I never thought about her as anything but a star, in the truest sense of the word. In fact, she managed to maintain her star status for seven decades, which says a lot, since audiences tend to forget famous, pseudo-famous, and infamous people quickly. She was a woman who was identified with Hollywood’s “golden age,” yet worked steadily literally to the end.
Perhaps in terms of initial fame, Gabler’s statement is true. When she hit the scene, she was unlike anything anyone had yet seen on the screen. Sleek, silky, and sexy, she was perfect for a genre of melodrama that later gained respectability as ‘film noir.’ She had the right look and the right tone for stories of intrigue in shimmering black and white.
But even after the film noir style faded in the 1950s, Bacall had moved on to other things. She showed a wry humor in a couple comedies in the '50s, which she had never been called upon to do in the previous decade. She also tried out other genres, including adventure, psychological drama, pure soap opera, and even a western. Meanwhile, she made some notable television appearances, including an adaptation of Noel Coward's "Blithe Spirit"—co-starring with Coward himself—and reuniting with Bogart in “The Petrified Forest,” an adaptation of the play—and subsequent movie—that made him famous 20 years earlier. Interestingly, Bacall’s role was originally played by her film idol, Bette Davis.
The lady did it all, and she did it with a lack of pretense. Let’s take a look at some essential titles that encompass classic Bacall during her heyday:
When she hit the scene, Bacall didn’t have much acting experience. She had been a model, and her brand of sultry sexiness was new. Maybe it was the eyes, the tilt of her head, the shoulder-length hair, or the way she held her body; but it was nothing that had been seen up to that point. Looking at her still images now, there is an undeniable dynamism; the images seem to move. Film stardom in a certain kind of black-and-white cinema seemed to be her destiny.
“To Have and Have Not” (1944)
This was Bacall’s first film, and it made an indelible impression. A story of wartime intrigue, it capitalized on Bogart’s image as the ambivalent hero, which he created in “Casablanca.” This time, the story is set in Martinique, with Bogart as Harry Morgan, an expatriate American who agrees to help transport a Free French Resistance leader and his wife. But the story is mere backdrop to the fireworks set off between Bogart and Bacall, as 'Slim' Browning, an itinerant lounge singer. The atmosphere is classic ‘40s Warner Bros., all dark shadows and stark light, with rich detail and set pieces. Bacall has some electric moments with Bogart, and even sings one song. Justin Timberlake sang about bringing sexy back, but watching her in this movie, you may think it never left.
“The Big Sleep” (1946)Although confusing as heck, “The Big Sleep” contains all of the visual and tonal tropes we have come to expect from film noir. You’ve got the hardened gumshoe Philip Marlowe (Bogart again) getting caught up in a convoluted story involving a wealthy family with secrets, including the eldest daughter, the mysterious Vivian Rutledge (Bacall). There are various characters, none of whom can be trusted; and story angles that lead to dead ends while opening yet another door. Above all, “The Big Sleep” is about the atmosphere and the dialogue; the most entertaining bits are between Bogart and Bacall, of course. She is sultry and funny, and never sexier or more glamorous than she is here. Worth noting: '50s star Dorothy Malone has a small role as a bookshop clerk in a single scene opposite Bogart. She would pop back into Bacall's filmic periphery ten years later. Read on.
“Dark Passage” (1947)
It’s Bacall with Bogart again, in another black-and-white noir, this time with a twist: Bogart is Vincent Parry, an escaped convict who has plastic surgery to change his appearance; the first 20 minutes or so of the film are told entirely from his point of view, so we don’t see him as Bogart until his “new” face is revealed. To hide from the police, he is taken in by Irene Jansen (Bacall), an artist with a fabulous modern apartment. (I had to point that out.) She willingly conceals him from everyone, including the police and a nosey society friend played by Agnes Moorehead, who is marvelously monstrous. (She has the best exit scene ever. Must see.) This revenge tale is exciting and features some neat on-location San Francisco photography. Bacall is a softer version of herself in “To Have and Have Not” and “The Big Sleep,” but she comes off as sharp, smart, and sympathetic here. For film noir fans, this is essential viewing.
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| Just like Bogie and Bacall |
In this final teaming of Bogart and Bacall, the setting changes from exotic or urban to the Florida keys. Here, the war-weary Frank McCloud (Bogart) visits a hotel on Key Largo to honor a friend who died during the war. He meets the friend’s widow, Nora Temple (Bacall) and her father (Lionel Barrymore). As a hurricane whips up, the three find themselves prisoner of a notorious gangster (Edward G. Robinson) and his drunken, pathetic moll (Claire Trevor). The story involves Bogart’s increasing resolve to take action despite his revulsion toward violence after everything he lived through—and lost—during the war. There is an exciting climax, and the undeniable chemistry between Bogart and Bacall that have made each of their films together classics. It may be this, their final film, that cemented their legend. (Remember that pop song in the '80s? "Sailin' away to Key Largo...")
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| One of my favorite pics. |
By the time the '40s ended, Bacall was already backsliding a bit, making way for a different kind of female movie star. While she was still relevant, the new decade would be dominated by sexy broads like Marilyn Monroe; squeaky-clean girls next door like Doris Day or June Allyson (all of whom would eventually be her co-stars); elegant ice queens like Grace Kelly or Deborah Kerr; and impish gamines like Audrey Hepburn or Leslie Caron. By contrast, Bacall’s image during this decade had a crisp, down-to-earth edge. She adapted herself to fit the post-war world.
