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Films

Hedy Lamarr – beauty, brains and bad judgment

Hedy Lamarr arrives in Hollywood
4 October 1937. Hedy Lamarr arrives in Hollywood. Read more.

Hedy Lamarr had it all: beauty, brains, fame and fortune. For a few years she had the world, or at least Tinseltown, at her feet. And she blew it. So what went wrong? Was Hedy the victim of forces beyond her control or of her own character flaws. Or was she just plain unlucky?

Hedy Lamarr arrives in Hollywood in October 1937. She has just fled Vienna, her husband Fritz Mandl, and the looming threat of a Nazi invasion. Taking the train to Paris and then crossing the Channel to England, she has discovered that Louis B Mayer, MGM’s head honcho, is in London and looking for talent. Somehow, she manages to arrange a meeting with him. He’s worried about the scandal surrounding her appearance in Ecstasy but not blind to her charms (how could he be?). So he offers Hedy a bulk-standard, six-month contract with MGM at $125 a week. Which she flatly rejects. She’s has her own idea of what she’s worth and she’s not going to be pushed around.

Still, Hedy is in a pretty desperate situation and, after a meeting with Robert Ritchie, one of Mayer’s talent scouts, she changes her mind. But then it turns out that the mogul is leaving the next day for France in order to catch the superliner Normandie back to the US. Getting a berth requires the sale of most of her jewels as well as some subterfuge (the voyage is already fully booked). On board, Hedy, in a gown by Alix, dazzles her fellow passengers, and the effect is not lost on Mayer, who ups his offer to a seven-year contract beginning at $550 a week.

So by the time Hedy Lamarr arrives in Hollywood (her name changed by MGM from Hedwig Kiesler to Hedy Lamarr), she has proved that she is daring, ambitious, determined and resourceful. Those are qualities she is going to need in spades. But that’s far from the whole story. Ever since she was a little girl, she’s wanted to be an actress in spite of being, by all accounts, a very private person. Is that because acting can be a form of escapism for her and, if so, what demons is she struggling with? Well, for one thing she believes that her mother wanted a boy and didn’t really like her. Then, married at age 19 and dominated by her husband Fritz Mandl, she likely feels she needs to take back control of her life.

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for White Cargo

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for White Cargo

1942. It's possible that this photo is from the same sitting as the

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Hedy Lamarr, glamour shot

Hedy Lamarr, glamour shot

Around 1943. A classic glamour shot of Hedy Lamarr, the background thrown out of...

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Hedy Lamarr as Irene in The Conspirators

Hedy Lamarr, power dresser

1944. Hedy Lamarr wears this costume in The Conspirators. With its exaggerated shoulder pads...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for White Cargo

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for White Cargo

1942. This photo of Hedy Lamarr is one of a series of three on...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for White Cargo

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for White Cargo

1942. In White Cargo, for which this photo is advance publicity, Hedy Lamarr is...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for White Cargo

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for White Cargo

1942. The caption on the back of this photo refers to three Hedy Lamarr...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for The Heavenly Body

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for The Heavenly Body

1943. The Heavenly Body is little more than a bit of froth, with one...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for The Heavenly Body

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for The Heavenly Body

1943. Pencilled on the back of this photo are the words “BY CARPENTER.” That...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for The Heavenly Body

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for The Heavenly Body

1943. According to IMDb, Joan Crawford was offered the lead role...

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Now, put yourself in her shoes for a minute. She’s 23 years old. She’s in a strange city with a culture very different from that in which she’s grown up. She can speak only a few phrases of English so she struggles to communicate with those around her. And she knows no-one. Columnist Sheilah Graham, out on the town at the Beverly Hills Brown Derby one Saturday evening that winter, spots Hedy at a table all by herself. Her partner, F Scott Fitzgerald, wryly observes: “How typical of Hollywood, the most beautiful girl in the world alone on a Saturday night.”

Hedy Lamarr with a bust by Nina Saemundsson
1939. Hedy Lamarr poses beside a bust of her by Nina Saemundsson. Read more.

Hedy Lamarr – beauty

And beauty is a recurring theme, the dominant theme, when it comes to Hedy Lamarr. Jet-black tresses, cherry-red lips, porcelain complexion… Hedy’s looks are classic and exotic, innocent and alluring, making her the perfect model for two very different movie legends: Disney’s Snow White on the one hand and, on the other, Catwoman in the original Batman comics.

What immediately strikes you when you look at Hedy in her movies or her stills is just how staggeringly beautiful she is – drop-dead gorgeous. And a different kind of beauty from the blondes who have been fashionable through the thirties, a fact that’s not lost on her audiences or the other Hollywood actresses.

In Those Glorious Glamour Years: Classic Hollywood Costume Design of the 1930s, Margaret J. Bailey, a historian of film costume, observes:

After her first appearance on the screen in Algiers, drugstores experienced a run on hair dyes, and soon everybody, including starlets and established luminaries like Crawford and Joan Bennett, had changed their locks from blonde or brown to jet black. The Lamarr hairdo with the part in the middle and the tall Lamarr look became the new standard of glamour. Shock waves were felt not only in personal beauty, but also in the realm of fashion, in particularly, the hat. Somehow that three letter word seems inadequate when describing what Lamarr wore in her first films. Lamarr veils, snoods, turbans, and such swept the fashion world and millinery companies would overnight fill the hunger for the new cinema image. Not everyone could affect the Lamarr styles, but just about everyone tried. Turbans and snoods became the fashion for Forties headgear.

Suddenly, Hedy’s image is everywhere. Overnight she becomes a star. In December 1938 she is named Glamour Girl of 1938 by the popular press. Hollywood gossip columnist Hedda Hopper describes Hedy as “orchidaceous.”

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Hedy Lamarr modelling a Grecian gown

Hedy Lamarr modelling a Grecian gown

1939. After her success in Algiers, Louis B Mayer (head honcho at MGM) envisages...

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Hedy Lamarr's golden

Hedy Lamarr’s golden “bib”

1939. The ornamental "bib" that adorns Hedy Lamarr's black crepe evening gown is in...

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Hedy Lamarr kneeling on a couch

Hedy Lamarr kneeling on a couch

1939. The photographer is not one of Hedy's fans and it does look a...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for Lady of the Tropics

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for Lady of the Tropics

1939. The bamboo screen and prop give it away – this is a publicity...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for I Take This Woman

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for I Take This Woman

1940. Another photo that showcases Hedy Lamarr's luxurious tresses and porcelain complexion. A caption...

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Hedy Lamarr in a dress decorated with spangles

Hedy Lamarr’s spangles

1940. Is that a palm frond in the upper left corner? And if so,...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for The Heavenly Body

Hedy Lamarr, publicity shot for The Heavenly Body

1943. A dramatic vision of Hedy Lamarr, with strong overhead lighting and a faux...

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Hedy Lamarr wrapped in ostrich feathers

Hedy Lamarr wrapped in ostrich feathers

1943. Most of the other images of Hedy Lamarr on aenigma are studio issues....

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Hedy Lamarr with a pearl necklace and earrings

Hedy Lamarr wears pearls

1943. This photo of Hedy Lamarr may have been taken on the set of...

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There’s no doubt that she looks gorgeous in stills. In fact, David O Selznick, producer of Gone with the Wind, refers in a memo to Hedy as having “actually been established [as a Hollywood star] purely by photography.” And yet, the photographers themselves are less than enthusiastic. Hungarian lensman Laszlo Willinger, who has photographed Hedy in Vienna as well as in Hollywood, complains to John Kobal:

How do you make Hedy Lamarr sexy? She has nothing to give. It wasn’t as simple as showing legs or cleavage. She was not very adept at posing. She was just… She felt if she sat there, that was enough. You try to bring it to some life by changing the lighting, moving in closer to the head, whatever, because nothing changed her face. It never occurred to me that one could wake her up… and nobody ever did.

Then there’s Virgil Apger, another MGM snapper who remembers:

She thought she knew it all and was forever telling you what to do. She was beautiful – she had great skin texture – but I don’t recall anybody saying they enjoyed shooting her. She never came alive, except to keep making damned uncouth remarks to the people I had around me.

Legendary photographer George Hurrell feels much the same way, having first photographed Hedy soon after her arrival in Hollywood. He tells John Kobal:

I didn’t get too much out of Hedy because she was so static. Stunning. But it was the nature of her, she was so phlegmatic, she didn’t project anything. It was just a mood thing. And she had just one style. It didn’t vary particularly. She had a pretty good body. But she wouldn’t dress for it. She was always dressing in black. She liked suits. You can’t do anything – a woman in a suit is a dead duck.

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Hedy Lamarr, still a Hollywood wannabe

Hedy Lamarr, still a Hollywood wannabe

1938. Hedy Lamarr's first movie after arriving in Hollywood is Algiers, for which MGM...

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Hedy Lamarr wears a black sequin dress and pearls

Hedy Lamarr, sequin chic

1938. Clarence Sinclair Bull, head of MGM's stills studio, gets to work glamming up...

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Hedy Lamarr wears pearls

Hedy Lamarr, sequin chic

1938. This photo looks like it comes from the same sitting as another in...

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Hedy Lamarr ramps up the sensuality

The loveliness of Lamarr

1939. There's something cat-like about Hedy Lamarr's pose, and her bare shoulders intensify the...

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Hedy Lamarr relaxes in an armchair

Hedy Lamarr relaxes

1940. Hedy Lamarr relaxes in an armchair while a back light casts a soft...

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Hedy Lamarr in profile

Hedy Lamarr in profile

1941. An arresting shot of Hedy Lamarr that, unusually, showcases her profile. A caption...

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Hedy Lamarr, glamour goddess

Hedy Lamarr, glamour goddess

1941. With its dramatic use of highlights and shadows, this image pulls out all...

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Hedy Lamarr with her hair pulled back

Hedy Lamarr, her hair pulled back

1941. Hedy's long tresses, centrally parted and cascading over her shoulders, are such a...

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Hedy Lamarr, publicity portrait for The Heavenly Body

Hedy Lamarr, lady of the pearls

1943. Hedy looks dreamy in this publicity portrait for The Heavenly Body. Perhaps she's...

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Some clues there to what Hedy is like and why her career will crash and burn. But on a more positive note, when Clarence Sinclair Bull, head of MGM’s stills studio, visits Hedy to take some shots of her at home, she prepares lunch for him herself. “This is the first time a star’s ever done this for me,” he remarks. “Oh, I always fix my lunch by the kitchen sink when I’m alone. It’s easier,” says Hedy (Hedda Hopper’s Hollywood, Los Angeles Times, October 13, 1941). 

Hedy is a looker and knows how to turn it to her advantage. According to June Allyson, “No doubt about it, she was stunning and she knew how to look at a man with an intimate little smile that turned him on.” Men are drawn to her like bees to honey, and people are so blinded by her beauty that they struggle to see beyond it. The default response seems to be that she’s just decorative, should stick to being an ornament, should not get involved in “real” acting. Bosley Crowther, notorious critic of The New York Times, is typical in his review of Lady of the Tropics, admittedly a lousy movie:

Now that she has inadvisedly been given an opportunity to act, it is necessary to report that she is essentially one of those museum pieces, like the Mona Lisa, who were more beautiful in repose.

But Hedy Lamarr can act. She may not have the dramatic prowess of a Bette Davis or a Barbara Stanwyck, but watch her in The Strange Woman and you’ll see a subtle and nuanced performance that brings to life Jenny’s (her character’s) ambiguity. What’s more, it seems there is more to Hedy Lamarr than just a perfect face.

Hedy Lamarr with her stand-in, Sylvia Hollis, on the set of The Heavenly Body
1943. Hedy Lamarr with her stand-in, Sylvia Hollis, on the set of The Heavenly Body

Hedy Lamarr – brains

Perhaps the most astonishing thing about Hedy Lamarr, and it would certainly have baffled Bosley Crowther, is that her name is on the patent for a technology which would pave the way for both cellular networks and Bluetooth. Hedy, it turns out, is a smart cookie.

Perhaps the most astonishing thing about Hedy Lamarr, and it would certainly have baffled Bosley Crowther, is that her name (as Hedy Kiesler Markey) appears on the patent for a technology which will pave the way for both cellular networks and Bluetooth. So what’s going on here?

One day in 1940, dress designer, Adrian, one of Hedy’s closest friends, asks her along for dinner. Also there is the multi-talented George Antheil, not just the self-styled Bad Boy of American music (and partner in crime of Orson Welles for The Lady from Shanghai) but also something of an expert on endocrinology – he’s published three books about glands. Hedy’s interest is in finding out about the possibility of breast enlargement – something that Louis B Mayer has suggested to her. Antheil assures her that that would not be a problem. According to his autobiography, at the end of the evening, Hedy leaves before him and uses her lipstick to scrawl her phone number on his car window.

That’s not an invitation to be taken lightly. So he invites her round to his place for dinner and discussion. Fascinating as Hedy’s breasts undoubtedly are, the conversation does eventually move on to the prospect of the US entering the war in Europe. Hedy feels she should be doing something to help the Allies. She is also convinced she has something to offer in that regard because she used to eavesdrop on Fritz Mandl’s (her munitions manufacturer ex-husband) discussions about weapons technology.

She said she knew a good deal about new munitions and various secret weapons, some of which she had invented herself, and that she was thinking seriously of quitting M.G.M. and going to Washington, D.C., to offer her services to the newly established Inventors’ Council.

