CAST AWAYS: Part XI

Acting is no day at the beach, but Montgomery Clift takes advantage 

of his proximity to the ocean to peruse some scripts.

In the midst of filming The Big Lift and riding the wave of his current success, the film offers were rolling into Montgomery Clift. A savvy actor,  he was pretty good at weeding out the good prospects from the bad. One particular item that initially presented itself as a "goody" was the chance to collaborate with Billy Wilder. The project: Sunset Blvd. Wilder had in fact written the part of "Joe Gillis" with Monty in mind. Who better to portray the jaded, morally ambiguous screenwriter than the mysterious, multi-faceted Monty? For awhile, it seemed a done deal, and Monty and Billy went back and forth about the project over a period of months. Imagine the director's surprise when Monty's gave him a long-distance phone call from Berlin and informed him that he would not be taking the role. Billy was flabbergasted... and a bit miffed! After all, he thought that they had come to an understanding? Monty stood firm, insisting that the part wasn't right for him. In the end, Billy was stuck with the much more macho and cynical answer to his prayers, William Holden. Monty's decision turned out to be a blessing for the project, which went on to become a critically acclaimed masterpiece that reignited William's career. In retrospect, Monty always maintained that he was proud of his decision and thought the film was amazing. His refusal of the part was perhaps the simple result of his business acumen, and his knowledge that there was a better fit for the role out there, but many also made assertions that he found too many uncomfortable commonalities between the nature of Joe's relationship with the dominating "Norma Desmond" and his own relationship with his mother.

Fortunately for cinema, Bill Holden took no umbrage to being under a powerful

woman: with Gloria Swanson in Sunset Blvd.

Monty's perception about casting extended beyond his own career. On many of the projects he was involved with, he had definite ideas about whom should be cast opposite him. One such example occurred when he landed the role of "George Eastman" in A Place in the Sun. It was already announced that Elizabeth Taylor was to be his leading lady, after hearing the news of which Monty responded, "Who's Elizabeth Taylor?" One hopes he was being sarcastic. The role of his more ill-fated girlfriend in the film was still up for grabs, however. Monty had great respect for Betsy Blair (left), and he had become good friends with both her and her husband Gene Kelly. With her subdued and underplayed talent and her handsome but modest appearance, Monty thought she was the perfect fit for "Alice Tripp." He went to bat for her, but-- perhaps due to Betsy's leftist political leanings during the "red scare"-- the part went instead to Shelley Winters. Monty was displeased. Almost as critical of others' performances as he was of his own, he was vocal of his dissatisfaction with Shelley's portrayal of the forlorn assembly line worker. He thought she was coming on too strong and playing the part too pathetic and desperate from the get-go. Despite his misgivings, others praised Shelley's performance and many claimed that it was the best of her career. Betsy, as fate would have it, would finally have her own day "in the sun" 4 years later when she appeared as the plain Jane leading lady of Marty.

Oh, life's wondrous options: Monty and Shelley deal with the consequences

in A Place in the Sun.

Tippi Hedren (right) didn't really know how to react after the success of her first major film, The Birds. On the one hand, she was a bona fide actress now on her way to being a full blown movie star. On the other, the filming process with Alfred Hitchcock, the obsessive director who had discovered and essentially bought the young model, had been a debilitating and back-breaking one. "Sexual Harassment" didn't even begin to describe the abuse that she had suffered at the hands of the Master of Suspense. There were days when Tippi found herself cornered by a sexually demanding Hitch; there were days when birds were literally tied to her with string so that they were forced to remain close to her body for a shot, which led to them pecking and biting at her. Co-star Jessica Tandy was one of many watching in horror as the poor girl wandered from the set to her dressing room covered in bird sh*t. Unfortunately, there was no escape after wrap-- Hitch had Tippi under exclusive contract, which meant she couldn't get work anywhere else. The next torment was set to be Marnie, which included a demeaning rape scene that Tippi was not looking forward to in the slightest. A slight ray of hope entered the horizon when it was mentioned that Grace Kelly would be returning to the screen from her royal sojourn in Monaco to assume to lead role. Tippi was not at all upset that she was being replaced. It was like a Godsend! Unfortunately, politics got in the way, and Grace found herself unable to re-team with her still lovelorn director. Thus, the burden fell on the frail Tippi's shoulders again. Marnie remains a curiosity more than a triumph, though it does possess its merits. Then again, perhaps Grace simply smelled an over-complicated clunker and knew that re-entering the fray was not the best idea. After the film, Tippi underwent an arduous process of extricating herself from Hitch's maniacal control, but her career never took wing the way it should have after The Birds.

