Barbara O'Neil in All This and Heaven Too - Supporting Actress Sunday

I was going to try to introduce this week's profile with a whole jag on how video not only killed the radio star, but also the big, blowsy, bodacious "women's picture"...how daytime and nighttime soaps, as well as the tv mini-series and Lifetime movie, have taken all the grand romances of innocence, infidelity, and crazy rich bitches (the sort of stories that made Bette Davis a star) off the silver screen and permanently confined them to the small screen. I was gonna go on about all that but whatever. Let's just get to this week's cinematic concoction which brings us the kind of unhinged character performance you'd like to never see on the big screen today (unless Fiona Shaw happens to be involved), but which was given in 1940 with glamorous ease by...

...Barbara O'Neil in All This and Heaven Too (1940).

approximately 20 minutes and 43 seconds
17 scenes
roughly 15% of film's total running time

Barbara O'Neil plays the Duchesse de Praslin, the imperious lady whose children, home and husband fall under the spell of a mousy governess (Bette Davis doing her basic "humility is nobility" bit, characteristically electric and moving at an incisive clip).

The Duchesse's marriage (to the mildly squicky Charles Boyer) is in trouble, and the incredibly, righteously self-absorbed Duchesse just cannot be bothered with attending to banal details -- like her children -- as she seeks to regain her husband's attention and good grace.

Of course, the children and the Duke are soon smitten with the new governess, and the Duchesse discovers in Davis a new target for her paranoic rages, a new core conspirator in the many plots against her beleaguered happiness.

O'Neil's performance in the role of the Duchesse is a curious one. O'Neil seems to understand that the Duchesse doesn't believe her own hype, that beneath the Duchesse's bellowing bluster and bombastic outfits hides a genuinely terrified creature. As best as I can tell, O'Neil's Duchesses lives terrorized by a previous circumstance, in which she did something to destroy her husband's affection (corrupt his patrimonial legacy perhaps?) and now she has no idea how to regain his trust or his love. So configured, the actress's mugging fury, eye-bugging shock, and keening sadness then work, in O'Neil performance, as a kind of perfect storm concealing the Duchesse's abject desperation.

O'Neil seems, then, to have lain an appropriately deep groundwork. Further, the actress's resonant vocality serves the Duchesse, both in allowing her shrieks to penetrate walls and to aurally locate O'Neil as a resonant counterpoint to Davis's tinkling, staccato reediness. With all of this in place, then, why doesn't O'Neil's performance actually work?

StinkyLulu's inclined to think that, with all her vividness (O'Neil catapults into full-on, operatic gorgon mode any time she's on screen), O'Neil's Duchesse is almost too "in the moment." O'Neil's Duchesse is seen to be the kind of character who lashes out, arbitrarily, whenever her plans go awry, her casually cruel impetuousness leaving wreckage in its roiling wake. Yet, it seems to me that the character's actually on her way to crazy town, experiencing a kind of paranoic psychosis, causing her family to alternately fear her and fear for her. Indeed, Duchesse seems an early cinematic entry into the "I Will Not Be Ignored" tradition of female cinemonsters and, perhaps as a result, StinkyLulu craved for O'Neil to tweak the Duchesse's craziness away from rich bitchery and toward the insanity of erotic obsession.

Nonetheless, O'Neil's enormous presence in the film provides more than its share of giddy thrills. Her brilliantly theatrical facial tics animate, say, "the letter" scene (above - click pic to enlarge) with a cunning that is at once dastardly, despicable and delicious.

But even though Barbara O'Neil gives this deathly dull film its only true kicks, I yet craved for more "truth" within this melodramatic bauble of a performance.

This Week in Supporting Actressness

Janet Leigh in Psycho (1960) on AMC
Anne Ramsey in Throw Momma from the Train (1987) on TVLand
Jan Sterling in The High and the Mighty (1954) on TCM
Clair Trevor in The High and the Mighty (1954) on TCM
Lorraine Bracco in Goodfellas (1990) on TNT
Kate Winslet in Sense and Sensibility (1995) on TCM
Shirley Jones in Elmer Gantry (1960) on TCM
Kay Medford in Funny Girl (1968) on TCM
Talia Shire in The Godfather, Part II (1974) on A&E
Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles (1974) on AMC
Melinda Dillon in Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) on TCM
Olivia de Haviland in Gone with the Wind (1939) on TCM
Hattie McDaniel in Gone with the Wind (1939) on TCM
Agnes Moorehead in The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) on TCM
Karen Black in Five Easy Pieces (1970) on AMC
Fay Bainter in Jezebel (1938) on TCM

