Unsafe sex – the starlet’s dilemma

2017-04-11 By aenigma

Around 1950. A photo inscribed to Dr Irving Ress by Janis Paige.

In the aftermath of World War II, unmarried women faced a hard dilemma when it came to sex. Damned if they did, and damned if they didn’t.

In the words of a 16-year-old girl quoted by Michael Phillips in his article Women and the Sexual Double Standard of the 1950s:

How are you supposed to know what they want? You hold out for a long time and then when you give in to them and give your body they laugh at you afterwards and say they would never marry a slut, and that they didn’t love you but were testing because they only plan to marry a virgin and wanted to see if you would go all the way.

The pressures could be especially intense in the torrid and ultra-competitive world of the Hollywood studios, where the casting couch cast a long shadow and having a flexible attitude to sex could be the route to stardom or the road to perdition.

The inspiration for this piece is a collection of photos given to Dr Irving Ress by his clients. Dr Ress was an obstetrician who worked in Hollywood. Among the women who came to him for advice on pregnancy and childbirth were a number of movie stars and actresses. Perhaps they dedicated their photos to him spontaneously. More likely he was susceptible to their charms and asked them to contribute to his collection. Flattered by the request, they were happy to do so.

The predicaments and concerns they confided in him we can only imagine. But that’s not difficult in the context both the time (the 1940s and early ’50s) and the place (Hollywood).

Betty Grable pin-up — 1943. Weapons of mass seduction. The image that made Betty Grable the number one pin-up girl of the World War II era. It was later included in LIFE Magazine’s 100 Photos that Changed the World. During a 1982 interview, photographer Frank Powolny recalled that it came about after a regular shooting session. “I asked Betty if she’d like to have a back shot, just to be different She said, ‘Yes,’ and began to clown around. ‘You want it like this?’ she asked, posing. And I said, ‘Yeah.’ “I made only two shots of that pose. It was the second shot that became famous.”

Unsafe sex – the sexual revolution of the 1940s

20 years before the permissive society of the 1960s, a sexual revolution is taking place in the US in the 1940s.

The war years have already seen the flowering of the pin-up, perfected by the Hollywood studios and designed both to market their product and to boost morale by presenting an all-American view of the sweetheart waiting back home for the soldiers and sailors — the girls worth fighting for. As the GIs return, they also bring with them pornography from Europe and Asia.

In the late-1940s “camera clubs” are formed to get around laws restricting the production of nude photos. The clubs claim they exist to promote “artistic photography”, but in reality… The years 1952 through 1957 see Bettie Page posing for Irving Klaw, who distributes his pin-up and bondage shots by mail-order. And in 1953 Hugh Heffner publishes the first issue of Playboy.

At the same time, researchers are taking a new, more scientific interest in sex and sexuality. In 1948 the Kinsey Report, Sexual Behaviors in the Human Male and Sexual Behaviors in the Human Female, is published, shining a light on topics that have hitherto been taboo. Around this time, courses on human sexuality begin to appear on college campuses.

Sex is in the air. And in this context and after 15 years of depression and war, it’s hardly surprising that young people are less inclined than their parents to defer to traditional restraints on their behavior. Between 1941 and 1953, the overall rate of single motherhood more than doubles. But it’s not a straightforward matter of celebration, liberation and hedonism holding sway.

The post-World War II years bring with them a new period of economic and sexual anxiety. The US faces a major housing crisis. Juvenile delinquency supposedly reaches epic proportions. Both Republicans and Democrats go after Alfred Kinsey and comic books (Batman and Wonder Woman are accused of promoting homosexuality and lesbianism). The mood is one of pride and depression, valour and self-doubt, stoicism and vulnerability. Welcome to the heyday of film noir.

Unsafe sex – damned if she does, damned if she doesn’t

Barbara Stanwyck in The Two Mrs Carrolls. — 1947. In The Two Mrs Carrolls, Barbara Stanwyck is a victim of her husband. But his portrait of her seems to reflect the period’s underlying ambivalence and paranoia about women.

Meanwhile, women face a tricky dilemma. Leaving aside social attitudes to women having sex outside marriage (boys will be boys so that’s okay), contraceptive techniques are crude and unreliable. So women in relationships are playing with fire – always susceptible to getting pregnant or picking up a sexually transmitted disease.

It’s no wonder that women are strongly motivated to get married at the first opportunity (during the 1950s, the average age of women at marriage is 20). But there’s always the chance that they’ll make a bad choice and end up with a violent and abusive partner. And guess what? Domestic violence is rarely punished and there are no laws against rape in marriage. Which is hardly surprising given that police forces have no special domestic-violence units or policies.

The alternative – walking out – is unlikely to be a bed of roses. Single mothers and divorcees don’t have the same rights to state aid as widows with children so money is a problem. If they can get a job, it’s likely to be menial and low-paid. In other words, there’s a good chance those women end up ostracized and impoverished.