Hitch gives Grace a hand. His idolatry of her made him much

easier for her to handle, yet made life with him after her

Hollywood exit traumatic for the actresses to follow.

Barbara Stanwyck (left) had her eyes and ears open all the time for projects that either spoke to her or could serve to enhance her career. She got particularly excited when she learned that the controversial (and lengthy) Ayn Rand novel The Fountainhead was going to be adapted into a film. She was eager to play the role of "Dominique Francon," and when Lauren Bacall dropped out of the project, she campaigned heavily for the role. Contributing factors may have been the leading man-- Gary Cooper-- and the director-- King Vidor-- both of whom she had collaborated with so flawlessly in the past. It turns out that Ayn had insisted on Cooper's casting in the role, which had ousted original candidate Humphrey Bogart and, in effect, Lauren Bacall, who left after Bogie was denied. With the door open, Babs was more than ready to step into the role of the cold, scheming Dominique, whose reserve and isolation is penetrated by Coop's passionate, individualistic architect "Howard Roark." Unfortunately for Babs, an unknown, willowy ingenue with a Southern, scotch-coated drawl was cast in her place: Patricia Neal. Few were certain of the casting decision, including Coop, who saw Pat in early tests and thought that she was dreadful. Must have been early nerves, for Coop certainly warmed to her after filming began. The duo were able to make it the length of filming without giving into temptation, but as soon as the director called "that's a wrap!" they indulged in a lengthy and scandalous affair. Now see: had they cast Babs, they could have avoided that whole catastrophe. (In related, funny news, Coop later admitted to Ayn after his lengthy, heady courtroom speech that, while he had memorized his lines to a T, he had absolutely no idea what he had been talking about).

Coop and Pat embark on a dangerous partnership in The Fountainhead.

Much has been made of Errol Flynn and his tendency toward young ladies. Apparently there was some sort of court case about it... But few know the following story about how life very nearly imitated art. Errol's last major love affair was with the teenaged Beverly Aadland, otherwise known as the "Wood-nymph" (together right). Pushing 50, Errol was a mere fragment of the vibrant, young man he had been during his reign as Hollywood's favorite swashbuckler and ladies' man. Three failed marriages, financial troubles, and a devastating sense of self-loathing and regret only served to enhance his alcohol and drug addictions. On the one hand, he seemed to be a man who desperately wanted to live life to the fullest; on the other, he seemed to be resolutely committed to killing himself. Somehow, he was still working, albeit intermittently, and his relationship with the naive yet seemingly loyal Beverly buoyed his spirits, to perhaps a deluded extent. Stanley Kubrick was coincidentally hunting for actors for his upcoming Lolita, a movie that explored the scandalous obsession and sexual relationship between a middle-aged man and his teenaged step-daughter. To Errol, it seemed like kismet. Not only would he indulge in a role that explored his own demons, but he hoped to star in it with his latest paramour, Beverly, in order to help her own career along. Stanley was intrigued, not with the inexperienced Beverly, but with Errol, who seemed a prime candidate for "Humbert Humbert." It was not to be. Errol passed away before filming ever began, though it is questionable that, in his poor condition, he would have received the role anyway. The parts went instead to James Mason and Sue Lyon, the latter of whom made her film debut in the role of the dangerous nymphet.

The act of painting a woman's toe-nails is often used to exemplify emasculation in film.

James Mason illustrates the point with Sue Lyon in Lolita.

