Thursday, April 28, 2011

Quote of the Day (John Wayne, on Ann-Margret)

“When I die, I want Ann-Margret to dance on my coffin. If you don't see me in five minutes, you'll know I'm dead for sure."—John Wayne, three weeks before his death, on former co-star Ann-Margret, quoted in Paul Rosenfield, “Ann-Margret A-Go-Go,” Vanity Fair, October 1991


In his characteristically gruff (if, in this case, ghoulish) way, The Duke voiced what many American males felt about Ann-Margret in her heyday in the 1960s and 1970s. Not surprising in Rosenfield’s article from nearly 20 years ago is one anonymous actress’ contention (denied by A-M) that she was the only woman to have slept with Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra and JFK. That has to be some kind of trifecta...


(Do you really need to be told that she’s with The King of Rock ‘n’ Roll in the image accompanying this post, from Viva Las Vegas? This YouTube clip makes us sorry not only that Elvis never had another female co-star to match his charisma onscreen--one reason why his films made a ton of money but little lasting impression--but that the two never made another film together.)


It comes as a shock, then, to realize that the former “Kitten With a Whip” (a title in her own series of mostly forgettable ‘60s films) turns 70 years old today.


But it’s equally a surprise to recall that she first burst upon the nation’s consciousness 50 years ago with an attention-getting performance at the Oscars and a supporting role as Bette Davis‘ innocent daughter in Frank Capra’s last film, Pocketful of Miracles…or that it was 40 years ago that she finally began to earn recognition as an actress, in Carnal Knowledge…or that I was in high school when she scored another Oscar nomination in Tommy.


Many people would be astonished to find out that this woman with the over-the-top screen persona is, in private life, a homebody, or that she’s so sensitive that her co-workers have always been deeply protective of her. (She, in turn, returns that loyalty, as seen in this portion of a 1994 interview by Charlie Rose in which she refuses to say anything that might detract from the memory of Elvis.)

That sensitivity informs what I think of as her best, and bravest, performance: her 1984 TV appearance as Blanche DuBois in Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire. In this scene, she invests Blanche with emotional fragility over the loss of would-be savior Mitch--and the realization of her fading looks--along with mounting terror over menacing in-law Stanley.

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