The challenge they set themselves is to find a way to stop the Germans from jamming the signals controlling the radio-guided torpedoes fired at their U-boats, which are playing havoc with the British shipping trying to cross the Atlantic. The solution the pair come up with is a radio-directed torpedo based on a transmitter and receiver, programmed to shift continually and at random through 88 different frequencies. The programming is done by paper tape inspired by the paper-rolls Antheil has used to synchronise player pianos. This is the invention they submit to the government for a US patent under the title of Secret Communication System.

The invention is covered in the October 1 1941 edition of The New York Times:

HEDY LAMARR – Actress Devises ‘Red-Hot’ Apparatus for Use in Defense

So vital is her discovery to national defense that government officials will not allow publication of its details. Colonel L. B. Lent, chief engineer of the National Inventors Council, classed Miss Lamarr’s invention as in the ‘red-hot’ category. The only inkling of what it might be was the announcement that it was related to remote control of apparatus employed in warfare.

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Hedy Lamarr in her garden

Hedy Lamarr in her garden

Around 1942. According to the person from whom this photo was acquired, it was...

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Hedy Lamarr with cinematographer Ray June on the set of Ziegfeld Girl

Hedy Lamarr with cinematographer Ray June

1941. Based on Internet searches, this shot appears to have been taken on the...

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Hedy Lamarr boosts war-bond sales

Hedy Lamarr boosts war-bond sales

1942. Asked on radio about her attitude to war-bond sales, Hedy Lamarr doesn't mince...

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Hedy Lamarr at home

Hedy Lamarr at home

24 January 1942. A glimpse of Hedy Lamarr in her kitchen before going to...

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Hedy Lamarr with cinematographer Bud Lawton on the set of I Take This Woman.

Hedy Lamarr with cinematographer Bud Lawton

1940. The other side of the lens. On the set of I Take This...

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Hedy Lamarr – Uncle Sam's saleslady

Hedy Lamarr – Uncle Sam’s saleslady

1942. Hedy Lamarr is delighted to accept the challenge when the Treasury Department asks...

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When their patent application is approved in August 1942, Hedy and Antheil offer it to the US government. But the powers-that-be just sit on it, regarding the device as too unwieldy. They are more interested in having Hedy do some tours to sell war bonds. She accepts the invitation and throws herself wholeheartedly behind the initiative.

All the ships dispatched to defend the US during the Cuban Missile Crisis will be equipped with frequency-hopping technology (the paper rolls replaced by electronic circuitry) to secure their communications. But the technology itself will remain a secret until it is declassified in 1981. By the time its commercial potential is realized, the patent will have expired and others will profit hugely from it. It will not be until 1997 that Hedy and Antheil (by this time deceased) will be officially recognized for their invention and receive the sixth annual Electronic Frontier Foundation’s Pioneer Award. Hedy will be inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame posthumously in 2014.

Is the idea behind spread spectrum a one-off for Hedy? It’s difficult to know. There’s a story about her at age five taking apart and reassembling a music box. Antheil is certainly impressed by her inquisitiveness and ingenuity. And in interviews towards the end of her life she talks about how, while she was dating Howard Hughes, she designed a new wing shape to make his planes more aerodynamic. That’s about the size of it. Whatever her credentials as an inventor, though, Hedy Lamarr is no airhead. When she leaves MGM in 1945, she partners with Jack Chertok, producer of The Conspirators (one of her 1942 movies) to set up Mars Productions, a production company. She goes on to produce The Strange Woman (1946 – arguably the showcase for her finest performance) and Dishonored Lady (1947) as well as attempting to make further movies in Italy. She amasses a considerable art collection that includes works by the likes of Modigliani, Chagall, Rodin, Dufy, Vlaminck, Rouault, Utrillo and Renoir. And late in life she proves herself to be quite an astute investor so that when she dies in 2000, she leaves behind an estate worth $3.3 million – mainly shares.

Hedy Lamarr – bad judgment

Unfortunately, intelligence doesn’t necessarily translate into good judgment, let alone wisdom. Hedy is not afraid to make decisions and in too many cases she opts for the wrong course of action. This is the case with regard to both her professional and her private life. With the benefit of hindsight, Hedy will admit that she had poor taste both in scripts and in husbands. It’s difficult to argue with that.

Let’s start with her career. The movies in which an actor or actress appears can make or break their career. When she arrives in Hollywood, Hedy realizes that the place is full of wannabees looking for roles, that her contract makes no guarantees and that if she’s to be successful she has to engineer an opening.

She’s fortunate to run into Charles Boyer at a party; it is thanks to him that she gets a starring role in Algiers, her first and breakthrough Hollywood movie. She’s unfortunate that even after she makes headlines, her employers, Louis B Mayer and MGM, have pretty much no idea how to use her. They do a great job of building her image through a stream of glamorous stills. But the films in which they cast her range from second-rate to downright bad.

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Hedy Lamarr in Algiers

Hedy Lamarr in Algiers

1938. In February, Hedy gets her first break. She meets Charles Boyer at a...

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Hedy Lamarr alongside Judy Garland and Lana Turner in Ziegfeld Girl

Hedy Lamarr in Ziegfeld Girl

1940. Here's Hedy Lamarr alongside her co-stars, Judy Garland and Lana Turner. Looking back...

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Hedy Lamarr in Tortilla Flat

Hedy Lamarr in Tortilla Flat

1942. Tortilla Flat, based on an early novel by John Steinbeck, gives Hedy Lamarr...

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Hedy Lamarr in The Heavenly Body

Hedy Lamarr in The Heavenly Body

1943. The title says it all – Hedy Lamarr is cast in an essentially...

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Hedy Lamarr as Tondelayo in White Cargo

Hedy Lamarr as Tondelayo in White Cargo

1942. Hedy Lamarr covered in brown make-up as Tondelayo in White Cargo. She appears...

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Hedy Lamarr in the Conspirators

Hedy Lamarr in the Conspirators

1944. The Conspirators is a tale of romance, intrigue and adventure set in Lisbon...

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Hedy Lamarr on the set of Experiment Perilous

Hedy Lamarr on the set of Experiment Perilous

1944. For Experiment Perilous, a psychological mystery set in the early years of the...

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Hedy Lamarr in The Strange Woman

Hedy Lamarr in The Strange Woman

1946. In late summer 1945, Hedy partners with Jack Chertok, producer of The Conspirators...

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Hedy Lamarr in Dishonored Lady

Hedy Lamarr in Dishonored Lady

1947. Dishonored Lady was always going to struggle to be a success given its...

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Worst of all, in 1942 Mayer turns down Warner Bros when they come calling, refusing to loan Hedy out to star opposite Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca. Instead, she ends up in the toe-curling White Cargo. Two years later, Hedy has opportunities to star in Laura and Gaslight. She rejects both of them (Gene Tierney and Ingrid Bergman say hi!). Had she appeared in just one of that trio of films, how different might her career trajectory have been and how differently might she be remembered?  As it is, how many Hedy Lamarr movies can you remember off the top of your head? None, right?

Relatively early in her career, a certain litigiousness starts to characterize Hedy’s affairs. In 1943, she sues Loew’s and MGM for failing to pay her the $2,000 a week stipulated in her contract. They claim that the reason for this is a wartime executive order, issued by President Roosevelt, limiting salaries to $25,000 a year. The case is settled out of court. But as time goes by, it does seem as if Hedy is rather too keen on litigation, and this tendency will dog her for pretty much the rest of her life because all too often courts will fail to find in her favour.

More often than not, Hedy’s litigation has to do with money. Hedy’s attitude to it is ambiguous. On the one hand, money matters to her and she worries about not having enough of it. On the other, she spends lavishly, which for a time she can afford to do. She gets into the habit of living in the best homes with the finest furnishings, amassing an amazing art collection, and travelling whenever and wherever she wants.

Hedy Lamarr with Charlie Chaplin at the LA Tennis Club
1942. Hedy Lamarr with Charlie Chaplin

After she leaves MGM in late summer 1945, she sets up her own production company, Mars Productions, in partnership with Jack Chertok, producer of her 1944 film, The Conspirators. They manage to find financial backing from producer, Howard Stromberg and their first film, The Strange Woman, is a bit of a triumph even though Hedy doesn’t get on with chosen director Edgar Ulmer. But their second movie, Dishonored Lady, is a turkey.

Hedy’s career is brought back from the brink by her appearance in Cecil B DeMille’s outrageous biblical epic Samson and Delilah (1949), the highest grossing movie of the decade. But she falls out with Paramount by refusing to help promote the film unless paid top dollar to do so.

Soon she is sinking her fortune into her own productions, taking advantage of the facilities offered by Rome. She’s well out of her depth, her projects end in failure and she runs out of road. She’s over-reached herself – spent too much money, fallen out with too many people (she’s acquired a reputation for being difficult to work with), burnt too many bridges.

In her autobiography she summarizes her attitude to money:

I figured out that I had made—and spent—some $30 million. … I advise everybody not to save; spend your money. Most people save all their lives and give it to somebody else. Money is to be enjoyed.

Hedy Lamarr’s private life is messy and sad. She is married and divorced six times: to munitions magnate Fritz Mandl: screenwriter Gene Markey; actor John Loder; nightclub owner Ernest Stauffer; oil millionaire W Howard Lee; and lawyer Lewis W Boies Jr. None of her marriages last more than six years and she doesn’t always maximize what she could get from her divorce settlements. Meanwhile, she has many affairs. Sadly, such turmoil is not unusual for attractive women trying to make careers in Hollywood.

By the mid-1960s, Hedy struggles to pay her utility bills and doesn’t always know where her next meal is coming from. Her ghost-written, sexed-up autobiography, Ecstasy and Me, published in 1966, is a pretty desperate attempt to raise some much-needed money. But she’s horrified when she reads it and (surprise, surprise!) contests its accuracy in court. Much of the content is indeed dubious and sensational.

She reaches her nadir when she is arrested for shoplifting in 1966 and again in 1991. She is fortunate to get away with it on both occasions.

Hedy Lamarr – what to make of her?

Let’s be clear from the outset. Hedy Lamarr is no angel. She has quite a temper and can be difficult to live with – John Loder, her third husband, should know. And as she establishes herself as a star, she gains a reputation (dubious at first but increasingly credible) as a real prima donna.

Hedy Lamarr looks sultry
Around 1940. Hedy Lamarr looks sultry

But it would be unfair to see her as just a spoiled diva who gets what’s coming to her. There are certainly some extenuating factors. Let’s start with her looks. Reflecting on her life, Hedy would suggest that:

My face has been my misfortune. It has attracted six unsuccessful marriage partners. It has attracted all the wrong people into my boudoir My face is a mask I can’t remove. I must live with it. I curse it.

She embodies the fate of so many beautiful women drawn to Hollywood, preyed upon and spat out. And it’s worth adding that, as Richard Avedon observed, beauty can be isolating. Hedy is undoubtedly lonely in the US and it’s easy to imagine that her looks and her shyness being a fatal combination for her. In 1952, actor Farley Granger attended a private party at which he recalled seeing Hedy:

She was very shy, very quiet, and very retiring. She just kind of receded almost into the woodwork. She kept very much to herself, you know.

Indeed, what comes through as you read Hedy Lamarr’s biographies and interviews with those who knew her is that she is a very private person. So, while acting may provide a channel for the more extrovert side of her personality, perhaps it turns out not to be the ideal career for her. In Hedy Lamarr Reveals She’ll Retire from Films in the January 24 1951 edition of the Los Angeles Examiner, gossip columnist Louella Parsons quotes a letter:

Dear Louella,

To straighten out all various statements about my retiring from the screen I want you to know it is true for the simple reason that I would like the privilege of a private life. As for marriage it is the normal desire of any woman, when I find the man I love enough to be my husband and father of my children.

Fond love to you,

Hedy Lamarr

By the late-1940s if not before, perhaps because of the mounting pressure and expectations, Hedy’s mind seems to be in a fragile state. Again, her public confidante is Louella Parsons, who reveals in The Strange Case of Hedy Lamarr (Photoplay, September, 1947) that, “with all the things in her past, and all she still holds of the material things of life, Hedy has been dangerously close to a nervous breakdown for the past year and she is still far from well.”

Her former co-star, John Fraser, paints a harrowing picture of Hedy’s mental decline in an email to Stephen Shearer:

In 1952 Hedy was neurotic and completely unable to communicate socially. In company, she was unaware of anyone but herself. Her need to be the centre of attention meant that whenever she appeared in public, she launched into a meaningless monologue. She was accompanied by her PA, Frankie Dawson and sometimes by her psychiatrist, who wasn’t doing her much good.

From around the mid-1950s to the early-1970s, Hedy is treated by New York physician Max Jacobson, nicknamed “Miracle Max” and “Dr Feelgood.” He has arrived in New York from Berlin in 1936 and his practice attracts the rich and famous including an impressive roster of Hollywood movie celebrities – Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman, Humphrey Bogart, Yul Brynner, Montgomery Clift, Cecil B DeMille, Marlene Dietrich, Judy Garland, Liza Minnelli, Marilyn Monroe, David O Selznick, Elizabeth Taylor and Billy Wilder. According to Wikipedia, Jacobson is known for his “miracle tissue regenerator” shots, which consist of amphetamines, animal hormones, bone marrow, enzymes, human placenta, painkillers, steroids, and multivitamins.

Add to such a lethal cocktail of drugs the shock Hedy suffers when, in December 1958, her 11-year-old son, Anthony, out riding his bike, is hit by a car and seriously injured, and her erratic behaviour is hardly surprising. To compound matters, as her looks fade in the 1960s she undergoes some pretty disastrous cosmetic surgery that leaves her reluctant to show her face in public.