Much has been made of the recent speech Clint Eastwood made at the Republican National Convention. Some stated that he respectably blended his status as an entertainer with the political nature of the event; others said that his oration was clumsy, rambling, and misguided. Spoiler alert: Republicans dug it, Democrats did not. (Don't you just love election time)? Anywho, Clint's big send-off at the conclusion was his most infamous line: "Make my day." The eternal, squinty-eyed pro first delivered this quote through steely teeth in the now iconic role of 'Dirty' Harry Callahan. Dirty Harry (left) was a game changer in the cop drama, which blended realistic investigations with pulp, taut suspense, and an edge of comedy. The result, was pop-cultural history. Yet, another notorious tough guy almost played the most impersonated cop in history: John Wayne. No, that is not a joke.  (I'll give you a minute to recuperate). However, Duke turned the job down, not having confidence in the material nor in himself in the role. After the film went on to great success, getting Clint out from under his cowboy hat with a different holster, Duke had regrets. Clearly, he had missed out on a great opportunity. His solution was to take on a similar role in the film McQ as another vengeful Lieutenant. The results of this film would not be as stellar, and Duke would make but three more films before succumbing to cancer. He went out in a role that better suited him, that of a cowboy in The Shootist. Thus, while Clint won the cop war, Duke still owns the West. I kinda want to hear Duke ask me if I "feel lucky," though...

HISTORY LESSON: Hitch's Battle of the Blondes

It is impossible to discuss the career of Grace Kelly without equally discussing Alfred Hitchcock and his place in her life. He himself would say that he did not discover Grace, but rather saved her from a stale career full of bland roles and stunted professional progress. He saw in a Grace a potential that was not being utilized-- her subtly insinuated yet powerful sexuality. Once he put it to use before the movie camera, her image was forever changed. She suddenly became elegant yet smoldering, refined yet dangerous, mysterious yet alluring. However, Grace was not the first blonde in Hitch's life, nor would she be the last. There is a long line of women who have been either idolized, terrorized, or bewildered by the iconic director, but there are only two that stand out as his all time favorites: Ingrid Bergman and Grace. Comparing the two and their relationship with the smitten director sheds some light on the maniacal genius himself as well as the public's perception of the two beautiful actresses and their eternal place in celluloid history.

Grace and Ingrid are the only actresses to each appear in a Hitchcock picture three times. Hitch had a tendency to use his men more often than his women. He found ideal vessels of sexual courage and social deviance in Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart, not to mention the bit players he used over and over like Leo Carroll and John Williams. But the women? Maybe one picture, maybe two... He could never find the right woman to both marry to the role at hand, inflame his secret desire, and-- frankly-- put up with his questionable behavior. Nita Naldi was too overtly sexual, Madeleine Carroll was too professional, Theresa Wright was adorable but too innocent... Grace and Ingrid possessed certain qualities that made them perfect fits. They remained Hitch's trusted friends and allies, yet were smart enough to maintain enough distance and independence to keep from getting caught in his web. Most importantly, they both entered his life at the right time: before he completely went off the deep end, and his obsession with his leading ladies turned to madness-- can I get an "Amen" for Tippi Hedren!

The first obvious commonality was their legendary beauty. Both women were arguably at the peak of their careers when they worked with Hitch-- extremely gorgeous and widely adored. He knew just how to present them to make them look their best. He put special attention into wardrobe and color, particularly with Grace, and in them he created the most flawless images possible. They were also equally talented, proving to be strong in their convictions to their characters but also very open and cooperative with Hitch's very specific ideas. Having kind natures helped them to patiently adhere to his shot-by-shot instructions without complaint, and because they trusted in his judgment, so too did he come to trust them when they posed objections. Normally, he wouldn't take advice from anyone, let alone an actress, but with Grace and Ingrid he took into consideration their own ideas, wardrobe suggestions, actions, etc. It was a rarity indeed. This give and take was a phenomenon rarely repeated with other performers under his tyranny.

In private, the same professionalism and genuine sentiment the women had on the set was presented off camera as well. They both indulged Hitch in his school-boy crushes, accepting flowers and invitations to dinner (with him and the Missus), enduring long conversations in which they diplomatically confided in him the personal matters of their lives and listened to his own opinions on art, travel, and above all food. Ingrid in particular would recall the feeling of being trapped in her dressing room at the end of the day, barraged with Champagne and forced to undergo a lengthy tete-a-tete when all she wanted to do was go home and rest! They were both "ladies," tolerating while not inviting his advances so as not to appear rude. Equally light-hearted, they both got and accepted his raunchy jokes and limericks, proving that while they were classy, they were also far from prudish.

