Tag: Hollywood

Your Cruelly, Elvira: Memoirs of the Mistress of the Dark

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

So I’m putting away my library books and while the spouse putters around drinking an iced coffee.

“Boobs!”

“What?”

“Boobs!” the spouse repeats, gesturing at a book with his iced coffee.

And I give a deep sigh, the sort of deep sigh that goes straight down to your toes because if you’re a publisher with a memoir of Cassandra “Elvira” Peterson of course the cover is going to be stark black with an expanse of creamy white cleavage so deep the Mariana Trench looks like a shallow puddle. I’m in possession of a generous bosom myself but honestly feel flat chested compared to Ms. Peterson. However, this is not a review of Cassandra Peterson’s impressive physique but her brand spanking new memoir, Yours Cruelly, Elvira: Memoirs of the Mistress of the Dark.

I’m of several minds about Yours Cruelly, Elvira: Memoirs of the Mistress of the Dark. It’s such a slender volume for someone who has lived her Most Interesting Life. The greedy part of me wants more details about events but the reasonable part of me says that is rude and Cassandra Peterson can share exactly what and how much she wants about her life. She could have easily hidden many painful and surprising things and just presented the best bits of her journey. How many people who aren’t huge fans even know she has a child? She does and protects that child’s right for privacy and not to be thrust into a spotlight they might not want. I respect the hell out of her for that.

A caveat, Yours Cruelly, Elvira: Memoirs of the Mistress of the Dark is not focused solely on the Elvira character. Sure, there is the creation of Elvira and of course the Elvira vs Vampira lawsuit plus some behind the scenes details of the TV show and movies. And boy does Cassandra Peterson have rotten luck when it comes to really getting full credit or value from her creation. Granted Elvira isn’t the most original character concept, anyone can inch into a plunging cut to Nebraska gown and rock a big flowing black wig a la the Charles Addams cartoon character but Cassandra Peterson gave her the twists and quirks that made her stand out from the pack.

But ultimately Yours Cruelly, Elvira: Memoirs of the Mistress of the Dark is the story of survival. It doesn’t matter if survival is a literally life changing accident, an abusive loved ones, the Hollywood grinder or being able to do what you love and receive love. And that is impressive.

Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It

~ Wendy-Marie ~ 1 Comment

I’m at the library, doing the half bent over but not too far bent over crouch to scan the New Non-Fiction section. I’m also in grave danger of my right arm being yanked out of the socket from a heavy library bag and somehow my wig is slightly askew from trying to fix my mask elastics caught in my glasses. My usual hot mess express self.

Then I spot a book with a L’Oreal Matte Me in Paris colored spine with big bold yet clean white letters JAYNE MANSFIELD with Eve Golden in smaller black letters. And I went from crouched beast to lunge mode because BOOK MINE NOW.

Now the average person might not know who Jayne Mansfield is. You need to be a Baby Boomer or older, a fan of the camp, 1950s/1960s Hollywood or have heard the Siouxsie and the Banshees song “Kiss Them For Me” to recognize who Jayne Mansfield is.

<insert the spouse prying himself long enough from YouTube to proclaim Superstition the worst Siouxsie and the Banshees album ever-ignore him>

Jayne Mansfield was many things in her short life-mother, actress, model, beauty queen, scandalous, wild, parodied and laughed at but she was never boring. Finding a balanced measured account of her life can be difficult because so much of her life was lived in front of cameras it’s easy to see her as just a cartoon oversized figure, the Dollar Tree/Dollar General Marilyn Monroe all white-blond hair and heaving bosoms at her tacky Pink Palace.

 It takes a special author to live up to that task and in thirty plus years of reading about Hollywood and film stars the only solid book about Jayne Mansfield was Martha Saxton’s 1975 Jayne Mansfield and the American Fifties a slender volume that is sadly out of print. If you find it? Sure, buy it, my own copy has gone astray over the years and if I stumbled across it during my adventures, it’s coming home with me.

But if your library has Eve Golden’s Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It or you have a spare $34.95? Give Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It a chance. Eve Golden wrote the definitive biography of Silent Hollywood legend Theda Bara and a very fine biography of Jean Harlow so she is no stranger to being able to dig past the crazy rumors/legends and give you a look at the actual person behind the hair and makeup. Behind all that bleached hair and extreme clothing is pain and frustration along with ambition.