The last word on Hedy Lamarr goes to John Fraser:

She had been fawned upon, indulged and exploited ever since she had reached the age of puberty. Her extraordinary intelligence did not encompass wisdom. How could she have learnt about the values that matter, about kindness and acceptance and laughter, in the Dream Factory that is Hollywood? She had been thrust into the limelight at a pitilessly early age, been devoured by rapacious lovers and producers who saw her ravishing beauty as a ticket to success, and who looked elsewhere when she began to grow older. Beauty and money in moderation are undoubtedly a blessing. In excess, they are surely a curse.

Want to know more about Hedy Lamarr?

The two main sources for this piece are Hedy’s autobiography Ecstasy and Me (to be read with a large pinch of salt) and Stephen Michael Shearer’s Beautiful: The Life of Hedy Lamarr. Other titles are available at Amazon and elsewehere. Alexandra Dean’s documentary film, Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story, provides an overview of her life, shining a spotlight on her prowess as an inventor.

Other topics you may be interested in…

Ava Gardner – the journey to Hollywood
Gene Tierney – a sick rose
Hedy Lamarr in Vienna
Hedy Lamarr before she came to Hollywood

Filed Under: Films, Photographers, Stars Tagged With: Algiers, Charles Boyer, Clarence Sinclair Bull, Dishonored Lady, Ecstasy, Experiment Perilous, Fritz Mandl, Gene Tierney, George Antheil, George Hurrell, Hedy Lamarr, Lady of the Tropics, Laszlo Willinger, Louis B Mayer, The Conspirators, The Heavenly Body, The Strange Woman, Tortilla Flat, Virgil Apger, Ziegfeld Girl

Hedy Lamarr before she came to Hollywood

In Vienna Farewell, an article published in the April 1939 issue of Photoplay magazine, writer and journalist Heinz Liepmann describes a fateful night in Vienna on which he met Hedy Lamarr, then wife of one of Europe’s most powerful arms manufacturers.

Most of the articles about Hedy Lamarr published in the Hollywood fan and gossip magazines are pretty trivial fare – typically about her looks, her clothes and her romances. Here is an exception, a well-written piece that offers glimpses into her life before she crossed the Atlantic, set in the context of the fall of the first Austrian Republic.

The author, German as his name suggests, was a writer and journalist as well as a committed anti-fascist. From 1934 to 1947 he lived in exile in various countries including the US, which is presumably how he ended up writing this article. To set it in context, it’s framed by a prologue and postscript. If you want to find out what happens when Hedy  gets to Hollywood, take a look at Hedy Lamarr – beauty, brains and bad judgment.

Prologue

The year, 1914; the place, Vienna. Hedy Lamarr begins life as Hedwig Eva Maria Kiesler but Hedwig soon morphs into Hedy as the little girl struggles to pronounce the name with which she has been christened. Her parents are Jewish (though her mother has converted to Catholicism) and from modest backgrounds. But her father is intelligent and industrious and builds a successful career in banking. Hedy grows up as a privileged child in an insulated world.

When she’s just five years old, she becomes entranced by movie magazines and starts pretending to be an actress. Age 16, she skives off school and manages to land a job as a script girl at Sascha-Film Studio, Vienna’s first movie studio. One thing leads to another and over the next couple of years she get parts on the stage in Vienna and Berlin (notably working for highly regarded director Max Rheinhardt) and in films. Then, in 1932, she goes to Prague where she is offered a lead part by director Gustav Machatý in his new film, Ecstasy.

Ecstasy is an art-house film and garners a good deal of critical acclaim. But in the US in particular this is overwhelmed by the notoriety it acquires for two scenes featuring Hedy. In the first, she appears running naked through the woods and swimming in a lake. In the second, with the camera focused on her face, she has an orgasm as the young man whom she has followed to his cottage makes love to her – her string of pearls breaking and cascading to the floor. She is well prepared for this scene – she’s having a real-life affair with Aribert Mog, her on-screen lover.

Hedy Lamarr as Empress Elizabeth of Austria in Sissy, the Rose of Bavaria Land
1933. Hedy Lamarr as Empress Elizabeth of Austria. Read more.

To rehabilitate herself in polite society and rebuild her career, Hedy’s next appearance is on stage is as Empress Elizabeth of Austria in Fritz Kreisler’s entirely conventional and uncontroversial musical-comedy operetta, Sissy, the Rose of Bavaria Land. And that is how she first encounters her husband-to-be, Fritz Mandl. He showers her with flowers after each performance before finally presenting himself backstage to her.

Fritz is a glamorous and dangerous playboy with a closet not exactly devoid of skeletons. He is also an Austro-fascist arms manufacturer with close ties to Prince Ernst Rüdiger von Starhemberg and Benito Mussolini. Fritz is a power broker in Austria – in the words of one journalist, “It was said of him that he could break a prime minister faster than he could snap a toothpick in half.”

These are turbulent times and the first Austrian Republic is in its death throes. Chancellor Engelbert Dolfuss, is desperate to ensure that the country remains an independent nation state and a bulwark of Christian German culture against Nazism and communism. Crucial to his strategy is an alliance with Benito Mussolini’s Italy.

The threat from the Nazis within Austria increases early in 1933 when Adolph Hitler comes to power in neighbouring Germany. In March, Dollfuss advises President Wilhelm Miklas to suspend the National Council indefinitely, leaving him as a de facto dictator. The following year, he cements his position by forcing through a new constitution.

With such political instability, growing hostility to the Jews and the impact of the Great Depression, Hedy’s family are facing a perfect storm. It’s not surprising that they see marriage to Fritz Mandl as a way of safeguarding their daughter’s future and that encourage her to accept his proposal. Eight weeks after their first encounter, the couple are married and begin to settle into their future roles: she the trophy wife, he the autocratic and jealous husband.

It is at shortly after this that the party described by Heinz Liepmann takes place.

Vienna Farewell

Vienna, night of November 22, 1934. … Vienna – the gayest capital of Europe; the town known the world over for its waltz music, pretty girls and easy life; Vienna, now dark and deserted. On the Kaertner Strasse and around the Stefansdome, where, in former days, music, light and laughter ruled, there is now silence and darkness. The only steps one can hear are those of the patrolling guards of the Heimwehr, the Storm Troopers of Austria.

Vienna is dying. Only nine months have passed since Dollfuss’ cannons and machine guns smashed houses and streets in Vienna and slaughtered the last Austrian Liberals. But behind the five-foot Chancellor Dollfuss, who now governs the unfortunate country with terror and tears, stands another man, six feet, five inches tall, a member of the oldest and proudest nobility of Europe, fabulously wealthy – Vice Chancellor Rüdiger Prince von Starhemberg, Master of the Heimwehr and therefore Master of Austria. And whereas the streets of gay Vienna lie dark and deserted, and the easygoing Viennese sit in their houses, silent, poor and hungry, the palais of Prince von Starhemberg shines, full of light, gaiety, music and laughter. Violins are humming sweet waltzes – beautiful women with jewels and chinchilla wraps laugh and dance and flirt; old servants in gold-embroidered uniforms carry trays with champagne; yes, the spirit of old, gay Vienna is still alive. …

Yes, I remember the night of November 22, 1934. Two days before, I had arrived in Vienna. How well I remember the deep depression I felt as I walked through the dying town. And then, through the mediation of Professor Clemens Krauss, the famous conductor of the Viennese Philharmonic, I was invited to the ball in Prince von Starhemberg’s palais.

We arrived rather late. The big crowd seemed to be in an extremely gay mood. About one hundred twenty people were present. Seldom in my life have I seen so many beautiful women together and so many famous men and so many diamonds, furs and luxurious trappings. The air was filled with exotic perfumes and the smoke from many cigars. The guests belonged to the cream of Austrian and international society. If my memory serves me right, I recognized Prince Nicholas of Greece, Madame Schiaparelli, Franz Werfel and his wife, formerly the wife of the great composer Gustav Mahler, Prince Gustav of Denmark, Nora Gregor, the best-loved actress of Vienna, General Malleaux of the French General Staff and – Hedy Lamarr.

I remember that she attracted my attention as soon as I arrived. Among all the beautiful and extravagantly gowned and jeweled women, she was by far the most attractive – and the youngest. She wore a white dress, which in its simplicity was really a work of art, and a single diamond that, as I learned later on, was one of the purest and largest in Europe. She was dancing with a man much older than she, a big stout man with a strongly lined face.

Hedy Lamarr in Vienna
Mid-1930s. Hedy Lamarr in Vienna.

“Who is she?” I asked the young Hungarian playwright, Oedoen von Horvath.

He led me a few steps aside where nobody could hear us. “Look here,” he whispered, “don’t you know what is going on here tonight? It is the first official meeting between Prince von Starhemberg and Fritz Mandl, after their quarrel. Maybe history will be made tonight!”

A little impatient, I replied: “At the moment I am not interested in history but in that woman who is dancing over there. Who is she?”
 Horvath looked at me, incredulously. “Do you mean to say that you don’t know her? That is Hedy Kiesler, the Hedy Kiesler. She is the wife of Fritz Mandl. That’s the man she’s dancing with.”

I was somewhat perplexed. I had heard the name Hedy Kiesler mentioned through her unfortunate appearance in the film, “Ecstasy” – but everybody in Europe knew Fritz Mandl, the owner of the Hirtenberger Patronen-Fabrik. Fritz Mandl was one of the four munition kings of the world. Sir Basil Zaharoff, the greatest international dealer in arms, Schneider-Creuzot, his French colleague, Alfred Krupp, the master of the German cannon works in Essen and Fritz Mandl – these four hold the fates of all of us in their hands. Day and night, they are active in their trade, for war is their business; they have to sell arms and ammunitions. Mandl was the youngest of the big four. He was fabulously wealthy. Hedy Kiesler, the most beautiful woman in Vienna, was his wife.

“Look,” Horvath gripped my arm. The dance had ended and Mandl, after bowing to his wife, slowly went up the wide staircase. His host followed. And, though the music was now playing another tune and everybody seemed to be busy flirting, dancing and laughing, there was something sinister in the air, a nervous tension, a barely audible excitement.

Everybody in the ballroom was aware of the two men who had just left the hall. In the minds of each one of us was the thought: what are the two men up to? A torturing question. …

I asked a mutual acquaintance to introduce me to Hedy Kiesler – or, as she was then called, Mrs. Fritz Mandl. I asked her to dance.

She seemed to be tired. I noticed that her shining deep eyes were not so gay as they had appeared to be from a distance.

“Let’s sit down for a moment,” she suggested. Only then did I notice that her soft alluring beauty was really intoxicating when enhanced by the vital charm of her eyes and her voice. She appeared sophisticated and naive at the same time – great international hostess and sweet Viennese girl.

Hedy and I spoke about her father, Emil Kiesler, who had died a few years ago and whom I had known as director of an important Viennese bank. He was a shrewd businessman, a tall, handsome, well-dressed man with blue eyes and dark hair growing gray at the temples. About four or five years ago, when I was in his office, his wife came in. Mrs. Kiesler was – or better, is (she is still living in Vienna) – a small energetic woman. Kiesler immediately interrupted the conference and started to whisper excitedly with his wife.

“It must have been about a younger sister of yours,” I told Hedy, “because I could not help overhearing talk of their ‘little girl.’ Something seemed to have happened to her.”

Hedy laughed. “The little girl must have been me,” she said, “because I am the only one they have. Probably I was having the measles or I had been in some mischief. My poor old daddy –“ Mrs. Mandl added thoughtfully, “– we were a very happy family in our house in Peter Jordan Street –”

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sunday in vienna

1. Sunday in Vienna

A short Pathé Pictorial newsreel showing the Viennese at leisure.

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vienna in the early 1930s

2. Vienna in the late 1920s and early ’30s

A collage of films showing the Vienna in which Hedy Lamarr grows up including landmark buildings, parks and pleasure gardens and the city by night.

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ecstasy still

3. Ecstasy

Whereas most of those who see Ecstasy in mainland Europe take it in their stride, in the US it is greeted with outrage. Still, there are a few who see beyond the movie's titillation potential. In a review in the May 18 issue of the Hollywood Spectator, Fred Stein enthuses:

We are at a loss for words with which to convey the qualities of Ecstasy. It is a pictorial poem, a symphony in moods and movement expressed in the most evanescent overtones of sight and sound. … No picture we have seen has so completely realized the cinema as an independent art form. … No doubt this picture should not be seen by those who are too young to know what life is about. … To the rest of us Ecstasy can be nothing less than a great artistic experience.

A new waltz began and Hedy was claimed by one of her admirers. Horvath approached me excitedly. “Did she say anything about Mandl’s conference with von Starhemberg?” he asked.

I took Horvath’s arm and led him out of the ballroom to the big balcony. It was a cold and clear winter night. The sounds of the music and the laughter were only faintly audible. Before and under us was the silent dark town.

“Mrs. Mandl didn’t say a word about her husband,” I replied, “but I wish you would tell me something about her. She can’t be much older than nineteen or twenty. When did she marry, and why?”

Horvath thought for a minute and then answered slowly. “In these last three or four years, Hedy Kiesler has lived an amazingly fantastic life. It began in quite the usual way. As the only child of a well-to-do Viennese family, she went through the usual forms of education – private tutors, private schools, later on, perhaps a year or two in a pension in Switzerland; and then the climax, introduction into society.

“As far as I remember, shortly before she became a debutante, her father died and at once her troubles started. The fortune of the family slowly vanished during the Austrian monetary crisis. Hedy’s attempts to regain some of the fortune on the stock exchange failed. She and her mother lost every penny they possessed. But Hedy was a brave girl. She accepted a job as a stenographer, but she was much too pretty to work in an office. You know what I mean. At last, through an old friend of the family who wanted to help the Kieslers, Hedy got a job as script girl in the Sascha Film Studios. And there Gustav Machaty got hold of her.