Most importantly, they were unattainable. At least by Hitch. Both women had rocky love lives, often clouded by rumors of extra-marital affairs. Hitch loved indulging in the scandalous stories of their lives, which he followed closely in all the papers. But while they were both human, sexual creatures, prone to flaw or being swept away by romance, so too they maintained their pristine images: Grace- ever composed, ever in control, never showing her cracks, and Ingrid- perpetually vulnerable and innocent, never stained by her private indiscretions (at least until Roberto Rossellini). Hitch found these women fascinating-- wolves in lamb's clothing. He likewise found their inner eroticism much more exciting than the explicit sexiness of someone like Dietrich or Monroe. As he himself would say, when it came to sensuality, he liked to "find it out," and the search and questioning with regard to Grace and Ingrid was intoxicating. But as much as he yearned, these two divas remained on pedestals, never to be touched. They symbolized to him the perfect women: sexual dynamos that somehow came off smelling like roses. They had class and carriage, and so, in his mind's eye they remained unsullied by whatever alleged infidelities they did or didn't do. Onscreen, they emerged as perfect visions of femininity-- adored and dreamed, but never had.

 Ingrid with Greg in Spellbound, her first Hitch piece.

But too, these ladies had differences, most particularly in the way Hitch chose to present them. A lot of this had to do with simple timing. Ingrid came first. She was Hitch's first true "love" and thus the unwitting recipient of his school boy crush. His adoration of her was therefore less invasive, more distant and adoring. She was the graceful and beautiful goddess of his dreams whom he admired from afar. Thus, in his film-making, he would reach out to her, embracing her with his camera, which delicately loved and cradled her. With Ingrid, he lived out fantasies of being the in-control male hero. She is often portrayed as a weak, broken woman or a victim. In Notorious she is a recovering alcoholic betrayed by love; in Under Capricorn she is a sick woman terrorized by the thin line between truth and insanity. In all of her Hitch films she is a martyr for love, submitting herself to complete torture at times for the man she desires. Whether she is knowingly venturing into danger by falling for possible mad man Gregory Peck, suffering in a tragic marriage to Joseph Cotten, or whoring herself for and in spite of Cary Grant, she is always trapped in romantic limbo-- enraptured, frightened, and at the mercy of her attackers. Behind his camera, Hitch was her savior.

Ingrid, lost in love to Cary in Notorious

Ingrid is always captured in an embracing light, inviting viewers to wrap their hearts around her. Despite her characters' flaws, her weakness and innocence always beckon to even the coldest of hearts. Ingrid meekly evades, enticing us to follow her further into her destructive journey, using mystery and compassion to reel us in. As Donald Spoto points out in his book Spellbound by Beauty, Hitch didn't love anyone with his camera like Ingrid. That being said, no one gave love to Hitch's camera like Grace Kelly.

Originally, Hitch had wanted Ingrid to star in his first collaboration with Grace, Dial M for Murder, however, Ingrid was in professional exile after her torrid affair with and marriage to Rossellini. She was on the Hollywood blacklist and thus was hiding out in Europe to avoid an American hate-fest. Knowing this information provides a clear explanation for Grace's first adventure with the "Master of Suspense." Her role in Dial M is very different from her future Hitch parts because it was specifically built for someone else. Her place within it is precarious. She does, of course, an incredible job, but Grace Kelly as a victim is hardly as believable as Grace Kelly as an impassioned heroine. Hitch saw this. Grace was contained, proper, but not mild. Her strength always wins out over her placidity. She isn't as acceptable as an un-savvy adulteress being  framed by her malicious husband as Ingrid would have been, who was led blindly by love numerous times. Grace was never prey to ignorance. Grace is, however, entirely believable as a woman who would bravely stab an intruder to save her own life. After making this film with her, Hitch knew he had found someone with guts, and he was ready to put her to use.

Thus, Hitch realized that his old, suffering female storylines amidst dangerous men would not do. He built Grace from the ground up in her next two pictures, Rear Window and To Catch a Thief. The end result was something quite different from what he had produced with Ingrid, who was already an established star when Hitch found her. Ingrid's "type" was already known to audiences, so Hitch merely played with an established image when working with her. Her casting in his films would be similar to that of her roles in Gaslight or Intermezzo: A Love Story. Her extreme gift for tragedy and pain followed her from role to role. Grace, on the other hand, was brand new, untainted, and fairly unknown. People had seen her in her handful of movies- Fourteen Hours, High Noon, Mogambo -- but the world wasn't in love with her yet. Her primness and reserve had been firmly captured but not the passion underneath. Hitch utilized this "snow-capped volcano" and eventually kept audiences on the edge of their seats waiting for her to explode.

