Shadow of a Doubt: Girl Power!

This is my entry in The Universal Pictures Blogathon hosted by Silver Scenes. Click HERE for more Universal entertainment!

The Sick Rose

O Rose thou art sick.

The invisible worm,

That flies in the night

In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy

 - William Blake

I've never viewed Alfred Hitchcock's 1943 "Shadow of a Doubt" as a case for feminism, but lately I'm beginning to wonder....

Like Blake's sick rose, "Shadow of a Doubt" presents us with a sick, creeping evil that lurks beneath something lovely. A lovely town (Santa Rosa, California), a lovely average family (the Newtons), a perfectly charming visiting relative (that would be Uncle Charlie). Nothing is as it seems or should be.

When we first meet her, Young Charlie (a perfectly cast Theresa Wright) is restless. Lying on her bed, she is critical of her small town life and her ordinary family. She longs for some excitement, something to "shake things up." On the other side of the country her Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten in an unforgettable performance) is also lying in bed. He, too, views his world with disdain, but he does not long for excitement. He longs to elude the police and live another day.

Young Charlie has a sixth sense when it comes to her Uncle. She rushes to send him a telegram, only to find out that he has already sent one to her telling her he is on his way. The Merry Widow Waltz is inside her head while her Uncle, The Merry Widow Murderer, smiles at her across the table. But she can't see the worm in the rose. Not yet.

The longer Uncle Charlie stays, the more he begins to wear his welcome out with almost everyone except his sweet and simple sister (who he accuses of being just a gullible woman when the police try to infiltrate the Newton home with a phony magazine article ruse). He behaves boorishly at Mr. Newton's bank and place of employment and spews his corrosive view of widows enjoying their lives with their dead husbands' money. When Young Charlie challenges him with the statement that they are still human beings, Uncle Charlie sneers "are they?" Big Charlie's only positive world views are expressed when he is looking backwards, to a time when everything was (or seemed) sweet and pretty. There is no place in that world for an independent woman, a woman with money or thoughts or a will of her own. 

Young Charlie, no matter what her fate, will not become her mother. She will not be a loving slave, even if she marries her policeman suitor. The young ladies of the Newton household will become the things that Uncle Charlie despises. Little  Ann clearly has a curious mind that will not be satisfied with dolls and dress-up. And Young Charlie, once the apple of her Uncle's eye, the recipient of his trophy and token of love (that telltale emerald ring), she is put in the precarious position of defending the veneer of the life she questions by combating the person she felt was her soulmate. She has seen the worm and life will never be simple again. Her innocence is gone, her intelligence is rewarded. Take your place in the world, Young Charlie. The price is high, but you will go far.

CMBA Blogathon: Buster Keaton's "Our Hospitality"

This is my entry in the Classic Movie Blog Association Planes, Trains and Automobile Blogathon. Click HERE to view more fabulous entries about our favorite modes of transportation in film.

Buster Keaton loved trains.  “The General,” one of his most famous films, is about a man’s love for his train; a love that transcends his love for (an admittedly dopey) woman. Keaton found ways to incorporate trains in short films, long films, early films and late films. One of my favorite sight gags of all time – from Keaton’s 1920 short “One Week” – involves a locomotive. Check it out if you’ve never seen it. It never gets old.

But by far my most favorite train in all of Keaton’s films is the recreation of Stephenson’s Rocket for his first feature length film, 1921’s “Our Hospitality.”

The real Rocket

Buster plays Willie McKay, a dandified youth living in pre-Civil War New York. Unbeknownst to Willie, his family, the McKays, were engaged in an epic family feud with the Canfields for decades down South. Willie’s mother, now deceased, wanted to raise her boy away from the feudin’ and fightin’ and moved up North without ever telling her boy that the Canfields were the McKay’s mortal enemies. Twenty years later we find Willie, a true innocent, living with his aunt in the big city.

Willie gets around New York City on his Gentleman's Hobby Horse

One day Willie gets a letter informing him that he is heir to his father’s estate. Willie dreams of a great Southern mansion and immediately prepares to head down South. His aunt tells him of the feud, but Willie is determined to collect his inheritance. His method of transportation will be the train. This train.

