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| Douglas had an unrelenting stare. |
Today is the 100th birthday of Kirk Douglas, and I wanted to recognize this living link to the film industry, both past and present, who can best be described as a transitional film figure.
He got his first film role in 1946, the year after the end of a cataclysmic world war. He had no connection with the Hollywood of the pre-war years, so he brought no baggage. His was a gritty new style that fit a jaded America. And yet he possessed the magnetism required of a Movie Star.
He got his first film role in 1946, the year after the end of a cataclysmic world war. He had no connection with the Hollywood of the pre-war years, so he brought no baggage. His was a gritty new style that fit a jaded America. And yet he possessed the magnetism required of a Movie Star.
During the 1940s, he was well-suited
to the ambivalent black-and-white world of film noir—a distinctly post-war genre—and he starred in one of the best
of the form, “Out of the Past,” in 1947. But he would never be pigeon-holed as a certain character type.
The same year as "Out of the Past," he got a change of pace in an ambitious adaptation of Eugene O’Neil’s play “Mourning Becomes Electra.” This smaller role was an early indication that he was willing to do unusual parts in non-commercial fare. Just a year later, he joined an ensemble cast in the brilliant (and very commercial) film "A Letter to Three Wives," as the intellectual, comically cynical husband of one of the three wives.
But his career really took off with his most powerful portrayal to date, as a ruthless boxer in 1949’s “Champion.”
With that film, Douglas's career went into high gear, and he became one of the biggest stars of the 1950s and early '60s. At the same time, Hollywood was struggling to compete with the new medium of television and declining revenue. The studios started relying on new and exciting personalities like Douglas to bring in audiences. Douglas's big persona fit well with the wide-screen, Technicolor spectacles the studio put their money in.
But Douglas never wanted to be identified with any particular studio or film genre, and he happily juggled both commercial and artistic material, some of which may have been unattractive to many of his contemporaries. Throughout the 1950s, in between some pretty good westerns and several bad historical epics, so-so romances, and forgettable comedies, Douglas made a number of films of real artistic note.
The same year as "Out of the Past," he got a change of pace in an ambitious adaptation of Eugene O’Neil’s play “Mourning Becomes Electra.” This smaller role was an early indication that he was willing to do unusual parts in non-commercial fare. Just a year later, he joined an ensemble cast in the brilliant (and very commercial) film "A Letter to Three Wives," as the intellectual, comically cynical husband of one of the three wives.
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| But he could smile too. |
But his career really took off with his most powerful portrayal to date, as a ruthless boxer in 1949’s “Champion.”
With that film, Douglas's career went into high gear, and he became one of the biggest stars of the 1950s and early '60s. At the same time, Hollywood was struggling to compete with the new medium of television and declining revenue. The studios started relying on new and exciting personalities like Douglas to bring in audiences. Douglas's big persona fit well with the wide-screen, Technicolor spectacles the studio put their money in.
But Douglas never wanted to be identified with any particular studio or film genre, and he happily juggled both commercial and artistic material, some of which may have been unattractive to many of his contemporaries. Throughout the 1950s, in between some pretty good westerns and several bad historical epics, so-so romances, and forgettable comedies, Douglas made a number of films of real artistic note.
In 1953, he starred in “The
Juggler,” one of the first films to deal with the Holocaust. He brought to the screen the life of Vincent van Gogh (another intense artist) in 1956’s “Lust
for Life.” A year later, he starred in Stanley Kubrick’s anti-war film “Paths of
Glory,” and started a new decade with Kubrick’s “Spartacus” in 1960, perhaps
his most famous role.
Throughout the 1950s, he also helped bring to life adaptations of modern and classic literature, works by Homer and Jules Verne, George Bernard Shaw and Tennessee Williams. (In fact, he co-starred as the Gentleman Caller in the first film adaptation of a Williams play, "The Glass Menagerie," in 1950.)
Oddly, Douglas is not well remembered for any particular pairing with a female co-star, although he appeared with everyone from Lana Turner to Lauren Bacall, Doris Day to Susan Hayward, Kim Novak to Farrah Fawcett. It's his big, rugged portrayals in dramatic, often outdoor, settings that stand out: adventure epics, war films, and especially the westerns.
In those films, he often shared billing with other men. It was the conflict between them that gave Douglas a platform to give intense, often raging, portrayals. With Kirk Douglas, there was always explosiveness simmering beneath the surface. And when it exploded, it was memorable. Although some of his films are black and white, his characterizations never were. In his best work, he was both protagonist and antagonist.
As with many stars of his generation, Douglas struggled for relevance in the 1970s, although he made a few good, if underrated, films in that decade. (He even directed two: a bad one in '73, a good one in '74.) In subsequent decades, he moved into occasional character parts.
Sometimes Douglas's intensity seemed almost too big for the screen. With the trademark clenched teeth, the chiseled looks, and that distinctive dimple, he could veer into self-parody.
But whether his films—and the performances he gave—were good or great, okay or lousy, you can look at his career as a reflection of the cultural, attitudinal, moral, and even political changes of the last half of the twentieth century.
Nominated three times for Best Actor but never a winner, Douglas's long dedication to the craft of acting, and to the magic of the movies, makes him a living artist to honor.
Directed by the Best:
Over nearly 20 years, Douglas worked with some of the biggest directors of the era, in some of their—and his—best, or at least most challenging, work:
As with many stars of his generation, Douglas struggled for relevance in the 1970s, although he made a few good, if underrated, films in that decade. (He even directed two: a bad one in '73, a good one in '74.) In subsequent decades, he moved into occasional character parts.
Sometimes Douglas's intensity seemed almost too big for the screen. With the trademark clenched teeth, the chiseled looks, and that distinctive dimple, he could veer into self-parody.
But whether his films—and the performances he gave—were good or great, okay or lousy, you can look at his career as a reflection of the cultural, attitudinal, moral, and even political changes of the last half of the twentieth century.
Nominated three times for Best Actor but never a winner, Douglas's long dedication to the craft of acting, and to the magic of the movies, makes him a living artist to honor.
Directed by the Best:
Over nearly 20 years, Douglas worked with some of the biggest directors of the era, in some of their—and his—best, or at least most challenging, work:
- Joseph L. Mankiewicz - "A Letter to Three Wives" (1948) and "There Was a Crooked Man..." (1970)
- Billy Wilder - "Ace in the Hole" (1951)
- William Wyler - "Detective Story" (1951)
- Vincente Minnelli - "The Bad and the Beautiful" (1952) and "Lust for Life" (1956)
- John Sturges - "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral" (1957)
- John Huston - "The List of Adrian Messenger" (1963)
- John Frankenheimer - "Seven Days in May" (1964)
- Otto Preminger - "In Harm's Way" (1965)
- Elia Kazan - "The Arrangement" (1969)
