_oMQ2nogsJ6HPdUFbI_8HTBgE3cJ4tjB5HVLYOHB5JnVKyRSk0pKuXiDoYZTnw_z14V5dnrHpprm4vogkbxT8Zb3IO6UNgt8NIFZRV6k1NcD8yHeVb3gvZ49bvAtvm_764Qnk113QA/s965/s-l1600%20-%202023-10-25T054024.758.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="965" data-original-width="703" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0-Xwh5IJjddr0pdr6T2h9ArQXOkPeMwOGyeMjEr5lI-Q_oMQ2nogsJ6HPdUFbI_8HTBgE3cJ4tjB5HVLYOHB5JnVKyRSk0pKuXiDoYZTnw_z14V5dnrHpprm4vogkbxT8Zb3IO6UNgt8NIFZRV6k1NcD8yHeVb3gvZ49bvAtvm_764Qnk113QA/s320/s-l1600%20-%202023-10-25T054024.758.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes, in my eagerness to help, I went too far. Joan Blondell needed a job when I happened to see her standing beside Benny Thau, a top MGM executive, at a cocktail bar one evening. I didn’t hesitate to put the bite on Thau. “Why don’t you give that sassy part in Clark Gable’s picture <i>Adventure</i> to Joan?” I asked. “She’s perfect for it.” He’d think about it, said Benny. The following morning he called me: “You sure put me on the spot last night. But I thought you’d be glad to know you got results. I’ve given Joan the part. If you hadn’t mentioned it before her, I never would have thought of her.” Joan Blondell, no introvert, when she came to Hollywood after a stopover in Las Vegas, she came by my house. Naturally we got on the subject of gambling. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOec3l_0pDwBJPfDUtdRGNIxHXc4tg5b1tl-MeCfzqBcz_lIIcX-m-PHQCkbhiDzNtTCcoHHxgIKDbbvKi7AGrbeyLipeWlw0Ckp-4GrpeAv25xKIIc8Cqip-PRaq5uPbU__WVl3NCRyhaTwVVanxoL9kCSJk6XkzJFwWqpkNh7Z_-k6vtQerLw/s760/s-l1600%20-%202023-10-25T053940.241.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOec3l_0pDwBJPfDUtdRGNIxHXc4tg5b1tl-MeCfzqBcz_lIIcX-m-PHQCkbhiDzNtTCcoHHxgIKDbbvKi7AGrbeyLipeWlw0Ckp-4GrpeAv25xKIIc8Cqip-PRaq5uPbU__WVl3NCRyhaTwVVanxoL9kCSJk6XkzJFwWqpkNh7Z_-k6vtQerLw/s320/s-l1600%20-%202023-10-25T053940.241.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>Joan said she’d never cared much about betting. Years ago while she was in Las Vegas with some friends who were losing their shirts she wandered from table to table, just to watch. An employee at a crap table said, “Come on, try a couple of throws. Risk ten bucks. It won’t hurt you.” She wound up losing over seven hundred dollars. She also lost his marriage to crooner and industry maverick Dick Powell. I knew Joan had a crush on Clark Gable, whose reign as "The King of Hollywood" had ended in 1942, after having enlisted in the air force. When Joan Blondell made <i>Adventure</i> (which was released December 28, 1945), she had already applied for divorce from Powell, so it was a sure bet she would finally have her "adventure" with Gable. The film earned a profit for MGM of $478,000 (more than $6 million worldwide according to studio records), but <i>Adventure </i>was a sound critical failure. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrXtZVC-T1TK7A05pKe-8WmHgMj2W45xk7vjZ6QURbLnh6bHWC6-vATEm_oDgoH3cQMlSgfAwyUAZmAW_J5JNc-k4T0RC9ADL9CaRAQL3JVFHcQdEaxPRmNmwfRSALc6HRC0R9St1G1w-conT6WEZ_qC7XcLY5ezoUSDuvtBd4m5UkL_XATaMjw/s732/0_uOU635WlkHFDbuqW.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="732" data-original-width="586" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrXtZVC-T1TK7A05pKe-8WmHgMj2W45xk7vjZ6QURbLnh6bHWC6-vATEm_oDgoH3cQMlSgfAwyUAZmAW_J5JNc-k4T0RC9ADL9CaRAQL3JVFHcQdEaxPRmNmwfRSALc6HRC0R9St1G1w-conT6WEZ_qC7XcLY5ezoUSDuvtBd4m5UkL_XATaMjw/s320/0_uOU635WlkHFDbuqW.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jimmy Stewart attracted my attention at the first reading. When it was over, I tracked him outside and said, “Why aren’t you in Hollywood?” “For what?” he said. “Pictures, of course.” He laughed in that usual embarrassed way of his, saying ruefully, “Waal, what would they do with this puss of mine? It’s no Arrow-collar ad.” I said: “You’re an actor. They could fix the rest. Pictures need a young actor with sincerity. I believe you’d do well.” Jimmy laughed it off. The play<i> Divided by Three</i>, with Judith Anderson and Jimmy Stewart, was produced by Guthrie MeClintic and had its rehearsals in New Haven. It was evident during rehearsals that Jimmy’s acting would get the sympathy of the audience and he’d steal the notices. So Guthrie came up with something. At the end of act two the action called for Jimmy to bring his fiancée home to meet his parents and the family’s best friend. Jimmy was to learn that the friend was his mother’s lover. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsowHxi8DpGIroipgxYBDNTxtIAf46Qvz4fE1birsr3jaXkMWLaNAET_bfyHQoupFHUYNbu7xVQgYVNpa2_o4oYOo0hdibS1M45iw3mg4ac4Odj7xkogBJlEHV9Tx0TavS_FgxwuyDioEDvPqqjNGtjQtvUFokrszhIIHArKESaOSKkvb6f1OycQ/s2125/Annex_-_Stewart,_James_(Call_Northside_777)_01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2125" data-original-width="1682" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsowHxi8DpGIroipgxYBDNTxtIAf46Qvz4fE1birsr3jaXkMWLaNAET_bfyHQoupFHUYNbu7xVQgYVNpa2_o4oYOo0hdibS1M45iw3mg4ac4Odj7xkogBJlEHV9Tx0TavS_FgxwuyDioEDvPqqjNGtjQtvUFokrszhIIHArKESaOSKkvb6f1OycQ/s320/Annex_-_Stewart,_James_(Call_Northside_777)_01.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jimmy fell apart. He begged to be let out of the play. “I can’t do that, Mr. McClintic,” he said. “Under no circumstances could I bring myself to call any woman that—and my mother, never! Especially with the girl I love standing beside me.” “Try it out anyway at the dress rehearsal, Jimmy,” McClintic said soothingly. I remember that opening night in New York between the second and third acts when George Kaufman paced up nervously. I arranged for a fifteen-minute excerpt from the play to be put on NBC, thinking it might give it a boost. The stage manager obtained Miss Judith Anderson’s consent and delivered it to the Algonquin Hotel where Jimmy Stewart and I waited. All the curves were thrown in <i>Divided by Three,</i> written by Peggy Pulitzer (born Margaret Leech, married to wealthy Ralph Pulitzer). It was a cinch the line would be at opening night in New York. That one line [you are a bitch!] killed Jimmy Stewart’s chances for success onstage. While the play itself wasn’t good, its chances were finished by that additional line. <span face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">—</span>Source: "From Under My Hat" (1952) by Hedda Hopper</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-75281963681626180122023-10-27T12:49:00.004+02:002023-10-27T12:52:58.659+02:00"Once Upon a Time: The Captivating Life of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy" (new book)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfSkwhba68TRTDNO6A6Q3hvKqRoXNCRcbiubmRALCrKcdeE_hO_fVJ5rzm0c9msA9ivocMM9Y9EfFVzR8GlIKJse62Mp1GPZ1p7M7ljVpzt3D1QcNAS5oL-cZSY1AYlHtCDOf-Dw1_mL4BinKIB4abX67vxzT-Ty8LOf-vbpUQuiZr2h9AAsggA/s1500/71M42uWbSjL._SL1500_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="994" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfSkwhba68TRTDNO6A6Q3hvKqRoXNCRcbiubmRALCrKcdeE_hO_fVJ5rzm0c9msA9ivocMM9Y9EfFVzR8GlIKJse62Mp1GPZ1p7M7ljVpzt3D1QcNAS5oL-cZSY1AYlHtCDOf-Dw1_mL4BinKIB4abX67vxzT-Ty8LOf-vbpUQuiZr2h9AAsggA/s320/71M42uWbSjL._SL1500_.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The life and legacy of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, wife of John F. Kennedy Jr., are reexamined in this captivating and effervescent biography that is perfect for fans of <i>My Travels with Mrs. Kennedy, What Remains, </i>and <i>Fairy Tale Interrupted.</i> A quarter of a century after the plane crash that claimed the lives of John F. Kennedy Jr., his wife Carolyn, and sister-in-law Lauren, the magnitude of this tragedy remains fresh. Yet, Carolyn is still an enigmatic figure, a woman whose short life in the spotlight was besieged with misogyny and cruelty. Amidst today’s cultural reckoning about the way our media treats women, Elizabeth Beller explores the real person behind the tabloid headlines and media frenzy. When she began dating America’s prince, Carolyn was increasingly thrust into an overwhelming spotlight filled with relentless paparazzi who reacted to her reserve with a campaign of harassment and vilification.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57wVYILiQNcjnlhpdxyJ6Hq7b3qo8DMZT1bYtcoLjCfZ1k9oCNZGLMhR7u9xkdwSiNTmeIuG2l4tcsAPtzAiK3jsrYwtUnWFCiUupKqV9sEh24r2hcOfIUtVTo03VQxSCzfI9TC6yBn6r-jeWZEZ7NjfCSO5z9z9oZl0NDEYzGCLPmCHNUF5ihg/s320/2d6d69416c31b146957fc522832c83b2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="320" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57wVYILiQNcjnlhpdxyJ6Hq7b3qo8DMZT1bYtcoLjCfZ1k9oCNZGLMhR7u9xkdwSiNTmeIuG2l4tcsAPtzAiK3jsrYwtUnWFCiUupKqV9sEh24r2hcOfIUtVTo03VQxSCzfI9TC6yBn6r-jeWZEZ7NjfCSO5z9z9oZl0NDEYzGCLPmCHNUF5ihg/s1600/2d6d69416c31b146957fc522832c83b2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To this day, she is still depicted as a privileged princess—icy, vapid, and drug-addicted. She has even been accused of being responsible for their untimely death, allegedly delaying take-off until she finished her pedicure. But now, she is revealed as never before. A fiercely independent woman devoted to her adopted city and career, Carolyn relied on her impeccable eye and drive to fly up the ranks at Calvin Klein in the glossy, high-stakes fashion world of the 1990s. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolq498BNnwAuCusC6YYn2sB8PrrXBCxp0l8_XwNes4uRxFQBjmSx4YPFj4nC7lGUBmKwFkIC8NrOfluruVdc1nT2DQE1YUMzTPxlTpL45FzN_0T1cB2CwcQ0eEit8rulqf13kmcgY8qJ9EzNRVvbKicwYrf_lavLLtX1GTlyO_KQ8pZcXxTeieQ/s1169/395420374_2681996171957938_1159602959415161029_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1169" data-original-width="923" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolq498BNnwAuCusC6YYn2sB8PrrXBCxp0l8_XwNes4uRxFQBjmSx4YPFj4nC7lGUBmKwFkIC8NrOfluruVdc1nT2DQE1YUMzTPxlTpL45FzN_0T1cB2CwcQ0eEit8rulqf13kmcgY8qJ9EzNRVvbKicwYrf_lavLLtX1GTlyO_KQ8pZcXxTeieQ/s320/395420374_2681996171957938_1159602959415161029_n.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When Carolyn met her future husband, John was immediately drawn to her strong-willed personality, effortless charm, and high intelligence. Their relationship would change her life and catapult her to dizzying fame, but it was her vibrant life before their marriage and then hidden afterwards, that is truly fascinating. Based on in-depth research and exclusive interviews with friends, family members, teachers, roommates, and colleagues, this comprehensive biography reveals a multi-faceted woman worthy of our attention regardless of her husband and untimely death. Release date: May, 21, 2024. Source: www.amazon.com</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-47340949785752807272023-10-19T01:51:00.008+02:002023-10-19T01:58:49.826+02:00In the backseat of "99 River Street" and "Taxi Driver" (70th Anniversary of "99 River Street")<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPjJyHcUkUjgFrSE-vNmAsgp8lgdGP4M2PRJ-SCGrMt2tZWLoYLzgIVe9_35ff4R5RIpVsJCQgwQpFsAyJ6BwMJy238LpnmMTLNDNoOJwk9P8EVL_ZCyVjpI3jMFIjp-_H5qmDTQuTRuTUL842khFJv27YmayQ66CuzpzIwTDYgT1ZwyZxc0gcw/s640/99%20River%20Street%20(1953)%20John%20Payne%20Eng.avi_001115739.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPjJyHcUkUjgFrSE-vNmAsgp8lgdGP4M2PRJ-SCGrMt2tZWLoYLzgIVe9_35ff4R5RIpVsJCQgwQpFsAyJ6BwMJy238LpnmMTLNDNoOJwk9P8EVL_ZCyVjpI3jMFIjp-_H5qmDTQuTRuTUL842khFJv27YmayQ66CuzpzIwTDYgT1ZwyZxc0gcw/s320/99%20River%20Street%20(1953)%20John%20Payne%20Eng.avi_001115739.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In <i>99 River Street</i> (1953), directed by Phil Karlson (an underrated filmmaker who exposed crudely the American underworld's polluted atmosphere in the fifties with <i>Scandal Sheet, Kansas City Confidential, The Phenix City Story,</i> etc. We'll analyze two similar stories in the backseat of this underworld. Ernie Driscoll (John Payne) is a washed-up boxer who lost his latest bout in the 7th round, when he was on the verge of becoming a heavyweight champion. As a result of that terrible match, he received in his right eye a pronounced injury so he had to abandon the boxing ring and he's now working as a taxi driver (the same occupation that Scorsese's antihero played by Robert De Niro in <i>Taxi Driver</i> in 1976).</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjwStOn8aodHA9n3L6TAHaHKmGjAuA21aNEO-urxbJovRepjGW08zaVsi42izdRXDH2EmQzZaZ3VE1xfXpXiDTB2tzvak9uUsAyxbXgrxHSfC73nramgohWLcFUjmIK0rAx2sk4WNe7VFeB5Js0pxU43i4AkkWXR_1bfaS7ZDqysNcAVMiuffdqQ/s450/99RiverStreet05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="450" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjwStOn8aodHA9n3L6TAHaHKmGjAuA21aNEO-urxbJovRepjGW08zaVsi42izdRXDH2EmQzZaZ3VE1xfXpXiDTB2tzvak9uUsAyxbXgrxHSfC73nramgohWLcFUjmIK0rAx2sk4WNe7VFeB5Js0pxU43i4AkkWXR_1bfaS7ZDqysNcAVMiuffdqQ/s320/99RiverStreet05.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ernie's wife Pauline (Peggie Castle), who craves the high life of mink coats and diamonds, berates him constantly for what she views as poor ambitions for their future. Ernie is saving up to quit his taxi. His goal is to open a gas station. Pauline has been seduced by a slick gangster (Victor Rawlins, played by Brad Dexter) who is an accomplice to a jewelry robbery valued at $50.000.<i> 99 River Street</i> opens on a magnificent boxing sequence, filmed through raw close-ups and a sequence from Ernie's brilliant past. His adversary's blows slam his brain; the knockout punch mercilessly damages his optical nerve. He's been married to Pauline for four not-so-happy years, and she's run out of patience with Ernie. She aspires to leave her job as a clerk in a flower shop and dreams of a cozy life in Paris.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7b6nYxQycn7ET0iX6UEK8WzVO_iiFyzNOK7FhX4V7GxNCAO6zcOF7jjvN6G1FB8ONhVDVaIIe7Q3hPsAqXI650Lzqbo__DuerZg9dOV7ADFoTdBnbPP0lahCEL-nqQ6-mO34wzH1-BGFI7ik0eEuqtQN9xzvW4gxubj5F8LSTg7GHSf9AFpy9Q/s802/s-l1600%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7b6nYxQycn7ET0iX6UEK8WzVO_iiFyzNOK7FhX4V7GxNCAO6zcOF7jjvN6G1FB8ONhVDVaIIe7Q3hPsAqXI650Lzqbo__DuerZg9dOV7ADFoTdBnbPP0lahCEL-nqQ6-mO34wzH1-BGFI7ik0eEuqtQN9xzvW4gxubj5F8LSTg7GHSf9AFpy9Q/s320/s-l1600%20(2).jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fearful that his marriage is coming to an end (he loved her once, but he'll admit later: "It fell apart"), Ernie looks for advice from his cabbie pal Stan Hogan (played emphatically by Frank Faylen). Stan realizes Ernie's mind is irremediably mired in discontent and exasperation, so he suggests Ernie sweet-talk Pauline into having a baby. Ernie's eyes fill with sad perplexity before replying dryly: "Sure, I'd like a boy like yours." More tense moments will appear throughout the film, ensembling a sombre portrait, interlacing seemingly intrusive scenes: When Ernie comes back to Paulman's gymnasium with the purpose of asking Pop Durkee for his approval of a possible comeback to the ring, it’s rather painful to observe. In another scene, we see Ernie soaked in a cold-sweat, unleashing his blinding anger on a shady character.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5VuTgdE94Z9Bhm2qrm-RNQ3IHvB2wh1AB-PotmsI-PF8NslbWNnHeQRaM6hJ9-TJMfxkpLL-Uo1MkpB6d4HDN6nbARJkU21QfEY7B9tUB9jlKPb80FmyrdP2U8vjQTgAIDUYTlSj9oYr6KlLoeN0Oim4VgVb1MXb7lTmkzKjOH30URn0r-tEiVA/s958/255041951_10226495697156561_3255317974261498289_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="771" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5VuTgdE94Z9Bhm2qrm-RNQ3IHvB2wh1AB-PotmsI-PF8NslbWNnHeQRaM6hJ9-TJMfxkpLL-Uo1MkpB6d4HDN6nbARJkU21QfEY7B9tUB9jlKPb80FmyrdP2U8vjQTgAIDUYTlSj9oYr6KlLoeN0Oim4VgVb1MXb7lTmkzKjOH30URn0r-tEiVA/s320/255041951_10226495697156561_3255317974261498289_n.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And then there's the delusory theatre scene with his love interest Linda (Evelyn Keyes), who embarks on his taxi intending for a personal victory. The cast makes terrifying justice playing wicked characters that exist in a world of distorting shadows: Peggie Castle, Jack Lambert, Brad Dexter and Jay Adler. Tracking their urbane nightmare, these shadows threaten to obliterate Ernie and Linda's frenzied ride across the city. The dim lights flicker amidst the umbrae like Driscoll's twitchy eye. Ernie is blunt explaining to an ashamed Linda: "Do you see that? That's a fighter's fist. It's dangerous, it can kill somebody, so when a fighter is arrested they don't fine him on the street, they put him in jail, and throw out the key". Some memorable encounters with greedy Broadway producers, and the final assault against Rawlins at the New Jersey's docks, expunge vitiated memoirs (that have plagued and rendered Ernie socially numb) from his garbled system.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZtjQDABQa4o_MxeH7R5ocFmwyJgFDt3wWmP9h12IqLPl2hZX3L6dP7EenYjQZqu_ZRz1zR4OzxLbQt11Z-Qhanq3Ukj243cgHxOG04TsMXOVhE2XDi6Rimv-UyvCiwOdz8sZb7U1xE41DYpoTIBDHOme5k-vOBvXXgeFuZ5TTts4-NBohgvMKQ/s1066/s-l1600%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="1066" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZtjQDABQa4o_MxeH7R5ocFmwyJgFDt3wWmP9h12IqLPl2hZX3L6dP7EenYjQZqu_ZRz1zR4OzxLbQt11Z-Qhanq3Ukj243cgHxOG04TsMXOVhE2XDi6Rimv-UyvCiwOdz8sZb7U1xE41DYpoTIBDHOme5k-vOBvXXgeFuZ5TTts4-NBohgvMKQ/s320/s-l1600%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Payne shines especially in these pivotal scenes: "The harder you're hit, the harder you have to hit.” The camera zooms in relentlessly on Ernie's eyes. For her part, Evelyn Keyes's character is the heroine who can switch off her personality and play a femme fatale to achieve her purposes. She confuses Ernie and the audience staging "They call it Murder" with a melodramatic performance bordering on the hysterical. Unembellished yet strangely poetic, <i>99 River Street</i> procures with rare dexterity a tale of moral redemption and one of the most honorable examaples in the genre. Part of its far-reaching message is Karlson's trust in the American culture of individual effort and its condemn of those who look for an esay way to a palmy life.