Keaton and his team built a replica of Stephenson’s Rocket and train becomes one of the film’s most endearing characters. Based on the time period, he said that had a choice between the Rocket and The DeWitt Clinton and chose the Rocket because it was funnier looking. It also had personality. It was genteel, it was homey, it constantly jumped the tracks and magnified every bump and dip in its path. It was a modern mode of transportation that retained the elegance of an earlier time. The New York to Appalachia trip is beautifully photographed. There is a loving, nostalgic quality to the journey, as seen in Willie’s little dog follows the train to be with his master.

On this charming, unique and faintly ridiculous train, Willie meets, Virginia, the lady of his dreams. Unfortunately, he doesn’t learn until much later that Virginia’s last name is Canfield. After a harrowing, bumpy, dirty, and wholly delightful train trip, Willie and Virginia are in love. Virginia, also innocent of Willie’s pedigree, invites him to dinner to meet her family… a family that consists of a father and 2 brothers who remain rabid for McKay blood.

Willie and Virginia: Strangers on a Train

Willie, of course, is oblivious at first as the brothers try to rub him out. But, they are inept and Willie is just plain lucky. After many hilarious attempts on his life that are thwarted by Willie’s clever escapes, the 2 families finally bury the hatchet (sort of) when Willie bravely rescues Virginia from a raging river. In one of Keaton’s greatest stunts, he clings to a tree branch as it sweeps across the river, managing to pluck the drowning Virginia out just as she was almost carried over a waterfall. Willie and Virginia marry and the brothers lay down their arms (but Buster has a few pistols concealed in his coat – just in case). Oh, and, of course, Willie's inheritance was a shack.

Willie must always keep one eye open when the Canfield Boys are around

“Our Hospitality” was a real Keaton family affair. In the prologue, Buster’s infant son, Buster, Jr., played Willie as a baby. Virginia was played by his wife, Natalie Talmadge. While Natalie as not a star like her sisters Norma and Constance, she is quite lovely here and very convincing. The Engineer, who had to put up with much harassment on his journey, was played by Buster’s father, Joe Keaton, and it is a treasure to see them perform together.

3 generations of Keatons: Buster, Jr., Buster and Joseph Keaton

As Stephenson’s rocket roams the American landscape, navigating tracks laid over logs, rocks and gullies, Keaton’s eye for beauty is on full display. The journey and the mode of transportation are one: modern with an appreciation of the past. Keaton loved the steam that takes us places, but also loves the beauty and serenity of all of the places on the way.

Hollywood's Hispanic Heritage Blogathon: John Sayles' LONE STAR

This is my entry in the Hollywood's Hispanic Heritage Blogathon, hosted by the lovey Aurora at Once Upon a Screen. Click HERE for mucho more!

I love this film. Everything about it feels authentic, everything from the town, the characters, the emotions and the secrets. It is my favorite John Sayles film, and that is saying a lot. Dealing with the deceptively ordinary, it is anything but. The overwhelming humanity makes you catch your breath, not so much as it unfolds before you, but maybe later, as you sit back and go “aha…of course.”

The story begins with the discovery of a skeleton in the Texas/Mexican border town of Frontera. Frontera is a melting pot whose diversity keeps it simmering. Turns out the bones belong to the hated sheriff Charlie Wade (Kris Kristofferson), who disappeared in 1957. By all accounts, Charlie was a real SOB – a corrupt tyrant, a bigot and thug. The Mexicans hated him, the blacks hated him and the whites weren’t too fond of him, either.  Legend has it that Charlie had absconded with $10,000 of county money. There are lots of legends and lots of back stories in Frontera. There are spoilers galore ahead, so if you’d prefer not to know how it all turns out, stop reading now.

He used to be a big shot....

The current Sheriff, Sam Deeds (Chris Cooper) is a man who got his job on the coattails of his wildly popular father, the late sheriff Buddy Deeds (Matthew McConaughey). Buddy was Charlie Wade’s deputy at the time of his disappearance and as glad as everyone was to see Charlie go, they were glad to see Buddy stay. It’s up to Sam to find out what happened to Charlie Wade.

