Angela Lansbury in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945) - Supporting Actress Sunday

More than any of the other acting categories, the Academy seems to, at times, utilize the Supporting Actress category to acknowledge what some might call "star quality." A nomination can serve, especially for an early career performer, as a kind of high-pressure post-it note from the industry, a curiously public "note to self" that "this girl, she's got something special." Indeed, it's among the more fascinating aspects of my Supporting Actress Sundays Project whenever I have the opportunity to consider such a "pink-flagged" performance. This week, just such an early career Supporting Actress nomination invites us to consider the "something special" that is...

...Angela Lansbury in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945)
approximately 14 minutes and 32 seconds
9 scenes
roughly 13% of film's total running time

Angela Lansbury plays Sibyl Vane, the popular singer at the Two Turtles Pub, a nearly seedy venue discovered by Dorian Gray (wax figure Hurd Hatfield) during an evening of independent adventuring/slumming.
As Lansbury's Sibyl sings a song about a "Little Yellow Bird," Dorian Gray becomes enraptured with the young woman.
At the same time, Lansbury's Sibyl -- who, we are told, is a "proud" girl and inclined to brush off the devoted attention of even well-heeled admirers -- seems uncharacteristically drawn to the elegant stranger, a pensive curiosity creeping from behind the easy grin of her performance mask.
Several weeks pass, during which time Dorian Gray becomes an ever more frequent visitor to the the Two Turtles, until -- finally -- he arranges to meet the young woman. When Dorian arrives backstage, Lansbury's Sibyl meets with him willingly, even enthusiastically. In Lansbury's portrayal, Sibyl Vane is neither a golddigger nor an aspiring trophy wife, but a young woman from tough circumstances who craves the kind of cultural mentorship that Dorian seems to promise.
Lansbury's Sibyl is thrilled to hear Dorian play the beautiful music of Chopin and to learn of the many beautiful objects that Dorian owns. And, through it all, Lansbury's Sibyl is quietly giddy at the realization that such a refined man as Dorian might think her beautiful too. Here is a young woman from a tough neighborhood, clearly adept at fending off men with greedy intentions, yet her encounter with Dorian Gray is something different -- for the first time she is being courted, and it's thrilling.
Lansbury, in her late teens at the time of this performance, holds the tension of Sibyl Vane's dilemma artfully. Lansbury conveys Sibyl's confidence and maturity with preternatural ease, yet she signals Sibyl's youth, inexperience and vulnerability in haunting ways.
Perhaps my favorite moment in Lansbury's brief performance comes when Sibyl Vane has finally arrived to Dorian Gray's parlor. As she moves about the room, she promises to remember everything about this moment. It's a sweet, awkward, adolescent declamation -- one which underscores how this worldly, streetwise young woman has been struck "naïve" by Dorian Gray's overwhelming sophistication. This reminder of Sibyl Vane's intrinsic innocence proves essential in the moments that follow. Goaded by the awful Lord Wotton (George Sanders, doing his usual self-loathing/vicious queen shtick), Dorian Gray has determined to toy cruelly with Sibyl Vane's affections.
As Sibyl prepares to leave Dorian Gray for the evening, he makes it clear that he expects her to stay and -- the implication is -- sleep with him. Lansbury's Sibyl is thunderstruck by his expectation.
Humiliated and heartbroken that Dorian Gray only wants what every man wants of her, Lansbury's Sibyl moves to leave. As she does, Dorian calls after her with a set of hollow accusations about maturity and conventionality. For reasons that are not altogether clear -- has Dorian pushed Sibyl's buttons? or is she yet under the mysterious spell of that weird Egyptian cat statue? -- Lansbury's Sibyl returns, offering herself to him in supplicant submission. This being 1945, and thus the period in which the Production Code was at the height of its influence, we don't really see what comes next. Though we can guess. Dorian Gray sits at his dressing table, penning a letter which we next see in Sibyl's hand. In the letter, Dorian discards Sibyl as beneath his ideals of her. To anchor the humiliation further, Dorian encloses cash, in very large bills, thus affirming Dorian's assessment of the nature of their dalliance.
Lansbury's Sibyl grimly absorbs this information, her usually expressive features implacable as stone.
We don't see Lansbury's Sibyl again. We only hear news of her suicide, the implicit result of her devastation by Dorian. Yet Sibyl's presence haunts the film, as the pivotal moment in which Dorian Gray's self-interest turned cruel. Indeed, Dorian Gray's devastation of Sibyl Vane seems to be (at least in the logic of this retelling of the Wilde story) what sets Dorian on his own path toward self-destruction.
The film proffers Lansbury's Sibyl Vane as the first really good thing to happen to Dorian Gray. She also embodies his first truly bad deed. And Lansbury humanizes Sibyl with a kindness and a warmth that infuses the film. While not necessarily a great performance, Angela Lansbury is memorably effective as the tragically doomed Sibyl Vane, and her presence calibrates the entire film with a necessary humanity it might otherwise lack.