“Machaty was the first to recognize the possibilities of Hedy Kiesler,” Horvath went on. “For years he had been planning a great film – his lifework, as he called it – but he had not been able to start it because he could not find the right actress. When he saw Hedy he knew that he had found her, but first, of course, she had to gain experience.

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Eva and Emil on their wedding night

1. Eva and Emil on their wedding night

1933. Eva (Hedy Lamarr) and Emil (Zvonimir Rogoz) on their wedding night in a...

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Eva and Emil on their wedding night

2. Eva and Emil on their wedding night

1933. Eva (Hedy Lamarr) and Emil (Zvonimir Rogoz) on their wedding night in a...

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Eva and Adam part after their night of passion

3. Eva and Adam part after their night of passion

1933. Eva (Hedy Lamarr) and Adam (Aribert Mog) part after their night of passion...

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Emil ignores the pleas of little children for charity

4. Emil ignores the pleas of little children for charity

1933. Emil (Zvonimir Rogoz) ignores the pleas of little children for charity as Adam...

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Adam and Eva toast their love with champagne at the hotel

5. Adam and Eva toast their love with champagne at the hotel

1933. Adam (Aribert Mog) and Eva (Hedy Lamarr) toast their love with champagne at...

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Adam and Eva toast their love with champagne at the hotel

6. Adam and Eva toast their love with champagne at the hotel

1933. Adam (Aribert Mog) and Eva (Hedy Lamarr) toast their love with champagne at...

Six scenes from Ecstasy (1933). The movie opens in US cinemas in spring 1936, with these stills part of a set issued to promote it.

SPOILER ALERT! Ecstasy plot synopsis

On her wedding night (1 + 2), Eva discovers that her elderly husband isn’t really interested in sex. Unloved, frustrated and bored, she leaves him and goes back to her father and initiates divorce proceedings.

When she goes skinny-dipping in a nearby lake, her horse runs off in search of a mate taking her clothes in the process. Eva, naked, sets off in pursuit and watches as youthful and virile Adam captures the steed and, spotting her in the bushes, returns her clothes. It’s love at first sight. As she leaves, she twists her ankle, giving him the ideal excuse to make physical contact as he straps it up.

Initially she plays difficult to get but love blossoms and that night she goes to visit Adam in his house in the woods. They fall into each other’s arms and consummate their love. The following morning they walk out into the countryside where they part, vowing to meet again that evening (3). Back at her father’s place, Emil lies in wait seeking a reconciliation. She tells him it’s too late.

On his way into town, Emil gives Adam, who’s part of a gang working on the road, a lift. They stop at Adam’s house so he can change and get Emil a drink of water. While he waits, the heartless Emil ignores the pleas of little children for charity (4). Adam returns and Emil notices he’s carrying Eva’s broken string of pearls. After a demented drive, Emil only just manages to stop the car as the gates to a level crossing come down. He’s spent and Adam drives him to a hotel to recuperate.

Adam, blissfully unaware of the situation, prepares to welcome Eva at the hotel where Emil is staying. She arrives, they drink champagne (5 + 6). While they dance, they hear a shot. Adam breaks into the room from which it came and finds Emil lying dead on the floor. Eva doesn’t tell Adam her terrible secret, but at the train station she leaves him asleep and boards the train to Berlin alone. Adam returns to work and the camaraderie of his gang. Somewhere in the city, Eva has a baby on her lap.

“Machaty asked a few film directors to let her play small parts in their films. After she had gained what the film people call ‘camera technique,’ Machaty began his ‘great work.’ It was a super-modern film about a beautiful poor young girl who married an ugly, old, but wealthy man. Working with unknown actors and with Hedy Kiesler as star, Machaty at last finished the film and called it ‘Symphony of Love’ – later known under the title of ‘Ecstasy.’”

Horvath paused. Footsteps came nearer on the silent street. They belonged to a detachment of Heimwehr soldiers – gray-uniformed, brutal fellows – the creatures of the noble Prince von Starhemberg and Fritz Mandl.

We looked up. From the balcony of the palais where we stood we saw a lonely light in the floor above us. Prince Starhemberg and Fritz Mandl were having their conference there. What would be the result? Something sinister was in the air. Mandl was known as usually getting what he wanted. …

“With one exception.” I smiled. “When Mandl had married the beautiful star of ‘Ecstasy,’ he had tried to buy all negatives of the film. Machaty sold them to him. But new negatives turned up in Tokyo, or in Australia, or in Rome. Again Mandl started buying. He didn’t want to have his wife appear naked before the bulging eyes of movie fans. But it was a long time before he learned that as soon as he bought the negatives, the company which distributed ‘Ecstasy’ had new ones produced. At last Mandl succeeded in buying the original for a terrific amount of money.”

“Why did she play in ‘Ecstasy’ at all?” I asked Horvath, who was still staring up at the silent light in the room above.

My friend shrugged his shoulders. “I think that she can hardly be blamed for it,” he answered. “The film itself is a very ambitious and purely artistic work and I think that nobody, least of all Hedy, had the faintest idea that the great public could regard it as a ‘naughty’ film. Hedy must have suffered deeply over the international scandal. Of course, she didn’t behave cleverly after the scandal broke. She shouldn’t have appeared in public for some time. But the great Max Reinhardt was just then going to direct the new play by Eduard Bourdet, ‘The Weaker Sex,’ and, either because he wanted to take advantage of Hedy’s publicity, or, as I believe, in order to give her a chance to show the public that she was really an actress, he gave her a small part in it. Through her, the play became a sensation. She began to travel between Berlin and Vienna. Among the parts she played in these years, I remember one in Noel Coward’s ‘Private Lives’ and a big part in the film, ‘The Trunks of Mr. O. F.’”

My friend became silent again. After a while he went on, thoughtfully: “Yes – and then her marriage. It was a very strange and curious coincidence. People say that Fritz Mandl, who had seen Hedy Kiesler in ‘Ecstasy,’ went to the first night of ‘The Weaker Sex’ and watched her from his box. In the intermission, he asked a mutual friend to introduce him to her. Fritz Mandl is supposed to be a man who gets everything he wants – and a short time later his marriage to Hedy Kiesler was announced. Do you remember the story of ‘Ecstasy’? A very wealthy, ugly old man buys – excuse me, I meant to say marries – a beautiful poor young girl. Do you understand what I mean when I call it a strange coincidence?

“Since the wedding, Hedy Mandl has become one of the most brilliant hostesses of international society. Yes,” Horvath ended dreamily, “if a novelist were to describe her life, people would call him unbelievably fantastic. …”

Horvath suddenly gripped my arm. I looked through the glass door and saw Prince von Starhemberg and the munition king Mandl walk down the wide staircase, arm in arm. Horvath and I returned to the ballroom. Everybody had stopped dancing to look at the two men. Hedy Kiesler left her dancing partner and went over to her husband. At that same moment, the music that had stopped began to play a waltz. Fritz Mandl, the munition king, took the arm of Hedy Kiesler, the most beautiful girl in Vienna and his wife, and they began to dance. We saw him whispering to her, gravely, and then I noticed that her eyes grew wide and fearful. …

Hedy Lamarr at home in Vienna
Around 1935. Hedy Lamarr at home in Vienna.

Yes, it was a great night in the Viennese palais of the Prince von Starhemberg. Today we know from political documents that on this very night – November 22, 1934 – Starhemberg and Fritz Mandl reached an agreement concerning their ambitious political plans. Fritz Mandl promised to supply Prince Starhemberg’s Heimwehr with arms for the overthrowing of Dollfuss.

On this night the foundation was laid for those tragic events which began with the cruel murder of tiny Chancellor Dollfuss and led, at last, to the end of the proud Austrian Empire and its rape by the German dictator. …

I remember well the jubilant violins playing Viennese waltzes … I remember the laughter and the gay voices of famous men and beautiful women … I remember the atmosphere of exotic perfumes, white shoulders, expensive cigars, promising smiles, international medals and chinchilla wraps … and I remember Mrs. Fritz Mandl – more appealing, more charming and more beautiful than anyone else – and, hidden behind her veiled eyes, a great loneliness and fear. …

Dark and deserted were the streets of Vienna. Only in one house, a palais – like a ghost, a dream out of old times – the last sweet waltzes of Vienna were danced under shining chandeliers. …

It’s only a few years ago, but the dream has long since ended. The morning was gray, the awakening terrible. Dollfuss has bled to death; von Starhemberg is a poor forgotten refugee in Switzerland; Fritz Mandl, driven out of his country, is traveling somewhere between Shanghai and Buenos Aires, selling arms – and Vienna, old, beautiful, gay Vienna, is occupied by the barbarians. The “blue” Danube has become a “red” Danube, flowing over with blood and tears. …

Only one has escaped the awakening in the gray morning: Hedy Lamarr.

Postscript

Whether or not Mandl and Prince von Starhemberg plotted Dollfuss’s downfall that evening in Vienna is open to doubt. What’s not, is that on 25 July 1935, the Chancellor will be assassinated. This raises two issues:

  • The date given in the original article must be incorrect since by November 1934 Chancellor Dollfuss will be dead and buried. It is likely that the party actually takes place in November 1933.
  • The killers will be eight Austrian Nazis who burst into the chancellery in an attempted coup and happen to bump into Dollfuss in the process. There’s little evidence of a connection between them and either Prince von Starhemberg or the Heimwehr.

Hedy will grow increasingly worried about her husband’s business affairs and the control he insists on exerting over her. In 1936, she will have an affair with Prince von Starhemberg with a view to enlisting his help in escaping from Austria. But as the pair step off the train in Budapest, they will be confronted by Mandl, whose spies have tipped him off about the elopement.

The following year (1937), Hedy will finally manage to outwit her husband and flee via Paris to London and from there to the US and Hollywood, with a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Other topics you may be interested in…

Ava Gardner – the journey to Hollywood
Hazel Brooks – the human heat wave
Hedy Lamarr with a bust by Nina Saemundsson
Hedy Lamarr – beauty, brains and bad judgment

Filed Under: Films, Stars Tagged With: Aribert Mog, Ecstasy, Fritz Mandl, Gustav Machatý, Hedwig Kiesler, Hedy Lamarr, Heinz Liepmann, Prince Ernst Rüdiger von Starhemberg

Richard Avedon – art and commerce

Richard Avedon was one of the all-time-great fashion photographers. For decades after his emergence onto the scene in 1946, he was a dominant influence on the industry thanks to the energy, imagination and willingness to take risks that he brought to his work.

Fashion was where Avedon made his name. It was also his undoing – at least in his own mind. He came to regard it as “merely” commercial, whereas what he really wanted was to be, and be seen as, a serious artist. So he turned his attention to portraiture, using fashion commissions to fund his endeavours.

But such was Avedon’s reputation in the field of fashion that despite all his efforts it continued to dominate his image for most of his career.

Mrs Alfred G Vanderbilt by Richard Avedon
1966. Mrs Alfred G Vanderbilt in new Mainbocher evening look. Photo by Richard Avedon. Read more.

Avedon – fashion and portraiture, two sides of a coin

At first sight, Avedon’s portraits seem to be the polar opposite of his fashion work. A distinguishing characteristic of a typical Avedon fashion shot is its energetic high spirits. By contrast, what distinguishes many Avedon portraits is the bleak, unflinching, often inquisitorial dissection of his subjects’ vulnerabilities. His portraits are rarely kind, let alone flattering. More than occasionally, they shock his subjects.

But look more closely and you’ll discover a dark seam of existential angst running through Avedon’s fashion work too. He’s all too aware that beauty can be isolating and that it fades. You can see that in the expression of Dorian Leigh as she looks at herself in the mirror in a photo taken in 1949 at the beginning of Avedon’s career. Pathos is more to the fore in his 1955 shot of Dovima with Émilien Boulione and a clown. But nowhere is his existential angst more explicit than in In Memory of The Late Mr and Mrs Comfort, a harrowing editorial for the November 6, 1995 issue of The New Yorker.

In an interview quoted in Avedon Fashion 1944–2000, he traces the underlying anxiety in his fashion work back to his experience as a boy growing up in a home dominated by women:

I watched the way in which they prepared themselves to go out, what clothes meant, what makeup meant, what hair meant, what men meant. That anxiety was a very important thing that I tried to work into the magazines. And very often they [the photos] were rejected.

Avedon – the great storyteller

Another common denominator between Avedon’s fashion and portrait studies is drama and stories. Throughout his life, he never passes up an opportunity to go to the theatre, the ballet and the movies. He’s also an avid reader. All this helps to provide inspiration and fuel his own creativity

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Dovima photographed in Egypt by Richard Avedon

Dovima by the great pyramids at Gizeh

1951. The model for this shoot, published in the May and June 1951 issues of Harper’s Bazaar, is Dovima, whose face reminds Avedon of the...

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Dovima photographed in Egypt by Richard Avedon

Dovima by the great pyramids at Gizeh

1951. The shoot takes place during Avedon’s honeymoon with his second wife, Evelyn, whom he marries on 29 January 1951. So presumably Evelyn is lurking...

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Dovima photographed in Egypt by Richard Avedon

Dovima at the mosque of Mohammed Ali, Cairo

1951. Winthrop Sargeant, in an article for the November 8, 1958 issue of The New Yorker, observes that like all Avedon models,...

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Dovima photographed in Egypt by Richard Avedon

Dovima at the feet of the pharaohs

1951. According to Winthrop Sargeant, Dovima is so overcome by the grandeur of her Egyptian role that she undergoes a mystical experience....