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3k1b6eNGwIh5C2eusQMTXKQbnhBKABDNV41kH2ZSnkFocFgRiV8032HLkKuWM_zEeD9q1WEk1BxKnkn8-eZfIIIgTuu1L8V3wT5o2LiP1Adw53xwDRWqFX0LMHi8C6Nxo3uNHRiFySKgq6hp947s-DtIxkW36xMVDck9nSmmMwqtlFxc1zuYqg/s500/tumblr_mbfqk3MM4o1qf1ynpo1_500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="500" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3k1b6eNGwIh5C2eusQMTXKQbnhBKABDNV41kH2ZSnkFocFgRiV8032HLkKuWM_zEeD9q1WEk1BxKnkn8-eZfIIIgTuu1L8V3wT5o2LiP1Adw53xwDRWqFX0LMHi8C6Nxo3uNHRiFySKgq6hp947s-DtIxkW36xMVDck9nSmmMwqtlFxc1zuYqg/s320/tumblr_mbfqk3MM4o1qf1ynpo1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Phil Karlson has been cited as influential of Martin Scorsese's approach in the grittiest aspects of his work. Karlson came from the Poverty Row studios and most of his films reflect this hard-hitting style. Although <i>Kansas City Confidential </i>is a more renowned thriller, <i>99 River Street</i> is probably Karlson’s best accomplished film, a dissection of a man's soul through a hellish night. As Eddie Muller explicates in <i>Dark City: The Lost World of Film Noir</i> (citing <i>Notes onf Film Noir</i> written by Paul Schrader in 1972), <i>The Sniper </i>(1952) directed by Edward Dmytryk is another precedential for <i>Taxi Driver</i> (1976). Arthur Franz in a misogynist rage is equivalent to Travis Bickle in some respects: Both protagonists suffer from a psychopathological disorder, "the root causes of the period: the loss of public honor, heroic conventions, personal integrity and finally psychic stability."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJQeB9BGrqMOnWZLSBHeVlGUouCkzptrAn22sktnW5YSgn0hy7Ydbj1wSN-Ro7DEBrFi4f_8fOCC3O0BlLE9A51UpRpSBmDRFpete2KPDGKHmyz0meIIO66kP_pzN7uuhiSDLdYlqDNofd6sBLWWjNuD5sVETV8IB3GUFnItfI3DHnwnQbsTxAQ/s1009/TD_164.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="1009" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJQeB9BGrqMOnWZLSBHeVlGUouCkzptrAn22sktnW5YSgn0hy7Ydbj1wSN-Ro7DEBrFi4f_8fOCC3O0BlLE9A51UpRpSBmDRFpete2KPDGKHmyz0meIIO66kP_pzN7uuhiSDLdYlqDNofd6sBLWWjNuD5sVETV8IB3GUFnItfI3DHnwnQbsTxAQ/s320/TD_164.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In <i>Taxi Driver,</i> the misogyny is still latent, but it's only another syntomp of the driver's vulnerability. One of the most cringeworthy scenes takes place in a theatre that exhibits adult movies, where Travis ruins his date with Betsy (Cybill Shepherd), whom he'd absurdly idealized. He pretends not to understand her discomfort, but he eventually sabotages the relationship. There is more cruelty carelessly inflicted on a independent woman (Betsy) and indirectly on himself than in <i>99 River Street.</i> Instead, Ernie doesn't mistreat Pauline or Linda even when he's been deceived by both women. Travis is an unhinged Vietnam vet who's driving a cab in the night shift due to his insomnia. Squeamish, cocky and self-delusional by turns, Travis is isolated from the human jungle that clutters the sidewalks he passes over every day. He observes dispassionately the endless parade of pariahs, hookers and deviants, dreading he could turn into one of them. Harvey Keitel (playing a Thrasonical Sport) is Travis's imagined rival for the affections of Iris (Jodie Foster's teenage prostitute).</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMZQ-J6aVg1ZfUOOUu8r5FnyXHBaHTfeY7W6mJPWYkIHDQUBNaLM_irbLIPZUG55CCrA5BZTKzicqdntJn_KlW351BqLQeD4frdvZjHwG8KeV3wlePUzN5ffDQ8zef7wC5XyT7fIYDRwnCF5SegKipq3Ln4Aa4rSsjP1bwzH5anEiuIqDFzq3yw/s700/600full-taxi-driver-screenshot%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="469" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMZQ-J6aVg1ZfUOOUu8r5FnyXHBaHTfeY7W6mJPWYkIHDQUBNaLM_irbLIPZUG55CCrA5BZTKzicqdntJn_KlW351BqLQeD4frdvZjHwG8KeV3wlePUzN5ffDQ8zef7wC5XyT7fIYDRwnCF5SegKipq3Ln4Aa4rSsjP1bwzH5anEiuIqDFzq3yw/s320/600full-taxi-driver-screenshot%20(2).jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Travis's paranoia takes a turn for the worse after being disappointed by Senator Palantine. He thinks of himself as "God's lonely man" and he "got some bad ideas" in his head. Prey of an absolute loneliness, in his mind he has muted into an avenging angel. "Now I see this clearly. My whole life is pointed in one direction. There never has been a choice for me. Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere." One of the main differences between <i>99 River Street</i> and <i>Taxi Driver,</i> besides the obvious changes to New York's downtown after two decades, it's a new feeling of contempt and disillusionment because of the Vietnam War, all mixed up with a ghoulish sexuality. While Driscoll is more of a hot-headed case whose essential character remains unalterable, Bickle's mind is more clearly psychotic, experiencing delirious bouts: "The idea had been growing in my brain for some time: True force. All the king's men cannot put it back together again."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivloWhyBX9rENl4gIFmS1NETVIM0eTUCJnVplpIeU8mPFnDb8onrNt0WLQL1fb7syCMhIXwT2Ju_vfDV4RnXiTlNkSJZ7Xxh5NOdH77_NHtVs0KkrRFYwL1MLzSWdABtP8DZa0t8NfI12-iX_FnXvDgww8_Vrk4NRPCFAxHFFEskI8sPjRwbeh0w/s1400/09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="905" data-original-width="1400" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivloWhyBX9rENl4gIFmS1NETVIM0eTUCJnVplpIeU8mPFnDb8onrNt0WLQL1fb7syCMhIXwT2Ju_vfDV4RnXiTlNkSJZ7Xxh5NOdH77_NHtVs0KkrRFYwL1MLzSWdABtP8DZa0t8NfI12-iX_FnXvDgww8_Vrk4NRPCFAxHFFEskI8sPjRwbeh0w/s320/09.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Travis's crackbrained character is more modern in sensibility but as a final thought, he's kind of a symbolic figure while Ernie is more easily identifiable as an everyman (more in consonance with Robert Ryan's aging boxer in <i>The Set-Up</i>). A new lifestyle has been implemented in the big city, with its wide offer of enticing baubles and 24-hour live-shows. Travis is the living proof of how these changes in liberal attitudes affect the social sphere and result into a taxi-driver's epiphany as representative of the figurative manifestation of a collective death-wish. According to Scorsese: "I wanted the violence at the end to be as if Travis had to keep killing all these people in order to stop them once and for all. Paul saw it as a kind of Samurai 'death with honour' (suicide)." In Conversations with Scorsese by Richard Schickel, Scorsese discloses: "I always say, when I try to be amoral, I turn out to be immoral. In Taxi Driver I didn't enjoy shooting in those X-rated areas. And the film is very, very depressing."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlRf6T2GmRu4Lt83RrkeOiSf61ZDBGHV02d1VqaFTmeTlMr0UqKJDXAWlyP7ly1F-F6-ricubdREPI44W9e32yI_IArELUqKFuCc9C-5oFwPWzL0OCLDBypESxpYNcAgacbNMhR-38tcnnsv9SAbs4Cw7ZDfTuEMvzaoPEsVmINNsPIaSYLg8kDA/s450/99RiverStreet03%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="450" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlRf6T2GmRu4Lt83RrkeOiSf61ZDBGHV02d1VqaFTmeTlMr0UqKJDXAWlyP7ly1F-F6-ricubdREPI44W9e32yI_IArELUqKFuCc9C-5oFwPWzL0OCLDBypESxpYNcAgacbNMhR-38tcnnsv9SAbs4Cw7ZDfTuEMvzaoPEsVmINNsPIaSYLg8kDA/s320/99RiverStreet03%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Both Ernie Driscoll and Travis Bickle suffer from a major depressive disorder that turns them into hostile malcontents. Their traumatic encounters have thrust them into that frail position in relation with others. There are relevant differences in their ethical standpoints, though. Ernie is presented as a stubborn pugilist, a typical post-World War II dreamer who was tricked into believing that he'd inevitably become a champion. Karlson shows in the beginning of the film a boxing assault that renders Ernie doubly sightless. Ernie was predestined to lose (in the ring and in his marriage) because his life revolved in good measure around power, which inescapably led him to a moral stagnation. Ernie keeps his bad feelings on check, however hurtful it may be.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIykhmZ9yAaZjPpEWuHwUAcKbzDcKLOMhHc_r0LaLR5ylvkLBKR5TGNKyU_lqeuiwWTdYPj9xs9oiCnRlsdx8O5KDPSZRlID9jUwWZ2nG6Z70GFFPquiuRj1jYu3vcd_Wp1hpFFWRFQeJKY-jFFZ4u8bo37_Qq92iez0CNeZEW29xiyvrCudIqbw/s579/ROBERT-DE-NIRO-taxi-Driver-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="504" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIykhmZ9yAaZjPpEWuHwUAcKbzDcKLOMhHc_r0LaLR5ylvkLBKR5TGNKyU_lqeuiwWTdYPj9xs9oiCnRlsdx8O5KDPSZRlID9jUwWZ2nG6Z70GFFPquiuRj1jYu3vcd_Wp1hpFFWRFQeJKY-jFFZ4u8bo37_Qq92iez0CNeZEW29xiyvrCudIqbw/s320/ROBERT-DE-NIRO-taxi-Driver-3.