Angela Lansbury in Mandate - Homo Heritage Fridays

from MANDATE:
The International Magazine of Entertainment and Eros
April 1980, page 6-7, 62-65.
To read article, click page image; then click again to magnify

"And Then To Get The Tchotchke!": 5 Stinky Thoughts on The 2007 Tony Awards

Thought #1: Maybe They Can Call Them The Angelas.
The Tony bug burrowed into StinkyLulu's soul during the big bad 80s, the decade abutting one of the best Tony broadcasts ever (1984) against one of the absolute worst (1985) and during which Angela Lansbury (at the crest of her Murder, She Wrote fame) became the first of a series of hosts brought in to "save" the Tonys' always beleaguered ratings (just like Rosie O'Donnell did a decade later, and Hugh Jackman did a few years after that). Indeed, LaLansbury will, in some ways, forever be the true host of The Tonys in StinkyLulu's Tony-lovin' heart. So, at the outset of Sunday's broadcast, 'twas truly a thrill to hear Miss Angela's resonant proclamation: "Welcome to the 61st Annual Tony Awards!" 'Tis a blend of old-school Broadway verve and my own particular nostalgia, & 'twill likely ever be one of Lu's favorite line-readings ever.

Thought #2: Audra McDonald Can Do Anything.
Jeepers.
This woman.
So sweet.
So accessible.
So versatile.
So talented.
Betcha she could even make Starlight Express emotionally compelling...

Thought #3: Yo, Tony Voters! Sometimes...
...I Just Hate You ...For Not Only Were Kiki & Herb Robbed... But So Were We! What oh what would it have been to witness Justin Bond and Kenny Mellman give an acceptance speech on national broadcast television? While David Hyde Pierce's coming out was sweet and elegantly accomplished, I would've must preferred the freaktastic queerness that would have inevitably snuck into the proceedings with Justin Bond on that stage. Ah well. At least you know that the devastating humiliation will provide Kiki excellent fodder for banter and repartee for, oh, forever. (Losing to a wooden puppet? Puh-leez.) But still. StinkyLulu officially registers hate for the Tony voters' insipid predisposition to convention on this one.

Thought #4: What?! I want to see The Color Purple?! How'd that happen?!
Ya gotta hand it to whoever it was who thought to cast American Idol's Fantasia in The Color Purple. LaChanze's "upset" win last year seemed an important reminder that, as sprawling a piece as it is, the story is really all about Celie and, as such, the musical provides an extraordinary star showcase for a youngish black woman with good pipes and lots of charisma. Fantasia's reviews have been solidly complimentary and her performance last night (somehow "in character" even though she was wearing a gothic wedding cake of a dress) gave an exciting enticement to see the show (even more than last year's LaChanze charmfest). Hey, put Melinda Doolittle in the touring production, why dontcha!

Thought #5: Spring Awakening's Rent Impression: False Advertising?
For perhaps the very first time ever, StinkyLulu actually had seen one of the best musical nominees prior to the broadcast. (Not only did StinkyLulu see Spring Awakening on a late January trip to NYC, but Lu subsequently rearranged a lecture course this past semester to incorporate a full day's attention to the new musical and the Wedekind original.) In the intervening months, StinkyLu's been rooting for Spring Awakening's success, while committing the original cast recording to memory. All of which made the medley/montage performed at Sunday's broadcast all the more treatsy. 'Twas excellent to see the female ensemble featured, as much of the media has been fascinated by the boys. 'Twas also nifty to be given a glimpse of three separate (and totally different) numbers, melded into a crowd-rousing commercial for Spring Awakening as RENT-redux. (Though 'tis false advertising of sorts. Because, while there is much leaping and some dancing on tables, Spring Awakening has no "La Vie Boheme" -- indeed, there's not a clearly celebratory song in the show. Indeed, while the show matches RENT's power of ensemble feeling, Spring Awakening's intelligence, complexity and emotional sophistication really stomps new circles in the "rock" musical as a form.) But the niftiest aspect of the curiously frankensteined number? The way they "adapted" the profanities to CBS standards and practices -- with some lyrics adapted, with other deleted lyrics created some of the night's most interesting theatre. The startling but evocative "gaps" in "Totally F*****" were amplified by additional choreography -- arms crossing in an "x" before the performer's mouth, index finger raised and shushing the lips, hands clasped across mouths -- gestures that both acknowledged the censorious nature of the adjustments while also elaborating upon them in ways totally in tune with the musical's style, tone and message. 'Twas one of those rare occasions in which a performance adapted cruelly for television adeptly communicated the original spirit of the piece, adding surprising elements rather than merely removing the offensive bits...