Now some biographers would have made an enormous focal point of a particular rumor surrounding the paternity for one of her children but Eve Golden doesn’t sink to that level. The rumor is addressed and frankly whatever the biological truth, that child has lived a life well loved and accepted.

Eve Golden doesn’t sink to that level could just be applied to the final quarter of the book. Let’s face it. If you know who Jayne Mansfield it’s pretty much because of her tragic death. It’s certainly not her acting. And because other authors <insert majorly raised heavily penciled eyebrows at a certain Kenneth Anger> sank to those levels and beyond.

Jayne Mansfield wasn’t the finest actress to ever grace the silver screen. But she was hard working and stuck to her goals even if the world was laughing at her versus with her. She was both slightly out of date even at the height of her fame and ahead of her time. And thanks to Eve Golden and Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It she is more than just a bunch of publicity photos and press clippings.

A Life of Barbara Stanwyck Steel-True

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

Ever since I was old enough to check out books from the adult part of the library, I’ve read towering stacks of movie star biographies. Some are as told you autobiographies that for all they reveal about the star might as well be turned into those book crafts I see on Buzzfeed every so often. You might as well read their Wikipedia page. Other movie star biographies are either so poorly written either to paint their subject as a saint or sinner of all sinners that well, you read them to the end but feel like you’ve just eaten a box of Twinkies for dinner and hate yourself for reading the darn book. (I’m looking at you Forever Young : The Life, Loves, and Enduring Faith of a Hollywood Legend ; The Authorized Biography of Loretta Young.)

And is Victoria Wilson’s A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel-True 1907-1940. Stunning, brilliant, epic and don’t drop this bad boy on your foot come to mind. It’s almost 1000 pages including notes and indexes. We are talking Tom Clancy/Stephen King doorstop size. And it’s just the first volume of a full scale biography. And let’s not forget Miss Barbara Stanwyck worked all the time. Work was like books, essential as breathing. Trust me, if you’re looking for a quick read that has S-E-X and scandal on every single page? Please put down A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel-True 1907-1940 (gently because once again trust me, you don’t want to drop this and break a toe) and scamper off to find a Hollywood Babylon book.

It’s not easy to write a biography on a movie star like Barbara Stanwyck. The easy path for the Stanwyck biographer is to use the studo stories about the tough orphan from the streets and maybe her alleged loved of ladies angle. Luckily, Victoria Wilson does not go the easy route even though she could given her subject. Barbara Stanwyck is not your Marilyn Monroe or Joan Crawford with oceans of press stories and scandals to wade through. She was also not the most open or accessible person. I always got the feeling that if someone like Shelley Winters would open up with a drop of a hat in line at Dunkin Donuts while you waited for your Vanilla Bean Coolattas at the pickup counter and tell you everything you ever wanted to know right down to did they dress left or dress right. But Barbara Stanwyck would be a total clam even if you knew her for years and years. Maybe she might crack open a little bit if you caught her at the right time but you’d be better off buying a Powerball ticket during a $400+ million jackpot week.

And that feeling doesn’t seem to be far off because the Barbara Stanwyck Victoria Wilson uncovers is a woman who keeps to herself. The little girl born Ruby Stevens came from a good family on a downward slide and by the time she was a school aged had no proper home. The very young Ruby was placed with various families and her older siblings, a corner of a room here and there with magical times her favorite sister would swoop in and show her the theatrical world. Given all this turmoil and struggles to support herself once she was a teenager, is this any wonder the young Ruby developed a hard shell. And seriously, how could I not love an person who educated themselves and read so much bookstores would send them things automatically? A person who could read a book every night no matter how long she spent on set or toiling at her ranch.

One of the things you take away from A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel-True 1907-1940 is the iron control that propelled Barbara Stanwyck. Curse her for the way she could drop a friend so completely the hurt can still be felt on the page decades later. Curse her for not leaving Frank Fay sooner. Curse her for not being the mother her son Dion needed. But praise her for the willpower and control she exhibited. A woman who could force herself to work after being crushed by a horse? A woman who filmed some of her best early parts strapped and taped up, her face never betraying the extent of how battered her body was? An actress who cared more about the craft than what gown was being whipped up for her.

Barbara Stanwyck wasn’t perfect or a superwoman but she had layers and levels beyond the usual movie star of her times. That is a lady I want to read more about. And Victoria Wilson can not write the next volumes quick enough to satisfy me.