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Travis, on the other hand, has come home to a post-Vietnam agitated society that frowns upon him and forces him to make a living in the middle of an urban jungle, sometimes more frantic than the combat field he left behind in Southeast Asia. Schrader's script suggest his experiences in the war have exacerbated Travis's condition, but I didn't see it developed in the film as central to his torment. He seems inexorably drawn to negative affairs that enhance his pessimism. His outward appearance is shabby, his mental health decaying, but he needs to see himself as the last man standing. At the height of his alienation we're shown how his life is disintegrating while he sleeps in a bunk bed, exercises fervently and talks to himself pointing with a gun at his image in the mirror: "Are you talking to me?"</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghz-0jKM4j3FQ510kAeLUDdZS901YTMKhsujBvQ_5NdRPzGtPIuCXdtlNv_tbksOJK9b4oB-aMqHH1JX4mWrVOXEErbYPAXrtbNMUCzgQj-dapzYq6YMGZp6yuQKaP5T5f0CwtG5tqN4gALfvTil1s6f2U4IHW1v9pH3cD1w6J1-UXHM-ush0gkg/s889/18034387_10212484085115017_5419062979173368657_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="727" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghz-0jKM4j3FQ510kAeLUDdZS901YTMKhsujBvQ_5NdRPzGtPIuCXdtlNv_tbksOJK9b4oB-aMqHH1JX4mWrVOXEErbYPAXrtbNMUCzgQj-dapzYq6YMGZp6yuQKaP5T5f0CwtG5tqN4gALfvTil1s6f2U4IHW1v9pH3cD1w6J1-UXHM-ush0gkg/s320/18034387_10212484085115017_5419062979173368657_n.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ernie's strungy build can be occasionally intimidating to others (especially to his friends Stan and Linda), but the script indicates he's deep down a nice man, unlike Travis, whose newly found obsession with working out and shaving his head only adds a new component of Nietzschean disfunction. John Payne's semblant is gentle, Robert De Niro's is crisp. Ernie never humiliates a woman deliberately, that would go against the accostumed chivalry of those men who had been educated by The Lost Generation and whose youth was marked by idealism. Travis is described by Schrader in his script as: "He has the smell of about him: Sick sex, repressed sex, lonely sex. He is a raw male force, driving forward; toward what, one cannot tell." Narrating his date with Betsy in Times Square, Schrader reveals: "there's also something that Travis could not even acknowledge, much less admit: That he really wants to get this pure white girl into that dark porno theatre."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDILyKJJM2ITlDVvvPKW22LotenBu9BtAXr4qSvvMMeB61SdmyPFkmk9FjaTDE__nVmM3gBLaoM4DfyF3FXSxWWQD-s8pwrLLN0KFS5AbNyYGddNQrdMHxj0ZB1f6fZ9DMQVvGMAyuupsMAHUS7KrYfqVmzE1ByHONjxjroGf-BU5522TlJuIbQg/s640/erniein88rst.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDILyKJJM2ITlDVvvPKW22LotenBu9BtAXr4qSvvMMeB61SdmyPFkmk9FjaTDE__nVmM3gBLaoM4DfyF3FXSxWWQD-s8pwrLLN0KFS5AbNyYGddNQrdMHxj0ZB1f6fZ9DMQVvGMAyuupsMAHUS7KrYfqVmzE1ByHONjxjroGf-BU5522TlJuIbQg/s320/erniein88rst.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On the contrary, we can't imagine Ernie telling jokes to a pimp or inviting a runaway girl to discuss her hip profession of selling sex to strangers (despite Travis's moralistic rant). Ernie shares the gallant view of women that would extent to the late 50's. "If I met a girl like that now, it'd be too late", he complains. We reckon Ernie is starting to forgive Linda and wants to give her another opportunity. He slowly grows out of his lethargy and imparts justice, fighting the cops and the crooks. He overcomes his own sorrow and emerges like a gas owner and an everyman in love with an ex-actress who's become his wife. Travis doesn't know how to treat a lady properly, he represents the advent of an upcoming generation of anti-heroes who get a hold on our shocked attention, projecting on the modern screen America's muddled conscience. Sexual obsessions and suicidal tendencies are habitual subjects in Hollywood of that era. Travis personifies the agonizing disposition of the working class man disconnected from his limiting stratum, cornered against a progressively decadent scenario.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht0_baDfcEnMBnvlKwX_ZS0SjlNRsMDqDp-IE92CfUqaKet3LR5JLToOUcvSLJjoz4pQMZu97b6W1YknNeABJTcnSTsXHqGe6b7NBUEE5J_aIiROTiSbcOFOXcBvtG3Jw_3LMoWIhMtJNCKTvmM328Ta049j2FGdt3zQEba7hpEckARqoVxIpEEw/s1063/51342895_10218334499903580_6283846688046055424_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1063" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht0_baDfcEnMBnvlKwX_ZS0SjlNRsMDqDp-IE92CfUqaKet3LR5JLToOUcvSLJjoz4pQMZu97b6W1YknNeABJTcnSTsXHqGe6b7NBUEE5J_aIiROTiSbcOFOXcBvtG3Jw_3LMoWIhMtJNCKTvmM328Ta049j2FGdt3zQEba7hpEckARqoVxIpEEw/s320/51342895_10218334499903580_6283846688046055424_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ernie is an extant emblem of the admirable American heroes (flawed, with selfish impulses, but essentially honest). <i>Taxi Driver </i>is by far the most acclaimed film, but <i>99 River Street</i> celebrates unpretentiously values that now seem lost, encapsulating a time when heroes kept a sense of decency which normal people could respond to. <i>Taxi Driver, </i>instead, belongs to the 70's with its creative immersion in the auteur theory that distinctly marked a new period within the nihilist vision Hollywood would promote in the next decades. In the iconic finger/trigger moment of the bloodbath's aftermath, Scorsese subtly exposes Travis as remote, almost like another observer of the spree killing (just like one of us, ironic if we consider Travis is the perpetrator). </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsp0yX6afkuivUrKmAWgn3MWS9Ldm_ZVA14eWdRZHDsdXBOapSAMAFPWu7JgRHzXvOZ_2SGKSu3GjE56u3pOyklAqFUPr-_MnJa3cDQtNzQkvQX4ao-1jWAYW895a-wOgXqr0dxvDkj9w7JI4BQAoWJoWIL-C4cmU7gThHh15HaBJ2mHQdYN6KQ/s748/600full-taxi-driver-screenshot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsp0yX6afkuivUrKmAWgn3MWS9Ldm_ZVA14eWdRZHDsdXBOapSAMAFPWu7JgRHzXvOZ_2SGKSu3GjE56u3pOyklAqFUPr-_MnJa3cDQtNzQkvQX4ao-1jWAYW895a-wOgXqr0dxvDkj9w7JI4BQAoWJoWIL-C4cmU7gThHh15HaBJ2mHQdYN6KQ/s320/600full-taxi-driver-screenshot.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That last scene inside the taxi proves how unreliable Travis's judgment is even after being lauded as a local hero. His final conversation with Betsy is misleading enough to make us think in the possibility of a dream as an alternate theory, and his upset look in the mirror after Betsy leaves confirmes our most obscure suspicions (something very characteristic of the noir genre). </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGcOGXZDwxOVEWWEeifW2nkukxa6aQgiun1IYrLblCvkX0hTMGe_RDUydOs3az7cIgZXv3t_5fN5AAnsWiTpZFHkW17Ei2CjNPV2An8w4aHgGWlkEt01VWFSaHZXp1yfKESE_nSvAwImo8zD6sxu-4UBnJZ5tYwijX-lcWpym4AMsrEMY2wPSJA/s640/99%20River%20Street%20(1953)%20John%20Payne%20Eng.avi_004944272.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGcOGXZDwxOVEWWEeifW2nkukxa6aQgiun1IYrLblCvkX0hTMGe_RDUydOs3az7cIgZXv3t_5fN5AAnsWiTpZFHkW17Ei2CjNPV2An8w4aHgGWlkEt01VWFSaHZXp1yfKESE_nSvAwImo8zD6sxu-4UBnJZ5tYwijX-lcWpym4AMsrEMY2wPSJA/s320/99%20River%20Street%20(1953)%20John%20Payne%20Eng.avi_004944272.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The happy ending of <i>99 River Street</i> comes off a bit weird too (the possibility of a deception is always intrinsic in noir films, especially when happy endings are so scarce), although not nearly as surreal. Whereas John Payne's character finished his detour feeling exhausted yet unbeatable, <i>Taxi Driver</i> exhausts the audience instead, while Travis contemplates us from his blood-stained couch. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Article published previously as <a href="https://blogcritics.org/in-the-back-seat-99-river-street-and-taxi-driver-on-the-formers-70th-anniversary/">In the Backseat: <i>99 River Street</i> and <i>Taxi Driver</i> on the former's 70th Anniversary"</a> on Blogcritics.</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-18659911153709945252023-10-11T02:49:00.012+02:002023-10-12T18:03:22.069+02:00Debunking myths about Marilyn's last days<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCrzAvOLcjyIsRhriTzt5Snd2eZIOhZI0eaD8ReuZEJnEocSEttbucBXbL6Mrw1R8aon6CtjQBO2Om0_MtLDVMLOihaZ9MGWU9lbdabhDVAeMOuvRDaqxw8O17L6l-UzZHdeYQougXkA-iA7JJqeEk_fXEcAiN32kIcVNvSMd8QGB-Tq-GZPWEg/s616/Caggggptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="539" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCrzAvOLcjyIsRhriTzt5Snd2eZIOhZI0eaD8ReuZEJnEocSEttbucBXbL6Mrw1R8aon6CtjQBO2Om0_MtLDVMLOihaZ9MGWU9lbdabhDVAeMOuvRDaqxw8O17L6l-UzZHdeYQougXkA-iA7JJqeEk_fXEcAiN32kIcVNvSMd8QGB-Tq-GZPWEg/s320/Caggggptura.JPG" width="280" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jim DiEugenio: The whole Marilyn Monroe case became a sensationalistic industry in the mid seventies. And there was probably no person more responsible for that than Robert Slatzer. He literally made up this story about him being married to Marilyn, which was complete and utter BS. In fact he promised to pay a friend of his if he would lie for him about it to Anthony Summers. Well, the guy lied, Summers bought it, but Slatzer welched on the deal and did not pay him. So the guy then told the truth: that Slatzer made up a cock and bull story in order to sell his book. In his volume, <i>Murder Orthodoxies, </i>Donald McGovern spent 20 pages utterly dismantling that piece of rubbish story. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5vNEYVdmrLje3xNaJvvHVZIk6iO22F6TqA3HiP_41xekJ3bdsrmqaK7VT9XisXhn1muAPcgnsTKiNCiEQDN0_9krDox2geSrjnnxEmUm3fWRW3HwUVu-LR61gtnUkb6Q3VvJY-0jC3sMVExBq5V1JKIM4g2e8pDLnwmDREhvLTvEbkSjIFSDkQ/s1500/10908007799.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="970" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5vNEYVdmrLje3xNaJvvHVZIk6iO22F6TqA3HiP_41xekJ3bdsrmqaK7VT9XisXhn1muAPcgnsTKiNCiEQDN0_9krDox2geSrjnnxEmUm3fWRW3HwUVu-LR61gtnUkb6Q3VvJY-0jC3sMVExBq5V1JKIM4g2e8pDLnwmDREhvLTvEbkSjIFSDkQ/s320/10908007799.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And I have to add that as bad as Norman Mailer's book was, Slatzer's was even worse. His book really broke the dam, and once it was out there, and went through a mass market paperback sale, all bets were off. Anything was now allowed. And I mean anything. Even space aliens. And Bobby telling Marilyn about how he was involved in Murder Inc. Which he was not. In fact, its ridiculous. But Slatzer printed that garbage. Thus the gates flew open. It was open season now on MM. She could be turned into anything you needed her to be: Mafia moll, UFOlogist, secret KGB spy, foreign policy expert for JFK. I wish I was kidding but I'm not. Slatzer ended up selling two books and two documentaries out of his phony claims. Which turned out to be lucrative for him. Very bad for everyone else. Especially for the memory of Marilyn Monroe. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_pjog6dldwC3r2gioR7POdjvkNHpXiYjVUdv87e-hGjCHQAj13ab2Jqkngj7Q8_xzUap52o9YFlM4lNZL0egAEoDfVUXiy7Lt4AxXMQi-o6bZwY3rFu4wFgyLg43MRt8rnr9iYJQX1jPw7GN6VvCAHuixkbfJRqIWPl60mRO6Zfe3idUKx7Ybg/s1360/61JCnMhGGYL._SL1360_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="855" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_pjog6dldwC3r2gioR7POdjvkNHpXiYjVUdv87e-hGjCHQAj13ab2Jqkngj7Q8_xzUap52o9YFlM4lNZL0egAEoDfVUXiy7Lt4AxXMQi-o6bZwY3rFu4wFgyLg43MRt8rnr9iYJQX1jPw7GN6VvCAHuixkbfJRqIWPl60mRO6Zfe3idUKx7Ybg/s320/61JCnMhGGYL._SL1360_.jpg" width="201" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Authors like McGovern and Vitacco-Robles have spent years and thousands of hours working on both MM's life and her passing. And they have done original research. That is they have interviewed many, many people. People likely do not know this, but the DA's office conducted a year long inquiry into these matters, including the charges made by people like Slatzer and Jeanne Carmen. Very similar to what Rothmiller comes up with more recently. DA Ronald Carrol wrote a 641 page report which refuted them specifically and in detail. The MM nuts only mention a 27 page report. But that was only the summary. Gary VItacco Robles petitioned the office for the full report. And he uses it in his book <i>Icon</i>. According to Mike Rothmiller, Bobby was in Brentwood not once, but twice that day! How, with the contravening evidence? Which as Don notes, Rothmiller says RFK was desperate for the diary, which did not exist. Her actual journals--which included poems--were discovered later in the Strasberg archives. As per the first detective on the scene, is Mike for real? Don McGovern proved that Clemmons was not just a fabricator but he was indicted on libel charges and forced to leave LAPD. Don proved that everything Clemmons said about the scene was false. The lie about the washer dryer, thus making Murray into some kind of unwitting accomplice was really kind of sick. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Y9wMnKWw6q0koJBh3Ay56Sq-dTyAZnQpAM6h4HAHGcDBK1crFLnHVG-j8c155igmcNqIQiiGutV7_33y1aiIE6KDOmx0rXk3uslu5_2jABm5xB3MR2uN_qU7kJpzFIJaAHAb1nSKiwiOiV0_YXVXB5gPaIZVYfC2Icdw5K6DxJX-9zPzvHDBuw/s623/Capsdyyytura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="571" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Y9wMnKWw6q0koJBh3Ay56Sq-dTyAZnQpAM6h4HAHGcDBK1crFLnHVG-j8c155igmcNqIQiiGutV7_33y1aiIE6KDOmx0rXk3uslu5_2jABm5xB3MR2uN_qU7kJpzFIJaAHAb1nSKiwiOiV0_YXVXB5gPaIZVYfC2Icdw5K6DxJX-9zPzvHDBuw/s320/Capsdyyytura.JPG" width="293" /></a></div>As was the lie about there being no glass in MM's bedroom and it being neat. Pat Newcomb was a former student of Pierre Salinger. She was heartbroken after MM's death since she left the house that day over an argument about whether or not MM should pose nude in Playboy. She was against it. She was so broken up after her death that she left her job as a PR person and Salinger got her a position. Newcomb was not any kind of informant since there was nothing to inform about while she was there. Don McGovern describes how MM was positioned on the bed by the first group of cops to arrive after Clemmons left. And its not how Thompson describes it. Doug Thompson is an amateur. As for Rothmiller, he has joined up in the MM mythology/scatology industry. He tells us utterly nothing about JFK, RFK or MM. What he does is create false smears of them, which people who do not know anything about the case think are credible. When, in fact, that is the last thing they are. Its part and parcel of something I once called the posthumous assassination syndrome. Don McGovern demolished the Rothmiller story about MM and JFK having dinner during the second night of the 1960 Democratic Convention, when in fact she was not even in California! Rothmiller used Fred Otash? That seals it. Otash was about as bad and amoral as they come. He made Spindel look like a decent guy. Wait until you see what I have on him in my upcoming article "Joyce Carol Oates, Brad Pitt and the Road to <i>Blonde</i>."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_I7S93iBy72ZWeV-QXPew9PPEEnVuRhXG14czkW2qUrBAvY_LZo8ZkSUikZpQwGIbmFup7PWOcABL2yDybM49xrHaKZ_M6Y26LR9A8oR2Z6cLMTMI0ltj9_y3uo6Xvt8tJqSobPVzbniND-r-Y04_rt-6J4xz4cGJpCrf3B6dYIPKOSoNfhDSQ/s666/Captfr444ura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="666" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_I7S93iBy72ZWeV-QXPew9PPEEnVuRhXG14czkW2qUrBAvY_LZo8ZkSUikZpQwGIbmFup7PWOcABL2yDybM49xrHaKZ_M6Y26LR9A8oR2Z6cLMTMI0ltj9_y3uo6Xvt8tJqSobPVzbniND-r-Y04_rt-6J4xz4cGJpCrf3B6dYIPKOSoNfhDSQ/s320/Captfr444ura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>And that whole thing about a press conference is even worse. Gary VItacco Robles interviewed the guy from her PR company and he said, nope. Not one word about it. This is what is called doing research for cross checking purposes. As per the Unheard Tapes, consider the way she was asked the question: "But, on the show, Summers did not ask Eunice if Robert Kennedy visited on August 4th: the term the author used was “that day,” along with “that afternoon.” We know that Robert Kennedy visited Marilyn, accompanied by Pat and Peter Lawford, on the 27th of June in 1962. Eunice Murray recounted the attorney general’s brief visit on that Wednesday for biographer Donald Spoto. The Lawfords arrived at Fifth Helena that afternoon to collect Marilyn, and Robert Kennedy was with them: Marilyn wanted them to see her new home. After a brief tour of Marilyn’s humble hacienda, the group proceeded to the Lawford’s beachside mansion for a dinner party. That June visit, residential tour and dinner party was the fourth and final meeting of Bobby and Marilyn.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDsTAW52VlBDWscR5Sy8LG0ejxrxuIFt8OLcmspRkPdt-2V8CWeGjiVM0AYv_jMNEwC9wdsjp1z1iEd87NU6OzJjLTp5JtS6BDe4M9d4YKdv-YlnBDVL5wEKN-QHKp622AAiORQj_42-ynPtWHn1GDTzEESu6mIeWHhVd-wuuETV3qdN2xqExizg/s620/Capscdee3tura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="538" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDsTAW52VlBDWscR5Sy8LG0ejxrxuIFt8OLcmspRkPdt-2V8CWeGjiVM0AYv_jMNEwC9wdsjp1z1iEd87NU6OzJjLTp5JtS6BDe4M9d4YKdv-YlnBDVL5wEKN-QHKp622AAiORQj_42-ynPtWHn1GDTzEESu6mIeWHhVd-wuuETV3qdN2xqExizg/s320/Capscdee3tura.JPG" width="278" /></a></div>There were no such questions in any literary form about MM's death until 1964. This was when inveterate Kennedy hater and professional Red hunter Frank Capell issued his pamphlet on the subject. Which no one today takes seriously since it is so obviously a political hit piece on RFK. Secondly, if say Allen Dulles or Curtis LeMay, had wanted to know where RFK was that weekend, they would have consulted with Hoover and Hoover's report said that he was in GIlroy with the Bates family. That report included time of arrival and departure. So like with many things, what on earth is Mike talking about? The MM fables did not begin in earnest in any way until Mailer's book, several years later. And then Mailer admitted on TV that he threw RFK in for one reason: he needed the money.