Angela Lansbury in The Manchurian Candidate (1962) - Supporting Actress Sundays

StinkyLulu doesn't pretend to understand the vicissitudes of Oscar. While the Oscars themselves tend to structure Lulu's movie obsession (both as a history project and as an ongoing experience), StinkyLulu really has no clue why Oscar does what it does. Oftentimes Lulu doesn't even care who or what gets awarded with nominations or prizes. (But o'course, even when "not caring," Lulu always possesses an opinion about Oscar's hits and misses and pretty much everything else.) But it's each category's winners and losers (both those "honored just to be nominated" as well as those completely ignored) that focus Lulu's contemplation of the movies. And Supporting Actress? Actressing at the edges provides a near perfect point of focus for StinkyLulu's variegated cinemaniac interests... Indeed, sometimes it feels, with the advent of Supporting Actress Sundays, StinkyLulu's true movie calling has finally been found.

But there are times when even the category of Best Supporting Actress leaves Lulu all confused. As Ellen Burstyn's 14 Second Kerfluffle has recently demonstrated, the question of "what counts as a Supporting Actress performance" instigates many different answers, each routing its own bumpy detours. (Be sure to see the comments over on Lulu's FilmExperience post for an excellent & smart discussion of these very issues.)

Where some movie freaks express themselves via lists (no names, lovely reader, you know the type...hee), Lulu tends to organize things by criteria: a standard of measurement, grouping or evaluating commonalities. And "for your Supporting Actresses consideration," StinkyLulu tends toward three main criteria.

StinkyLulu sez:
The BEST "Best Supporting Actress" nomination should be...

• ...a character that is essential for and instrumental to the narrative. She should be central to at least one -- but not every -- crucial plot point.
• ...a performance perfect in -- but also larger than -- the role. Hers should be an indelible and precise characterization that makes her character's presence palpable even in scenes where she does not appear.
• ...a supporting player in the production. She should never threaten to be the star, but there should be little doubt that her character/performance could completely carry another -- possibly better -- movie

Perhaps the perfect illustration of these main criteria can be seen in the performance offered by...

...Angela Lansbury in The Manchurian Candidate (1962).

The Manchurian Candidate represents a rare accomplishment in popular film: a topical political thriller that becomes more interesting, relevant and suspenseful with each passing year. (No wonder they tried an aught-era remake, which Lulu has not seen.) Some film types rightly point to John Frankenheimer's 1962 film as the stylistic hinge between noir and the "paranoid thrillers" of the 1970s. While this film is certainly a crazy good stylistic treat, the thematics of the piece also delve into deep pots: the gurgling, dystopic view of American politics; the misogynist -- sometimes latent, sometimes blatant -- view of female power; the surreal discordance of U.S. popular media...s'all good. But amidst Frankenheimer's singular cinematic flair, amidst the redolent themes, even amidst decent leading performances by two (A & B) of StinkyLulu's least favorite actors... amidst all that, it's Angela Lansbury's performance as the "Queen of Diamonds" herself that takes Lulu captive each and every time.

Angela Lansbury plays "Mrs. Iselin," political wife/mother cum Cold War Lady Macbeth. A blazing force of "feminine" power in the masculinized realm of midcentury politics, Lansbury's Mrs. Iselin stages photo ops and political coups instead of hostessing teas. It's clear the second she barrels her way onto the tarmac, camera crew in tow and banner at the ready, to pose a picture from which she's absent that her Mrs. Iselin is the party politics equivalent of a "stage mother." But is Mrs. Iselin a blustering buffoon like her husband or a consummately shrewd manipulator? The character seems to embody the most shrewish and silly aspects of the loathsome midcentury misogynist aspersion Momism, yet Lansbury's performance adeptly calibrates the comedy and crassness of the character to sustain a kind of mystery. It's to Lansbury's credit that, in a movie chock full of red herrings, the potency of Mrs. Iselin's menace maintains that mystery until the exhilarating sequence of escalating twists that bring the film to its ostensibly final conclusion. Lansbury layers every motive of this complex character in every scene, potentially discernible to the attuned eye but never entirely revealed to anyone. Lansbury's performance could have easily devolved into a gruesomely sexist version of the monster-mother of whom Oscar is so fond, but Lansbury's Mrs. Iselin is about as distinctive a performance as has ever been captured on film. What's more, Lansbury -- who was but a handful of years older than the actor playing her son -- played the film with no special make-up, the sense of age emanating from her affect as much as her appearance. Angela Lansbury's performance as Mrs. Iselin exemplifies Lulu's favorite kind of actressing at the edges, the kind of supporting actress performance that nibbles at the story's perimeter until it's somehow clear that she's truly at the heart of the movie.