Marilyn Monroe by Frank Powolny — Like most Hollywood actresses, Marilyn Monroe is a manufactured product. In 1946, four years before posing for this picture, she changes her name from Norma Jean Mortenson. To make her more marketable, her hairline is raised by electrolysis, her hair is bleached to platinum blonde, and a silicone prosthesis is implanted in her jaw. It’s possible she also has a nose job. For her part, she does what it takes. She hangs around producers, befriends gossip columnists and entertains influential male guests at studio functions. And she attends acting classes. She regards the trading of sex for stardom as “no big tragedy – nobody ever got cancer from sex” and adds, “I’ve slept with producers. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t.” 1950 photo by Frank Powolny.

Unsafe sex – the honey trap

Pretty girls are drawn to Hollywood like gazelles to a watering hole, where the lions and hyenas lie in wait. Some wannabes, such as Judy Garland, arrive under the influence of ambitious and domineering parents. Most are talent-spotted – Ava Gardner via a portrait photo in a New York photographer’s studio window, Lana Turner at a soda fountain – or so the story goes. Models (like Hazel Brooks) and theatre actresses (like Ella Raines) are popular prey.When they arrive in Tinseltown, they are young and innocent. And, like lambs to slaughter, onto the production conveyor-belt they go. Each is given a name (Frances Ethel Gumm becomes Judy Garland, Betty Joan Perske is rechristened Lauren Bacall ), a more or less fanciful back-story, a makeover and a contract.

What next for our aspiring starlet? A series of photo sessions with plenty of cheesecake shots and, if she’s lucky, a few bit parts. Her fate is down to a combination of factors, not the least of which is the relationships she manages to establish. Which brings us, or rather her, to the casting couch. Three of Hollywood’s foremost lechers in the 1940s are Harry Cohn, Darryl F Zanuck and Howard Hughes.

Harry Cohn, head of Columbia Pictures, is a blustering, foul-mouthed, abrasive taskmaster and acts like a tyrant. His office contains an enormous desk for him, and small seats for his visitors, enabling him to tower over them. On his desk is a photo of Benito Mussolini, whom he greatly admires. He also has ties to organized crime and is friendly with mobsters such as Chicago gangster John Roselli. Cohn enjoys using concealed microphones to eavesdrop on employees’ conversations, such as those of Glenn Ford and Rita Hayworth during the filming of Gilda. Rita, Joan Crawford and Kim Novak are three of the better-known actresses who manage to build careers for themselves in spite of rejecting his advances.

1938. Bette Davis with predator Howard Hughes. The caption reads: “Film Celebrities Attend Tailwaggers’ Dinner. Beverly Hills, Calif. – With the idea of making Hollywood ‘Tailwagger conscious,’ Bette Davis, motion picture star, recently elected president of the Tailwaggers, was hostess to many film celebrities at a dinner party and cotillion at the Beverly Hills Hotel here the night of August 11. Its proceeds will go toward financing a concert in the Hollywood Bowl during National Dog Week, September 18 to 24, for the purpose of raising funds to establish an ultra-modern dog hospital, shelter and kennels. Photo shows Miss Davis and Howard Hughes, millionaire round-the-world flier, at the party.”

Darryl F Zanuck, Cohn’s counterpart at 20^th Century-Fox, is widely credited with inventing the “casting couch”. He is famously “in conference” with an endless succession of aspiring actresses between 16:00 and 16:30 every day. He’s a busy man who doesn’t have time to hang about: according to gossip, one would-be actress shown into his office finds him already naked from the waist down and primed for action.

Howard Hughes is not just a film producer and the owner of RKO Pictures; he is a business tycoon, engineer and pioneering aviator. He has a “secret” house near his LA home where he “interviews” would-be starlets. Rumour has it that he’s had affairs with a host of young actresses including Bette Davis, Jean Harlow, Ava Gardner, Carole Lombard and Ginger Rogers. Jane Greer’s career hits the buffers when she rejects his advances.

It’s not just the studio heads and producers who are in on the act. Agents, actors, publicists and others are all circling.

But back to our aspiring starlet… Assuming she makes it onto the big screen, the studio, fan magazines and gossip columnists work together to paint an attractive picture of her. By providing details of her domestic life, the studio enables fans to feel as if they can get close to the real person. Articles and photos of her home, her clothes, the events and parties she attends and so on, add grist to the mill. As does the slightest suggestion of romance – but only if our starlet is single.

It’s essential that there’s no hint of scandal. To that end, the studio enlists “fixers” to clean up potential embarrassments such as a drug addiction or an extra-marital affair. That is why it’s important for our starlet to tow the line and keep on the right side of her bosses. Otherwise they could hang her out to dry.

Jane Greer by Ernest A Bachrach — 1945. Jane Greer, a talented actress as well as a beautiful woman, has her career wrecked by Howard Hughes, whose advances she rejects. Photo by Ernest A Bachrach.

The trouble is that temptation is everywhere. If you want to get a sense of the corrupt and corrupting forces that are rife, just read the novels of Raymond Chandler. Carmen Sternwood, for example, Lauren Bacall’s wild, drug-addicted younger sister exploited by pornographers and blackmailers in The Big Sleep, is an object lesson in what can become of a girl who gets in with the wrong crowd. In My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars, Scotty Bowers, an ex-Marine who works as a bartender at Hollywood parties, paints a picture of the LAPD vice squad prowling the hills in their patrol cars, looking for parties and opportunities to arrest the participants.