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

StinkyTofu (PhotoQuote of the ThursDay)

Wasn't planning to post a photoquote today, but then The Face of Evil had to go and smear the name of StinkyLulu's beloved (but heretofore unknown) soul sister: StinkyTofu.

via MediaMatters & Racialicious

Now, I'm sure StinkyTofu is fine -- off appreciating those yoga teachers at the edges, or the folksingers who never get the attention they deserve, or those local organic farmers who really maintain their craft at the margins of contemporary agribusiness... Indeed, I'm almost certain that the right-wing smear machine matters little to the likes of StinkyTofu. Nonetheless, I'm here to say: wherever you are, StinkyTofu, I've got your back! Us Stinkys gotta stick together!

I know you are but what's a MTQ?

Are you a MTQ?

Click this link.
To experience immediate verification of your MTQ status.
(If your knees buckle with ejaculatory delight, that'd be in the "yes" territory)

via FagYerIt

To Dos Day

___ Item 1: GET READY...
...for this Sunday's Supporting Actress Smackdown, in which Criticlasm, goatdog, Matt, Keith, Ken, myself and perhaps one or two others will contemplate the actresses at the edge of 1940 -- all at the request of Birthday Boy NICK (who'll be joining the festivities as well). It's a fascinating year, so be sure to click back on Sunday!

___ Item 2: GIVE A BIRTHDAY TOAST...
...to the 2nd Mrs. DeWinter, Joan Fontaine. Stinky pals are popping up hither and yon and beyond again with all kinds of tributes. But I confess that I just adore Self-Styled Siren's account of her almost close encounter. A concentrated jolt of happy, that one. Plus, it reminds me of the time I briefly met Olivia de Haviland. (See, when I was a high school senior, I won this weird prize and Miss Olivia attended a lunch where I -- along with America's Junior Miss -- was among the honorees. Afterwards, she walked right up to me. I remember her wearing a great big sparkly caftan thing, her hair a giant, frosty merengue concoction perched atop her beaming face. Out of nowhere, she grasped my hand with both of hers. "You have very much to be proud of," she said. Her twinkly eyes held my wondering gaze for several long moments before she wafted out the door, leaving me mildly stunned. Behold, the power of glamor. And, I'm chagrined to say, I only barely knew who she was.) So, even though Olivia and Joan weren't always close, I find that I'm reminded of that feeling as I read Self-Styled Siren's tribute. So -- happy happy, Miss Joan...

___ Item 3: DIVINE THE MEANING...
...of a most curious trend. Over the last handful of days, StinkyLulu's traffic has spiked with visits. (And, no, that Towleroad adlet is not the cause.) For some reason, google searchers entering phrases like "whoopi's ghost role" or "whoopi role ghost" are finding their way to StinkyLulu en masse. Most, not all, are from western Virginia and eastern Kentucky/Tennessee. I'm speculating some large college course has a midterm exam/assignment about "whoopi's role in ghost" but I'm wondering. What, lovely reader, are your pet theories as to the cause of this odd little spike in Whoopi obsession?...

___ Item 4: DIDJA HEAR?...
...Dumbledore's a 'mo? Wanted to be sure, cuz you know, it's been kept pretty quiet. And though I love the reactions of Straight Boy Smarties (Example 1 & 2), I must say my reaction seems to waver between "duh" and "whatevah"...

___ Item 5: WHAT ARE YOU...
...gonna be for Halloween? Yeah, yeah - I know last week's Halloween discussion prompt was a giant dud. But I'm still curious, even though I have no costume plans of my own. So, do tell in comments. OR contemplate these charming costume options and let me know your thoughts...

___ Item 6: DECODE THIS "SECRET MESSAGE" FROM STINKYLULU HQ...
...you never gave him your love you never asked for his so that you got to sleep without nothing on you you're not such a dog as you think you are you hide behind a prayer you're tearing me apart. Offer your best guess in comments...

Have at it, lovelies...

Ruth Hussey in The Philadelphia Story (1940) - Supporting Actress Sundays

The Philadelphia Story is a deservedly revered chestnut. Featuring several stars at the height of their charismatic beauty, The Philadelphia Story is a simple situation comedy built on a ancient conceit: two perfect couples, who haven't quite gotten it together to get/stay together, almost ruin things entirely before resolving everything in a double-wedding finale. The simple plot is loaded with delightful artifice: exhilarating dialogue (delivered my master patterers) of the sort no actual person would ever actually say; finely crafted suspense (you know it'll all work out but you still wanna see how); and an accumulation of complicating, amusing characters (appropriately inhabited by captivating character actors) who get in the way along the way. (Indeed, I often recommend the Philip Barry script as a great example of how to write dynamic comedy dialogue in complex character configurations.) Moreover, the 1940 film -- directed by George Cukor -- is a master work of timing, grace and glamor. All of which makes it all the more surprising that I was so fundamentally underwhelmed when I paid close attention to the performance of my favorite character as crafted by...

