THE REEL REALS: Ben Hecht

Ben Hecht

Ben Hecht was a prolific author and a very influential figure in the land of Hollywood screenwriting. His intense passion for and curiosity of life began at an early age. Forced to raise himself in many ways due to his parents' job demands, he allowed his own thirst for knowledge and experience to be his guides to maturity. A child prodigy, his keen intelligence and the ease with which he picked up new ideas and talents won him early respect and equally enriched his lonesome early life. He excelled in the violin; he joined the circus. Finally, at sixteen, he ran away from home and began treading the pavements of Chicago as a journalist. By the age of 21, he had written his first novel: Erik Dorn.

Fast forward through many plays, short stories, and further articles, and by 1926, Hecht found himself in Hollywood, (allegedly due to a tip from writer friend Herman Mankiewicz). While critically successful, the writer is ever the starving artist, so Hecht jumped at the chance to earn money through the new medium of "screenplays." With the talkie revolution encroaching, his particular talent would ease this rocky transition with witty, intelligent, and provocative scripts that paved the way for future screenwriters and scenarists. Dialogue was truly a new phenomenon, as the silent era had either entrusted actors with improvisation based upon a general plotline or had otherwise given them a loose script to work with or without. Words meant little in those days when title card writers were as close to literature as film writing got, but those days were about to change. During his tenure in Hollywood, Ben managed to win the first ever Academy Award for Best Screenplay for 1927's Underworld. Other classics were to follow, which were either the result of his solo gifts or partial contribution-- the latter case in which other writers, directors, etc. asked him to assist on their scripts, which he unfailingly improved.

Examples of his work include: The Front Page (1937), Beast of the City, Scarface (1932), Queen Christina, Twentieth Century, The Prisoner of Zenda, A Star is Born (1937), Nothing Sacred, Angels with Dirty Faces, Where the Sidewalk Ends, Gilda, Gone with the Wind, Journey into Fear, The Man with the Golden Arm, and-- as a Hitchcock favorite-- Lifeboat, Spellbound, Notorious, Foreign Correspondent, Rope, Strangers on a Train, etc. As a political activist, particularly during the forties when he wrote tirelessly about the rising anti-Semitism and eventual Jewish extermination in Germany, the only hiccup he seemed to run into with his writing was censorship. A man who palled around with irreverent men like Mankiewicz, John Decker, John Barrymore, Howard Hawks, and even Mickey Cohen (whom he aided in an aborted biographical project), the great wound to his pride was in writing anything less than the truth. His irritation with this was but one of the demons that haunted him throughout his career. H was a man forever hard on himself and always, always pushing for more.

With countless works of art under his belt-- novels, plays, essays, short stories, screenplays, etc-- Ben passed away after suffering a heart attack at the age of 70. He was nearly finished with his adaptation of Casino Royale, which would have been the first serious 007 film. Indeed, it was produced, but his drama of espionage was altered and turned into a spoof-comedy. One wonders what would have happened had another writer and another actor other than Connery initiated "James Bond" into the modern mainstream. In any case, his work has, and still does, provide the backbone of truly great writing, most specifically for our purposes in the land of cinema. Who better to have brought us out of the silence than a man who pulled no punches with words?

STAR OF THE MONTH: Audrey Hepburn

Audrey Kathleen Van Heemstra Ruston

The Audrey Hepburn effect became pretty clear to me over the past month. In preparation for all of my monthly muses, in addition to reading everything I can about the individual in so brief a time, I like to watch as many of their available films as possible. A strange phenomenon: not only did I find that I already had the majority of Audrey's major Hollywood films in my possession, but I was also privileged with enduring the most enjoyable movie marathon in my recollection. Every movie made me feel good. Every movie left me in a better mood. Most importantly, I was excited to revisit each film, whereas sometimes I have to drag my feet (due to the impending, heavy subject matter, etc). Not this time. Thus, I give you the Audrey Hepburn effect: Joy!

