“For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”
~Audrey Hepburn
The May poll results (82 total votes):
Audrey Hepburn- 26 (32%)
Marilyn Monroe- 19 (23%)
Grace Kelly- 18 (22%)
Doris Day- 11 (13%)
Elizabeth Taylor- 8 (9%)
I’ll admit that these polls are merely an excuse for me to ramble on about whoever the winner is. I always hope that someone reading might agree with what I say, or, even better, provide an eye-opening point of view that I hadn’t previously considered. I know very little about these actresses, and what I believe is largely based on my perceptions of them onscreen. So feel free to jump in and share what it is you like about them (or dislike; just be nice) I’m also willing to welcome someone passionate enough about their choice to invite them as a guest blogger here. Okay? Great!
I thought that the May poll question, “Who do you think is the quintessential 1950s actress?” would be handily won by that ever-popular cultural icon, Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn has all the snapshot images: the white dress blowing up, the kiss from the window, entertaining the troops in that slinky black dress in Korea, the bleach-blonde hair and the endless commercialization of said images.
Perhaps Doris Day might have emerged victorious, given her status as the prototypically 1950s “Girl Next Door.” But Day is a polarizing figure and has as many detractors as she does admirers, though she performed respectably in the poll.
Grace Kelly had a stellar year in 1954, even winning an Oscar (and beating out Audrey). But she beat it out of Hollywood in 1956 and married that schlubby prince.
Elizabeth Taylor had the movie star pedigree: the child star that came of age in the 1950s and was also the one with all the Oscar nominations earning consecutive nods in 1957 through 1960.
However, the clear winner is Audrey Hepburn, who, despite trailing early in the voting, emerged as the majority’s choice as the quintessential 1950s actress. I still believe that she won because in the view of many classic movie lovers, Audrey has more substance than Marilyn, even if we know virtually every detail of the latter’s perpetual unhappiness and early death. Marilyn longed to be considered a “serious” actress and an intellectual. That never happened. It would also seem that the Audrey fans out there stuffed the Hollywood Dreamland ballot box! Her fans are legion; just look at the amount of blogger profile pictures that use Hepburn as their avatar.
I have a theory about Audrey’s popularity, and I’ve commented on it before when her role as Princess Ann in Roman Holiday won March’s poll:
Audrey isn’t the sex goddess Marilyn is, she’s not the goody-goody Doris’ public image made her out to be, she didn’t have Grace Kelly’s royal, icy aloofness, and she wasn’t shrill and mean as Liz Taylor could be in her films. Audrey happened to just happened to carry herself like a princess, was beautiful like a porcelain doll, but emotional, sensitive, and above all—accessible. This is speculation, but I think that Audrey, regardless of her beauty and ability, had whatever the heck it was that most any girl out there understood: uncertainty, the feeling of being alone in the world. Marilyn Monroe, who obviously felt that way in her personal life, never conveyed those feelings onscreen. Audrey was able to show happiness tinged with an ever-present sadness. It was often seen in her movies as a moment of joy quickly replaced by her sad knowledge of the world, and of her own condition. This isn't present with any other actress and Audrey used that and made it her—I use this word too much---persona.
Of course, there's not a single, definitive reason that Audrey has become as popular as she has. When I was growing up, Marilyn Monroe was the star that girls idolized. MM’s popularity has dimmed since that time, but clearly a new awareness of Audrey Hepburn’s appeal has made itself known. Whatever it is, there wasn’t anything in the popular culture to catapult Audrey above these other actresses, so I’d be interested in knowing what makes Audrey so special to you. As for those that didn’t win, do chime in on what it was that made you vote the way you did.