Sam really, really wants another job......

Reluctantly, Sam must revisit the stories of the fathers and sons and mothers and daughters of Frontera in order to learn the truth. Otis “Big O” Payne is owner of nightclub and a leader in the town’s African-American community. His son, Delmore, is the base commander of the nearby Army base. Delmore has no respect for Otis, due to his cheating ways. Otis runs a somewhat shady establishment, but Otis learned long ago what had to be done to get along when men like Charlie Wade ran the show. Otis knows something, but what?

Good Cop/Bad Cop

Miriam Colon, the owner of a local restaurant, knows something, too, Sam has a particular dislike for Miriam because Sam was sweet on Miriam’s daughter, Pilar (Elizabeth Pena), but both Miriam and Buddy put the kibosh on romance. Sam thought it was because both parents disapproved of a white/Hispanic relationship.

Star-crossed lovers

By chance, Sam and Pilar reconnect and resume their love story. Meanwhile, Sam learns the final truth about everyone: Charlie tried to kill Otis because he thought he was being cut out of Otis’s illegal gambling profits, Buddy and his partner, Hollis, shot Wade to protect Otis and buried him in the desert, and Buddy and Miriam were lovers. As the last piece of the puzzle slips into place, Sayles’s story of diversity and community comes into focus. Buddy was Pilar’s father; Sam and Pilar are half brother and sister. And they don’t care. They agree to continue their thwarted romance and say to hell with the past. In a place where everyone is different yet the same, this feels right.

So many secrets in such a small town

Remember - there is mucho more at Once Upon a Screen!

Tragic Stars: Alma Rubens

There is no shortage of tragic star stories from Hollywood, but few stars ever get to write of their own dramatic demise. 

Alma Rubens is remembered not for her successful (but short) time as a movie star, but for the drug addiction that cut her career and her life short.

In a serialized autobiography, published in several newspapers and magazines in 1930 - 1931 and called “Bright World Again,” silent star Alma Rubens told her harrowing tale to the public. Beautiful, talented and married to sexy heart-throb Ricardo Cortez, Alma seemed to have it all. How could this stunning and successful girl go from glamorous star to pathetic addict in just a few short years?

Alma Rubens: Her face was her fortune

Alma's story starts with a poor but loving childhood in San Francisco. From the beginning, her mother was the one constant and stabilizing force in her life. But Alma was a wayward girl. She had a strong sense of adventure and was easily tempted to stray off the path she knew was safest.  In order to help her family, Alma needed to work, but clerical or retail jobs were not for her. Her pretty face and form got her noticed and, by 1916, she was in the movies. An early marriage to the much older star, Franklyn Farnum, lasted only a month or so, with Alma claiming he dislocated her jaw. Poor little Alma, she seemed so gentle, but was always getting into scrapes.

Alma worked her way down from San Francisco to Hollywood, managed a contract with W.R. Hearst’s Cosmopolitan Pictures and married her second husband, Dr. Daniel Carson Goodman, doctor and prominent film producer.  In Hollywood, Alma began to live a lavish life style, with beautiful clothes, furs and jewels.  However, Alma was restless. And sneaky.  Like other stars (notably Wallace Reid), Alma’s drug troubles started when she was treated for an injury. Her addiction was swift and Alma spares no one, not even herself, in her harrowing tale of her swift and painful decline.

The sweet and sophisticated look of Alma Rubens

At the beginning of her addiction, Alma managed to maintain her career, divorce the doctor and marry Ricardo Cortez (in 1926). Meanwhile, she was very adept at finding doctors to provide her with more and more morphine, her initial drug of choice. As she became increasingly dependent on the drugs, she became unreliable, unprofessional and unable to work. Her contract with Hearst was dissolved. She worked for a while at Fox and Columbia, but mainly kept very busy selling her personal possessions to feed her habit (notably some silken undergarments to a drug-dealing maid). Mother and husband tried to help her.  She was admitted several times to private sanitariums, but Alma proved to be an unwilling patient. Several times she escaped, even wounding a doctor with a knife. Finally, her family had enough and committed her to Patton Institute, surely the model for any psychiatric horror story every filmed.  Truly, the Snake Pit would have been an improvement. At Patton she suffered, and suffered greatly. Her awful story has to be read to be believed. Her dignity and sanity were compromised. But, after 7 months, she was released and she swore she was done with dope.