Audrey seems so... pristine in cinematic history-- so beautiful, so charismatic, and so notoriously generous. Her sense of style via her BFFs Givenchy and Ralph Lauren makes even Grace Kelly in retrospect look like an amateur. Her films are almost all classics, and they continue to be lauded as some of the top fan favorites in film history. Imagining movies-- nay, the world!-- without Audrey, today seems unfathomable. She is an icon: a frail, delicate, untouchable goddess. It is easy to slip her into the Heavenly attic of Hollywood's stars and forget that she came up the hard way. Today, Audrey and "Beauty" are synonymous; yet, there was no place in the ever-short-sighted L.A. for a skinny, gawky, too tall girl with no real acting experience. The fact that Audrey Hepburn triumphed and won hearts simply by being herself is a testament both to her and to us. When this diamond emerged from the rough, we saw in her a beauty that existed outside of the general standard and was superior to all preconceived notions. Audrey was both authentic and ethereal. Our trust in her was quickly earned, and in a comparatively short career in film, she never let us down.

Audrey takes the stage as "Gigi." Famed and infamous

authoress Collette handpicked Audrey when she

saw her randomly in a hotel lobby!

Yet, she had every reason to. Audrey's childhood was far from "lov-e-ly," despite the fact that she was born into nobility. Her mother, Ella van Heemstra, was a "baroness" with unfulilled dreams of the stage, and her father was the wayfaring "businessman" Joseph Hepburn-Ruston. The marriage was an affair of passion over propriety on the lady's part. Ella would pass on her daring nature to her third child. Audrey was the happy, youngest, and only daughter, born after two half-brothers, Alexander and Ian, from her mother's previous marriage to Hendrik Gustaaf Adolf Quarles van Ufford, (phew), which had ended in divorce.  War was brewing, and Audrey's father was surprisingly on the side of the Nazis, a fact that caused Audrey much later chagrin. Even her mother showed an early, ignorant support of the fascist movement, one that she later revised after her husband abandoned her and she witnessed first-hand the evil of the Axis powers. Growing up primarily in the Dutch town of Arnhem during its German occupation, Audrey was confronted with hunger, depravity, and fear. Her father's absence and her mother's detached sense of affection, which revealed itself in discipline, only exacerbated Audrey's shyness and insecurity. Yet, her answer to these threats, always, was to remain brave-- to literally keep dancing while the world tried to break her. 

Indeed, she dreamed of being a ballerina, and she would put on private shows for neighbors-- who out of fear of making noise, couldn't even applaud for her but merely smiled in reverence after she made her curtsy. Audrey also showed signs of the early rebel, daringly hiding soldiers with her mother and carrying messages for the resistance in her shoes-- a courageous act many of her young peers participated in. With her innocent face, she was the perfect secret agent, though she was almost accidentally rounded up once with a slew of other girls to work in the German military kitchen. She waited for the right moment and made a break for it. The other girls weren't as lucky, nor as bold. Finally, the end of the madness, and the liberation of Holland, came on her sixteenth birthday: May 4, 1945. Audrey celebrated by getting sick by gorging on chocolate, the first she'd tasted in some time. However, her bouts with illness during the war-- including anemia, severe edema, jaundice, and asthma-- would forever affect her metabolism, as well as her psyche. She would never forget the horrors and cruelties she saw. Her most brilliant act of defiance was in not letting the memories cripple her. Instead, she approached life with beauty, grace, and dignity, which served as her sword, helmet, and shield through all the trials she had yet to endure.

Audrey's sense of fun and youthful wonder mixed with

her emotional maturity won her an Academy Award
in Roman Holiday and a lifetime friend

in Gregory Peck.

How did this little, twirling violet find herself in Hollywood? The trek was unlikely and a bit unwanted when it came. As Audrey matured, it became unfortunately clearer and clearer to her that ballet was not her calling. She was a capable dancer, but what she possessed in poise and charisma-- two things she had in abundance-- she lacked in skill and control. Anyone who observed her dancing performances, her work in "High Button Shoes," or the cabaret show at Ciro's in London, was captivated by her-- particularly with her eyes. She had a "quality." She was "bound to be famous." Many over the years would take credit for discovering her, and perhaps it's true that many did. Audrey was the only one who seemed surprised by her public reception. Always a practical and hard-working woman, she eventually got work modeling and taking some minor roles in mostly British films. Word of mouth and just plain luck earned Audrey a chance at the leading role in Anita Loos's stage adaptation of "Gigi" and a screen test for William Wyler's Roman Holiday. She nabbed them both! Suddenly, Audrey was the toast of the entertainment world: an inexperienced actress with a practically non-existent resume was to star on Broadway and in a major motion picture!? With Gregory Peck?! It all made sense when the world caught a glimpse of her. In "Gigi," Audrey's acting was at best mildly praised and at worst dismissed, but her being was extolled. She was just... adorable! And lovable. And real. These qualities would carry over into her first screen performance, where Greg Peck even gentlemanly acquiesced to sharing top billing with her, because he was so impressed. Audrey's rule was simple: not to "act," but to "feel." She would repeatedly admit throughout her career that she had no technique; that she relied entirely on her directors and co-stars to guide her. Her humility only made her more enchanting, and the honesty with which she approached her work made her an immediate sensation.

