"13"

Ever have a bad hair day? Sure you have. You do everything you can to make things right, but nothing seems to work. “Oh, well,” you think. “At least it’ll be better tomorrow.”

Clark Gable inhabited masculinity so purely and originally from the 1930s on that he came to represent the quintessential leading man, earning himself the title “King of Hollywood.” Even today, stars don’t come any bigger than Gable. But what made this awkward former tire factory worker into the dynamic presence that appealed to both men and women?

The attention always goes straight to her violet eyes, and why shouldn’t it? Violet eyes don’t show up every day, and when magnified on screen, they will knock you off your feet. But Elizabeth Taylor was so much more than those mesmerizing irises, and her beauty did not hold her back from delivering passionate, believable performances.

We’ve all done it, watched a movie and thought, “How do they think this stuff up?” and, “Do they expect us to believe this?” Yes, “they” do, because movies depend on the suspension of disbelief for their magic. Musicals, horror, and romantic comedies are all fueled by the high octane of fantasy.

Why, one has to ask, is it not pure megalomania whenever directors direct themselves? Simply put, this is a breed of actor (and director) who understands the vision so completely that the need to control every element, even their own performances, overrides all doubt. Of course, this could look quite a lot like megalomania, or it could simply be pure genius. Or perhaps a bit of both.  For many auteurs, it feels perfectly natural. Orson Welles started out with the Big Bang of "Citizen Kane," his first feature film — with credits for directing, producing, co-writing, and starring — crafting what many critics agree is the best movie of all time.  

Movies are palaces of the imagination, showing us places we can’t go, either because they are closed to us, or too far away, or they never existed in the first place. Place is a star in its own right, and the places where movies are set are often the key to the psychology of the piece. Sometimes the setting, and set, is found already built, seemingly just waiting for a camera to come and create an iconic image. And then there’s the house (or an entire city) that must be built from scratch in order to realize the director’s vision. These are sets that go way beyond the functional — they actually advance the mood, flavor, and drama of the piece. We invite you to open the door to these houses with stories to tell.   

Cities are like people, in that some periods represent career peaks, and there are plenty of examples of golden ages to go around: Paris in the 1920s, Los Angeles in the 1940s, and New York in the 1950s all brim with romance in the popular imagination. But no scene was quite as explosive in sheer energy and style as London was in the 1960s. A nation finally emerging from Blitz mentality and the rationing of World War II, England was primed for a major cultural earthquake, thanks to the crumbling of centuries-old social constriction, and the emergence of the Baby Boomers's youth culture. And when that earthquake, or “youthquake,” came, it was the movies that registered its shockwaves. “Swinging” London was its epicenter, as bands like The Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Who, and the Kinks created a danceable soundtrack for the era, and pioneering hair stylist Vidal Sassoon snipped girls’ hair into a bob, perfect for bouncing along to the beat (and of course, boys’ hair grew down past their collars). 

Charm, looks, wit, class. The Good Lord combined all these traits in one man and named him Cary Grant. Born in Bristol England, in 1904, the young Archie Leach had a troubled early life. He eventually escaped (literally!) by joining the circus, becoming an expert tumbler. Eventually he made it to Hollywood, and ended up signing with Paramount. In his early career, he was a sponge, absorbing the style and manners of more sophisticated types to create the star we know as Cary Grant.

In a variety of interesting ways, mustaches make the man in movies. At the dawn of film, it was usually the villain wearing the ‘stache. In silents and old-time serials, they would twirl them to signify a dastardly deed was being contemplated. These “types” would go on to inspire the indelible character of Snidely Whiplash in the “Dudley Do-Right” segment on “The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show.” I loved that guy. In the realm of silent comedy, the sight of well-placed follicles on the kisser also could elicit laughter from audiences, as evidenced by Charlie Chaplin, Ben Turpin, Andy Clyde, Oliver Hardy and others.