“Young Man with a Horn” (1950)
In this serious drama, Bacall was second-billed after Kirk Douglas, but the real female star was third-billed Doris Day, who had made only a couple of musical comedies up to this point. The movie documents the rise and fall of brash trumpeter Rick Martin (Douglas). Bacall’s Amy North is the rich girl who causes him trouble, paving the way for Jo Jordan (Day) to save him from alcoholism and self-destruction. The film is often cited for an early portrayal of lesbianism, which is implied between Amy and another young woman. It sure does tick off Rick in one confrontation scene, although it’s tame by today’s standards. This is a transitional film for Bacall, as she's moving out of noir films and into a new decade. She was no longer the sultry heroine, and she had to find new ground.
“How to Marry a Millionaire” (1953)
This time around, Bacall is part of a triumvirate of filmic females, and she is sort of sandwiched between co-stars Marilyn Monroe (then a rising star) and Betty Grable (then a descending star). They represent three types of '50s femininity: There’s earthy, flirty Loco Dempsey (Grable); sexy but dingy Pola Debevoise (Monroe); and no-nonsense, practical Schatze Page (Bacall). It's a fun, bright Technicolor comedy rooted in its time, but still hugely entertaining because it's so well-crafted and written, about three models in New York City who are trying to snare a millionaire husband. Bacall has some of the best lines. To whit:
Loco: "I wouldn't mind marrying a Vanderbilt."
Pola: "Or Mr. Cadillac."
Schatze: "No such person. I checked."
Also: “I've always liked older men... Look at that old fellow, what's-his-name, in ‘The African Queen.’ Absolutely crazy about him." (In this little Hollywood in-joke, she's referring to husband Bogart.)
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| Looked good in slacks |
Bacall had her greatest successes in the 1950s when she was part of an ensemble, and in “Written on the Wind,” she’s part of a good one. This is a big-budget Douglas Sirk production, which promises high drama and a glossy Technicolor sheen. Spoiled oil heir Kyle Hadley (Robert Stack) marries Lucy Moore (Bacall), who is secretly loved by Kyle’s best friend Mitch Wayne (Rock Hudson). The Hadleys are a troubled bunch, as Kyle is an alcoholic, and his volatile sister Marylee (Dorothy Malone) is a nymphomaniac who’s got her addled eyes on Mitch. Yes, this is pure soap opera, but it’s almost operatic in its crescendos and climax. Bacall’s characterization is suitably muted, although she was never given to overdone histrionics. The showiest part belongs to Malone, whom I mentioned had a small part as a nameless bookstore clerk in the “The Big Sleep” ten years before. (By the 1950s, Malone was a top-tier star in the brittle blonde mode, somewhere between M. Monroe and Grace Kelly.)
“Designing Woman” (1957)
This was the first film Bacall made after Bogart’s death from cancer. Perhaps she chose a chic comedy as a way to distract herself. It’s typical battle-of-the-sexes in the Hepburn-Tracy mold (she and Hepburn were bosom pals). Mike Hagen (Gregory Peck) is a sports writer and Marilla Brown (Bacall) is a fashion designer. True to comic form, their styles clash. The storyline has Mike trying to prove that a mobster is fixing boxing matches, which causes some complications with Marilla. The film is enjoyable, but I never thought Peck was very good at comedy. He tries his best, but he is a little stiff. (I would have loved to have seen Cary Grant in this role.) Bacall, by contrast, is marvelously loose and alive. It’s this film that seems to have solidified her enduring persona as a chic, sophisticated woman of the world who not only dressed well, but was also smart, funny, and wise. “Designing Woman” was directed by the great Vincente Minnelli (Liza’s papa) and co-stars the furiously funny Dolores Gray, so you really can’t go wrong.
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| Looking fresh. |
It's worth noting that she was married to Bogart for only 13 years; but her career didn't stop when he died. In fact, her richest work was to come, and she continued at it for another six decades. Over the last 25 years alone, Bacall did more than most actresses of her generation: Voiceover work in cartoons (Scooby Doo, Madeleine, Family Guy); a small role in a Stephen King adaptation (“Misery”); playing Barbra Streisand’s mother, which won her an Oscar (“The Mirror Has Two Faces”); co-starring in two weird, arty Lars von Trier films (“Dogville” and “Manderlay”); lending her presence to many (often inferior) pictures... and who can forget those Fancy Feast commercials? All the while she preserved the Bogart memory, and may be largely responsible for ensuring his important, iconic status over the last 50+ years.
Lauren Bacall has been an enduring presence all these years and has always stood for something worth admiring: Strength of character, integrity, a no-nonsense approach to life. She was a dame with class and dignity, a gritty and glamorous personality who commanded attention. She never disappeared, until she finally did—after living a long and damn useful life.
The writer I cited earlier in this post contended that, “In the end, she was a glamorous figure from another, darker era…and the wife of Humphrey Bogart.” I contend that she must have struggled with loving and keeping alive Bogart's memory, yet trying since his death to come out from his shadow to establish herself without him. I’d say that, in the end, she did just fine.
Here's a neat little tribute via Turner Classic Movies.
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