The Hepburn quality is a mixture of innocence and maturity; girlishness and strength. Skinny as a rail, she may have been. Still, no one got the impression, with her defiant, square-line jaw, that Audrey could be pushed around. But then, with her vulnerable features and ultimate kindness, no one wanted to. The same enchantment that she used to capture the loyalty of her directors and co-stars (she had Billy Wilder and William Wyler transfixed and notorious scalawags like Peter O'Toole and William Holden eating out of her hand) was the same that endeared a universal audience to her. In Roman Holiday, Sabrina, Funny Face, and Love in the Afternoon, we witness her in her ingenue supremacy. The little girl, a bit romantic but always intelligent, falls in love with an older male. Modern feminists could argue the issues all day, but in the end, it is never Audrey who is conquered. Her wit and depth, albeit in a younger, more seemingly impressionable package, always triumph over the uber-masculine, jaded, and philandering ways of Bogart, Astaire, and Cooper. As such, she is a girl who is allowed to fall in love, because she does so, not only genuinely, but with class. She may have given up the study of "empathicalism" to become a model in Funny Face, but the point is not that she looked beautiful doing it-- that she went through the Cinderella process at the cost of her brain-- but that she used both her beauty and brains to bring Fred Astaire through his own emotional Cinderella process, so that he would be man enough to meet her.

When Audrey looked in the mirror, she always saw a Funny Face; 

the world saw the epitome of gorgeousness.

Always, Audrey was proactive in her career, choosing roles that spoke to her and that held some level of decorum that preached her belief that beauty gives birth to beauty. She had seen enough violence in her life and had endured enough trauma. In her projects, there was always the resounding mantra of "let there be light," even if her characters had to sometimes face the harder aspects of humanity to find it. Yet, as the girl became a woman, so too did she seek out more mature roles. With the help of her first husband, Mel Ferrer--whose instincts for her career were as keen as his instincts toward his own were askew-- she more often than not was able to choose projects that ended as box-office hits, but then that was, again, probably just the Audrey Hepburn effect. The studios were enthusiastically shocked when The Nun's Story was a smash success, and indeed this film was a milestone in Audrey's acting career as well. Here, not only do we watch her acting reach new heights, but we watch the little girl we knew enter into a life of servitude (with conviction and courage), and exit it as a mature, worldly woman. It was the perfect beginning to a new chapter in her film work. I personally find her later movies more compelling, although admittedly her earlier, ingenue films are the height of Hollywood romanticism. Once she outgrew the role of "the new girl," or the "hot young thing," Audrey was able to use her clout to take on more daring projects that pushed the envelope of human understanding-- such as The Children's Hour-- or our very sense of cultural comfort...

Breakfast at Tiffany's: where glamour and bohemia meet.

Oh, Breakfast at Tiffany's... Is there anyone alive who does not get misty when they hear the opening, melancholy notes of "Moon River?" (Heck, I'm tearing up right now)! Notoriously, Truman Capote would be aghast at the fact that Audrey was cast as his free-wheeling, little-girl-lost prostitute, "Holly Golightly." (He had hoped for Marilyn Monroe, see here). Many were inclined to agree with him. Audrey a call-girl??? Errr...  As a result, Blake Edwards's take on the novella was not as gritty nor as realistic, though brimming with life and humor, as Capote's charmed tale, but in retrospect, the end may just have justified the means. In a nation undergoing an incredible cultural shift-- from old school, to new school; from boundaries and glamour to "swingers," desegregation, and Vietnam-- our transformation into a new world, a more open, yet for many, peculiar world, needed a trusting face to guide us there. So, the last link of Golden Era Hollywood would wear the slim black dress of a society girl, have premarital sex, throw drunken parties, and still find a way to make it appear palatable. And also: Tiffany's? There's only one woman that could carry that banner. Audrey and style are forever intertwined. Despite some critical disapproval, Audrey's ever-running, ever-searching Holly is authentic unto herself. There was so much of that Holly in Audrey, that the performance is actually quite breath-taking and far above commendation.

