Gloria Grahame: An Appreciation

I'm not sure when this picture of Gloria Grahame (1923-1981) was taken, but it's probably 1954, when she appeared in two little-known crime dramas: Naked Alibi and Human Desire. She's clearly at the peak of her sex appeal, but the Noir vixen was also at a career peak in 1954.

I'll admit that Gloria Grahame's obvious, physical charms are what initially got me interested in her, but having seen nearly all of her 1950s work, I've come to realize that Grahame's 1950s screen credits compare favorably with many of her better-known contemporaries, including an absolutely stellar year in 1952. It's a shame she isn't better known outside of Film Noir circles, where she's revered. Grahame won me over with her onscreen vulnerability, her likability--even when she plays a truly awful character-- and with a voice like no other. She invariably enlivens any scene she's in and makes watching Noir all the more exciting.

The 1950s proved to be an impressive decade for the actress, who began making her presence known in 1946 with her role as Violet in It's a Wonderful Life. She made a bigger impression playing a b-girl in 1947's Crossfire. The role earned the 24-year-old her first Oscar nomination. Grahame would begin the 1950s in Nicholas Ray's haunting In a Lonely Place, one of the director's best films and Grahame's rendering of the film's last lines is one of the most effective moments in all of Film Noir: "I lived a few weeks while you loved me." Ray and Grahame later married, but that union was destroyed when Grahame began an affair with Ray's 13 year-old son from a previous marriage.

"I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."

1952 would prove to be Gloria Grahame's finest year. She won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for The Bad & the Beautiful, playing a flighty southern belle who cheats on her screenwriter husband. Grahame was Jack Palance's conniving girlfriend in Sudden Fear, co-starring Joan Crawford. Grahame further added to her credentials with her appearance in the year's Best Picture winner, The Greatest Show On Earth. Another iconic crime drama, 1953's The Big Heat, showcased Grahame as a spurned gangster's moll. In 1955, she would be absolutely charming as "Ado Annie" in the otherwise bloated film adaptation of Rodgers & Hammerstein's Oklahoma! Grahame ended the decade with an odd but memorable part in 1959's Odds Against Tomorrow, where, in a near-cameo role, she is aroused by the cruelty of Robert Ryan's nasty character.

"We're all sisters under the mink."

Gloria Grahame was impressive during the 1950s, starring in several Noir classics, winning an Oscar, appearing in a Best Picture winner, and even warbling in a musical. Despite those accomplishments, it's her work in crime dramas that have proven to be her enduring legacy. Given the cultish appeal of Film Noir, it is unlikely that Grahame will receive a widespread renaissance, but to those who've seen her work, she's a fondly-kept secret.

Gail Patrick: Deco Dame, Part IV

Because you demanded it...Okay, I demanded it... Here’s the fourth installment of Hollywood Dreamland’s ongoing Gail Patrick tribute. We’re proud to claim that 97% of the attention Gail receives on the internet comes from this blog. This entry will focus on "Gail the Glamorous." Many of the stills the actress posed for have her in high-fashion costumes that emphasized her icy characterizations as the “other woman.” The third photo is another cigarette card, like the one featured in Part II. The second image is my favorite, as Gail looks particularly striking. Enjoy.

The last image is a Milton Caniff drawing. Gail's not rendered here, but I wouldn't be surprised if she'd been an inspiration for his 1930s comic strip, Terry & the Pirates. Gail looks a lot like the "Dragon Lady" character from Terry. Caniff would use the same dame imagery for his long-running (forty-one years) Steve Canyon comic strip. Take a look at the dame on the top right and below on the left, immediately next to Caniff; both women are definitely Patrickesque.

TCM Schedule: Gail in My Favorite Wife (1940) today at 2:30pm (et).

Happy New Year, Strangers!

At Last: The Charles family spends some quality time together--finally--in 1936's After the Thin Man.

One of my favorite scenes in After the Thin Man (1936) is when Nick and Nora, exhausted after solving the Wynant case and just back from a cross country train journey, come home to that beautiful mansion high up in San Francisco. Wanting nothing more than to “sleep for a week”, the sleuthing couple are dismayed to discover a wild party in progress, ostensibly in their honor, and they find that virtually all of their “guests” are complete strangers! Even Asta seeks refuge from the drunken revelry!

So here’s hoping that your New Year’s festivities are memorable for all the right reasons and that you’re all in the company you know and enjoy.


Happy New Year!

Paul Newman: Saying Goodbye to a Legend

First, let me say that I'm not one to bore people with what I dream, and people usually don't care to know what other people think or feel, and that it's rude to talk about oneself. But there's a bit more to this dream than the usual fragmented imagery I experience. So I thought I'd share:

I was in the downtown area where I live and instead of the New Age "art park" that exists there now, there was an old, dilapidated, federal-style bank. The area around the bank was fairly run down and the weather was cold and everything a drab gray. As I headed towards the bank entrance, Paul Newman walked out, hands in his trenchcoat pockets. He wore a golfer's cap, a light khaki trenchcoat, and pearl-gray slacks. He was older, in his seventies, and we began a conversation. We walked around the bank and the downtown area. He spoke with that great voice of his, as he sounded in his later years. Our discussion had a subdued quality, and I could hear Newman thinking in the pauses between the times he spoke. He was so knowledgeable and wise, yet world weary. I was enraptured by every word he said and didn't speak much, but when doing so, it was in that placid, thoughts-between-speaking manner that matched his own. I don't remember what we said to one another, but the atmosphere was one of great empathy and understanding. Shift then to me walking inside the bank, which was smaller on the inside than it was outside, and when I informed the teller that I had just spoken to Paul Newman, she said: "Mr. Newman owns the bank." That Newman owned the bank was testament to his vast wealth, but the fact that he walked around anonymously and without drawing attention to who he was and how much money he had, was typical of his great character. The dream was a way of saying goodbye to him and perhaps a way to express grief. The experience was therapeutic, as I have had a rough time accepting his death. Of course, I never knew Paul Newman, but have been profoundly affected by his work, both onscreen and his charity work. There'll never be anyone quite like him.