Innholdsfortegnelse for 2310 i The Australian Women's Weekly Icons

Lying in a grave, dirt shovelled atop of her, Hazel Court stared straight down the barrel of the camera lens and let out her trademark chilling scream. Such was her dedication to the horror genre, there was no faking it for Hazel as she filmed the chilling climax to the 1962 Edgar Allen Poe adaptation The Premature Burial. “I was really in there doing my own stunt,” she recalled. “The scene required me to hold my breath for a full minute, but they did use cork instead of actual dirt.” The cult Hammer horror movie starlet was beloved as the terribly English “Queen of Scream” – Stephen King and Alfred Hitchcock adored her – but she also boasted a sideline as something of a secret 1950s saucepot. Alongside Patrick O’Neal…

Milton Berle could hardly believe his eyes. As the glamorous usherette handed the actor a program his eyes widened as he clocked who it was. With her blonde curls, cat-winged eyeliner and figure-hugging gown, Marilyn Monroe oozed her trademark sex appeal as she made her way through the crowd. It was March 9, 1955, at New York’s Astor Theatre, where the Elia Kazan-directed film East of Eden was about to premiere. James Dean was the relatively unknown lead but by the end of the night his name was on everyone’s lips – apart from Marilyn’s, that is. The night was also to benefit The Actors Studio, the powerful acting institution that James and Marilyn had both attended. As an honorary student and personal friend of Lee Strasberg, the Studio’s Artistic…

The one and only exclusive interview I had with Marlon Brando lasted half an hour. As the minutes ticked by, he sat posed like Rodin’s “Thinker” and paid no more heed to me than if I’d been a ladybird squatting on the back of his canvas chair. With a snap of the fingers I brought him out of his trance. “Have you been listening, Mr Brando?” “Sure.” “Do you care to answer my questions?” “I don’t believe so.” “Then may I tell you that I didn’t want this interview? Your producer, Stanley Kramer, insisted that I do it. You needn’t submit yourself to further agony. Thanks for nothing, and good day.” I walked off the set of 1950’s The Men and I haven’t set foot on any Brando set from…

It was a day that will forever remain one of the darkest in film history. On November 25, 1947, the Hollywood Ten – 10 motion picture producers, directors and writers who had refused to answer questions about their potential communist affiliations before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) – were given prison sentences. In addition, they were officially blacklisted from the industry. And there would be many more soon to follow. But while the Cold War was cited as the reason for this incredible move, many point the finger firmly at one man as having set this all into action: Billy Wilkerson. One year earlier, the founding editor of The Hollywood Reporter had written his front-page column “Tradeviews” with the title “A vote for Joe Stalin.” In it, he named…

When the fashion revolution came, it was young, fun and six inches above the knee. With parrot-green tights and rubber shoes the colour of poppies, it emancipated women’s legs and spirits. The visionary who unleashed this era of liberation was Mary Quant, a slip of a woman with a geometric haircut that slashed daringly across her eyebrows and bared her neck. Shy of public attention, Mary nevertheless had a resolute self-belief and a vision so clear and unique she has been named alongside Coco Chanel and Christian Dior as one of the most significant designers of the 20th century. “I think the point of fashion is to not get bored looking at somebody,” Mary says in her characteristically soft voice in the documentary Quant, released earlier this year. “I didn’t…

Anne Baxter’s movie career was in decline when she came to Australia to shoot a big-screen version of Ray Lawler’s acclaimed play Summer of the Seventeenth Doll, featuring fellow international stars John Mills, Angela Lansbury and Ernest Borgnine. “[It] was thought-provoking and dealt with people who could but would not grow up,” she wrote in her 1976 memoir, Intermission. “I thought it had captured the raunchy, seamy side of Australian life.” But years later in an interview, she ruefully admitted, “It wasn't very Australian at all, I guess.” The film was mauled by critics, primarily for the leads’ bad accents and an awful tacked-on happy ending for American audiences who stayed away in droves anyway. Her career might have been floundering, but Anne was having more success with love off…

When The Australian Women’s Weekly was launched 90 years ago, one of the first things founding editor George Warnecke did was to establish an office in Hollywood, dedicated to bringing the latest going-ons of the movie world to our readers here in Australia. In February 27, 1937, our Hollywood reporter, Mary Olivier, gave an inside look into how the stars were cast on the silver screen. Probably the least heard of but most important department of any Hollywood studio is the Test Department – the modern torture chamber, the anteroom through which film aspirants pass to life or death. Those who survive the ordeal may later emerge into the paradise of picture making. Those who fail are consigned to that oblivion from which few players ever return. There are two…

Fred Astaire took a sip of water as he sat down for a moment to catch his breath and wipe his damp brow. “You look exhausted, let’s call it a day,” director Stanley Donen urged him. The 51-year-old had already been on the set of 1951’s Royal Wedding rehearsing his “You’re All the World to Me” dance solo for hours by the time the crew arrived. They’d filmed for at least a dozen more since. For while the dancer and actor’s moves might have come across as effortless on-screen, in reality there was a whole lot of work that went on behind the scenes. “The only way I know to get a good show is to practice, sweat, rehearse and worry,” Fred once said. Anything less than perfect just wasn’t…