Alan Arkin terrorizes Audrey in Wait Until Dark.

From this point on, Audrey would play Women and continue her position as an unexpected feminist role model. Another surprisingly controversial piece of work, My Fair Lady, was a grueling and emotionally draining experience to make, mostly because of the constant insults hurled Audrey's way for her lip-syncing. (Not her fault, by the way. She tried to sing her own songs, but Audrey's singing, much like her dancing, was never on par with her thespian abilities). Still, her "Eliza Doolittle," while funny in her cockney period, was most astonishing in her post-transformation. When her heart breaks over the uncertainty of her future, a woman in-between and without a home, the audience is with her and too cheers for her when she puts Rex Harrison's "Henry Higgins" in his place. Two for the Road introduced audiences to a more realistic, less-sugary portrait of marriage, and ironically helped to end Audrey's own, as she and co-star Albert Finney engaged in a passionate affair during filming. The entire blame was not on Audrey, mind you. Mel had been enjoying numerous, alleged dalliances prior to this for some time, and it was argued just how serviceable or controlling his interest in her career had become. He would produce Wait Until Dark-- a still undated, suspenseful masterpiece, thanks to Audrey's performance as a helpless, blind woman who uses her wits to escape disaster-- then the couple would divorce.

Audrey's career in film was all but over at this point, but then Hollywood was never truly her home. She admired the art but defied the pretension, finding solace in her home in Switzerland where she could enjoy more peace and privacy. After suffering numerous miscarriages, she would eventually have two sons, the first by Mel-- Sean Ferrer-- and the second by second husband, psychiatrist Andrea Dotti-- Luca Dotti. As she had been a career woman since her late teens, Audrey decided to devote the remainder of her life to being a wife and mother, making films only sporadically. Many hail Robin and Marian as her last, great classic, and I'm inclined to agree. (The chemistry between herself and the Scots' answer to masculinity, Sean Connery, is still mesmerizing). Sadly, while Audrey, guilty over the dissolution of her first union, was determined to make her second marriage work, she and Andrea Dotti were divorced after his very public liaisons became too much for her to endure. (You cheated on Audrey Hepburn? HONESTLY)!? Yet, she would find her soulmate after long last in the widower of Merle Oberon, the 7 years younger Robert Wolders. They would remain together for 12 years, most of which were encompassed by Audrey's dedicated work for UNICEF. Because of her own desperate struggles as a child, children in pain were always her weak-spot, and she charitably and exhaustingly gave herself to this cause, despite the emotional toll it took on her. Watching the deaths of innocents by the hundreds in places like Ethiopia, Turkey, and Somalia, was no easy feat.

Gorge on the gorgeousness.

Audrey Hepburn died at the age of 63, mere weeks after her rare and painful bout with cancer was even diagnosed-- the malignant tumor that had started in her appendix had already spread by the time Audrey had registered the discomfort, resulting in a hysterectomy and the partial removal of her colon. She opted not to undergo chemotherapy and left this earth as peaceably as she had lived within it. She was surrounded by loved ones as she took her last breath and was subsequently missed by all whose lives she had touched, many of whom knew her only from her presence on the silver screen. She would be held up over time as an angel-- an inhumanly beautiful woman inside and out. But Audrey was not an angel. She was, despite her slender figure, of hearty stock and a complicated, deeply emotional, acutely intelligent woman, whose generous contribution to society was her lightness of spirit. Have you ever laughed harder than at the dialogue she shares with Cary Grant in Charade? Have you ever watched Sabrina and not audibly sighed? War and Peace is one of her least known films-- and lesser praised as well (for good reason, I must say)-- but it eloquently ends with the words of Tolstoy: "The most difficult thing-- but an essential one-- is to love Life, even while one suffers, because Life is all." It may as well have been her epitaph. Few have come closer than she, perhaps, to living that very example.

DIDJA KNOW: Part VI

Didja know...

Truffaut and Hitchcock discuss the cinematic effect.
 

...why editing is so important?
 