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Dovima photographed in Egypt by Richard Avedon

Dovima at the Temple of Karnak, Luxor

1951. In a memo to Avedon about the Egypt shoot, Diana Vreeland (Fashion Editor at Harper's Bazaar) writes, “Dick, before you plan these pictures, just...

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The stories are most evident in his fashion editorials, especially the iconic series of images he creates for Harper’s Bazaar to showcase the Paris collections, and which in the process help transform the image of the city after World War II. In A Woman Entering a Taxi in the Rain, an article published in the November 8, 1958 issue of The New Yorker, Winthrop Sargeant remarks:

His leading lady must always be involved in a drama of some sort, and if fate fails to provide a real one, Avedon thinks one up. He often creates in his mind an entire scenario suggested by a model’s appearance. She may be a waif lost in a big and sinful city, or a titled lady pursued in Hispano-Suizas by gentlemen flourishing emeralds, or an inconsolably bored woman of the world whose heart can no longer be touched – and so on. Avedon models play scene after scene from these scripts, and sometimes helps out by actually living an extra scene or two. The result is extraordinary for its realism – not the kind of realism found in most photography but the kind found in the theatre.

Think Elise Daniels with street performers and Suzy Parker and Robin Tattershall.

The mood of those shots might feel improvised, but the shoots themselves are far from spontaneous. They take a great deal of preparation: research into locations, sketches of proposed shots and test photos. On the day, Avedon coaxes and cajoles his models into the personas and poses he has in mind, chatting to them, joking with them and, crucially, telling them the stories he wants them to act out. He’s a bundle of energy, enthusiasm and inspiration and he won’t take no for an answer.

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Twiggy photographed for Vogue by Richard Avedon

Twiggy – annotated working print

1968. A working print of a variant of a photo of Twiggy that appeared on page 60 of the July issue of Vogue. The wax...

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Twiggy – final print

Twiggy – final print

1968. A variant of a photo of Twiggy that appeared on page 60 of the July issue of Vogue captioned:

Looking like a picture, left:...

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Hiro, once upon a time an assistant of Avedon, says:

Dick was the most brilliant of all the flashes that illuminated my professional path. His impatience was an inspiration in itself. The preparation he made for each sitting, the perfectionism – sharp, like a scalpel. And then the way he directed. His personality, which helped him clinch every shot. His timing. This man created the modern woman – the Avedon Woman.

In Avedon’s portraits, the drama is in the eyes, faces and expressions of his sitters, usually accentuated by ascetic, plain white backgrounds. More often than not the drama is dark, and not just by coincidence. Before the shoot, Avedon researches his subject and forms a view of what he wants his portrait to convey. And he seems inexorably drawn to his sitter’s vulnerabilities and failings – the skull beneath the skin.

He’s fond of telling a story of how he took his celebrated photo of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. The challenge: find a way of getting them to drop their guard – the happy, smiling “Ladies Home Journal cover faces” they would present for their portrait in contrast to the expressions he’s seen as he stalked them at the casino. He wants his portrait to reveal their “loss of humanity.” When he turns up at their NYC apartment for the shoot, he notices their pug dogs, which they adore. So he sets everything up, gets the couple into position and says, “If I seem a little hesitant, a little disturbed, it’s because my taxi ran over a dog.” Both of their faces drop, he clicks the shutter and catches the expression he’s looking for.

It turns out that this story might itself be made up. Either way, it gives us an insight into the store Avedon sets by stories. It also illustrates another aspect of what Avedon is like and how he captures images like no others – he is an arch manipulator, charismatic and ruthless, who knows what he wants from a shoot and also how to get it.

That applies not just to individual shoots but also to Avedon’s legacy and the brand he is determined to create for himself. He’s perfectly prepared to edit his archive, destroying photos that don’t fit with the narrative he wants to create for himself. And when he talks about his experiences, it’s not always clear where fact ends and fancy begins. Indeed, according to Norma Stevens, his studio manager:

Dick would sometimes make merry with the facts—he even joked that if he ever wrote an autobiography he would call it Here Lies Richard Avedon. He said, “There is no truth, no history – there is only the way in which the story is told.”

Avedon at work on Funny Face
1956. Richard Avedon (right) at work on Funny Face. Read more.

Avedon – the Hollywood connection

Not only do many of Avedon’s fashion shoots seem to come straight out of a movie, they even inspire one. Funny Face is based loosely on the exploits of Avedon and his first wife, Doe, played by Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn. Avedon is retained as a consultant for the movie, revealing some of his working methods, providing tips on lighting and on Audrey Hepburn’s wardrobe, and creating title credits and backgrounds plus a montage of freeze-framed fashion.

Funny Face and Avedon’s work as a stills photographer for The Prince and the Showgirl (1957) and Some Like It Hot (1959) bridge his fashion and portrait work, with one of his greatest portraits being of Marilyn Monroe lost in thought.

For hours she danced and sang and flirted and did this thing that’s – she did Marilyn Monroe. And then there was the inevitable drop. And when the night was over and the white wine was over and the dancing was over, she sat in the corner like a child, with everything gone. I saw her sitting quietly without expression on her face, and I walked towards her but I wouldn’t photograph her without her knowledge of it. And as I came with the camera, I saw that she was not saying no.

On a lighter note is Avedon’s virtuoso shoot – witty, stylish, extravagant – with Marilyn for the Christmas 1958 issue of LIFE magazine. The idea is to recreate the images of five stars from different eras. With his interest in theatre and the movies, this is right up the photographer’s street.

In every age the entertainment world produces an enchantress who embodies the fancies men dream by – the places they might have visited with her, music danced to with her, suppers shared with her. In the Gay Nineties, it was Lillian Russell, 160 opulent pounds of curvy Victorian womanhood. Then it was Theda Bara, representing all the women who came bursting from their stays in World War I with predatory eyes and heavy make-up into the new freedom. Afterward there was Clara Bow and Marlene Dietrich and Jean Harlow. Heiress today of the fabled five is Marilyn Monroe. On the following pages, in a stunning feat of re-creation, Marilyn impersonates her predecessors in their most enduring images.

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Marilyn Monroe as Clara Bow by Richard Avedon

Marilyn Monroe as Clara Bow

1958. The caption in the December 22 issue of LIFE magazine reads:

Clara Bow – whom Marilyn re-enacts in these photographs – was the heady...

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Marilyn Monroe as Clara Bow by Richard Avedon

Marilyn Monroe as Clara Bow

1958. The caption in the December 22 issue of LIFE magazine reads:

Clara Bow – whom Marilyn re-enacts in these photographs – was the heady...

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Marilyn Monroe as Clara Bow by Richard Avedon

Marilyn Monroe as Clara Bow

1958. The caption in the December 22 issue of LIFE magazine reads:

Clara Bow – whom Marilyn re-enacts in these photographs – was the heady...

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Marilyn Monroe as Clara Bow by Richard Avedon

Marilyn Monroe as Clara Bow

1958. The caption in the December 22 issue of LIFE magazine reads:

Clara Bow – whom Marilyn re-enacts in these photographs – was the heady...

Read more
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Marilyn Monroe as Lillian Russell by Richard Avedon

Marilyn Monroe as Lillian Russell

1958. The caption in the December 22 issue of LIFE magazine reads:

Marilyn’s sensitive, funny and loving impersonations start opposite with a radiant replica...

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Marilyn Monroe as Theda Bara by Richard Avedon

Marilyn Monroe as Theda Bara

1958. The caption in the December 22 issue of LIFE magazine reads:

The movies’ first heavy-breathing temptress and the original vampire was Theda Bara...

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Marilyn Monroe as Marlene Dietrich by Richard Avedon

Marilyn Monroe as Marlene Dietrich

1958. The caption in the December 22 issue of LIFE magazine reads:

This is Marlene Dietrich in the role that made her famous –...

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Marilyn Monroe as Jean Harlow by Richard Avedon

Marilyn Monroe as Jean Harlow

1958. The caption in the December 22 issue of LIFE magazine reads:

Jean Harlow always looked as if she were being bent backward over...

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The images here are scans of vintage black and white prints sent to a Hollywood producer, whereas the published versions are in colour.

Marilyn Monroe by Richard Avedon
1958. Marilyn Monroe as herself. Photo by Richard Avedon. Read more.

Avedon – fashion photography’s great innovator

One of the things that makes Avedon such a key figure in fashion photography is his ability to stay ahead of the curve. Fashion is by its nature so ephemeral that few photographers manage to remain current for more than about a decade. Avedon, almost uniquely, manages to evolve his approach to tap into the zeitgeist and reflect the changing times in which he lives. Perhaps that’s because he sees it as an important aspect of his remit.

I believe that the photographer’s job is to record the quality of the woman, of that moment he is working… Our job is always to report on the woman of the moment. The way she lives, the way she dresses. Our conception of beauty changes and is always changing.

Almost from the off, Avedon is pushing at the boundaries, getting his models to act rather than just pose, using blurred movement and soft focus when sharp focus and detail are what’s expected. According to Winthrop Sargeant, that was just the beginning:

The model became pretty, rather than austerely aloof. She laughed, danced, skated, gambolled among herds of elephants, sang in the rain, ran breathlessly down the Champs-Elysées, smiled and sipped cognac at café tables, and otherwise gave evidence of being human.

Some Avedon admirers date the turning point in his style from a celebrated photograph he made for Harper’s Bazaar in 1950, in which Dorian Leigh was shown bursting into laughter while throwing her arms around the winner of a French bicycle race. The picture created a sensation in the profession, since embracing sports heroes and laughing had not previously been thought suitable activities for fashion models, and the extent of its influence soon became clear as models began to appear everywhere embracing bicycle riders, matadors, coachmen, and Lord knows what else, in a state of hilarity. Next, Avedon, again a good jump ahead of the pack, started photographing models with handsome young men posing as their husbands, and then—most revolutionary of all—models wheeling children in perambulators or, to make the family scene complete, dangling them in baskets gaily held by the father, too.

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Andrea Johnson

Andrea Johnson

1946. This print comes from the collection of post-World War II supermodel, Andrea Johnson. The reverse is inscribed in pen "other shot Larry Avedon S449-2...

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The hand of Ara Gallant by Richard Avedon

The hand of Ara Gallant

1973. The smooth sloping shoulders (Beauty, youth), the manicured rough hand (The Beast, mortality), the balanced asymmetry… just the kind of unexpected magic and storytelling...

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It’s not so easy for us now to appreciate quite how startling Avedon’s work is for people at the time. Over several decades, particularly the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s, he helps to define and advance accepted notions of beauty as well as pushing the limits of what’s acceptable in a fashion magazine (for example, his photo of Countess Christina Paolozzi topless in the January, 1962 issue of Harper’s Bazaar). Landmark shoots include:

  • Harper’s Bazaar, January, 1959 – China Machado, the first non-Caucasian model to shoot the collections and feature on the cover.
  • Harper’s Bazaar, September, 1962 – inspired by the coverage of Elizabeth Taylor’s affair with Richard Burton, the autumn collections shot as if by paparazzi and laid out like a pulp magazine.
  • Harper’s Bazaar, December, 1963 – Rebecca Hutchings, the first black model to appear in the magazine.
  • Harper’s Bazaar, January, 1965 – set in Ibiza, an editorial implying a ménage à trois.
  • Harper’s Bazaar, April, 1965 – a far-out mash-up of pop culture, space age and high fashion shot and edited by Avedon and billed as “a partial passport to the off-beat side of Now.”
  • The New Yorker, November 6, 1995 – In Memory of The Late Mr and Mrs Comfort, a dark and satirical fashion editorial starring Nadja Auermann and a skeleton in a tale of decadence and death.

Avedon – his achievement

The second half of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st were a time of social, political and cultural change. Avedon’s fashion work as well as his portraits are a commentary on those decades, probing and revealing what power and wealth, confidence and vitality, deprivation and helplessness look like and what they do to people – a unique legacy of penetrating and iconic images.

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Nylon dance dress by Wilson Folmar

Nylon dance dress by Wilson Folmar of Edward Abbott

1961. This photo (another copy is in the Hagley Digital Archives) is annotated in pencil on the reverse ‘253527’ and ‘RICHARD AVEDON’....

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Jean Shrimpton and Marisa Berenson by Richard Avedon

Jean Shrimpton and Marisa Berenson perched in a tree

1966. Two of the top models of the day, Jean Shrimpton and Marisa Berenson, perch like birds in a tree in this photo published in...

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Penelope Tree modelling a Cardin collar by Richard Avedon

Penelope Tree modelling a Cardin collar

1967. This is the year that American-born model, Penelope Tree, moves to London to live with David Bailey. She’s 18 years old and it's...

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This piece is mainly about Avedon as a fashion photographer, but that’s not the half of it. Additionally, he created a whole series of influential advertising campaigns, the most notable of which starred 15-year-old Brooke Shields modelling a pair of Calvin Klein skin-tight jeans. He branched out into film and video. He initiated ambitious and important projects – In the American West is a great example. He ran a sizeable studio, which among other things acted as a kind of academy, training and inspiring generations of photographers. And through his exhibitions and books he helped raise the status of photography to challenge that of painting and sculpture in the minds of curators, collectors and the public at large.

Few photographers have the determination, the courage and the insightfulness to challenge themselves and their sitters to the extent that Avedon did. That is at the heart of his greatness.

Want to know more about Avedon?

Your preferred search engine will offer you many online sources of information and images.

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The Most Sought After Photographer in the World

1. The Most Sought After Photographer in the World

If you’re strapped for time and looking for an overview of Avedon's work, take a look at this four-minute documentary.