Even big stars are vulnerable to scandal. Ingrid Bergman is one of the most-loved stars in America but all that changes overnight when, in spite of having a husband and a daughter, she gets pregnant by Italian director Roberto Rossellini. Colorado Senator Edwin C Johnson takes to the floor of the Senate to denounce her as “a powerful influence for evil.”

And if our starlet fails to make the grade? She might be relegated to the stock character pool, kept around to “pleasure” visiting executives, or just spat out.

Unsafe sex –and what of Dr Ress and his clients?

It is in this glittering and sleazy environment laced with opportunity and danger that some at least of Dr Ress’s clients seek to make their way.

Of the twelve young women who dedicate photos to Dr Ress, seven taste a modicum of success, meet and romance a few of the ‘beautiful people’ and come through (relatively) unscathed, as far as we can tell. “Tommye” Adams crashes and burns – hers is a cautionary tale if ever there was one. Virginia Walker dies tragically young. The other three are mysteries.

AllSurvivorThe badThe goodThe gorgeousThumbnailUnknownVictim

Angela Greene

Mid-1940s. Inscribed "For Doctor Ress With sincere thanks and appreciation – Always, Angela."

Angela Greene is born in 1921, grows up in Flushing, New York,...

Constance Dowling

Mid-1940s. Inscribed "To Dear Dr. Ress – I hope this was worth waiting for – Love, Connie Dowling".

Constance Dowling has come to Hollywood via...

Doris Dowling

Mid-1940s. Inscribed "To Dr. Ress. With great affection and appreciation. Doris Dowling (yr. new daughter)".

Doris Dowling has followed her sister, Constance, from Broadway to...

Kay Aldridge

1947. Inscribed “Irving Ress, With great appreciation, Kay Aldridge, 1947”.

Kay inscribes this photo two years after retiring. Her career began 13 years earlier –...

Janis Paige

1945. Inscribed "To Dr. Ress, My dearest thanks and appreciation for being such a wonderful friend to me. With love, “The Brat” Janis Paige"

Janis...

Lynn Merrick

Mid-1940s. Inscribed "If there’s a doctor in the house, I hope it’s DR. RESS! Best Always, Lynn Merrick"

Lynn, blonde and blue-eyed, dedicates this photo...

Charmaine du Rois

Mid-1940s. Inscribed "To my favorite Doctor and friend, sincerely always, Charmaine Du Rois".

Diane

Mid-1940s. Inscribed "For my beloved doctor – the best in the world and a dear friend – Thank you for my beautiful little girl –...

Abigail “Tommye” Adams

8 March 1944. Inscribed "To Dr. Ress:– All my deepest affection. Tommye".

In May 1944, three months after inscribing this photo to Dr Ress, Tommye...

Marta Linden

Mid-1940s. Inscribed "To Irving. On account you’re such a love! Marta".

Marta Linden doesn’t hang around for long in Hollywood. Between 1942 and 1945 she...

Liliana Chanel

Around 1950. Inscribed "A Irving, sperando di conservare per sempre la sua meravigliosa amicizia. Liliana".

A label on the back of the photo identifies the...

Virginia Walker

1945. Inscribed "For my very favorite doctor. Virginia".

This photo is issued by 20th Century-Fox to promote A Royal Scandal (1945), a film about the...

Information about the doctor himself is thin on the ground, apart from a brief entry in Wikipedia. But we do catch a tantalizing glimpse of him in Universal Horrors: The Studio’s Classic Films, 1931-1946 by Tom Weaver and Michael Brunas. They recount an incident involving Australian actress Betty Bryant, cast by Universal as the female lead in The Jungle Captive (1945).

Around 1948. A photo inscribed to Dr Irving Res by Betty Bryant.

Australian actress Betty Bryant, recently signed by Universal to a term contract, was originally chosen to play the female lead in The Jungle Captive (1945).

On August 30, 1944, one day before production began, she appeared in the office of associate producer Morgan B. Cox and informed him that she didn’t know whether she could find a babysitter to stay with her two year old on certain nights she was scheduled to work. On the first day of shooting she was unprepared, and on the second day she arrived 40 minutes late, just in time for a reprimand from director Harold Young.

To quiet the actress’ maternal apprehensions, her physician Dr Irving L. Ress, Hollywood’s “obstetrician to the stars,” was summoned. In private, Dr. Ress emphatically told Cox that there was nothing about motion pictures or motion picture people that he could admire. According to Ress, all the men in the movie business were concerned primarily with “making” any and all women in any way connected with the industry. Bryant was drawn into the argument and Ress nearly succeeded in creating a scene.