...Ruth Hussey in The Philadelphia Story (1940).

approximately 21 minutes and 39 seconds
13 scenes
roughly 19% of film's total running time

Ruth Hussey plays Elizabeth Embrie, the tart-tongue lady photographer who spends a lot of time with "serious" writer Macauley Connor (James Stewart in a trophy-snagging performance) while he "slums" penning stories for a glossy gossip rag.

The role of Elizabeth Embrie demands some pretty heavy lifting. Liz's sardonic cracks, often from the sides of the scene's action, must be delivered with acid wit and incredible charm. Liz must be beautiful, strong, confident -- and a near complete doormat for Macauley's cluelessness -- while maintaining formidable, feminine appeal. Liz must also show the wounds of her working class past with unapologetic clarity and verve.

Hussey's Liz is not of this elite world even as she travels easily within it. Indeed, the character operates as a classic Broadway/Hollywood romantic comedy concoction: notably pretty but formidably witty; tough as nails on the outside but soft as a marshmallow inside; from humble beginnings but at ease mixing with (and snarking on) the upper crust; incredibly aware of her chosen man's limitations but implausibly patient while waiting for him to catch onto the fact that she's the one. It's the kind of second chair work that is the stock in trade of actresses at the edge.

Hussey acquits the tasks obliged by the character of Elizabeth Embrie with appealing swiftness. Yet, Hussey's performance remains an essentially exterior one, with little interiority peeking around Liz's well-crafted mask. To be sure, it must have been tough to hold the screen opposite such well-crafted screen personas, whose impossibly perfect casting in these roles permitted the stars (Grant and Hepburn especially) to meld persona and performance in service of the character. But, it seems -- in crafting a screen presence powerful enough to hold its own against the wattage of such star power -- Hussey neglected the woman behind the sardonic smile.

Cukor's camera work, too, does Hussey's Embrie few favors. (In the scene above -- a Hepburn tour de force -- the back of Hussey's head is center focus for a curiously long time). Worse, Hussey gets fewer closeups than perhaps any character in the film. (She might even be tied with the manservant who has nearly as many closeups as he has lines). Hussey's Liz is always an accessory to the action, on her way in or out of the scene. True, that ain't the actress's fault but it's the plot and the dialogue that keep us returning with pleasure to the character of Miss Embrie, not Hussey's performance in the role.

Note, too, how little Hussey reveals in her most revelatory scene -- when she and Dexter (Cary Grant, just delicious here and I'm no fan) return to the estate after a night of hard-drinking and character assassination. This scene, arguably, presents Liz at her least self-conscious and transparent. Liz lays it all -- who she is, why she does what she does -- out before a genuinely curious Dexter. In Hussey's performance, though, this scene reads as glib as each wisecracking scene before it. Hussey shows us nothing new about Liz; she just delivers some new information. Grant, on the other hand, is subtly illuminating in his quietly escalating appreciation of Liz's depth, beauty and sophistication. It's ironic: in a scene that should be the supporting actress's star turn, the leading man does brilliant support work. (Without stealing focus, I might add.) It's an effective scene, but a curious misfire -- one which reveals much about the limits of Hussey's performance in the role.


But please do not misunderstand StinkyLulu's critique as saying that Ruth Hussey's in any way "bad" in the role...
Ruth Hussey's performance as Elizabeth Embrie is often quite good. But, at every turn, the extent of her accomplishment is buoyed substantially by the part she happens to be playing.

This Week in Supporting Actressness

Anne Ramsey in Throw Momma from the Train (1987) on TVLand
Kathleen Quinlan in Apollo 13 (1995) on Bravo
Gladys Cooper in My Fair Lady (1964) on TCM
Janet Leigh in Psycho (1960) on AMC
Donna Reed in From Here to Eternity (1953) on TCM
Wendy Hiller in Separate Tables (1958) on TCM
Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles (1974) on CMT
Jane Fonda in On Golden Pond (1981) on TCM
Piper Laurie in Carrie (1976) on MyTV
May Whitty in Mrs. Miniver (1942) on TCM
Teresa Wright in Mrs. Miniver (1942) on TCM
Jan Sterling in The High and the Mighty (1954) on TCM
Clair Trevor in The High and the Mighty (1954) on TCM