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Darkness and light

2. Darkness and Light

If you’d like to spend a bit longer finding out about Avedon, this documentary covers most aspects of his work and includes clips from interviews with him and people who knew him.

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Norma Stevens on Richard Avedon

3. An Insight into Richard Avedon

An overview of Avedon’s fashion work by his biographer and erstwhile studio manager Norma Stevens.

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Being shot by Richard Avedon

4. Being shot by Richard Avedon

Supermodel Kristen McMenamy, interviewed by photographer Nick Knight, recalls her experience of being shot alongside Nadja Auermann for one of Avedon's iconic Versace campaigns.

Here are four videos and a handful of books worth looking up:

  • Avedon Fashion 1944–2000 by Vince Aletti, Carol Squiers and Philippe Garner is outstanding for both the images and the accompanying essays.
  • Richard Avedon: Made in France by Judith Thurman presents a collection of images made in Paris for Harper’s Bazaar during the 1950s, reproduced to the exact scale of the engraver’s prints made for Avedon, uncropped, on their original mounts, with all of the artist’s notations on both front and back.
  • An Autobiography: The Photographs of Richard Avedon is a major retrospective of images chosen by Avedon himself. There is hardly any text.
  • Norma Stevens’ and Steven Aronson’s biography, Avedon: Something Personal is a compelling and insightful portrait, laced with reflections on the great man by people who knew and worked with him. Bear in mind, though, that many of the details are disputed and it’s inconceivable that the author remembered her conversations with Avedon verbatim.
  • Focus: The Secret, Sexy, Sometimes Sordid World of Fashion Photographers by Michael Gross provides a context in which to assess Avedon’s achievements in the field of fashion photography.

Other topics you may be interested in…

Unknown model by Kenneth Heilbron
Kenneth Heilbron – mid-century fashion from Chicago
The Young Look in the Theatre by Norman Parkinson
Norman Parkinson – photographer and fantasist
Paris after World War II – fact, fashion and fantasy

Filed Under: Fashion, Films, Photographers, Stars Tagged With: Andrea Johnson, Ara Gallant, Dovima, Funny Face, Hiro, Jean Shrimpton, Marilyn Monroe, Marisa Berenson, Penelope Tree, Richard Avedon, Suzy Parker, Twiggy

Tazio Secchiaroli – more than a paparazzo

A scene from Fellini's Satyricon
1969. A scene from Fellini’s Satyricon. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

Tazio Secchiaroli is generally regarded as the most talented and daring of the paparazzi. During the 1950s, he played a key role in developing the genre of paparazzi photography.

This article touches on his early career and his exploits as a paparazzo, but it’s mainly a showcase for the stunning work he did after that, particularly with Federico Fellini and Sophia Loren.

Tazio Secchiaroli – his rise to stardom

Tazio Secchiaroli is born on 26 November 1925, in Centocelle, a working-class suburb about 10 kilometres from the centre of Rome.

As a teenager, his first job is working as a gofer at Cinecittà. But in the final years of World War II the Italian film industry is on its knees. So in 1944, age 19, Tazio Secchiaroli becomes one of the ‘scattini’ (street photographers), patrolling the train station and tourist spots for visitors to Rome and offering to do portrait shots of them.

It’s a hand-to-mouth existence, hardly more lucrative than his job at Cinecittà. Fortunately he gets to know Luciano Mellace, a photographer who works for International News Service, an American agency. In 1951, Mellace offers Secchiaroli a chance to join the agency, which the latter seizes with both hands. His new job involves assisting at shoots and helping out in the darkroom. It’s a start.

The following year, Tazio Secchiaroli moves on to VEDO, a photo agency. Its founder is an enterprising and unscrupulous photographer called Adolfo Porry-Pastorel. He’s known in the trade for the stunts he pulls to outwit his competitors – for example putting a stickers over the picture lenses of his rivals’ twin-lens cameras. Because the sticker is invisible through the viewfinder, the trick will be discovered only after the event, in the darkroom.

Gjon Mili in the studio with two models
1950. Gjon Mili in the studio with two models.

But Tazio Secchiaroli is both ambitious and restless. In 1955, he becomes his own boss, setting up Roma Press Photo agency with Sergio Spinelli, a colleague at VEDO. Spinelli does the marketing and PR, Secchiaroli takes the photos. And what photos they are! His ability to be in the right place at the right time and to grab the most telling shots is covered in the paparazzi – shock horror birth of a monster. Before long, he’s the de facto ringleader of the paparazzi and known as an urban fox – the Volpe di via Veneto.

His pursuit of Ava Gardner and Walter Chiari (actor, co-star in The Little Hut and escort) tells us all we need to know about his ruthless tactics:

One evening, we were following Ava Gardner and Chiari, who were nightclubbing around Rome. There were four of us: Elio Sorci, myself and our collaborators. We had taken pictures of the two of them going in and out of nightclubs, worthless photographs because there were so many just like them. So, later, as he was parking and she had gone to open the door to the apartment building, I told Sorci to get ready. Then I went up very close to Gardner and set off a flash in her face; she screamed and Chiari immediately rushed me. Sorci promptly started shooting and got some pictures in which it looks as if we were fighting.

Based on Tazio Secchiaroli’s reputation as leader of the pack, Federico Fellini recruits him as an advisor for La Dolce Vita. It proves to be a formative experience and a turning point in Secchiaroli’s career.

In the early sixties, perhaps recognizing that street photography is a young man’s line of work and that he is not getting any younger, Tazio Secchiaroli transitions from paparazzo to set and portrait photographer. To this end, he persuades Gjon Mili, working in Italy on an assignment for LIFE magazine, to take him on for three months as an unpaid assistant. This is his opportunity to learn about the formal photographic techniques that as a paparazzo have not really been on his agenda – things like composition, lighting and depth of field.

Tazio Secchiaroli – his work with the stars

His first assignment as a set photographer is for Federico Fellini’s follow-up to La Dolce Vita – 8½. After that Tazio Secchiaroli works on the sets of all of Fellini’s films except for Juliet of the Spirits and Orchestra Rehearsal.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Photo taken on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Photo taken on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Photo taken on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Annie Daniel on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Annie Daniel on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Monica Pardo on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Terence Stamp on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Terence Stamp on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Terence Stamp on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Terence Stamp on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Photo taken on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Federico Fellini on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Federico Fellini on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini and Anne Tonietti on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Federico Fellini on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Federico Fellini on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Anne Tonietti on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini and Anne Tonietti on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

Fellini is not just an employer but also a profound influence:

If it weren’t for Fellini, I might have remained a paparazzo. He opened the doors of Cinecittà to me, but more than that, he showed me things I never would have understood on my own. Watching him, I learned to see the world in a disenchanted and slightly amused way. It was as if I had taken a load off my shoulders, or rather, off my brain.

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Ursula Andress preparing for a scene from The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Ursula Andress preparing for a scene in Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Ursula Andress in a scene from The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Ursula Andress as Caroline Meredith in a scene from Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Ursula Andress in a scene from The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Ursula Andress as Caroline Meredith in a scene from Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Elsa Martinelli as Olga in The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Elsa Martinelli as Olga in Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Marcello Mastroianni and Ursula Andress in a scene from The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Marcello Mastroianni and Ursula Andress in a scene from Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Marcello Mastroianni and Ursula Andress filming a scene for The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Marcello Mastroianni and Ursula Andress filming a scene for Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

Tazio Secchiaroli also works with other directors including Pier Paolo Pasolini, Michelangelo Antonioni and Elio Petri (only two of the photos here from The 10th Victim have the photographer’s stamp; the others are attributed to him).

As portrait photographer to the stars, his most notable collaboration is with Sophia Loren, which lasts 20 years. In her autobiography, Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow: My Life, she writes:

I trusted Tazio Secchiaroli – my invaluable photographer – with my life. He was completely free to do as he pleased because I was sure he’d do the right thing. Marcello [Mastroianni] was a friend of his and had recommended him to me, and I’d gotten along with him right from the start. Fellini adored him as well, and they often worked together. He’d been the first to immortalize the nightlife of via Veneto, inspired not just the character of the paparazzo in La Dolce Vita, but by the whole atmosphere of the movie. He became like family to me, accompanying me all over the world, from set to set, and from event to event.

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Sophia Loren being photographed

Sophia Loren being photographed

1967. Sophia Loren being photographed. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren at a garden party

Sophia Loren at a garden party

Around 1970. Sophia Loren at a garden party. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren hugging a friend

Sophia Loren hugging a friend

1967. Sophia Loren hugging a friend. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Man of La Mancha

Sophia Loren in Man of La Mancha

1972. Sophia Loren as Dulcinea in Man of La Mancha. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

Elsewhere she rhapsodizes about his talent and professionalism:

Beneath an apparently cold and inattentive expression, Tazio has the instinct and controlled aggressiveness of the true photographer, one who will take a hundred or even a thousand shots until he is sure that he has got exactly the one he was looking for. Above all, Tazio has one great talent: he never pesters you, he will not confuse you with suggestions, he never tries out sterile experiments. Like a good hunting dog (I hope Tazio will forgive the analogy, but I do love dogs), he does not run or jump without reason. With all his senses on the alert, he waits patiently for the precise instant, however fleeting it may be, to seize the picture and freeze it forever on his film.

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Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti outdoors

Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti outdoors

1967. Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti outdoors. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti relaxing on a sofa

Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti relaxing on a sofa

1967. Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti relaxing on a sofa. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in an exotic garden

Sophia Loren in an exotic garden

1967. Sophia Loren in an exotic garden. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Charlie Chaplin, Sophia Loren and Marlon Brando on the set of A Countess from Hong Kong

On the set of A Countess from Hong Kong

1967. Charlie Chaplin with Sophia Loren and Marlon Brando on the set of A Countess from Hong Kong. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren filming More Than a Miracle

Sophia Loren filming More Than a Miracle

1967. Sophia Loren filming More Than a Miracle. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in Marriage Italian-Style

Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in Marriage Italian-Style

1964. Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in Marriage Italian-Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

And the admiration and affection is reciprocated by Tazio Secchiaroli:

With la Loren, I really understood what light is. Few people have as good a sense as she does of this basic, incorporeal thing. But that’s not all. La Loren is one of the greatest people I have ever known. Beneath the diva is a simple, generous woman who, out of her great sense of fairness, detests cynicism, slyness, and arrogance.

Tazio Secchiaroli will carry on working on film sets and portraits until 1983:

Because photography, like any art, requires a great deal of energy. In 1983, I felt that this energy was exhausted. So I decided to quit.

Want to know more about Tazio Secchiaroli?

Diego Mormorio’s monograph, Tazio Secchiaroli – the greatest of the paparazzi, authoritatively written and beautifully illustrated, is a must-read. Online, the first place to go is Flashgun warrior by Gaby Wood, published in the 17 July 1999 issue of The Guardian. Apart from Wikipedia and, for a selection of Tazio Secchiaroli’s photographs, The Red List, other sources include:

  • Tazio Secchiaroli’s website (written in Italian).
  • The New York Times obituary, written by Sarah Boxer – Tazio Secchiaroli, the Model for ‘Paparazzo,’ Dies at 73.
  • An article in The Herald – We got even, says the original paparazzo.

Other topics you may be interested in…

Paris after World War II – fact, fashion and fantasy
Picasso and Bardot – the artist and the sex kitten
The paparazzi – shock horror birth of a monster

Filed Under: Films, Photographers, Stars Tagged With: Carlo Ponti, Federico Fellini, Fellini's Satyricon, Gjon Mili, Sophia Loren, Spirits of the Dead, Tazio Secchiaroli, The 10th Victim

The paparazzi – shock horror birth of a monster

Look of resignation
Around 1963. Princess Grace of Monaco endures the antics of the paparazzi.

Paparazzi. The lowest of the low. Leeches, predators, sleazebags. Intrusive, money-grubbing, shameless stalkers. No depths to which they won’t sink in pursuit of stunners, love rats and sex romps.

Yup, paparazzi get a pretty bad press. So where does this ravenous pack of hyenas come from? And why are they called paparazzi? It’s a story with plenty of tabloid appeal, set in 1950s Rome where a cluster of volatile elements fuse to create the gruesome phenomenon.

The paparazzi – humble beginnings

Like Paris after World War II, Rome and its inhabitants are in dire straits after the defeat of the fascists. There’s no better account of the poverty and desperation that are rife in the city than Vittorio de Sica’s seminal neorealist film, The Bicycle Thieves (1948). It recounts the travails of Antonio Ricci, an impoverished father who finally is lucky enough to be offered a job that could be the salvation of his young family. But to do the job he needs a bicycle, and he’s already pawned his to raise cash for food…

Ricci is typical of thousands of Romans who have to live on their wits.

In the aftermath of World War II, one option is to beg, steal or borrow a camera and offer to take pictures of visitors to the eternal city – mostly soldiers and a few tourists. Of course, there’s no such thing as instant prints, so the idea is that the customer meets the photographer later on to collect and pay for the shots. But, as often as not, the customers fail to show so the photographers (or “scattini” as they are known) find themselves shelling out money they can’t recoup on film and print, and living on the breadline. The last straw is that as cameras get cheaper and easier to afford, more and more visitors have their own equipment. Whatever market there was, begins to dry up.

The paparazzi – the movie industry to the rescue

By this time, another way of earning much-needed lire is gathering pace. In 1945, Cinecittà, the film studio set up on the outskirts of Rome by Benito Mussolini, is little more than a refugee camp. But it doesn’t take long for the Hollywood studios to begin to realise its potential.