Over the next several days this embarrassing situation continued, with Ress hanging around the set, creating disturbances, careening around the darkened lot in his car and, in the words of Cox in a 16-page September 12 memo), “acting more like a thwarted lover than a reputable doctor.” Cox concluded in his memo that Bryant, slightly ill throughout much of this ordeal and genuinely apologetic for the entire situation, was a victim of circumstances over which she had little control. Of course the boom was inevitably lowered on the hapless actress, and she was bumped. (In his September 9 Los Angeles Times column, Edwin Schallert sugar-coated the incident, reporting that Bryant had gotten ill and “has to go in the hospital for observation and treatment.”) Amelita Ward replaced her in the picture, which ran two days over schedule (wrapping on September 16), probably as the result of the turmoil created by the mysterious Dr. Ress.

Clearly the good doctor has a jaundiced view of the industry. And who, other than the studios and their stooges, could really blame him?

Want to know more?

Two important sources for this piece are a blog about Women and the Sexual Double Standard of the 1950s and “Silent” Sexual Revolution Began In 1940’s and ’50s, an article by Alan Petigny.

For the lowdown on Hollywood, Scandals of Classic Hollywood: Sex, Deviance, and Drama from the Golden Age of American Cinema by Anne Helen Petersen is a great read. Or you could take a look at Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars by Scotty Bowers. For an online article, there’s a Daily Express article on Hollywood’s dirty little secret.

For more about the individual actresses, Wikipedia, IMDb and Glamour Girls of the Silver Screen are excellent starting points.

Jean Simmons and Claire Bloom – adventures of two north London girls

2016-11-23 By aenigma

Jean Simmons and Claire Bloom were born within two years of each other to families living in London just a few miles apart.

Both would sign contracts with J Arthur Rank. Both would audition to play Ophelia to Laurence Olivier’s on-screen Hamlet – Jean would get the role. Both would go on to become movie stars. And both would fall for that arch-Casanova, Richard Burton.

Jean Simmons

Jean is born in 1929 and becomes one of J Arthur Rank’s “well-spoken young starlets”. Her big break comes when David Lean casts her as Estella in Great Expectations (1946). It’s this experience that leads her to pursue an acting career more seriously:

I thought acting was just a lark, meeting all those exciting movie stars, and getting £5 a day which was lovely because we needed the money. But I figured I’d just go off and get married and have children like my mother. It was working with David Lean that convinced me to go on.

Jean Simmons as Ophelia

1947. Publicity portrait for Laurence Olivier's Hamlet.

Jean Simmons as Kanchi

1947. Jean Simmons on the set of Black Narcissus.

Jean Simmons, black hat

Around 1955. Jean Simmons' profile is beautifully set off by her broad-brimmed hat in this almost abstract portrait.

Jean Simmons, all wrapped up

Around 1955. Jean Simmons looks chic and cosy in a stylish sheepskin jacket.

Jean Simmons, fashion model

Around 1952. An image that would be a shoe-in for a Vogue editorial. Anthony Beauchamp, the photographer, was born in England and married Sarah Churchill, the actress daughter of Winston Churchill, before moving to Los Angeles, where this shot was likely taken.

The next year, she’s the subject of a pitched battle between Laurence Olivier, who wants her to play Ophelia in Hamlet, and Michael Powell, who wants her for Kanchi in Black Narcissus. Michael Powell recalls:

Over Jean Simmons there was war between Larry and me, as I have already said. Messages flew to and fro between the opposing camps:

“Dear Larry, anybody can play Ophelia. I can play Ophelia. How about Bobby Helpmann? Love Micky.”

“Dear Micky, how you could imagine that a typical English teenager, straight from the vicarage, can play a piece of Indian tail, beats me. I enclose a book of erotic Indian pictures to help your casting director. Love Larry.”

“Dear Larry. Thanks for the book. I do my own casting, but it will come in handy for the make-up department. Micky.”

“Dear Micky. Viv has read Black Narcissus. She wants to know if you are serious about Jean playing Kanchi?”

“Perfectly serious. Micky.”

“Dear Micky. Arthur Rank suggests that our two production managers get together over Jean Simmons. Do you agree? Larry.”

“Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Love Micky.”

In this way did the two plum parts of the year fall into Jean Simmons’s luscious lap. She was lovely in both of them. I don’t think that she was ever quite so good again.

In 1950, Jean Simmons marries Stewart Granger, with whom she has fallen in love on the set of Caesar and Cleopatra, but she’s been spotted already by Howard Hughes, a notorious lothario. His company, RKO, buys her contract and he lays siege to her romantically and professionally. In his autobiography, Sparks Fly Upward, Stewart Granger describes a phone conversation in which Hughes propositioned Jean. On hearing Hughes say, “When are you going to get away from that goddamned husband of yours? I want to talk to you alone, honey,” he grabbed the phone and shouted, “Mr Howard Bloody Hughes, you’ll be sorry if you don’t leave my wife alone!” For over a year, she doesn’t work – she gets off lightly compared with Jane Greer, who just a few years earlier suffered a similar but more protracted fate at Hughes’ hands.

Mid-1950s. Jean Simmons and Stewart Granger filming an episode of Person to Person. Could this be the patio of their Beverley Hills mansion – the back door through which Richard Burton slipped for his nocturnal visits?