</div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs4UvA73qfO0wTYq3Yx3WyS5BD_KZ_EXX1RrKHLxgTcZySscBmStydBNlUwaslqirCShrJAOQyCi-pz787WDCsC6qR830nbfKuDU7Y5bafqdipEsbhMx5HfLVXQr3zPeFFp6yCfSK0oYyfAyThSlHDtSzuQRovd7wiqBcamj4GRLMKpU1fAtmS-g/s612/Cawwwyu7ptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="563" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs4UvA73qfO0wTYq3Yx3WyS5BD_KZ_EXX1RrKHLxgTcZySscBmStydBNlUwaslqirCShrJAOQyCi-pz787WDCsC6qR830nbfKuDU7Y5bafqdipEsbhMx5HfLVXQr3zPeFFp6yCfSK0oYyfAyThSlHDtSzuQRovd7wiqBcamj4GRLMKpU1fAtmS-g/s320/Cawwwyu7ptura.JPG" width="294" /></a></div>MM did not have "affairs" with either JFK or RFK. You can only adduce that if you rely on more jokester sources like the discredited David Heymann or Jeanne Carmen, both proven frauds. Don McGovern examined every major tenet of the Rothmiller book. It is not my opinion that RFK had nothing to do with MM's death. It is an established fact that he was in Gilroy about 350 miles away at the time. And there is a plethora of evidence, including a series of photographs in time sequence, that demonstrate this beyond doubt. For many years on end, actually decades, cheapjack writers like Robert Slatzer and David Heymann simply manufactured a mythology that had no basis in fact in order to sell their pulpy books to an all too willing populace. What Don McGovern did was to carefully analyze the information in these books, compare them to each other, and compare them to the adduced record. The pills MM took were ingested, they were not injected or supplied by enema. And Don proves this scientifically. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgGgu-l6IrxznJa1ZP3748n4Fu33qmLbejrnpnQk-crJIvqOg2RJwcKsNtDL4tB_II-PuaqSPjbbu_vRm761WvVurka4eqlFLlBUJLWsbfBI4LpycFK7IqBFMMSdrMvYlX3NzBlFsknzDEXaYULZldrbE6BhXAzgmro0hc0rPDVW5ftysjBTrZA/s566/Capssssstura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="566" data-original-width="537" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgGgu-l6IrxznJa1ZP3748n4Fu33qmLbejrnpnQk-crJIvqOg2RJwcKsNtDL4tB_II-PuaqSPjbbu_vRm761WvVurka4eqlFLlBUJLWsbfBI4LpycFK7IqBFMMSdrMvYlX3NzBlFsknzDEXaYULZldrbE6BhXAzgmro0hc0rPDVW5ftysjBTrZA/s320/Capssssstura.JPG" width="304" /></a></div>The mixture she took of Nembutal and Chloral Hydrate should have never been allowed by her doctors. There is no evidence that there was anything at all between RFK and MM. There is some evidence that there was a one shot encounter between JFK and MM, back in 1961. There was not any continuing affair. The work that has been done on this by skilled and professional writers uses the calendars that are demanded of the AG and POTUS, with the MM day books by Carl Rollyson and April Vevea. April Vevea has become a really good and valuable writer on the subject. And she has been one of the most proficient sources to effectively counter all the crapola that came from people like Slatzer and Mailer and Carmen. The difference being she does some careful and logical and fact based work. As per RFK and Gilroy, how much evidence do you want? Pictures, testimony, newspaper stories. As per Summers and Shaw, their books, for me, are like one step below people like Slatzer. Just take a look at how much Summers relies on Slatzer, Carmen and Smathers. And I should also add Gary Wean. I actually sent away for Wean's book. And what Summers left out about this guy is the real story that you will hear soon. Source: https://educationforum.ipbhost.com</div><p></p>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-7198096852664320052023-10-10T04:22:00.010+02:002023-10-14T04:46:07.087+02:00Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward: "Head Over Heels" (2023) by Melissa Newman<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NCOyukFnqB0?si=Ci7Jd0HtAi9wBYZj" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe> <div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Paul Newman with Joanne Woodward video.</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGF0lZPhVuryWlaaPwKkpA6wkEBIim7XbSkjpa9o8ZnVfqRa68sB_pJD7tdJGo9yBlwpdm3OS-7JcvbStMhk2uoFCRJVK3kpM80iUDtGulvFtyTb6Wzd_3XmT0R0q1zMvKzLJJt2nTokJoW0m4T6cDq0-Lxn6X6mH1RTB268f9vmuy_GmTNTPvhg/s1168/s-l1600%20(16).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1168" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGF0lZPhVuryWlaaPwKkpA6wkEBIim7XbSkjpa9o8ZnVfqRa68sB_pJD7tdJGo9yBlwpdm3OS-7JcvbStMhk2uoFCRJVK3kpM80iUDtGulvFtyTb6Wzd_3XmT0R0q1zMvKzLJJt2nTokJoW0m4T6cDq0-Lxn6X6mH1RTB268f9vmuy_GmTNTPvhg/s320/s-l1600%20(16).jpg" width="274" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Melissa Newman: "They are juicy and passionate. Sophomoric. It’s obvious he fell fast, and I imagine her as he describes her—the seductress, the free spirit that would lead him from his bourgeois upbringing to the bohemian he longed to be. My mother was the more inevitable artist, a woman so instinctively herself even her genteel southern roots couldn’t compromise her. He was a man uncertain of who he was. It’s easy to understand why he was so smitten. The next week of sifting yields a large stack of telegrams sent to my mother after she won the Oscar in 1957. On top is one from Ingrid Bergman. Tucked in the middle is a blue envelope containing a vaguely snarky congratulation from Joan Crawford: “I have heard such wonderful reports of your great willingness to learn.” In the breakfast room is a photo of my mother, clear eyed, unadorned, androgynous. She has been caught, lips slightly parted, as though she is about to speak. She’s just cut all her hair off with fingernail scissors. The studio is furious. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzf-caTGAXk3BzEDtfrNnsQmAt8jpVqfcaMPfIQBLmlh9UsE7Mz50KunYTr5eZYL4SwURbKJG0LKZ_m8Hr3vPGwYfbwLmEx3EASwKlIQH4m8rMdaWlm6R132bY7wDWZWzY7K3a2oVEe5PgViuxQLm2rvUu8b0r14x-PAVCUfUh0HJu22u4AeF3OQ/s576/s-l1600%20(13).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="532" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzf-caTGAXk3BzEDtfrNnsQmAt8jpVqfcaMPfIQBLmlh9UsE7Mz50KunYTr5eZYL4SwURbKJG0LKZ_m8Hr3vPGwYfbwLmEx3EASwKlIQH4m8rMdaWlm6R132bY7wDWZWzY7K3a2oVEe5PgViuxQLm2rvUu8b0r14x-PAVCUfUh0HJu22u4AeF3OQ/s320/s-l1600%20(13).jpg" width="296" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My mother looks extraordinary. My parents always kept an eye out for opportunities to collaborate. My father loved to direct my mother, and he nurtured some of her deepest and most complex performances. She was his favorite actress, and she knew it. A photograph from the set of <i>Rachel, Rachel</i> shows my father hovering protectively over my mother, who lies on the ground, being embraced by another man. I have scrutinized his face, trying to discern what he is thinking. As a director, he had repeatedly balked at shooting this scene, arguing it was unnecessary or could be accomplished less directly or somehow obscured. He was jealous. They taught me about passion, and they taught me about long-lived passion, the kind that spills over into art and life, that makes sharing coffee at the breakfast table an act as affirming as the carnal act that may or may not have preceded it. My father carried a folded leather picture frame in his suitcase. No doubt my mother gave it to him to remind him of what would be waiting when he got home if he played his cards right. Inside is a double image of the two of them, two variations of the moment just before a kiss. My parents were inexorable, they were forever. They chose each other over and over, sometimes in spite of, sometimes because of. It wasn’t always a fairy tale, but I wanted to remember the best, dreamiest, most sublime part, and that part just happens to be true."</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbDvp1GlHvhsao1sQz6oYv8s_xu1tRuKemdV3WduYsa-O3b8MiIfUv44nEgXh0H8UQSA0m6YBEbAYVSpkTIGQYy8GqJTgZEwAel2XmLb2smgjyUJZwmYvJFA4-DIplxo42Ns3bCJCsP_OKgN4-zNVSD1kXzhJ1OqqMRt0XdoBCSL6rdJ47MF-rg/s600/s-l1600%20(25).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="485" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbDvp1GlHvhsao1sQz6oYv8s_xu1tRuKemdV3WduYsa-O3b8MiIfUv44nEgXh0H8UQSA0m6YBEbAYVSpkTIGQYy8GqJTgZEwAel2XmLb2smgjyUJZwmYvJFA4-DIplxo42Ns3bCJCsP_OKgN4-zNVSD1kXzhJ1OqqMRt0XdoBCSL6rdJ47MF-rg/s320/s-l1600%20(25).jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“The thing I resent about this sex-symbol thing is that writers create these sexy, flamboyant, aggressive characters who might have nothing to do with who you really are under the skin. You don’t always have Tennessee Williams around to write glorious lines for you.” —Paul Newman</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwBc1JYtWkq00tt08-jiGr79hbpnXeQsQes0t1Qh864uOeAYMV2j6Ra557FZ8QJYi33VVYZ6vIfVnP2bXQGDZWynJGmQewsBYX3cMFE8PhoV5hY-p4c3Z7B0DTwQgPuWHFT2VxBdJXcFhKyYk5uohwFQbtBLN1pKoDqpBKUCjHuj5R0rtlcDRWA/s745/nnnfff.