Alma and hubby, Ricardo Cortez

But, Alma never could stay away from it very long. Truly, this woman’s appetite for drugs was astounding.  In an effort to jump start her career, Alma and her husband went to New York and appeared together in a Vaudeville act in 1930. It seemed that the public liked Alma and she always got good reviews for her work. So much more the shame that she just could not kick her habit. In New York she and Cortez split (although they did not divorce) and Alma sunk into the depths of depravity, going to drug parties,  giving into random sexual encounters and running from the cops. She sold everything she owned, including furs and the last of the expensive lingerie, and ended up rooming with other ladies who shared her struggle.

Alma loved being a movie star

Time and time again Alma tried to kick the habit, but her addiction was too strong. In 193- she penned her story as a cautionary tale (and a bid to make some much needed money) and set off across the country to go home to California and her mother. She and a friend were travelling by car and she knew in her heart that if she didn’t leave New York and return home to her mother she would die. Her story ends with the hope that she will be able to achieve her dream.

Alma's lovely profile

Sadly, by the time Alma’s story was printed, she was dead. Arrested in San Diego on the suspicion of smuggling dope from Mexico she was jailed. Her mother came to her rescue, but by then, Alma had developed a cold that worsened into pneumonia. Her system, so weakened by abuse, could not combat the infection and on January 21, 1931, she was dead. It was confirmed that, at the time o her arrest, she was drug free.

Sadly, Alma’s screen achievements are largely forgotten. Her one foray into sound films, 1929’s “Showboat” (as Julie), is in tatters, with the sound missing.  Her fame rests on her tragic tale.

With John Gilbert in 1928's "Masks of the Devil"

Alma’s story in her own words and a brief biography can be found in Gary D. Rhodes' and Alexander Web's “Silent Snowbird.”

In 2015, Patton opened a museum, a record of the horrors of the treatment of addicted and mentally ill patients in the early 20th century.  By 1930, over 2,000 patients who died at Patton were buried on an on-site cemetery. The cemetery was full in 1930. The unclaimed bodies of those who died after that date were donated to science.

The Italian Vamps: All For Love

This is my entry in the Anti-Damsel blogathon, hosted by Movies, Silently and The Last Drive In. Click HERE for more great posts about the great, strong women of film. This post also serves as the second part of the 3-part series on Vamps. Click HERE for the first entry about Theda Babra and Nita Naldi. 

The Vamp, the term for ladies who, in the early days of the 20 ^th century, liked sex, was a potent antidote to the virginal heroines of the silent screen.  The cure for too much Mary Pickford might be “take a Theda Bara and call me in the morning.” Too much Lillian Gish? A shot of Nita Naldi might cure what ails you.

During these vamp-ish times, a trio of Italian divas tore up the screen and added an element of suffering and passion on a grand, operatic scale. They made Theda look positively sedate. They were never damsel s in distress in the strict sense. No, the overwhelming passion and were usually the cause of the distress of their own making.

Lyda Borelli

Beautiful and fashionable, Lyda Borelli was an Italian stage and screen actress of great influence. Lyda was born in 1887 into a family of actors. By the time she was 18, she had already made a name for herself on the Italian stage, based on her beauty, talent and fashionable appearance. Her looks, mannerisms and clothing were copied by her many admirers.  Young women who copied her looks were said to have dressed in the “borellismo” style.

In 1913 she made her first film (“Everlasting Love”). It was a smash and her success now extended beyond the Italian stage to the world of screen. She was the epitome of florid romance, desire and sensuality.  Her characters emotionally operatic and usually ended up at the wrong end of a bottle of poison or a dagger (her fate was death in more than half of her films).