In his conversations with Francois Truffaut, Alfred Hitchcock discussed the experiment, popular among cinema students, regarding Russian director Lev Kuleshov. In this study of the montage-- now known as "the Kuleshov effect"-- Kuleshov investigated the use of images to evoke a psychological reaction from the audience. It occurred thus: he provided an image of a little girl's coffin to a set of viewers and then showed an unrelated shot of actor Ivan Mosjoukine's face (left). Yet, because the two separately filmed moments were played one after the other, the audience read Ivan's alleged reaction as that of compassion or sorrow. In another test, Kuleshov showed an image of soup, then played the same clip of Ivan's face. The audience reaction interpreted his face this time as displaying "hunger." Oh, what a little film cutting can do... Hitchcock marveled at the technical implications Kuleshov had discovered, and put them to use in all of his films through specific angles, reaction shots, and most importantly editing-- especially when it came to his masterpiece, Rear Window. While this experiment revealed a great deal about the necessity of skilled editing, it also raised questions about film acting. If you had a good director, cameraman, and film cutter, it appeared that a good actor didn't seem to be all that necessary... But then, Hitch considered all actors to be "cattle," didn't he? Look left, look right, turn, stare, scream, etc. Are film actors real actors or merely talking props at the mercy of behind-the-scenes, cinema tacticians?
 

Greta Garbo was, of course, a phenomenal actress, who proved that she could deliver complicated and deeply felt performances so effective that her audiences were moved to tears or even lustful panting. However, even she participated from time to time in Kuleshov's methods. When filming the final scene in Queen Christina, Greta was uncertain how to proceed. Having just lost her lover in the film, she was to stare at the sea from the helm of a great ship as she makes her voyage to a mysterious new life. She conferred with director Rouben Mamoulian. What reaction did he want? Courage or sorrow? Hope or despair? Rouben instructed her not to give anything away. "Just stare," he said. The audience, he asserted, will fill in the blanks with whatever emotion they choose. Greta doubted, but delivered. Thus, after she walked from her lover's death-bed to the front of the ship, she stood and looked forward blankly (right). Rouben was correct. No acting nor tears were needed. The audience projected their own emotions on Greta's face and saw her great pain over her past and equally uncertain future. It was hailed as a brilliant moment of exquisite acting! Had Rouben inserted an image of cheesecake, the audience probably would have sensed her hunger too.
 

...what Garbo found so funny?
 

Queen Christina is notorious for another reason in Garbo's history. While Ninotchka is hailed as the film in which "Garbo Laughs" (left), Greta had actually laughed before, and often. Of course, most of her guffaws were lost to silence in the pre-sound era. However, the first sound film in which she truly "yucked it up" was Queen Christina. Obviously an innovative and skilled director, Rouben Mamoulian knew the importance of this moment. Greta's Christina is supposed to happen upon John Gilbert's hopelessly snowbound carriage and laugh it up at his expense. Naturally, both Greta and Rouben were nervous about the moment. Greta was known for her childish and delightful laugh among friends, but her screen persona was pretty much the opposite of light-hearted. She began putting a great deal of pressure on herself and was a ball of nerves. Rouben devised a plan to help her out. He pulled John and Akim Tamiroff aside and told them that when Greta rode up on her horse, they were to make childish and absurd faces at her off camera. In turn, he told Greta that, no matter what happened during the scene, she was to just continue on as scripted. She complied... and got a surprise! Thus, when Greta turns the corner atop her stead and starts laughing uproariously, she is not acting: she is truly cutting up at the twisted faces and outstretched tongues of John and Akim. Her little girl delight is as honest as it gets.
 

...the connection between Sean Connery and Dick Van Dyke?
 

Certainly no two actors could seem further apart, but it turns out that these two very different performers starred in different adaptations of a certain author's books. Ian Fleming is most popularly remembered for his creation of the character "Bond... James Bond" in his series of 007 novels. Mr. Connery (right) brought Bond to life on the screen in 1962. Yet, despite his thorough knowledge and interpretation of sex and espionage, Fleming is equally noteworthy for another literary offering, which was geared toward a very different audience: children. Indeed, Fleming penned Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: The Magical Car, which was published mere months after his death and transferred to the screen, with the help of Roald Dahl, in the 1968 film starring Mr. Van Dyke. One would hardly draw a comparison between the international man of mystery, who preferred things "shaken, not stirred," and a flying car, but there are parallels. After all, Bond had all sorts of sweet gadgets and weapons that made him a much more elegant looking-- and English-- Batman of sorts. One could imagine him getting his hand on a flying car, albeit a much sleeker one. Then, of course, from the man who gave us "Pussy Galore," the name "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" has a sort of sexual connotation that one could easily transfer to a Bond film... Perhaps we should all re-read the children's book and look for secret clues that Fleming hid within its pages. Maybe the Bond trail didn't go cold at Fleming's death after all??? 
 