 Going in for the kill: a lady waits for no one.

His smartest move was making Grace the sexual aggressor in his films. Whereas Ingrid quietly willed the public to her with longing and sympathy, Grace would come right at ya'! Hence, her dreamlike and fantastical entrance in Rear Window (above) when she is first seen crawling toward the camera to seductively plant a kiss on the lucky Mr. Stewart. This is the great divide in Hitch's career: he would spend three of his films chasing Ingrid and another three letting Grace come after him. After losing Ingrid, he was betrayed in a way-- dare I suggest, brokenhearted. So, this time around, he would allow the object of his desires to make love to him and not the other way around. Grace was the personification of the sexual hellcat in white, and he willingly submitted himself as prey. When Grace shockingly pulls Cary Grant to her for an unexpected kiss in To Catch a Thief, or nuzzles a nonchalant Stewart in Rear Window, she is brazenly making love to not only her leading man, but her director as well.

 Cary, reluctantly receiving the attentions of Hitch's dreams.

In her Hitch movies, Grace is daring. She risks her life to retrieve the wedding ring of Mrs. Thorwald, she engages in an affair with a known burglar because it turns her on, and even in Dial M she engages in an affair about which she only feels kind of bad. The reason she got away with these erotic and questionable moral behaviors on the screen is because she carried them off with such ease. Her demeanor and delivery saved her from the "tramp" label, a fact Hitch loved. In her, there was a perfect marriage of the Madonna and the Whore-- the immaculate, immaculately dressed, dream girl.

Then, Hitch lost Grace too. But, while he was secretly offended that Ingrid had left him for another man, another director no less, and while he would say that he would forever mourn the movies that he and Ingrid didn't get to make, he was not upset with Grace when she left him for Prince Rainier III. Not overly, anyway. She had reached the pinnacle of all he could have wanted her to be-- a Princess, for God's sake! He would say that it was a role finally worthy of her. However, he did miss her, and he would spend the rest of his life trying to recreate her through Vera Miles, Tippi Hedren, and Kim Novak, who quite literally represented this yearned for metamorphosis in Vertigo-- a film about a man who is obsessed with recreating a former lover in the body of someone else. Grace saw the movie and thought it was brilliant... And sad.

 Classic Grace, far more interesting than the 'window.'

Both women forever remained ideals to Hitch, and as ideals they were able to escape him unscathed. (Ironically enough, they both evaded their most ardent lover by getting married to other men). In our minds, so too are they ideals. Ingrid is our feminine, vulnerable side-- a slave to desire-- and Grace is our calculating sex-kitten-- satisfying her own desires (with impeccable fashion, of course). It is perhaps fortunate that these ladies made no more movies with Hitch than their classic trios. Had they stayed longer, the lines between artistry and control, imagination and dementia, may have become blurred. As it is, their films remain clean, precise, tantalizing, and classic. We continue to love and be loved by them... and love being loved by them. This is why we remain transfixed by Hitchcock, for by interpreting his own fantasies, he equally painted vivid portraits of our own. We all love, we all fear, we all desire, we all go a little mad sometimes, and it was Hitch's mad love of I and G that enhanced and solidified our own attachment to them. But hey, it's a lovely way to go.

MENTAL MONTAGE: Star Search

After one has been working in the industry for awhile, it only makes sense that he or she develop a knack for spotting other hopefuls who may have what it takes to find fame and fortune. Many actors and actresses are noteworthy for the selfless and helpful natures that from time to time compelled them to lend a hand to struggling hopefuls trying to make it in La La Land. I guess if you have that special X-factor, it gives you the ability to see it in others. Here are some examples of Stars finding Stars, or at least Stars predicting bright futures for some unsuspecting diamonds in the rough...

 May's lady, Ms. West, knew a thing or two about quality. She also knew a thing or two about men. There would be many times in her career when she would give a leg-up to a performer if she thought he or she had talent, but she is most notorious for finding the gentlemen gems that she cast in her films. For example, she boosted an already seasoned Randolph Scott's career when she cast him in Go West Young Man. She nicknamed the handsome actor "Randy," because she "could tell he was." (Haha). 

