Showing posts with label Constance Bennett. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Constance Bennett. Show all posts
Face Value
"Her face was her talent, and when it dropped, so did her career -- right out of sight!" - Bette Davis on Constance Bennett
Face Value
"Her face was her talent, and when it dropped, so did her career -- right out of sight!" - Bette Davis on Constance Bennett
Connie-Connie-Connie-Chameleon
In the 1930's, Constance Bennett was renowned as a fashion plate even more than she was as a movie star ("I'm a lot more sartorial than thespian," she acknowledged. "They come to see me and go out humming the costumes."). Interestingly, for all her East Coast pedigree, the New York-born and bred Bennett seemed to look southward for her fashion inspiration. To wit: her sleek, polished look of the 1930's was a Hollywoodized magnification of the ultra-chic style of such socialites as the Kentucky-born Mrs. Harrison Williams, later Mona, Countess of Bismarck.
By the 1950's, Connie's screen career had declined, but she found great success in the touring company of Auntie Mame, the fabulous stage play based on Patrick Dennis' novel, and a precursor to the musical. She was the perfect embodiment of brittle, theatrical glamour, and her look seemed to mirror that of Alabama's infamous daughter, Tallulah Bankhead.
As related by our dear friend Poseidon3 over at his utterly fascinating, fabulous blog, Poseidon's Underworld, Bennett made her simultaneous big screen comeback and swan song in Ross Hunter's plush remake of Madame X (1966). In preparation for her return before the cameras, Bennett once again completely transformed herself - this time, apparently taking a page from the Texas handbook of Miss Ann Miller.
And if you're gonna go, you may as well go like Annie!
Night of the Hunter
I gave audiences what they wanted; a chance to dream, to live vicariously, to see beautiful women, jewels, gorgeous clothes, melodrama. - Ross Hunter
He'd been born Martin Fuss, and went to Hollywood to make it as an actor. His stage name, "Ross Hunter," undoubtedly would have looked better up in lights, but he had neither the looks nor the talent to really make it as a movie star. So, after eight years of bit parts in B films, Hunter switched to producer mode. Cutting his teeth on such programmers as Flame of Araby (1951) and Son of Ali Baba (1952), Hunter came into his own with 1954's massive hit remake of the old Irene Dunne melodrama, Magnificent Obsession (1954). It set the tone for nearly all of Hunter's subsequent work: glamorous stars and a sudsy plot which, in all frankness, played second fiddle to the eye-popping costumes and set design. That not only did the costume designer, but also the jeweler and furrier, get credit on a Hunter production is an insight into his sensibilities.
Critics sneered, women swooned, and Hunter laughed all the way to the bank. Just reading a list of his biggest hits conjures up delirious images of gauzy lighting, sumptuous gowns, fabulous furs, sparkling jewels, square-jawed leading men, and glamorously aging leading ladies: All That Heaven Allows (1955), reuniting Jane Wyman and Rock Hudson from Magnificent Obsession; Pillow Talk (1959), which launched the Doris Day/Rock Hudson franchise; Imitation of Life (1959), which resurrected Lana Turner's career; his remake of Back Street (1961), a drag queen fantasy with Susan Hayward and Vera Miles duking it out over John Gavin; and Madame X (1966), which pitted Turner against 1930's legend Constance Bennett. Even Hunter's lesser films (I'd Rather Be Rich, 1964, with Sandra Dee, Robert Goulet and Andy Williams, anyone?) benefitted from his trademark gloss and polish.
Giving his public what they want: a typical Hunter promotional gimmick, for Midnight Lace (1960) starring DORIS DAY.
HUNTER with SANDRA DEE and CONSTANCE BENNETT, celebrating Bennett's return to the screen in Madame X (1966).
SUSAN HAYWARD in a promotional photo for Back Street (1961).
Not surprisingly, by the late 1960's, Hunter's aesthetics were drastically out of sync with the times; Madame X was a hit, but Rosie! (1967), starring Rosalind Russell, was a misfire; and while the musical Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967) with Julie Andrews fared reasonably well, critics blasted it as an anachronism, and audiences didn't embrace it as much as they had Andrews's previous musical blockbusters, Mary Poppins (1964) and The Sound of Music (1965). Suddenly, "furs by Alexandre, jewels by David Webb" was passé in an era of free love, psychedelia and Vietnam. Hunter had life left in him, though; the all-star Airport (1970) was not only a surprise massive hit, but also launched the "disaster" flick craze which would last an entire decade, and also was, more surprisingly, a critical success: Helen Hayes won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her work in it, and Hunter earned his one and only nomination for Best Picture.
It was, as it turned out, Hunter's last hurrah. His next venture, an all-star musical version of Lost Horizon (1973) was such a bomb that it effectively ended Hunter's film career, as well as fracturing the longtime partnership of composers Burt Bacharach and Hal David. Hunter turned to producing television movies, until his retirement in 1979. His life partner of over 40 years was set decorator Jacques Mapes, who had worked on The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939) and Singin' in the Rain (1952), among other projects; after his relationship with Hunter, Mapes more or less retired from decorating, and co-produced several of Hunter's projects.
JACQUES MAPES and JANE POWELL, early 1950's.
Ross Hunter passed away on March 10, 1996. He left behind his partner, Mapes, who survived him by seven years; and an astonishing legacy of escapism and glamour which, for all its artifice, continues to entertain, enthrall, and, yes, inspire, half a century later.
"The way life looks in my pictures is the way I want life to be. I don't to hold a mirror up to life as it is. I just want to show the part which is attractive."
ROSS HUNTER
May 6, 1920 - March 10, 1996
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