...Margarita wasn't the only famous Cansino?
 

Before Rita Hayworth became Rita Hayworth, she was just a little girl touring in a dance duo with her father, Eduardo Cansino (left). An ambitious man of questionable moral character, Eduardo was determined to make something of himself, which he eventually vowed to do through his talented only daughter. However, he too had his day in the sun. Despite his lackluster human recommendations, Eduardo was a phenomenal dancer. When he moved his family of five to New York in the late 1910s, it was his effective feet that got him noticed. In fact, Rita's pop appeared in the movies long before Rita herself. He and his sister Elise were featured doing their tango in a special Warner Brothers exhibition that preceded the premiere of Don Juan, starring John Barrymore, in 1926. Eduardo also used to be one of the go-to choreographers for formerly extravagant film premieres, which at that time included more than just "light's out, start film." The massive pre-shows, with themes, costumed dancers, and actors, were almost as impressive as the increasingly awe-inspiring movies themselves. To make money for his family, in addition to giving dance instruction and continuing his regimental rehearsals with Rita, Eduardo directed many of these shows. Eduardo was such a recognized talent at the time that the likes of Fred Astaire and James Cagney were his fans. However, he never made it as a superstar. His last cinematic effort turned out to be the choreography he provided in Dante's Inferno, which Rita danced with partner Gary Leon in one of her first film performances.
 

...that Spike Lee is a copycat?
 

Well, that's putting it harshly... Let's just say that he made it clear that he was a Charles Laughton fan when he made an homage to the actor's sole directorial effort, Night of the Hunter, in his own Do the Right Thing. In Lee's film (1989), one of the main characters is the boom-box toting "Radio Raheem," who wears four-fingered rings on both of his hands that read alternately "Hate" and "Love." In a film centering around racial tension, prejudice, and the cataclysmic mayhem that misunderstanding can induce, the themes of man's inner and outer brutal battle between these two emotions is violently made. However, what few novices (cough, cough) know when watching this picture, is that the same imagery was used by Laughton 34 years earlier in Hunter. In 1955, Robert Mitchum starred as the murderous preacher conning his way through his latest batch of victims, whom he lures into his trust with his great orations of the eternal battle between good and evil. Tattooed on his fingers, which he balls into fists, are the self-same words "Love" and "Hate" (right). Another theme in this film more obviously broached is that between the evil that comes with knowledge versus the purity of innocence, displayed by the two child actors-- Billy Chapin and Sally Jane Bruce--  who are left to combat Mitchum's Hellish monster. Clearly, Lee saw a bright idea and decided to marry it to his own opus. The use of the conflicting fists is effective in both films... but Laughton got there first!
 

...the identity of the Lady in Red?

 

Red has so many connotations. It indicates passion, romance, evil, anger, or even embarrassment. One thing's for sure, the fiery color tends to stand out. This is something Norma Shearer (left) knew very well, and she put it to use. At the 1936 Mayfair Ball, the dress code was specifically decreed as formal and white. Every one agreed to the stipulation and showed up bedecked in an assorted variety of white, off-white, egg-shell, etc. Everyone, that is, save for one. Norma conversely showed up in a sultry crimson gown! So impudent did many see the action that even the ever-mild and lighthearted Carole Lombard was left seeing red: "Who the f*ck does she think she is, the house madam?!" One can draw a parallel between the effect Norma caused and the stir that Bette Davis's character caused in Jezebel, when she showed up to a demure party in brazen scarlet, while everyone else was dressed in white. Of course, her character seemed to have a tinge of regret about her decision, which Bette indicated in her nervous, sidelong glances on the dance floor. Norma on the other hand??? It's pretty safe to say that she spent the whole night smiling and laughing at the uproar she was causing. Hey, the film business is tough. If you want to get to the top, you have to make your presence known. Norma's unstoppable ambition wasn't going to be ignored by anyone! With the combination of her chutzpah and her more than fortunate alliance to husband Irving Thalberg, Norma pretty much had fame and fortune in the bag. No wonder she made so many women heated... and so many men hot under the collar!