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="745" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwBc1JYtWkq00tt08-jiGr79hbpnXeQsQes0t1Qh864uOeAYMV2j6Ra557FZ8QJYi33VVYZ6vIfVnP2bXQGDZWynJGmQewsBYX3cMFE8PhoV5hY-p4c3Z7B0DTwQgPuWHFT2VxBdJXcFhKyYk5uohwFQbtBLN1pKoDqpBKUCjHuj5R0rtlcDRWA/s320/nnnfff.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I thought Paul was grossly untalented when I first met him. I remember going to dinner with Kim Stanley, when we were all doing <i>Picnic</i> together in Cleveland, and saying to her ‘God, it’s a good thing Paul Newman is so handsome, because he certainly can’t act.’” —Joanne Woodward</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEPex_cSG96L47gYOh_WsXQ-bkRUNclGUXpnPMKdNlgPkT9Vvm_lqzzlDyoEJhXrnpjHUbPpHgzKgOzQgBL8d16Kdjw3CpobgJ8xseqKOqNdwao30UcXzpLlcDGtHODqNNV_FHzcQoC-KLPYAC9Fiq-pbRRovI61SNg-46DsVYwrb0L2jbYm1Vg/s543/Capffffftura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="543" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEPex_cSG96L47gYOh_WsXQ-bkRUNclGUXpnPMKdNlgPkT9Vvm_lqzzlDyoEJhXrnpjHUbPpHgzKgOzQgBL8d16Kdjw3CpobgJ8xseqKOqNdwao30UcXzpLlcDGtHODqNNV_FHzcQoC-KLPYAC9Fiq-pbRRovI61SNg-46DsVYwrb0L2jbYm1Vg/s320/Capffffftura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“No one sings like Woodward, or acts like Woodward, or bitches like Woodward or kisses like Woodward or talks like Woodward, or talks as long as Woodward, or wipes water out of her eyes like Woodward, or smiles like Woodward or cusses like Woodward. No one is as theatrical as Woodward, or changes like Woodward, or listens like Woodward, or laughs or cries or hiccups or nuthin’ like Woodward. You are a special, a super, an absolutely unbeatable woman and I love you.” —Paul Newman</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy77fWOAjNWuGFtobmJUb_FIy4Sz55gI1umMf4FETrP4UeO5nx2slcD8x3rBeApHCxZIo439s14AFREp-oF6ykSAMhK4q9vAYF7KeP0cRUJ86W6dPFT5WNevVbqGJ2nqX0GEBT8tKuHCSnFavqj7SJXFpfx4wVkO-UzAEj1bBwqe0CfB-oiNgutw/s600/s-l1600%20(12).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="600" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy77fWOAjNWuGFtobmJUb_FIy4Sz55gI1umMf4FETrP4UeO5nx2slcD8x3rBeApHCxZIo439s14AFREp-oF6ykSAMhK4q9vAYF7KeP0cRUJ86W6dPFT5WNevVbqGJ2nqX0GEBT8tKuHCSnFavqj7SJXFpfx4wVkO-UzAEj1bBwqe0CfB-oiNgutw/s320/s-l1600%20(12).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I don’t like to talk about acting. It’s very private. An actor is like a magician. You don’t give away your secrets. That doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot going on before you face the camera or a live audience. I just don’t talk about acting, and I don’t talk about my sex life.” —Joanne Woodward</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEX7tQBmY82O_qy6vUmy24gYxiRtDU1r2ZLEVK1j0WhYFhqFsgaUJqrJpHCLVNCOTfxg-7iFvre5QYn1EtJS4zWU_6zbE_AcR4Ej1PbFsIzGLKNsIVHjHfiL2L9onMvHVWjyAUO-hyquWXzDmJal4QwdPC1REKA7wZm0Kk7cx-7d1aaoMkD2k5qQ/s1024/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="804" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEX7tQBmY82O_qy6vUmy24gYxiRtDU1r2ZLEVK1j0WhYFhqFsgaUJqrJpHCLVNCOTfxg-7iFvre5QYn1EtJS4zWU_6zbE_AcR4Ej1PbFsIzGLKNsIVHjHfiL2L9onMvHVWjyAUO-hyquWXzDmJal4QwdPC1REKA7wZm0Kk7cx-7d1aaoMkD2k5qQ/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Every time I get into an argument with Joanne about cooking or how to launder shirts, she just shakes her Oscar at me, and I’m dead in the water.” —Paul Newman</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0zbIFLPq6cf9-MTageu3HAOc_3oUajxPLD6FPo3wb8dbMGH-MW5rG5HhNUzyAQEB-uM6KpFTiQqHCOR34m8xNbJP16CVus5JQw7DpckAZ7MoheFx502NGEJvgqj8LS2A6ZweSMmzxr3G16oyt9yWacXB58xcjmQFcmrDmxo5naKz5oFBRoKQPQ/s645/Caffffptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="645" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0zbIFLPq6cf9-MTageu3HAOc_3oUajxPLD6FPo3wb8dbMGH-MW5rG5HhNUzyAQEB-uM6KpFTiQqHCOR34m8xNbJP16CVus5JQw7DpckAZ7MoheFx502NGEJvgqj8LS2A6ZweSMmzxr3G16oyt9yWacXB58xcjmQFcmrDmxo5naKz5oFBRoKQPQ/s320/Caffffptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Stars are people who are immediately recognizable, who bring their own mystique, their own essence to whatever role they play. Paul is a star. I think I’m a character actress. Nobody recognizes me when I walk down the street. And I can have a hard time getting checks cashed.” —Joanne Woodward</div><div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKF-pmiTCKCFyBlqawWYWHFwBPVsUgOsqDRqclw-KFOR7F1Mr0E-3thBxo_U4ktnvce954TGKBAWmoIV-4-XE5Xz27ki0M7nLsnW6caFYVkbnaMmGs_3b4eZ-x89KQgos3Veq17HV-XfTs_yApYqWMFwq-91DBfrbfk69107CG-NdTzPTKWoevFA/s740/Capdddddftura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="740" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKF-pmiTCKCFyBlqawWYWHFwBPVsUgOsqDRqclw-KFOR7F1Mr0E-3thBxo_U4ktnvce954TGKBAWmoIV-4-XE5Xz27ki0M7nLsnW6caFYVkbnaMmGs_3b4eZ-x89KQgos3Veq17HV-XfTs_yApYqWMFwq-91DBfrbfk69107CG-NdTzPTKWoevFA/s320/Capdddddftura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I shall lock myself in an abandoned water closet. I love you so very much. And I'll shut my mouth and carry on in silent communion with your soul.” —Paul Newman </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkT9dhVZUMFZvWynTpyN9zH0KAdlNnj6VW-qQmm6dTeLdKrZ5Z131XaLJAYr8X8zuxtoyLZBGvyCMu0rlY_M6pbeAj8qgnf2c0iGSl552Jtgcw_x8W_KI1aLaerSefMpE7PbttzawKCBmSJKn8YmfOnu-BupuZsKf7ECLO_YC_ioo1XQDzibduw/s750/Cacccccptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="750" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkT9dhVZUMFZvWynTpyN9zH0KAdlNnj6VW-qQmm6dTeLdKrZ5Z131XaLJAYr8X8zuxtoyLZBGvyCMu0rlY_M6pbeAj8qgnf2c0iGSl552Jtgcw_x8W_KI1aLaerSefMpE7PbttzawKCBmSJKn8YmfOnu-BupuZsKf7ECLO_YC_ioo1XQDzibduw/s320/Cacccccptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“When an actor knows what they’re doing you don’t see the work.” —Joanne Woodward</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYk2KWiJEv0V0wlnVaLeZlMbigsRK9NKDfNByhF5zZhY-f1aMXaaBpq4cvBxiShATzmZ_xfhzovrGZKuNbyV-5SfslB4TCW7XH8huUctmG8cls6HcLxEAfSgCf6ZCgVlkA0ubFDji-qduYSMOovIIJnK1c2r_n5BX9xJhwr7HzFFAfldjCXKhog/s738/Cavvddptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="738" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYk2KWiJEv0V0wlnVaLeZlMbigsRK9NKDfNByhF5zZhY-f1aMXaaBpq4cvBxiShATzmZ_xfhzovrGZKuNbyV-5SfslB4TCW7XH8huUctmG8cls6HcLxEAfSgCf6ZCgVlkA0ubFDji-qduYSMOovIIJnK1c2r_n5BX9xJhwr7HzFFAfldjCXKhog/s320/Cavvddptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I think what describes Joanne’s feeling about my racing was a headline once in the New York Post that said ‘Newman Escapes Death, Joanne Furious.’” —Paul Newman</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5t_VFzfSeCUnuVombuFXXtWmTlZybn2SKnl868vVXFgmIKvG4Kg2AGhr0ElLzImU_8EMIvOHvc42PAhHUVAYApGbfbq10kP0pRzoTxHWZY2nDpnjyCNikuF2RJZxcm0icqSaiSGnWhd7iUn5s6iQtO3juxE0UrbUfhlFEOxAsYJ2mkS6Qalfp5g/s1200/s-l1600%20(17).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5t_VFzfSeCUnuVombuFXXtWmTlZybn2SKnl868vVXFgmIKvG4Kg2AGhr0ElLzImU_8EMIvOHvc42PAhHUVAYApGbfbq10kP0pRzoTxHWZY2nDpnjyCNikuF2RJZxcm0icqSaiSGnWhd7iUn5s6iQtO3juxE0UrbUfhlFEOxAsYJ2mkS6Qalfp5g/s320/s-l1600%20(17).jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I could only dance with one person, that was Joanne. I could never dance with anyone else.” —Paul Newman</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzDfHimjqBkfq0_KceRokwXLGXvC8bszdYRn6BSpg1aF9sthAqhJWzq9541uxB4XEX2JmhSdzdjuOQJXokEVz6CoRWvnJgZ5lmMLDEoPNhxKoiS4z3l17z9ihvErzN960TeSq-5qgLp_-vwBxmAeCTByRD6_KTUSPhNwTPEEXTu51cMRo_GXujsA/s1380/s-l1600%20(15).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1380" data-original-width="1166" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzDfHimjqBkfq0_KceRokwXLGXvC8bszdYRn6BSpg1aF9sthAqhJWzq9541uxB4XEX2JmhSdzdjuOQJXokEVz6CoRWvnJgZ5lmMLDEoPNhxKoiS4z3l17z9ihvErzN960TeSq-5qgLp_-vwBxmAeCTByRD6_KTUSPhNwTPEEXTu51cMRo_GXujsA/s320/s-l1600%20(15).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Just to watch Joanne listening is a course in acting itself.” —Paul Newman</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">"Head Over Heels: Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman: A Love Affair in Words and Pictures" (2023) by Melissa Newman </p></div></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33246333.post-68799951562780678652023-10-01T07:44:00.003+02:002023-10-01T07:47:02.812+02:00The Enchanters (Marilyn), Affairs to Remember<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kj-9jSEZTfleDmVGoOsEBy1zsaR9o3M2NpoF23lWWr_RkdobnmUg3Q2IfKTzDfW2FrtZeHb4_G-TUrsRJvBkMThLVs3eK3Itxl9XpEn8tG6a_PlXYXne5TgBBBZzHMPQhyphenhyphenao-IVtxlR0GAXUEDg7yg5ALS-L8344cj73tJIE94aLJnUT4xfK-w/s1096/21994330_10214081861338424_7132626480616201969_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1096" data-original-width="877" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kj-9jSEZTfleDmVGoOsEBy1zsaR9o3M2NpoF23lWWr_RkdobnmUg3Q2IfKTzDfW2FrtZeHb4_G-TUrsRJvBkMThLVs3eK3Itxl9XpEn8tG6a_PlXYXne5TgBBBZzHMPQhyphenhyphenao-IVtxlR0GAXUEDg7yg5ALS-L8344cj73tJIE94aLJnUT4xfK-w/s320/21994330_10214081861338424_7132626480616201969_o.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>Bug mounts meant potential tapped phone lines. The Marilyn Monroe crib featured three extensions. Living room, spare bedroom, Marilyn’s boudoir. I made the rounds and ran receiver checks.