Back in February, I posted a Ginger Rogers photo where she's wearing that beyond-gorgeous dress from Swing Time. That entry was done during a moment of exaltation, as I had just finished watching that movie for the eleventeenth time this year and everything about the film was a cause for celebration: the songs, the dance numbers, Ginger, and of course "THE Dress." Four months later, that post remains Hollywood Dreamland's most-landed-on entry, while "Ginger Rogers Dress" is by far the most-searched term in this not-very-busy blog (average visit time: zero seconds). I guess her wardrobe from those Astaire-Rogers movies still inspires a sense of awe some seventy years later. Speaking of dresses/gowns/female clothing-- the picture above is of Ginger in Shall We Dance. By the way, two other commonly-searched terms that people use to find themselves here are: "Husband and Wife Detectives", which I consider a personal victory, as I'm obsessed with the genre, and the other, which is amusing considering that what they're looking for isn't here:"Gloria Grahame Nude"
Today's entry is not new, as this Gail Patrick post already appeared in the May 19 Silents and Talkies. However, Kate Gabrielle's stellar artwork can only be found at her blog--its available for purchase, too; gotta plug my friend's livelyhood-- but I wanted to include the post here for the olde archives. It's obvious that I need little or no reason to put Gail on the blog again, despite an earlier announcement stating that I wouldn't. I've added the above picture of her from My Favorite Wife. I've excluded all those links I always feel the need to cross reference you to death with. Consider it a generous gift. Anyway, once more---Gail Patrick:
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Have you ever seen a movie and find that it’s one of the second-tier stars who gets your attention, and that you find yourself waiting for their next fleeting appearance onscreen? This happened to me years ago when I saw Gail Patrick (1911-1980) in the 1936 Screwball Comedy, My Man Godfrey. This is the film that introduced me to the Golden Age’s definitive “Other Woman.” Patrick’s best-known roles have her trading deliciously catty barbs with Hollywood’s greatest stars, most notably in this film, and also in Stage Door (1937), opposite Ginger Rogers.
In My Man Godfrey, her most-famous role, Gail plays Cornelia Bullock, one of the daughters of the impossibly-wealthy Alexander Bullock. The entire family is an out-of-touch rabble afflicted with having too much money during the Great Depression. I don’t want to spoil the entire plot, but what I like about Gail’s role is that she’s the only character who comes full circle and ends up growing as a person. Cornelia is completely different at the end of the film than she was at the beginning. Of course, I didn’t catch on to this plot development until many years and several “Godfrey” viewings later.
From the first time I saw Gail Patrick--I dubbed her the Deco Dame-- I was enraptured and intrigued by the actress who was often characterized as a huffy, stand-offish, statuesque beauty; I’d add that she had a great speaking voice, too. She was someone I sought out in any 1930s film I was watching and I would perk up at the sight of her name in the credits. I didn’t see her in many movies, but when I did it was an event. You see, Gail was the first “bad girl” that I had a cinematic crush on. Normally, I tend to prefer the girl next door types, like Ginger Rogers or Myrna Loy, but Gail changed the dimensions of that daydream. There was a radiant beauty, but I sensed that Gail possessed a keen intelligence. This was merely an assumption on my part, but it would turn out to be true, given her post-acting career accomplishments.
My Favorite Wife (1940) is another of Gail’s better-known films. Gail’s ability to barely contain her annoyance at Cary Grant’s kids’ piano recital is her most memorable comedic moment. However, she managed to make me sympathize with her because she really wasn’t a bad person. We’re supposed to want Cary Grant to be able to get away from Gail, and so the flawed script had to make Irene Dunne more desirable to him, so Gail was sacrificed on the altar of “The Hollywood Ending.”
My favorite Gail Patrick role is in Love Crazy (1941). She’s teamed again with her My Man Godfrey co-star, William Powell. Here Gail plays a lighthearted variation of her “other woman” persona in the role of Isobel Grayson, who’s more of a playful vixen than a catty ex-girlfriend. Isobel has moved into ex-fiancée Powell’s apartment building and of course she causes trouble, if unknowingly, with Powell and his wife of four years, played by Myrna Loy—and on their wedding anniversary. Of all her movies where she’s a supporting player, Love Crazy is the role that lets Gail be bubbly, fun, flirty, yet mischievous. She steals every one of the few scenes she’s in, and has one of the best lines in the whole movie, when she’s covering up for William Powell when the latter is trapped in her shower.
When her movie career ended in 1947, Gail started her own children’s boutique that catered to the Hollywood clientele she knew so well. However, her most significant off-screen accomplishment was serving as the producer of the Perry Mason television series. It was Gail’s suggestion that Raymond Burr, Barbara Hale, and William Talman be cast in the long-running courtroom drama. She was close friends with Perry Mason author Erle Stanley Gardner and he trusted her decisions. In fact, Gardner only allowed the show to exist if Gail would produce it! It would seem as though the tough-as-nails persona Gail honed onscreen also extended to her real-life business career.