At a 1952/53 New Year’s Eve party, Jean is kissed by Richard Burton. And, according to Tom Rubython (And God Created Burton), one thing leads to another… The Burtons are house guests staying in a cottage in the grounds of the Grangers’ sumptouous Beverley Hills mansion. Richard waits until Sybil is asleep, then creeps out to the woodshed. Silently, one by one, he moves the logs so as to squeeze through a flap at the back of the shed that provides a way to the main house, where the Grangers sleep in separate bedrooms.

Stewart is completely unaware of what ensues. Richard slinks to Jean’s bedroom, pushes open the door, sweeps her into an embrace and makes love to her on a big sheepskin rug before creeping back to his still sleeping wife. And it’s not a one-off. The clandestine nocturnal encounters go on for months — yet neither Richard’s nor Jean’s spouse ever suspects a thing.

Claire Bloom

Claire is born in 1931 and, age 10 and at the height of the Blitz, is sent to Florida to stay with her uncle. She returns two years later, having made her radio debut. She follows it up on stage age 15 and within just two years she’s playing Ophelia opposite Paul Schofield and Robert Helpmann at Stratford-upon-Avon. A year later she makes her West End debut in The Lady’s Not For Burning opposite the up-and-coming Richard Burton. “I thought how beautiful he was with those green eyes.”

In 1950 she’s contacted by Charlie Chaplin, who is looking for an English actress who is “small, dark and very young”. Claire, as it turns out, bears an uncanny resemblance to his wife, Oona. She flies to New York, with her mother as a chaperone, for an audition. Four months later, she’s offered the part of Theresa, a young, suicide-bent ballerina saved from despair by an aging music-hall clown (Chaplin).

Claire Bloom on board the Mauretania

1951. Claire Bloom arrives in New York on her way to film Limelight. In her memoirs she writes:

…we discovered that there was enough money in the bank for me to buy one beautiful dress to take with me to Hollywood. I went to Victor Stiebel, I bought the beautiful dress, and there in the fitting room had the first full realisation of what had happened. This time we were to travel by sea to New York and then by train to California.

Could this be that dress? Photo by W A Probst.

Claire Bloom as Theresa

1951. Publicity portrait for Charlie Chaplin's Limelight. Photo by Bob Willoughby.

Claire Bloom on set with a cat

1951. Claire Bloom runs through her script. Her friend steals the show. Or should we say the "limelight"? Photo by Leslie H Baker.

Her autobiography gives a fascinating insight into Chaplin’s working methods:

When we did begin, all that meticulous rehearsing paid off – we played beautifully together. He was happy with me and I was thrilled. But then came the true test when we moved from the simple dialogues to the scene where Theresa discovers (hysterically) that she can walk again. As a young actress I had difficulty in weeping and I dreaded the scene. I knew that the tears wouldn’t come when needed. The morning of the shooting, at the height of my panic, I was summoned to Chaplin’s dressing room. He said he wanted to go over the scene purely for the moves and the words. “I want no emotion. Save that for the floor.” I obeyed. Suddenly Chaplin was furious with me, as though I’d shattered a second mirror. “But, Mr Chaplin,” I weakly protested, “I thought that was what you wanted – just a technical run-through of the scene.” This remark drove Chaplin into a greater fury. “There is no such thing as technical acting, only bad acting!” I started to weep, and was steered by him onto the floor, where the crew, notified beforehand of his plan, were ready to begin filming immediately. We shot the scene in one take.

It’s 1954 and Claire is once again on stage with Richard Burton. She’s playing Ophelia to his Hamlet at the Old Vic. William Squire, one of her co-actors, recalls in an interview shortly after Richard’s death:

Richard was mad about her and wanted her, but I told him, “It’s no good, Rich, she won’t have you. She won’t have anybody.” He said, “I bet I’ll have her.” I said, “You won’t, you know.” He asked, “What do you bet?” This was a matter of his honour now. A challenge! So I said, “A pint.” … It didn’t take Claire long to become attracted to Richard without him doing anything. She was sitting with me in the stalls watching him rehearse on stage, and she said to me, “He is really rather marvellous, isn’t he?” I knew then I’d soon be owing Rich a pint.

And Richard does indeed win his bet and take Claire’s virginity:

We made love quietly in my room with my mother sleeping upstairs. Richard left me in the early morning to go back home, and I went to sleep happy and childishly thrilled that I was a “woman” at last.

Claire gives Richard the key to her house, and he often sneaks into her bedroom. Before sunrise, he goes back to his wife, Sybil, telling her he’s been out drinking all night with friends. And that’s not all. According to Richard, “We’d make love in our dressing rooms between the matinee and the evening performance”.

In his later years, Burton told his biographer, Michael Munn, “’I only ever loved two women before Elizabeth (Taylor), Sybil was one, Claire Bloom the other.”

Jean Simmons and Claire Bloom on screen

You’ve read the stories and looked at the pictures.

1. Black Narcissus (1947)

Jean Simmons stars as Kanchi, a dancing girl. "It is the most erotic film that I have ever made," wrote Michael Powell of Black Narcissus. "It is all done by suggestion, but eroticism is in every frame and image, from the beginning to the end."

