Showing posts with label Miss Bruce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miss Bruce. Show all posts

Monday, August 17, 2009

Women on the Verge

...Of serious and major transformations:

Into a predatory insect, for example.

I had a boss once who'd been Susan Cabot's roommate once when they both trying to Make It There - now there's a Terrible Hollywood Story. Susan's, that is, not my boss's (she ended up in Mexican movies and married a Philadelphia socialite, so some things do work out for the best).

I've never heard of a blonde voodoo priestess in a strapless cocktail gown, but maybe it's just that that makes her Weird. Go ask Lon Chaney - if anyone would know, it's he...

Never having had the nerve to see this one, I had no idea that the twin-concept imposed on Miss Garbo involved playing a lady baseball player and a truck driver in drag. No wonder Melvyn Douglass looks so surprised.

That Kind of Woman is apparently the kind who ditches her picture hat, pearls, and gloves at the first opportunity to kiss a GI.

Given that the kissee is Tab Hunter, he probably went home with the accessories, not the Woman. Although if you're ever going to make an exception for anyone, Sophia Loren is pretty much the choice to go with.

The terrifying story of a woman whose Guilty Secret appears to have consisted of wanting to imitate Margaret Hamilton's makeup. Actually, if all you had to choose between was George Sanders and Louis Hayward, you'd probably be Strange, too. But not, I hope, green - even on La Lamarr, it's not terribly flattering.

As opposed to being a Cobra, which proved enormously successful for Miss Montez. Everyone knows this particular Woman picture...

But even I hadn't known it had a sequel, of sorts...

...not to mention a blatant stealing of the concept (if not, if this poster's any evidence, the fabulousness). I don't really want to imagine what kind of horror Snake Woman can spread with her forked tongue.

I suspect that, for poor Jean Harlow, having to go red was almost as bad as having to go Wasp or Cobra. Ginger just doesn't go with white satin bias-cut gowns the way platinum does, after all. Especially when the most you hope to impress is Chester Morris, who isn't exactly Clark Gable, if you know what I mean. But then again, if you listen to Carole Lombard, even Clark Gable wasn't exactly Clark Gable.

They certainly don't seem to make many pictures about Women turned into cute, fluffy creatures, do they? No Bunny Woman, Panda Woman, or West Highland Terrier Woman; oh, no - it's all snakes and cobras, wasps and - possibly least inviting of all - leeches. Bleech. No wonder Coleen Gray retired. And how did an ex-Mr. Joan Crawford turn up in this?

Acquanetta! The greatest star ever named after an off-prime grooming-product brand. It's nice to know that she rated special billing, although I don't think there was much question in that cast who would be appearing "as The Jungle Woman," really, is there?

From the Jungle to the Front Page; it certainly can't be argued that Hollywood's Woman didn't get around.

Never in a million years did Davis have gams like that. Maybe she borrowed them from Susan Cabot.

Another stint in the urban jungle, this time with not one but two formidable Women, even if only one made it up above the title. And no, children, this was not the inspiration for the Dixie Carter-Delta Burke (et al) television series.

After all these turbid goings-on, invisibility seems like a relief, a sentiment likely not shared by Virginia Bruce. It was never a terribly interesting film career, and it's all downhill from there. Although even she never had to play a Leech.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

The Fickle Finger of Fame

For movie moguls, one of the most infuriating things about their work must have been that the raw material of their industrial-line product was so mercurial. Stardom, despite the best efforts of all concerned, simply couldn't be manufactured.

All the money in the world couldn't turn Anna Sten into Garbo. These ladies, to one extent or another, suffered from the same sad problem: they lacked, on screen, at least as they were packaged at the time, that Little Something Extra.

Maris Wrixon held on in Hollywood for more than 25 years, but never went far beyond Poverty Row; she's remembered, if at all, for playing opposite Bela Lugosi in The Ape.

A capable enough leading lady, Virginia Bruce married falling star John Gilbert, but it didn't turn her into Mrs. Norman Maine.

The effervescent archetype of the 30s chorus girl, Toby Wing got publicity out of all proportion to her mostly fleeting film appearances. Afficionados still treasure brief glimpses of her in pictures like 42nd Street and Murder at the Vanities, but in 1938 she married a dashing aviator and retired.

Italian Isa Miranda was a star in Europe for several decades, but her American foray was a fizzle; in 1939, Paramount discovered that it took more than laying on the full Von Sternberg (feathers, ruffles, lingerie, and pin-spot lighting) to make a Dietrich.

These days, stars have to create themselves, but the process is still anything but certain. Remember when Julia Ormand was the next Julia Roberts?