Policemen entered the modest San Diego house one late spring day in 1967 and cautiously made their way from room to room. Minutes earlier, they’d received a distraught telephone call from a woman stating her daughter had collapsed. When they reached the bathroom, the officers found Mabel Redfield lying on the floor, holding her daughter’s lifeless body in her arms. Barbara Lee Redfield, better known to some as former movie star Barbara Payton, had died from heart and liver failure. She was only 39, but years of hard living and working as a prostitute had physically destroyed her body – she was grossly overweight, her skin had a red and blotchy complexion, and most of her teeth were missing. She was so unrecognisable that it took the police two days…

Irving Thalberg, MGM’s head of production and one of Hollywood’s most powerful men, had a problem. It had been three years since Warner Bros had released the first “talkie”, the 1927 musical The Jazz Singer. Sure, audiences still flocked to silent films, but the writing was on the wall: the future had a soundtrack. To date, the road to this new celluloid world was littered with casualties and Irving had watched helplessly as some of MGMs biggest stars sank like stones. Vilma Banky was gorgeous but had an incomprehensible Hungarian accent. Mae Murray squeaked like a mouse, and Norma Talmadge had a Brooklyn twang so broad audiences roared with laughter whenever she opened her mouth. And so, MGM had held off putting their most bankable star, Greta Garbo, in a…

His father was an aristocrat, while his mother’s side of the family included several generations of artists. Hubert de Givenchy was descended from set designers for both the Paris Opera and the Élysée Palace. His grandfather, Jules Badin, was an artist who was trained by the painter Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot and eventually became the manager of the prestigious Gobelins and Beauvais tapestry manufacturers. When Givenchy was a small child, the death of his father from influenza tipped the balance towards an artistic upbringing. The young Hubert was raised by his mother, Beatrice, known as “Sissie”, and his maternal grandmother. He was immersed in a bohemian environment, where creativity was highly valued, and his interests flourished. The feminine influence of his caretakers may have been instrumental to his future success. Givenchy’s grandfather…

Viva Maria! (1965) United Artists closed the set to photographers and gave exclusive access to Douglas Kirkland. His images from the set of the film show Bardot preparing for takes, adjusting her costume and waiting for the call of “Action”. But perhaps his most famous images from the shoot were taken away from the set in the form of a portrait of Bardot playing the card game, Solitaire. It’s a selection of images that conjure Bardot’s eroticism and sexuality. Her presence on screen and in print challenged long-established, censorious attitudes to depictions of sexuality, and Kirkland’s images are vital to this quality of Bardot’s that saw her impact reach far beyond the movies. The Legend of Frenchie King (1971) “I thought if I could get a close-up of the moment…

“I always feel a rise in my scalp or in the backs of my wrists when something is special, whether it be a song or a man.”– Doris Day…

Wild at heart The original swashbuckler, Errol wasn’t just impersonating the adventurers, lovers, and men of the sea he portrayed on screen. In real life, the star of 1935’s Captain Blood, born in Tasmania in 1909, worked as a farmhand, boat captain, fisherman and gold prospector. In the 1940s Errol bought and managed a coconut plantation in Jamaica. He was discovered by Australian director Charles Chauvel operating a charter boat on the Great Barrier Reef. Impressed by his flashy young boat captain, Charles cast Errol as Fletcher Christian in 1933’s In the Wake of the Bounty. Having caught the acting bug, Errol was signed to Warner Bros soon after. A global star Incredibly handsome and athletic, it’s no surprise that Errol would find his niche in the swashbuckling epics popular…

Ginger Rogers tossed the book into the back seat of the Lincoln. “It’ll never get past the censors,” she fumed as she sped through the Hollywood Hills with her fiancé, Howard Hughes. It was the late 1930s and Ginger was at the height of her fame, riding high as RKO’s biggest female star. The frothy dance musicals she’d made with Fred Astaire had kept the studio afloat during the Depression, but Ginger was desperate to break free from her typecasting. She’d begged RKO producer David Hempstead for something meatier to show off her acting chops, and he’d sent her Kitty Foyle, a novel the studio was considering. “It’s perfect for you, Ginger,” David had gushed. But Ginger wasn’t impressed. A devout Christian Scientist, she found the references to abortion…

They didn’t know what to make of the young orphan’s name. Gelbfisz. Unspellable, unpronounceable, and definitely not British. And so, the 16-year-old entered England with a new name, Samuel Goldfish. Years later, settled in America, he’d change his name again. To Samuel Goldwyn. It’s a name instantly recognisable, as famous as the films he produced, from Wuthering Heights (1939) to Guys and Dolls (1955). Samuel Goldwyn, who had a tyrannical rule over his productions, was a legendary Hollywood titan who left an enduring legacy. But the man who would establish the blueprint for an independent movie producer didn’t start his life in privilege. He was born to Jewish parents in Warsaw, Poland in 1879, the first of six children. (Even his birth date was later reinvented – Samuel swore through…