This content is blocked. Accept cookies to view the content.

" data-content="" data-mfp-src="//www.youtube.com/watch?v=" class="gw-gopf-circle gw-gopf-post-overlay-circle gw-gopf-magnific-popup-html external" rel="nofollow">

2 Hamlet (1948)

“Get thee to a nunnery.” Hamlet’s (Laurence Olivier) treatment of Ophelia (Jean Simmons) in Act 3, Scene 1 is shockingly cruel.

3. Limelight (1952)

The final scene of Claire Bloom’s breakthrough movie, Limelight, in which she stars with Charlie Chaplin.

4. Look Back in Anger (1959)

Richard Burton is the original angry young man in John Osborne’s ground-breaking, kitchen-sink drama. Claire Bloom and Mary Ure are his co-stars. Claire appears at 3:30.

Now deepen your appreciation with a glimpse of both actresses on screen. Jean Simmons is wonderfully sensual as Kanchi and vulnerable as Ophelia. Claire Bloom shows her versatility, equally at home with stylized melodrama and gritty realism.

1972. Innocent abroad or on his way to an assignation? Richard Burton prowls the streets of Italy. Photo from the Lino Nanni photography agency.

Postscript

Jean will go on to become one of Hollywood’s most popular leading ladies. But despite a dazzling start to her career, she will rarely find roles to match the talent so many colleagues and critics recognized in her. She will divorce Stewart Granger in 1960 and marry Richard Brooks, an American screenwriter, film director, novelist and occasional film producer.

Claire will become a movie star with regular appearances on TV as well as developing a serious career on the stage. She will marry three times: to Rod Steiger, to Hillard Elkins and to Philip Roth.

In 1963 on the set of Anthony and Cleopatra, Richard will meet and fall in love with Elizabeth Taylor, another north London girl, and embark on one of the 20^th century’s great romantic entanglements. But that’s another story.

Want to know more?

There’s plenty on all three characters in Wikipedia and IMDb. If you want to go beyond those sources and various online obituaries, it’s worth getting hold of:

Claire Bloom’s autobiographical Limelight and After: The Education of an Actress
Michael Mann’s biography, Richard Burton – Prince of Players
Michael Powell’s A Life in Movies.

It’s 1947. Out of the Past has just been released to huge critical acclaim. Its leading lady, Jane Greer, appears on the front cover of Life magazine. Time will rate her as one of Hollywood’s six most promising actresses alongside Ava Gardner and Elizabeth Taylor.

She’s attractive, intelligent and seriously talented. She has what it takes to make it big in Tinseltown. And she is about to see her career crash and burn. In just a few years’ time, she will have all but faded from public consciousness.

Majorette

Around 1946. RKO Radio Pictures publicity shot of Jane Greer by Ernest Bacharach.

Changing nature’s black tresses to golden brown

1947. Publicity portrait of Jane Greer for They Won’t Believe Me. Photo by Ernest Bacharach.

In trouble

1949. Jane Greer playing a woman on parole in The Wall Outside. Photo by Ernest Bacharach.

Glamorous ex-convict

1949. Jane Greer playing a woman on parole in The Wall Outside. Photo by Ernest Bacharach.

Jane Greer looking forward

1946. RKO Radio Pictures publicity portrait of Jane Greer by Ernest Bacharach.

Exotic beauty

1947. Publicity shot for Two O’Clock Courage, Jane Greer's debut movie. Photo by Ernest Bacharach.

Femme fatale

1947. RKO Radio Pictures publicity portrait of Jane Greer by Ernest Bacharach.

Disciplinarian

1947. Publicity shot for They Won't Believe Me. The caption on the back suggests that Jane Greer seems to be disciplining an off-screen dog. Photo by Ernest Bacharach.

Use the suggestions at the bottom of this page if you want to read a detailed biography. What follows is a drama in three acts that encompasses some big early turning points in Jane Greer’s life told as far as possible in her own words and those of her contemporaries.

Act 1 – Jane makes the most of an early setback

Born in 1924, by age 12 Bettejane Greer (she will drop the Bette in 1945 – “a sissy name … too Bo-Peepish, ingenueish for the type of role I’ve been playing”) is already a professional model.

jane greer da-22c — 1946. Jane Greer during her early Hollywood days.

Then one day in 1940 she is asked by her party date why she is pulling such a funny face. Checking in the mirror, she’s appalled to find that the muscles on the left side of her face have gone totally slack. She is diagnosed with Bell’s palsy, a form of facial paralysis. The doctors tell her she is unlikely to recover.

For a time she has to close her left eye with her hand when she goes to sleep and she has to push the left corner of her mouth up into a frozen smile before going off to school. Every day she has to do a series of painstaking exercises to maintain muscle tone and stimulate her facial nerve. Over time she manages to get back almost complete control of her face.

Later in her career, Jane will tell people how the experience helped her become an actress:

I’d always wanted to be an actress, and suddenly I knew that learning to control my facial muscles was one of the best assets I could have as a performer.