Gail Patrick would die from leukemia in July, 1980. She had been both a respected actress and a powerful producer in her extended entertainment career. I still get that sense of excitement every time I watch My Man Godfrey. Of course, there’s the nostalgia when I think of the first time I discovered Gail in her, but now there’s that newfound knowledge that she imbued her characters with a drive, determination, and intelligence, that is plainly evident in all of her performances.
Coming On Strong: Isobel Grayson (Gail Patrick) gets chummy with ex-boyfriend Stephen Ireland (William Powell) in 1941's Love Crazy.
Charles Tranberg, author of the highly-praised I Love the Illusion: The Life and Career of Agnes Moorehead, has turned his attention to the Thin Man film series with The Thin Man: Murder Over Cocktails. It’s a well-written and well-researched work, and when considering the paucity of material and interviewees available, it’s a valiant effort, too. In writing a book about Nick and Nora’s screen adventures, Tranberg has to compete with the sad reality that the internet has made books like this largely superfluous. For instance, there’s a lot of substance in Rich Drees’ excellent Thin Man article from Film Buff Online of some years ago. There’s plenty of information for an extended online article, but not necessarily for a three hundred page book. However, I’m glad that there’s even a Thin Man book available in this day and age. It’s informative, and reading this information in a book is preferable to being hunched over the computer screen’s sinister glow, but it isn’t as focused on the film series per se. It’s most likely that there just isn’t all that much Thin Man information around.
The set up in Murder Over Cocktails is simple: Tranberg lays out a brief plot synopsis, adds some memorable quotes from the film, and includes a precious handful of anecdotes about the behind-the-scenes goings on, many of which have appeared in Jon Tuska's (highly-recommended) Jon Tuska’s The Detective In Hollywood and Myrna Loy’s autobiography, Being and Becoming. The rest of the chapter is a compilation of blurbs from various press sources of the day, extolling each movie’s virtues. There's also a rundown of the supporting players’ career highlights. In fact, so much space is dedicated to actor biographies that I found myself impatiently flipping ahead in the dim hope that I’d find something else—anything—on the movies themselves. The index wasn’t any help—there isn’t one! Curse you, Bear Manor Press! However, these actor and technician profiles may prove to be the best thing about Murder Over Cocktails. But while it's nice to have a performer’s career highlights at one’s fingertips, I’d prefer that there be more about the actual Thin Man movies, even if it were just photos, extended dialogue, or publicity materials. It’s also unfortunate that Tranberg didn’t dedicate some time on the actual era in which the series was made, instead of merely listing the personnel’s film credits. Was Nick Charles the ideal American male? Was Nora the feminine ideal? What about those other Sleuthing Couples? The book includes a decent selection of photos, some of which I hadn’t seen before, and instead of an index, there's a supporting actor portrait gallery, which varies in quality; some actors’ photos are from much later in their career; Sam Levene’s (Lt. Abrams in the second and fourth films) picture looks like it was taken in 1971 rather than 1941.
Despite my own mild disappointment with Murder Over Cocktails, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend the book to someone just getting interested in The Thin Man movies, as it would serve as a good primer in learning about the actors and behind-the-scenes technicians involved. And there’s something to be said about any book getting published about Nick and Nora Charles; for that alone I'd give this book five stars! This volume is #1 in the Film Series Series. Redundant title aside, I hope there are more volumes in this new series, as it would be great to have future volumes cover the Andy Hardy, Blondie, Bowery Boys, and Charlie Chan films. For the longtime fan there’s nothing here we haven’t already read before, but I guess I’ll have to accept the fact that there’s a finite amount of Thin Man information out there. Whatever the case may be, count me as grateful that a publisher even put this book out there.
Left To Right: Maureen O'Sullivan, William Powell, Producer Hunt Stromberg[?], Director W.S. Van Dyke, Myrna Loy, and actor Ronald Colman on the set of The Thin Man (1934). Note Loy's beautiful dress, worn in the film.
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