I pulled the handsets off the phones and unscrewed the perforated tops and bottoms. I checked for stashed mini-mikes and got zilch. But—I saw left-behind circuit spacers. That meant the three phones had been tapped. The spacers were frayed and corroded. My spacers and mikes had been inset in the handgrips. Monroe bought the house in February and moved in March 10. My surveillance job began April 11.
I photographed the three spacer sets and replaced the receiver caps. I dropped the damp prints in my kit. I returned to Monroe’s bedroom and worked up fibers and prints.
Hardwood flooring. Two throw rugs by the foot of the bed. One wood-veneer dresser. The flooring would not trap dry-constituent fibers. The rugs would. The dresser had good touch-and-grab planes that might sustain latent prints. Hoffa brushed crumbs off his lap. “Jack the K is ramming this nutty nympho, Marilyn Monroe, I have this on good authority, but I can’t reveal my source. I want you to build a derogatory profile on Monroe, Jack, Bobby, and any other extraneous cooze those whipdicks are slipping it to, not to mention whatever bedroom dirt you can get me on Miss Marilyn Monroe herself.” Tilt. Royal flush. Money tree. Three-cherry jackpot.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25SkAdgqloFVs500H5sMW-TQvWTe9BwREKeblU5qQOPvW3ucuocxEh1oWuvMYNeslZ5BguwCKyex-3QPSl0eckKOWH4-SgCkPEbK2minwvSOpuRM915bvckoR01uMVNyEVq42Vys6Sn8xKFAIvWoQJMmhaUKAT-bgnmnbAkLEYQx5zT9PhHtaSg/s1322/371993633_10230814243957532_6862615462240361327_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1322" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25SkAdgqloFVs500H5sMW-TQvWTe9BwREKeblU5qQOPvW3ucuocxEh1oWuvMYNeslZ5BguwCKyex-3QPSl0eckKOWH4-SgCkPEbK2minwvSOpuRM915bvckoR01uMVNyEVq42Vys6Sn8xKFAIvWoQJMmhaUKAT-bgnmnbAkLEYQx5zT9PhHtaSg/s320/371993633_10230814243957532_6862615462240361327_n.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>“You want full-time bugs and taps. Listening posts, monitor shifts, tape copies and transcriptions, summary reports, physical surveillance on Monroe and the other principals, and you want all this shit to rock around the clock, and you are keenly aware that it’s going to cost you a great deal of money.” Hoffa went harumph. “You’re a camel jockey, and you’re out to bilk James Riddle Hoffa with no compunction.” I leaned close. Hoffa flinched. I ticked points, wham-bam. Hoffa snapped his waistband and buffed his gold watch. “I want it ugly, Freddy. I want lots of sordid behavior, with an emphasis on sex.” My first thought: Where’s Marilyn’s address book? Where does she list her friends, colleagues, flunkies, ex-husbands, and lovers for real? My second thought: Where’s her received correspondence and fan mail? Where’s her hotsville missives from John F. and Robert F. Kennedy?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMoocFtPGljNJakPUm4G1wn21idsllHPcB0gIz4YOvTKLnuNpYq7DK3lHOx7ir6k6ZQqHqSoDVmEOY0uHOKQKXJtVBsiE-LQlbxw0zxVHdiJhK1aoRmhzpBysXXU2ekdkEZpzbR771n8suFrxnNEKfEYhxYZ-saNr3OdKZMiba1ooexIml5S6jw/s615/Cateeeeeptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="609" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMoocFtPGljNJakPUm4G1wn21idsllHPcB0gIz4YOvTKLnuNpYq7DK3lHOx7ir6k6ZQqHqSoDVmEOY0uHOKQKXJtVBsiE-LQlbxw0zxVHdiJhK1aoRmhzpBysXXU2ekdkEZpzbR771n8suFrxnNEKfEYhxYZ-saNr3OdKZMiba1ooexIml5S6jw/s320/Cateeeeeptura.JPG" width="317" /></a></div>My first guess: Stashed on the premises. My second guess: She keeps her address book and all hotsville notes on her person. My third guess: She’s mercurial defined. She dumps boring correspondence and fan mail. She keeps the good stuff in a bank vault. Marilyn justifies her "Got to Give" misconduct. Marilyn calls her work-shirking ailments “manifestations of existential malaise.” Marilyn Monroe’s got a secret life within her overarching life of dissolution. It affirms her resolve to plow a thoughtful and steady course as internal chaos subsumes her. I’m stitching evidential and theoretical links. They encompass her cash stash, her disguises, her surreptitious phone calls and her Valley jaunt. Lawford’s calls out and calls in ran innocuous. He called agents and studio geeks. They called him. The Lawford house was bedlam. Kids ran through and grabbed phone extensions. Lawford was on the outs with the Rat Pack. He was on the outs with June Allyson, who begged Dick Powell forgiveness. Of all people, Dino wanted a piece of Allyson too. But Lawford warned Dino about Powell and Nixon. -The Enchanters (2023) by James Ellroy<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdXiDcxEfHVrPKAqLtkFV4CaJMNrDd8UFEqz7acn44DXHxNST3hkRDLJ8cWCv3sB7M7u8PCxgYyvgr8r5yQ3-hhTmgGB3B4Bd7LLJTttiJbJa26ywSKLIMubDxe2qlBxFoYoNEyM9VyySSw3tlpLL4JOgQs79CTA9ljtyF42ePXzuL9KYuLNKeg/s976/xdddddCaptura.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="976" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdXiDcxEfHVrPKAqLtkFV4CaJMNrDd8UFEqz7acn44DXHxNST3hkRDLJ8cWCv3sB7M7u8PCxgYyvgr8r5yQ3-hhTmgGB3B4Bd7LLJTttiJbJa26ywSKLIMubDxe2qlBxFoYoNEyM9VyySSw3tlpLL4JOgQs79CTA9ljtyF42ePXzuL9KYuLNKeg/s320/xdddddCaptura.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Dick Powell and Ellen Drew, guests at the opening of Preston Sturges´ restaurant The Players, stray into the pantry for a mid-evening snack, 1940. <i>The Great McGinty </i>had won Sturges the Academy Award for best screenplay. His other new project was a rambling former private home at 8225 Sunset Boulevard. It was underneath the Chateau Marmont. Sturges personally oversaw the renovation of his building into a two-level restaurant and supper club. He helped design the interior, hired the chefs, worked on the menus and the menu's design. The menu was strictly American, remembered writer Philip K. Scheuer in the L.A. Times. In 1959 Preston Sturges died penniless in a comped room at the Algonquin Hotel in New York City. He was 60 years old. During renovations work crews discovered the revolving stage, the dance floor and the infamous secret tunnel connecting to the Chateau Marmont. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBBICcPbFQcO3rSr7ww2U1Be0LYCo6eHhgUH5sOMaCrWXbsSxMu8DrxjT4gA_P2w0d6DLD13FkPydbAhc0V4KYvDqonNTICNVlscYJK4XW-ASYHNYp-PLqdxMJY1BQhjjZshQM_t7pE9r4oqAsnq61EAga581PMLe1XK5CrX5-dvfLge3sAFjLw/s808/s-l1600%20-%202023-09-23T074539.314.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="808" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBBICcPbFQcO3rSr7ww2U1Be0LYCo6eHhgUH5sOMaCrWXbsSxMu8DrxjT4gA_P2w0d6DLD13FkPydbAhc0V4KYvDqonNTICNVlscYJK4XW-ASYHNYp-PLqdxMJY1BQhjjZshQM_t7pE9r4oqAsnq61EAga581PMLe1XK5CrX5-dvfLge3sAFjLw/s320/s-l1600%20-%202023-09-23T074539.314.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The film critic Ephraim Katz wrote that Sturges films "...parodied with pungent wit various aspects of American life from politics and advertising to sex and hero worship. They were marked by their verbal wit, opportune comic timing, and eccentric, outrageously funny camo characterizations." In 1942, in his review of <i>The Palm Beach Story,</i> critic Manny Farber wrote: "He is essentially a satirist without any stable point of view from which to aim his satire. He is contemptuous of everybody except the little woman who, at some point in every picture, labels the hero a poor sap. Another phase of his attack is shrouding in slapstick the fact that the godfather pays off not for perseverance or honesty or ability but merely from capriciousness." According to Allan Royle, <i>Christmas in July </i>was one of the most acidic portrays of the double sword within a capitalist system,<i> </i>and his research seems to indicate the stars<i> </i>Dick Powell and Ellen Drew might have had a fling behind the scenes, since Drew was in a process of divorce of her first husband Fred Wallace, which became official on October,<i> </i>8, 1940, coinciding with the widenation release of <i>Christmas in July</i> on October, 18. -<span style="text-align: left;">Affairs to Remember (2016) by Allan Royle</span></div><p></p><p></p></div>Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751036975211669642noreply@blogger.com0