A site designed for all of the wonderful people out there in the dark and dedicated to the unabashed passion for silents, early talkies, all stars and all films.
This is my entry in the Miriam Hopkins Blogathon, hosted by Silver Screenings and a Small Press Life. Click HERE to read more, more, more about the saucy Miss Miriam.
Miriam as Julia Hurstwood: she's not taking a philandering husband laying down
Your suave and elegant husband leaves you for a younger woman and takes the money, too. What is a woman to do? Cry or put on her big girl panties and set forth like a steamship on the ocean crushing everything in its wake? If you are Miriam Hopkins as Julia Hurstwood in 1952’s “Carrie,” it is the latter. Oh, and add some jewels and choice words for the husband and the chippie, too.
The men in Carrie's life: there really is no competition
See this film if you can for one of Laurence Olivier’s greatest, most romantic screen performances. Based on Theodore Dreiser’s novel, “Sister Carrie”, published in 1900, William Wyler’s film version, “Carrie,” tells the story of a dumb, young lovely (Jennifer Jones) who leaves the farm for the big city (Chicago) to live with her sister. Sis lives in a cramped apartment with her husband and children and makes it clear to Carrie that she needs to get off her pretty little behind and earn her keep. Carrie soon decides factory work is not for her and allows herself to be picked up by flirty traveling salesman, Charles Drouet (played with oily charm by Eddie Albert). The next thing you know they are playing house and Carrie has new duds and a kitten. Charlie is often gone, so Carrie has lots of time on her hands. She takes an interest in amateur theatre and George Hurstwood (Laurence Olivier), the manager of an upscale watering hole.
Carrie loves the lifestyle George gives her - at first
George is everything Charlie is not: he is refined and cultured. Unfortunately, he is also married. And not just a little married, but a lot married – to the formidable Julia Hurstwood. She is presented as such a bitch that you really do feel sorry for George. Sorry enough to forgive him stealing money, lying to Carrie to whisk her away to New York, marrying her while still married to Julia, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
George tries to hang on to Carrie, but he knows his star is falling and hers is rising
Olivier is the whole show
here. His descent into homeless despair while Carrie's star rises is
heartbreaking. He risked all for love and ended up empty-handed. Carrie feels
remorse, but loves the materialism of the new century. In that, she is not
unlike Julia Hurstwood. I'll bet Julia was not such a bitch so very long ago,
but when George tells her he means to have some happiness she says no
- not if it hurts her. Sir Larry is at his best, but Miriam is
not to be overshadowed. When she steams into New York to find George and Carrie
living together she looks her younger rival up and down and drawls, ice cubes
laced with molasses, "I thought you'd be prettier." Well, she kept
the money and got rid of the future bum. Good going, Julia. Like they say, if
she were a man she'd be ruthless and strong, but as a woman, she's just a bitch.
All for love: his old life is gone and so is Carrie
Check out Julia giving George what for:
I also found this very touching video someone made about George and Carrie's romance.
This is the second in the "Bitches and Blaggards" series; monthly posts devoted to my favorite movie bad girls and rogues. A bitch is a selfish, malicious woman. A blaggard is a villain, a rogue and a black-hearted man. Both are bad, both are devastatingly alluring.
Miriam Hopkins
The reaction to Miriam Hopkins is usually one of you either love her or hate her - no in-betweens. Regardless of your feeling for her, it's hard not to admire the elevated level of bitchiness to which Miriam could rise in some of her portrayals. Even when she wasn't quite a bitch, she sure seemed like one.
Miriam's bitch-career falls into two distinct periods - pre and post "code." The pre-code Miriam was often a saucy minx; a morally questionable cutie with spice and zest. Post-code Miriam had the minx sucked out of her. Apparently, a minx without sauce equals a bitch.