Most memorably, however, Mae made a movie star of Cary Grant. Some rumors remember Mae as discovering Cary when he was kicking up stones outside the Paramount gate, hoping to be chosen as an extra for a current shoot. This isn't completely accurate. Cary had already made several films with substantial-- albeit not breakthrough-- roles in films opposite the likes of Marlene Dietrich (in Blonde Venus). Thus, by the time Mae found him, he wasn't exactly on the extra market anymore. In truth, to Mae's own recollection, she heard Cary before she saw him. The uncanny accent reached her ears as she was sitting in her dressing room. Quite curious about the source of such a booming and almost regal sounding voice, Mae looked down from her window and saw Mr. Grant, finding his looks even more charming than his playful pipes. She decided then and there that she MUST have him in her new picture, and first starring vehicle, She Done Him Wrong. She did him right, because it was this film that shot Cary to super-stardom.

Both of Mae's finds became chums later.

When the saucy Norma Shearer retired from MGM, she lost none of her leading lady luster.Widowed after the death of Irving Thalberg, she took up with a ski instructor, and younger man, Martin Arrouge, solidifying her wildcat reputation long before "Cougars" were the rage. It was actually while staying at a ski lodge that she happened to notice a photograph of a lovely, young girl sitting at the reception desk. Norma recognized the unknown beauty as a star-in-the-making, and suggested that the girl's parents-- both employees of the hotel-- send their daughter to MGM. A kind recommendation to studio heads from Norma scored the young Janet Leigh a screen test and coincidentally a booming career. Had it not been for Norma's eye for talent, Psycho's shower scene would not have been quite so infamous, and Toni Curtis would have been short a wife-- (only one out of 6, but still)! 

Norma also helped out the lads from time to time. Since she clearly had an eye for a good-looking fella, it comes as no surprise that she scored another hit when skimming young men at the pool. Robert Evans happened to be sitting poolside when approached by Norma. At her suggestion, he tried his hand at acting, ironically portraying her first husband, Irving Thalberg, in the Lon Chaney biopic Man of a Thousand Faces, though he would have much better luck as a producer.

It makes more sense for directors to have a good eye for actresses, since they are always scouting out potential leads for future roles, but the way Alfred Hitchcock found Tippi Hedren is quite interesting. Hitch was sitting at home watching "The Today Show" (of all things), and during a commercial break, he caught a glimpse of the delicate and ravishing blonde in a Sego commercial. Hitch was immediately taken with the young model and had Universal call her in to sign a contract. Tippi, who was single and supporting her young daughter (Melanie Griffith), was all too thrilled at the chance to be a steadily working actress. In fact, so shocked was she at the amazing opportunity, that she didn't get around to asking who her mysterious director/benefactor was until after she had signed her new contract! Not only did she find that she was to be working with the famed "Master of Suspense," but for her first major role she would be playing the lead in his next picture, The Birds! One commercial for a diet drink and her life was forever changed. (However, had she known the repercussions of working with the obsessive Hitch, she might have dropped the Sego and run for the hills. For more on that story, as well as Hitch's strange relationships with his woman, read on here).

And finally... One day, a young mother was taking a walk with her baby girl. After covering some ground, she took a rest on a park bench and parked the stroller beside her. (If memory serves, she was at some sort of pier, but I could be way off. It's been awhile since I heard this one). Anywhoodle, an elderly woman happened to be walking by, and she stopped to peer into the baby carriage. She remarked on the child's beauty and predicted that the infant would be a big star some day. Since the baby grew up to be Brooke Shields-- the 6-foot-tall model, memorable for her Calvin Klein Jeans, full eyebrows, Princeton education, and performances in films like The Blue Lagoon and Pretty Baby-- it seems that the mysterious lady had a keen eye for star power. However, Teri Shields had no idea of what lay before her daughter at this point and was both proud and baffled when the woman walked away without another word. Even more perplexing than the glamorous prediction itself was the person it had come from, for despite the woman's age, Teri recognized Greta Garbo right away. If there was one woman who knew beauty, it was Greta, and the other beauty, Brooke, would grow up to fulfill all of the famous and enigmatic screen siren's expectations.