Angela Lansbury's performance is also one of the best examples of the kind of "supporting actress" performance that meets StinkyLulu's criteria point-for-point. If Lulu was inclined to lists, this performance would likely head StinkyLu's of best nominations in Oscar's history of Supporting Actresses... At least, that's what StinkyLulu sez. Wonder what the Smackdown'll say...

1958's CouldaWouldaShouldas (+ mini-profile of Lansbury & Remick in LONG HOT SUMMER)

Nick's consistently bemused riff throughout the 1958 Supporting Actress Smackdown has really got Lulu thinking:

The Supporting Actresses of 1958 really were an odd lot. Only Stapleton and Hiller sustained careers of any note, with Martha Hyer and Cara Williams lapsing fairly quickly into obscurity (& Peggy Cass mostly working the panel, couch or dais in various televidiocies of the '60s and '70s).

So what of the snubs? The CouldaShouldaWouldas of 1958?
In addition to Gwen and Tina, it seems a curiously consistent factoid that there were at least four major 1958 releases that each boasted at least two performances that CouldaShouldaWoulda been contenders in this category. Might these performance pairs have cancelled each other out when when it came to ballotting time?

• Nick's Picks of Marlene Dietrich and Mercedes McCambridge in Touch of Evil.
• Hermione Gingold & Elsa Lanchester in StinkyLulu's beloved Bell, Book & Candle.
• The impeccable Judith Anderson & Madeleine Sherwood in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

Clearly, Dietrich and Gingold (in either BBB or Gigi) are the real contenders in the CouldaShouldaWoulda category. Their exclusions are the real slights where the other omissions just underscore how curious the nominee field for 1958 actually turned out to be. Indeed, a strong case can be made for each of these performances. And they're all worth revisiting. Plus wouldn't it be FABU to have McCambridge's "I. Want. To. Watch." as the shortest nominated performance?

But there's one more film to which StinkyLulu'd like give some especial attention, mostly 'cuz it features two of Lulu's most treasured, the kind of actresses that never top the favorite lists but whose very presence makes almost any movie intrinsically more interesting :
Lee Remick & Angela Lansbury.


The Long Hot Summer is yet another one of those torrid Southern sagas of family intrigue, minus the tawdry tragedy of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and the gawdy goofiness of God's Little Acre. The scenario's fairly simple. Paul Newman (the definition of all kinds of "hot" here) is Ben Quick, a drifter with a real bad rep, who arrives to the Louisiana estate of Will Varner (Orson Welles, perspiring through fake nose and swarthy greasepaint). Nearly immediately, Quick insinuates himself into the financial stakes and personal neuroses of the entire Varner clan, while also enflaming the passionate dis/interest of the unmarried 23 year old "spinster" Clara (Joanne Woodward, giving a thrillingly apt performance). Ultimately, The Long Hot Summer becomes a romance -- part Shakespearean, part soaperatic -- complete with three couples securing the conclusion with wedding plans.


Lee Remick plays Eula, the babydoll newlywed wife of the scion of the Varner family's fortune, Jody (an oddly desparate Anthony Franciosa). Eula's a luscious baby belle who's alternately rattling illuminating inanities or squealing with delight while being pursued by Jody. Remick invests Eula with surprising intelligence & the result is a performance that is much more interesting than the simple role. At 19 in this performance, Remick here shows the actorly acuity that made her one of the best beautiful actresses of her era.


Angela Lansbury plays Minnie Littlejohn, the golddigging town tart with her claws into (and her heart wide open for) the deeply unappealing Will Varner (Welles). Lansbury here is luminously erotic -- believe it -- & her quest to marry the noxious patriarch becomes tender in its misguided ferocity. A lesser actress might have played only the comedy (which Lansbury nails at every turn) but Lansbury adds a simple generosity to the schtick, making a complete character out of what might otherwise been merely a character part.

Both Remick and Lansbury have scanty screen time in this strangely intricate tale. Yet every moment conveys the humanity, intelligence and beauty of their women, who could have just as easily become jokey little Southern caricatures. To Lulu, that's being a real Supporting Actress. And why actresses like Lee Remick & Angela Lansbury are such treasures.

PS: Don't worry Lulu hasn't forgotten about Maureen Stapleton in Lonelyhearts. The final Supporting Actress Sunday for 1958 is still to come: Sunday, April 30. Also, don't forget to VOTE FOR MAY's Supporting Actress Sunday roster. And, finally, thanks to one and all for making this past week of Supporting Actress Sundays so fantabulously fun...