I would never classify Bette Davis as an all-out bitch. Although she played some very nasty ladies, with a few exceptions Bette always had the sympathy of the audience. Miriam, whose delivery was compared to "cracked ice" by film historian David Shipman, rarely played for sympathy. Like all good bitches, she was completely self-sufficient and focused on the mission at hand. Her pre-code Becky Sharp, Lilly of Trouble in Paradise and Gilda of Design for Living, while not full-fledged bitches, are not burdened by any doubt whatsoever. They know who they are, make a play for what they want, are awfully cute doing it, and, win or lose, move forward. A favorite of Ernst Lubitsch, Miriam was given some very choice roles in the early 1930s.
Post-code Miriam's bitch persona blossomed. And, just in case there was any doubt, she was actually dubbed a bitch by Bette Davis, who famously feuded with Miriam in 2 of her best films.
The Old Maid (1939)
In Miriam's first film with Bette Davis, she scores points for bitchiness as the spiteful Delia who wrecks Charlotte's (Bette Davis) chance for respectability and tries to steal her daughter's love, to boot. All's well that ends well, but the two divas antics off screen became legend. Bette resented Miriam's shameless scene-stealing and Miriam was convinced that Bette had an affair with her husband, Anatole Litvak. While Delia ultimately does the right thing and reunites mother and daughter, Miriam's bitchiness in 95% of the film is the real treat.
Old Acquaintance (1943)
As the jealous, trashy novelist to Bette's refined and elevated (but unsuccessful) author, Miriam is a dream (or nightmare, depending on how you look at it!). Her Millie is a scheming, devious bitch. But, while not quite BFFs, she and Bette eventually reconcile while the claws are just barely concealed. You just want to slap her - and when long-suffering Bette shakes Miss Miriam within an inch of her life - well, you just know how she feels! Another great later bitch role for Miriam was Julia Hurstwood in 1952's Carrie. As the rejected wife of Olivier's Hurstwood, she refuses him the divorce he so desperately wants in order for him to act out his autumnal passion for the much younger Carrie. But really, why should Julia give up her social status just because her husband was having a mid-life crisis? Sometimes, a bitch has gotta do what a bitch has gotta do!
Warren William
Unlike Miriam Hopkins, Warren William's best blaggard-roles were pre-code. Prior to 1934, William was a rogue, a scoundrel, and an unscrupulous wolf. After the imposition of the code, he lost most of his mojo and became an honest and, ultimately less interesting, fellow.
An imposing presence who resembled John Barrymore's slightly sinister brother, Warren William sometimes was called upon to play the good guy, but he was oh-so-much more fun as the embodiment of depression-era urban corruption. William's pre-code career is filled with nasty blaggards. Two of his best were The Mouthpiece and Employees Entrance.
The Mouthpiece (1932)
As corrupt city-slicker attorney Vince Day, William is in full blaggard bloom beating the system, living it up, making the innocent pay while the guilty go free. While cheating an equally dishonest man, William's Day is told "You're an unmitigated scoundrel," to which he replies, "Thank you, but I find it much nicer than being just an ordinary one."
As the successful mouthpiece for underworld criminals, Day lives it up with booze and broads.
Alas, the nice girl he is trying his best to seduce rejects him. Why do these scoundrels always fall for the virtuous girls? The story has him going straight (eventually), but he really was much more fun before being stupidly stung by Cupid's arrow.
Employees' Entrance (1933)
William at his blaggard best! As the soulless Kurt Anderson, he is the department store magnate from hell, a shameless seducer of women, abuser of employees and all-around creep. This film is pre-code at its most bitter and cynical. Poor little Loretta Young, down and out in the Great Depression, sleeps with Anderson to get and keep her job. Alice White frankly acknowledges her employment position as one of the horizontal nature - being the company on-call girl for entertainment purposes only. They are a sleazy, breezy bunch, and William is the king of the urban jungle.
After the enforcement of the Production Code, William kept busy, but he was never again quite as thrilling as he was in the heyday of the nasty man. For more information about the wonderful Warren William check out www.warrenwilliam.com.