Ava's arrival
Rome, December 1954. Ava Gardner arrives from Singapore.

As the largest film-production facility in Europe, it can offer the capacity to shoot spectacular movies such as Quo Vadis, Ben Hur, and Cleopatra, with the populace of Rome only too happy to provide a rent-a-crowd service. Besides movie extras, there’s plenty of untapped talent across the disciplines, from sets to lighting, and from costumes to hair and make-up. All available at bargain prices compared with the escalating costs of production in Hollywood.

But the real deal-clincher is a piece of Italian legislation that prevents US companies from sending back their earnings. What better to do with the funds generated by tickets sales of US movies in Italy than plough the money back into making more films there? By the time an article about the film-making in Rome appears in the June 26 1950 issue of Time magazine, the author is able to coin the phrase “Hollywood on the Tiber” – and it sticks.

The Hollywood studios don’t just provide employment opportunities, they also bring along a host of stars who might otherwise never have materialized in Rome – the likes of Humphrey Bogart, Stewart Granger, Robert Taylor, Gregory Peck, Charlton Heston, Ava Gardner, Deborah Kerr, Audrey Hepburn, Linda Christian, Anita Ekberg and Elizabeth Taylor.

According to an article in the August 16, 1954 issue of Time magazine:

Movie producers … were just as common as cats in the Forum, and just about as noisy. … As many as three pictures were being shot at once with the same cast. … Drinking orgies, studio spies and gorgeous villas with swimming pools were the rule of the day. The purple sports shirt had replaced the purple toga.

The paparazzi – photographic scandalmongers

All this talent congregates around via Veneto, until recently the haunt of Rome’s bohemian intellectuals and artists but rapidly transforming into the centre of nightlife for the elite of Roman society – the rich, the famous, the titled, the entitled, the notorious, the wannabes…

Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg pestered by paparazzi in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita
1959. Marcello and Sylvia pestered by paparazzi in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. Photo by Pierluigi Praturlon.

In 1957, Melton Davis in his book All Rome Trembled, writes of via Veneto:

Only in modern Italy could a single half-mile-long street contain so much grace and vulgarity, power and decadence, charm and arrogance as did this gilded alley. It was made to order for the fixers, for the dope-addled princes and dream-haunted paupers, for the whole fantastic parade that gathered there.

And the goings-on of this group generate two scandals that rock Italian society to its foundations – partly because of what they reveal about a depraved upper-class demimonde but also because of the way they are reported – in photos as well as in copy.

During the fifties, Italy’s magazine sector is booming. Alongside the traditional publications, there are more recent titles, which take their inspiration from US picture magazines LIFE and Look. And then there are the new gossip magazines. The market leaders are Le Ore and Lo Specchio. each selling upward of half a million copies a week. Newsworthy images are their meat and drink, their appetite for them is insatiable, and very few of them have staff photographers.

Which brings us right back to the scattini who have realized that there is no more mileage in tourist shots. The name of the game now is to come up with juicy pictures of newsworthy events and celebrities – the more titillating the better. The scattini have morphed into downmarket street photographers.

The beach scene at dawn that concludes La Dolce Vita
1959. Body on the beach. The last scene of Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita recalls the discovery of Wilma Montesi’s body. Photo by Pierluigi Praturlon.

The paparazzi – the Wilma Montesi scandal

The first of the two scandals begins when the corpse of an unremarkable young woman is found on a beach near Rome. She’s wearing a coat, blouse and underwear but her skirt, garters, stockings, shoes and handbag are missing. The date is 11 April, 1953, and the girl’s name is Wilma Montesi. The coroner gives a verdict of accidental death, which the police are happy to accept. But is it mere coincidence that the strand where Wilma’s body was found is a just a kilometre away from Capocotta, a private wooded estate used by noblemen and their guests for hunting and parties? Rumour has it that Wilma was at an orgy of sex and drugs along with noblemen, politicians, gangsters and prostitutes. Perhaps she died of an overdose and was dumped on the shore. Or she may have been murdered because she knew too much.

It takes just a single newspaper to break cover and suggest there’s been a cover-up – that Wilma was murdered and, what’s more, some powerful politicians may be implicated. Within days, the press are all over the story. Named in conjunction with it are Ugo Montagna, a Sicilian nobleman and operator of Capocotta, and Piero Piccioni, well-known jazz musician and son of the Deputy Prime Minister.

Anna-Maria Caglio on her way to court
1953. Anna-Maria Caglio on her way to court as a key witness in the Montesi case.

In the ensuing libel case, Giuseppe Sotgiu, an ambitious Communist politician, leads the case for the defense. His plan is to make the most of this opportunity to get at the corrupt establishment and in the process to raise his own profile. The allegations and the trial itself are nothing short of sensational and draw the photographers like pigs to shit. In their determination to get the best shots, theyʼre not afraid to confront lawyers, witnesses, even the Montesi family, outside the courthouse, at their homes and offices, and when they are out shopping or relaxing at a bar or restaurant.

One of those witnesses is Anna-Maria Caglio, an attractive girl who has seen at first hand the goings-on at Capocotta and is prepared to talk about them under oath. She reveals that she has been so frightened that the alleged perpetrators would have her killed that as a precaution she left with her landlady a letter revealing her knowledge that Montagna runs a gang of drug traffickers and Piccioni is a murderer. The defining image – of Caglio, overcome with emotion – is snapped by Tazio Secchiaroli and goes everywhere.

For his next trick, Secchiaroli picks out a hiding place outside a brothel. Rumour has it that itʼs here that Sotgiu, who has assumed the moral high ground in the Montesi case, goes to watch his wife having sex with various lovers – women as well as men. Secchiaroli lies in wait and gets a shot of Sotgiu strolling into the building with an air of familiarity and later back out of it. Thanks partly to those shots, the police raid the brothel and arrest the couple for questioning together with a number of other participants. The screaming headlines that blaze across the newspapers end Sotgiu’s career.

And that’s not all. Back in court Montagna and Piccioni as part of their defense against charges in the Montesi case, claim to be strangers to each other. Tipped off by Velio Cioni, one of his gang, Secchiaroli manages to trap the pair by using his Fiat and himself to block the dead-end street down which they have driven. They make as if to run him over but he stands firm and gets half a dozen incriminating shots – another scoop.

In spite of all this, the trial comes to nothing – there’s simply not enough hard evidence to convict anyone for Wilma’s death.

The paparazzi – the strip show at Rugantino

Five years after the Montesi affair, the night of 5 November, 1958 to be precise, another scandal hits the headlines and once again Secchiaroli is in the right place at the right time. Along with four other photographers including Angelo Frontoni and Umberto Guidotti, heʼs been invited to a party thrown by Olga di Robilant, an aspiring actress looking to break into the scene in Rome with a view to furthering her career. She’s going to get a whole lot more than she bargained for.

The venue is Rugantino, a restaurant on a cobblestoned piazza in the city’s Trastevere district, and the guests include an assortment of young aristocrats together with various stars including Linda Christian, Elsa Martinelli and, most importantly, Anita Ekberg.

Anita Ekberg at Rugantino
Rome, 5 November 1958. Anita Ekberg sets a bad example at Rugantino.

In spite of the hip crowd, the drinks and the strains of the Roman New Orleans Jazz Band, the party starts off as a pretty staid affair. Then Anita Ekberg kicks off her shoes and improvises a mambo. With her platinum tresses and décolleté black-velvet gown, she’s quite a sight. She’s joined by a German actor. Then a few more couples take to the floor. Other members of the party start clapping to the music. Suddenly, the atmosphere is electric.

Anita slips and decides to take a seat while she recovers. And onto the dance floor steps a small, dark girl in a white dress. She’s gatecrashed the party and no one knows who she is. But shy she isn’t. She walks up to the drummer and whispers in his ear. He signals to the rest of the band that he is going to do a solo performance. And the girl begins to dance. Anita asks if she’s a belly dancer. Yes, but the dress she’s wearing doesn’t lend itself to belly dancing. Anita challenges her to remove her dress, promising to follow suit if she does. And so begins the girlʼs notorious striptease.

There to record it for posterity and for the next day’s press are the five photographers. The one who gets the most celebrated shots is Secchiaroli. While his comrades home in on the dancer, he draws back to take in the leering crowd of celebrities. And he has the foresight to have his rolls of film smuggled out before they’re seized by the police. Secchiaroli will recall:

What was happening before my very eyes was indescribable … the most sinful, transgressive thing that I had every photographed.

The girl, it turns out, is Aïché Nana. She’s a Lebanese actress and writer and now everybody’s heard of her.

Secchiaroli’s photos appear in the reputable L’Europeo and L’Espresso as well as in more downmarket publications such as Epoca and Lo Specchio. The accompanying articles lead with headlines such as “Rome’s Turkish Night,” “The Sins of Trastevere” and “This Is How the Upper Crust Undress.” And the scandal even makes its way into The New York Times.

Gina Lollobrigida posing for a street photographer
Early 1950s. Gina Lollobrigida happy to pose for a street photographer.

The paparazzi – what do they get up to and who are they?

For a while, there’s an unspoken pact, sometimes even collusion, between the photographers and their subjects. The former crave shots of celebrities to sell to the media. The latter are happy to appear in newspapers and magazines to build or bolster their careers or pander to their own egos. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship. But as competition intensifies between both magazines and photographers, the pressure ramps up for more and more sensational images.

It’s not long before the photographers, led by Secchiaroli, become provocateurs, goading their subjects to lose their cool and provide a bit of drama for the lensmen. Why? Because there’s a market for such images. The magazines will pay 3,000 lire (roughly US $40.00 in today’s money) for a straight shot and 200,000 lire (roughly US $2,750) for one of a celeb losing their cool – so the tantrum premium amounts to over 6,000%. The turning point comes around 1958 when stories about clashes between photographers and celebrities become more and more common and more and more racy. One particular night, Umberto Guidotti snaps a shot of exiled King Farouk of Egypt trying to snatch Secchiaroli’s camera from him; and Secchiaroli himself gets an image of British actor Anthony Steel in a drunken rage.

Anthony Steel, currently married to Anita Ekberg, is, in fact, a favourite target of the photographers. Late night, he can be relied on to have had too much to drink and be ready to flare up. Anita Ekberg usually takes it in her stride but occasionally she’s riled. On one memorable occasion, she returns to give her pursuers as good (if not better) than she gets, shooting at them with a bow and arrow. And it is pretty much outright war between the paparazzi and their targets. Here’s how Tazio Secchiaroli viewed it:

Now, there’s our target, our face: who’s going to let it get away? Obviously, on these occasions, nothing will stop us, even if it means overturning tables and waiters, or raising shrieks from an old lady who doesn’t quite get what’s happening; even if it means shocking John Q Citizen – he’s always there – who protests in the name of the rights of man, or, conversely,  galvanizing the other citizen – also ubiquitous – who takes our side in the name of the freedom of the press and of the Constitution; even if the police intervene or we chase the subject all night long, we won’t let go, we’ll fight with flashes, we’ll help each other out… The increasingly ruthless competition means we can’t afford to be delicate; our duties, our responsibilities as picture-hunters, always on the lookout, and pursued ourselves on every side, make it impossible for us to behave otherwise. Of course we, too, would like to stroll through an evening, have a cup of coffee in blissful peace, and see via Veneto as a splendid international promenade, rather than one big workplace, or even a theater of war.

The paparazzi themselves are a lean, hungry, streetwise bunch who have muscled their way into the business from humble beginnings. They don’t need to watch The Bicycle Thieves to find out just how much of a struggle life is for ordinary Italians. Often they hunt in packs, and they dress respectably so they can gain access to wherever the best shots are to be had. But they come from the other side of the tracks compared with their subjects, for whose wealth, lifestyle and privilege they have little sympathy. As Tazio recalls:

We photographers were all poor starving devils and they had it all – money, fame, posh hotels. The doormen and porters in the grand hotels gave us information tips – you could call it the fellowship of the proletariat.

20 October 1960. Avenging amazon. Anita Ekberg, usually laid back about the paparazzi, loses her cool, decides enough is enough and takes matters into her own hands.

They pioneer a style of photography that’s utterly true to themselves and the situation they find themselves in, and quite unlike anything that’s gone before. It’s raw, brash and aggressive. It derives partly from their lack of training and partly from the equipment they use. To snap a saleable shot with their twin-lens Rolleiflexes, you have to get right up close to your subject and fire your flash in their face. Since the flash takes a long time to recharge, you have just one chance for a shot.

So who’s in the gang during the 1950s, the heyday of the paparazzi? Some snappers you’re likely to bump into on the via Veneto, their favourite haunt, include Adriano Bartoloni, Giancarlo Bonora, Alessandro Canetrelli, Velio Cioni, Guglielmo Coluzzi, Licio D’Aloisio, Mario Fabbi, Quinto Felice, Marcello Geppetti, Umberto Guidotti, Ivan Kroscenko, Ivo Meldolesi, Luciano Mellace, Lino Nanni, Giuseppe Palmas, Paolo Pavia, Mario Pelosi, Gilberto Petrucci, Franco Pinna, Elio Sorci, Sergio Spinelli, Bruno Tartaglia, Sandro Vespasiani and Ezio Vitale.

But the two who stand out are Tazio Secchiaroli and Pierluigi Praturlon. You’ve read already about some of the former’s exploits. Pierluigi’s nickname in the business is “Lux,” after the soap advertised as “the choice of nine stars out of ten.” While he’s certainly one of the gang, he has other claims to fame – for example, his friendship with Anita Ekberg.