And nowhere are the lessons she learns put to better use than in arguably the greatest of all films noirs – Out of the Past.

Act 2 – Jane puts in a performance

Like many other films in the genre (The Big Sleep and The Lady from Shanghai spring to mind), Out of the Past has a pretty labyrinthine plot that’s not always easy to follow. When Bosley Crowther reviews it for The New York Times, he writes that its 97 minutes of back stabbing and double-dealing are such that they have to be “reckoned by logarithmic tables”.

Kathie in a bar in Acapulco

1947. Jane Greer as Kathie Moffat in Out of the Past soon after she appears for the first time – "out of the sunlight."

Femme fatale

1947. Drenched by the rain, Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer) is all set to make love for the first time to Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) in this scene from Out of the Past.

The mood darkens

1947. The mood, the sets, the lighting, even the costumes get darker as the plot of Out of the Past moves inexorably toward its dénouement. Jane Greer's costume here is designed by Edward Stevenson.

Preparing to shoot

1947. Jacques Tourneur (director) makes a final adjustment to Jane Greer's hat as they prepare to shoot a scene for Out of the Past.

Partners in crime

1947. Robert Mitchum and Jane Greer in a scene from Out of the Past.

Kathie and The Kid

1947. Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer) with “The Kid,” Jeff Bailey’s deaf-mute young assistant (Dickie Moore) in a scene from Out of the Past.

Final instructions

1947. Jacques Tourneur (director) gives instructions to Jane Greer and Robert Mitchum on the set of Out of the Past. Cinematographer Nick Musuraca looks on.

Kathie the killer

1947. Pistol in hand, Kathie Moffat prepares for the dénouement in Out of the Past. Kathie is played by Jane Greer.

Having said that, I’ve read another view that the plot is so simple a child can understand it. Everybody dies, and the story elegantly shows each character moving inexorably, often knowing and unable to halt the march, to his/her destiny. And there certainly is an air of inevitability and desperation about this film about an ex-private investigator, reluctantly dragged back to his old profession to track down a gambler’s girlfriend who has run off with $40,000. “I just want her back. When you see her, you’ll understand better.”

The girlfriend, Kathie Moffat, is played by Jane Greer; the private investigator, Jeff Bailey, by Robert Mitchum. And needless to say, he falls under her spell the moment she appears “coming out of the sun,” elusive but radiant. A few days later she reappears, this time “out of the moonlight,” and under that subtropical Acapulco moon they walk on the beach and then run to her bungalow when a sudden deluge drenches them to the skin and blows open the door to their passion.

The scenes in Acapulco have a lyrical, almost hallucinatory quality. Time seems to stand still. Whereas in the second half of the film, set mostly in a dark and sinister San Francisco, events career along at breakneck speed and out of control.

Kathie is a manipulative, duplicitous, scheming vixen. Or, to use another metaphor, a vamp who causes good men to make bad decisions while showing all the empathy and compassion of a preying mantis. “She can’t be all bad. No one is,” says Jeff’s nice girlfriend, Ann Miller. But he replies, “She comes closest.”

Elsewhere he likens Kathie to “a leaf that the wind blows from gutter to gutter”. She is victim just as much as predator, not just a conventional, hard-boiled femme fatale. We can empathize with her because, as we get to know her, we realize that her actions are motivated as much by fear as by greed or lust. Just like Bailey, she is trapped and trying desperately to find a way out.

Jane Greer manages to convey the complex thoughts and emotions that lie beneath the surface of her character. In the beginning, she appears quite warm, frightened and sincere. When she turns hardboiled, it’s subtle, with only a change in her eyes and voice. The way she alternates between domination and submission is just awesome and totally convincing.

It was a wonderful part, with a wonderful introduction for the character; this was a girl of which one man says, ‘She shot me, I want her back, go find her.’ People wanted to see what she looked like! And when I finally did show up twenty minutes later, people had heard so much about me that they thought, ‘She must be something!’ And they said, ‘My God, she’s stunning! Look at that hat!’ and all that. It was all contrived, you know.

1. On the trail

Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) travels to Acapulco to track down Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer). He waits for her in a bar. "And then I saw her, coming out of the sun and I knew I didn’t care about that 40 grand."

2. Passion rising

Jeff (Robert Mitchum) and Kathie (Jane Greer), caught in a tropical storm, run to her Acapulco hide-out. It’s torrential outside and it's steamy indoors.

3. Bang!

Jeff Bailey’s partner turns up looking for a fight. He gets more than he bargained for. Robert Mitchum is Jeff, Steve Brodie is his partner, Jack Fisher, Jane Greer is his partner-in-crime, Kathie Moffat.

Act 3 – Jane meets her nemesis

Jane Greer is brought to Hollywood by Howard Hughes, the eccentric billionaire and film producer.

1945. It’s not difficult to see why Jane Greer caught the eye of Howard Hughes.

In 1945, while I was still living with my parents, we got along and I saw him quite a bit for a while. We often went to the Chi Chi bar on Hollywood Boulevard where he would eat the same things all the time: hamburgers, peas, mash potatoes, salad and a chocolate sundae. He would call me at odd hours, like at eleven o’clock in the evening, and ask me out to dinner. I would say, “Howard, I’ve gone to bed.” “But it’s not that far, and please don’t let me eat alone.” So I would get dressed.