Anita and I often went out together. We used to go dancing at a place near Casalpalocco. One night in August, in I958, Anita, who always danced barefoot, hurt her foot. Coming back to Rome at four in the morning, we passed the Trevi Fountain and Anita said, ‘Stop the car so I can rinse my foot.’ ‘No, come on,’ I said. ‘You’ll be home in five minutes.’ She insisted, so we stopped. She got out and, hiking up her skirt, began wading into the fountain, at which point I got my camera and started shooting her in the fountain’s dusky glow. I remember two carabinieri standing in a corner who weren’t more than twenty years old. They didn’t say a word. They were completely entranced watching this beautiful woman in the fountain, with her long, lovely legs.

Anita Ekberg’s account differs in the details:

One night I was having photos taken by Pierluigi Praturlon. I was barefoot and I cut my foot. I went in search of a fountain to bathe my bleeding foot and, all unawares, found myself in the piazza di Trevi. It was summer. I was wearing a white-and-pink cotton dress with the upper part like a man’s shirt. I lifted the skirt up and immersed myself in the basin, saying to Luigi, ‘You can’t imagine how cool this water is, you should come in, too.’ ‘Just stay like that,’ he said, and started taking photos. They sold like hot cakes! … It was me who made Fellini famous, not the other way around.

Either way, the shots appear in a magazine called Tempo Illustrato. For a while, Pierluigi is Sophia Loren’s photographer of choice, before being superseded by Tazio Secchiaroli. He’s given the role of stills photographer for La Dolce Vita by Federico Fellini. And he goes on to set up a photographic agency, headquartered in Rome with offices in London and Paris.

Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg again beset by paparazzi in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita
1959. Not just on the via Veneto but wherever they go, Marcello and Sylvia can’t escape the paparazzi buzzing around them in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. Photo by Pierluigi Praturlon.

The paparazzi – Fellini and La Dolce Vita

Federico Fellini’s masterpiece, La Dolce Vita, is inspired by the world you’ve been reading about – the celebrities, the scandals, the street photographers and the popular press in which their shots appear. He wants to capture the atmosphere of contemporary Rome:

I think the inspiration, even in terms of the formulation of the images, came from life as seen by the scandal sheets, L’Europeo, Oggi; the careless jaunts of the corrupt aristocracy, their way of photographing parties. The scandal sheets were the worrying mirror of a society that was in a constant state of self-celebration, self-depiction, self- congratulation.

Five scenes from the film which draw on events that have featured in the press are:

  • The delivery of a statue of Jesus Christ by helicopter to the Vatican City, pictured in the papers in May 1950.
  • The suicide of the poet and novelist Cesare Pavese following his split with Constance Dowling.
  • The “miracle of the Madonna” photographed by Tazio Secchiaroli (he gets everywhere!).
  • Anita Ekberg’s night out with Pierluigi and her midnight dip in the Trevi Fountain.
  • The strip show at Rugantino.
  • The exploits of the street photographers around via Veneto, which, according to Fellini’s co-scriptwriter, Ennio Flaiano, has “become one big party … this isn’t a street any more, it’s a beach … the conversations are like those at the seaside, referring to an exclusively gastro-sexual reality.”

With those expoits in mind, Fellini invites five street photographers including Pierluigi, Secchiaroli and Frontoni to dinner so that he can listen to their stories and pick their brains:

Sylvia (Anita Ekberg) cools off in the Trevi Fountain in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita
Sylvia (Anita Ekberg) cools off in the Trevi Fountain in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. Photo by Pierluigi Praturlon. Read more.

I spent a number of evenings chatting with Tazio Secchiaroli and the other photojournalists of via Veneto, learning the tricks of their trade. How they spotted their prey, how they teased them, how they how they tailored their features for the various newspapers. They had hilarious stories of lying in wait for eternities, of imaginative escapes, and of dramatic chases.

He retains Secchiaroli to train the actors who will play the parts of the street photographers in the film heʼs planning.

That those photographers come to be known as paparazzi is down to Fellini, his co-scriptwriter Ennio Flaiano and the film crew. Paparazzo is the name of the photographer with whom the journalist Marcello (the movie’s hack protagonist) teams up. It’s inspired by a travelogue that Flaiano has been reading and that features a hotel run by a man called Paparazzo.

When Flaiano proposes the name, the sound of it reminds Fellini of the buzzing of an insect you can’t get rid of. So Paparazzo it is. And during production, the film crew use the name for the whole gang of street photographers who feature in the movie – in Italian, paparazzi is the plural of paparazzo. The term sticks and rapidly gains currency.

Richard Burton and Elizabeth on the deck of a yacht off the coast of Ischia
Ischia, 1963. Mischief in the Med. Love rats Richard Burton and Elizabeth on the deck of a yacht off the coast of Ischia. Photo by Pat Morin.

The paparazzi – society’s pariahs

The paparazzi are none too pleased with their growing notoriety. In its April 14, 1961 issue, Time magazine publishes a pretty scathing article, Paparazzi on the Prowl, calling them “a ravenous wolf pack … who stalk big names … with flash guns at point-blank range” and with “lips leaking cigarettes, cameras drawn like automatics.”

No one is safe, not even royalty. … Legitimate news photographers scorn the paparazzi as streetwalkers of Roman journalism. But like streetwalkers, they cling to their place in society.

The new generation of paparazzi are more numerous than their predecessors and have new technology at their disposal – specificially zoom-lens SLR cameras. They no longer have to get up close and personal with their victims (and, increasingly, victims is what they are), they can shoot from way off. Gradually, the bleached out, high-contrast images produced by flashguns give way to grainy distance shots.

Perhaps the most famous early example of zoom-lens scandal shots is the work of a pack of paparazzi who, in 1962, set off in hot pursuit of Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor to Ischia, where filming of Cleopatra is scheduled for shooting after five months in Rome. The snappers catch the couple frolicking on the deck of a yacht. It’s the first proof of an affair that has been hotly rumoured. Both are married – in fact Elizabeth Taylor is already on her fourth husband. She has a reputation as a marriage breaker and for the press the series of photos confirm her insatiable appetite and shameless depravity. The scandal also helps ensure that Cleopatra will be an unprecedented box-office blockbuster.

Christine Keeler surrounded by police and press
London, 1963. Christine Keeler surrounded by police and press as she leaves court during the Profumo affair.

And so a monster is born.

By the time he comes to shoot The Bible in Rome, John Huston tells the US press that the paparazzi have become so objectionable and impossible to avoid and objectionable that, unless something is done about them, movie-makers will find other options for their productions.

Even before then, the action has switched from Rome to London, where the story of the Profumo scandal has all the necessary ingredients: sex, politics, deceit, espionage, criminality, suicide, high society and an extra-marital affair. It blows the lid off the UK establishment just as the Montesi scandal did just over ten years earlier in Italy. And, like the Montesi scandal, it grips the country and its readers.

In the late sixties, media mogul Rupert Murdoch will enter the UK’s newspaper industry, buy The Sun (a failing broadsheet), turn it into a tabloid and, aided and abetted by editor Larry Lamb, focus it on sport, celebrities and gossip. The transformation is the subject of James Graham’s super, soaraway smash play, Ink. With its outrageous headlines, topless models and devil-may-care attitude, it will quickly become the UK’s most popular newspaper.

The Sun is just one example of the popularity of paparazzi photography and tabloid journalism. But as the quest for scandal gets more and more aggressive, unscrupulous and vicious, the issues raised will become increasingly urgent – not least, the extent to which the practices involved are tantamount to stalking by another name

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A pack of paparazzi hound Princess Diana and Dodi Al-Fayed on holiday in the Gulf of Saint Tropez

Wolf pack

Gulf of Saint Tropez, July, 1997. A pack of paparazzi hound Diana, Princess of Wales and her partner, Dodi Al-Fayed as they holiday on board the Al-Fayed family yacht.

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Princess Diana hugs her younger son Harry on board Mohamed Al-Fayed's luxury yacht, Jonikal

Princess Diana with her son Harry

Gulf of Saint Tropez, 20 July, 1997. Diana, Princess of Wales, on holiday with Dodi Al-Fayed, hugs her younger son Harry on board the Al-Fayed family's luxury yacht, Jonikal.

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Princess Diana on board the luxury yacht, Jonikal

Princess Diana’s last holiday

Gulf of Saint Tropez, 20 July, 1997. Diana, Princess of Wales on board the luxury yacht, Jonikal. Less than six weeks later she will die when, chased by paparazzi, the car in which she's being driven crashes in a Paris underpass.

The whole thing will reach its grim, ignominious and inevitable conclusion in August 1997 with the tragic deaths of Diana, Princess of Wales and her fiancé, Dodi al-Fayed in a car crash in a Paris underpass. At her funeral, Charles Spencer will describe his sister as “the most hunted person of the modern age.” And at the inquest, jurors will rule that she was “unlawfully killed” not just by the reckless driving of the chauffeur but also by the paparazzi who were chasing her.

It’s difficult not to feel a certain admiration, affection even, for the first paparazzi. They were desperate, they were cunning, they were audacious. They did what they had to do to claw themselves out of poverty, they grafted and they had a ball. What those who followed in their steps had to offer is more up for debate. Hyenas and other scavengers, however repulsive, perform a useful task in nature. Can the same be said of today’s paparazzi?

Robert Kennedy snapped by a paparazzo as he crosses the street
February 1967. Robert Kennedy snapped by a paparazzo as he crosses the street. Photo: Reporters Associés.

The paparazzi – a uniquely Roman phenomenon?

The answer to the question depends on what we mean by paparazzi. In some respects at least they had a forerunner in the US. His name is Arthur Fellig but he’s better known as Weegee. He’s famous for his stark and gruesome photos of New York crime scenes, car crashes and other personal tragedies. His approach, as outlined in an interview on ASX, chimes with that of the paparazzi.

News photography teaches you to think fast, to be sure of yourself, self confidence. When you go out on a story, you don’t go back for another sitting. You gotta get it.

…

The idea was I sold the pictures to the newspapers. And naturally, I picked a story that meant something, in other words, names make news. If there’s a fight between a couple on 3rd avenue or 9th avenue in Hell’s Kitchen, nobody cares, it’s just a barroom brawl. But if society has a fight in a Cadillac on Park avenue and their names are in the Social Register, this makes news, and the papers are interested in that.

And Weegee’s account of photographing a murder scene totally echoes what set Secchiaroli apart from his mates that night at Rugantino:

I arrive, right in the heart of Little Italy, 10 Prince street, here’s a guy had been bumped off in the doorway of a little candy store. This was a nice balmy hot summer’s night, the detectives are all over, but all the five stories of the tenement, people are on the fire escape. They’re looking, they’re having a good time, some of the kids are even reading the funny papers and the comics.”

There was another photographer there, and he made what they call a ten foot shot. He made a shot of just a guy laying in the doorway, that was it. To me, this was drama, this was like a backdrop. I stepped back all the way about a hundred feet, I used flash powder, and I got this whole scene: the people on the fire escapes, the body, everything. Of course the title for it was “Balcony Seats at a Murder.” That picture won me a gold medal with a real genuine diamond…

Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly ambushed by paparazzi
Monaco, 13 April 1956. Royal ruckus. Paparazzi roadblock incenses Prince Rainier during his first public outing with his fiancée, movie star Grace Kelly.

Paparazzi photography is closely related to both photojournalism and street photography. The former tends to focus on more serious subject matter and to have a more serious slant. Street photography is generally gentler than paparazzi photography – think Henri Cartier-Bresson and the post-World War II humanist school, or take a look at some issues of Picture Post in the UK, LIFE and Look in the US.

The definitions of all these genres are always going to be fuzzy. Some defining characteristics of paparazzi photography are:

  • Subject – celebrity, sensational or scurrilous subject matter (ideally, all three).
  • Location – on the street or in other public places.
  • Approach – candid shots, preferably catching the subject off-guard.

By that definition, paparazzi photography was by no means confined to Rome even back in the mid-fifties, as illustrated by the shots here of Grace Kelly (in Monaco) and Maria Callas (in Milan). Indeed photographers were looking for these kinds of shots even before World War II – just take a look at this image of Barbara Stanwyck at a Hollywood premiere back in April 1937.

So while Rome was certainly a cradle of paparazzi photography back in the 1950s, its reputation as THE birthplace of the genre probably owes as much to the legend created by Federico Fellini in La Dolce Vita as it does to what was actually taking place in the city.

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Want to know more about the paparazzi?

Absolutely essential reading is Shawn Levy’s riveting book, Dolce Vita Confidential. You can find out more about two of the leading paparazzi in Diego Mormorio’s beautifully illustrated monograph, Tazio Secchiaroli, Greatest of the Paparazzi and Philippe Garner’s article for The Telegraph, Elio Sorci: the world’s first paparazzo. In TIME magazine Kate Samuelson has written about The Princess and the Paparazzi: How Diana’s Death Changed the British Media in TIME magazine.

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Other topics you may be interested in…

Paris after World War II – fact, fashion and fantasy
The sixties – sex, drugs, rock and roll and a whole lot more
Barbara Stanwyck in The Two Mrs Carrolls
Unsafe sex – the starlet’s dilemma

Filed Under: Events, Films, Photographers, Press, Stars Tagged With: Aïché Nana, Angelo Frontoni, Anita Ekberg, Anna-Maria Caglio, Aristotle Onassis, Ava Gardner, Cinecittà, Diana Princess of Wales, Elizabeth Taylor, Grace Kelly, Maria Callas, paparazzi, Pat Morin, Pierluigi Praturlon, Richard Burton, scattini, Tazio Secchiaroli, Wilma Montesi

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