He loved to talk on the phone; we were once at the Chi Chi and he got up. “I’m not going to make any phone calls,” he said, “I’m just going to the men’s room.” After a long time he came back and sat down. I said, “You made some phone calls, didn’t you?” “I didn’t, I swear, I didn’t.” But his shirt was all wet. I said, “What happened to your shirt?” “I just washed it, I took it off and washed it, there was some chocolate sauce on it.” That’s when I first noticed the washing syndrome, the compulsive washing hands syndrome that I had heard about. Years later he had a lot of problems with this compulsive behavior, but then I wasn’t around him anymore.

In another interview:

I found him rather endearing, like a child. His idea was to go to the amusement park. He won a large collection of Kewpie dolls for me.

Hughes signs Jane up to an exclusive contract only to keep her shelved with no screen test and no movies to make, just strict instructions not to get involved with anyone. “He wanted to own people – he collected them.” She sues, pays to end her contract, then joins RKO, where she makes Out of the Past… only to have Hughes buy the studio and make trouble for her.

After I finished Out of the Past, Howard Hughes bought the studio. He had me come into his office which was at the Goldwyn Studios; he never came onto the RKO lot. He said to me, “I know you’re not happy.” I said, “What do you mean? I am happy, I have a baby now, and I hope to have more. I am happy!” He said, “You’re not happy with your husband, Edward Lasker.” I said, “Yes, I am!” He knew Edward and he didn’t like him. Then he said, “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, as long as I own the studio, you won’t work.” So I said, “This will kill my career!” He said, “Yes, it will.”

…When The Big Steal came along, Robert Mitchum had been arrested for possessing marijuana and his leading lady Lizabeth Scott already had her wardrobe. But when she found out he had to go to jail, she said, “I don’t want to do it.” So they were trying to find someone to work with him, because they wanted him to go to work in Mexico the next Tuesday. Several people were asked to do it, including Joan Bennett, but they all turned it down. I really wanted to do it, because I didn’t want Bob to be hurt by all this turning down. Finally, and I guess they got stuck, the head of the studio, Sid Rogell, came to my house and said. “Howard’s going to call you and he’s gonna try to trap you, so be careful.” “Trap me?!” He said, “Don’t tell him I was here!” I said, “I won’t!” Well, when the phone rang, it was Howard. “Bettejane – he always called me Bettejane – Bettejane, are you interested in doing this picture with Bob Mitchum?” I said, “I’d love to, Howard. I love Bob, you know that, I worked with him and I’d love to work with him again.” He said, “Well then, all right, but you’d have to wear Lisabeth Scott’s wardrobe. You leave next Tuesday.” “All right.” “You have anything else to tell me?” I said, “No, I don’t think so.” “You liar, you’re pregnant! You’re knocked up.” I said, “Am I?” “Yes!” I said, “I didn’t know, they haven’t called me yet. I did take a test, but I haven’t gotten the result of the test yet.” “Well I got it, and you’re knocked up.” “But I still can do the picture. If we start next Tuesday, I’ve still got some time ’cause it won’t show until the fourth or fifth month.”

Well, we went to Mexico and I realized that these costumes they had made were going to be tough, a tight short skirt, a bolero, things like that – no big hats, nothing to hide behind. Everybody thought that if Bob Mitchum is working, in Mexico especially, the judge will think, “Well, we’ll bring that guy back from Mexico, give him a light tap on the hand, send him back to Mexico and let him finish the picture.” No way! The judge sentenced him to sixty days. So Bob went to jail and regarding my pregnancy, it was a tight squeeze towards the end, ’cause we went back to Mexico and we worked another couple of months there. When we came back to America, we did most of the close-ups and the car chases; I could at least sit down.

Postscript – Jane gets her just deserts

It’s the early 1970s and one of Jane’s sons comes home from his film class at UCLA. “Mother,” he says, “You’re the queen of film noir.”. “What’s that?” It’s the first time Jane has heard the term for the genre in which she excelled.

Want to know more?

There are excellent obituaries, which give an overview of Jane’s life and achievements, in The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, and The Telegraph.

You can find extracts from interviews with her in Movies Were Always Magical: Interviews with 13 Actors, Directors and Producers from the Hollywood of the 1950s by Leo Verswijver and Ronnie Pede, and Ladies of the Western: Interviews With Fifty-one More Actresses from the Silent Era to the Television Westerns of the 1950s And 1960s  by Michael G Fitzgerald, Boyd Magers and Kathryn Adams.

There are some great insights into Out of the Past at IMDb, hal0000 and Film Noir of the Week.

I sourced the account of Jane’s discovery that she had Bell’s palsy from an article (apparently no longer available) Hollywood.com. And you can watch Jane being interviewed by cable TV host, Skip Lowe, on YouTube (the interview runs from 1:05 to 12:30).