She continued her highly successful film career through 1918, when she married a count and abruptly retired. At her last theatrical performance the audience wept and pelted her with flowers, so great was her enchantment.   Lyda spent the rest of her life caring for family and living the life of a countess until her death in 1959. Clearly, the drama was for the stage and screen only.

Francesca Bertini

Francesca Bertini (born in 1892) was also the child of an actress. Like Lyda Borelli, she got her start on the stage, but unlike Lyda, she moved quickly into the new art of the silent films.

She began her movie career in 1913 and quickly established herself as a strong, elegant and talented performer. Her fame quickly spread beyond the borders of Italy. By 1915 she was earning more than Mary Pickford. While her roles included the heavy-duty characters of Odette, Tosca and Camille , her acting was considered to be more natural and understated than that of the typical vamp. She suffered, she loved, but she did it “naturally.”

Bertini was able to move into sound films with limited success, but the Italian film industry took a nose dive starting in the 1930s and during World War II. She was offered a Hollywood contract by Fox, but she had retired after the war, enjoying her life with her wealthy Swiss husband. She had made but a handful of films from 1930 – 1943. She appeared for Bernardo Bertolucci in is 1976 film “Novecento (“1900”) and consented to an interview in 1982.  Francesca passed away at age 93 in 1985.

Check out this fabulous diva in all her glory. What a woman.

Pina Menichelli

Think decadent, think bodice-ripping, think hand-wringing and eye-popping and you pretty much have the acting style of silent screen  vamp Pina Menichelli, known as  "our lady of spasms."

Like her sister-vamps, Pina was born into a theatrical family and acted as a child, but unlike Lyda and Francesca, she was a passionate off-screen as on. After a failed teenage marriage to an Argentine gent, Pina began her Italian film career in 1913 at the age of 23. Critics took notice and she soon entered the rarefied queendom of fellow divas Borellia and Bertini. She attained international stardom in "The Fire" and "Royal Tiger," 2 films whose names aptly describe Pina's ardent, florid, and dangerous persona.

Pina maintained her stardom through 1923, when she retired. Although she was estranged from her first husband, he would not divorce her. Upon his death in 1924 Pina was free to marry again and, like the true diva she was, she destroyed all physical evidence of her great film career and never spoke of it again in public for the rest of her life. Pina Menichelli passed away at age 94 in 1984. 

Lyda Borelli, Francesca Bertini and Pina Menichelli- divine divas and vamps who were larger than life and definitely bellisima!

Keeping up with the Barrymores: If Reality TV Was Around Then!

This is my contribution to the Barrymore Trilogy Blogathon, hosted by The Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood. Click HERE for more great posts about this Royal Family of stage and screen.

Kardashians? Nah - if I am going to spend reality time with a Hollywood family, Id much rather spend it with a clan like the Barrymores. Now there's a family worth following!

YES

NO

Episode One:  Dramatic Beginnings

Herbert Arthur Chamberlain Blythe (1849-1905), the son of a surveyor for the British East India Company, here's the call of the theater and adopts the stage name Maurice Barrymore to spare his respectable family the shame of having a child on the stage. He made his way from India to England to Broadway, where he met, fell in love with and married the actress, Georgiana Drew (1856-1893). Georgiana came from acting family, John and Louise Lane Drew. Louisa was a thrice-married woman, quite scandalous at the time. 

The Dashing Maurice Barrymore

I'm sure there was much chatter about that over the mutton chops.

The Lovely Georgiana Drew Barrymore

Georgiana and Maurice had three children (Ethel, Lionel and John) and were happy at first, but, alas, hubby possessed a wandering eye and the marriage became yet another unhappy theatrical venture.  His rumored amours were: Helena Modjeska, Mrs. Fiske, Mrs. Leslie Carter, Lillian Russell and - gasp! - Lily Langtry. Take that, George Clooney!! Poor Georgiana died of tuberculosis at age 36, leaving her children in the care of her mother in Philadelphia. Maurice, who had limited contact with his children until their teens, continued to act. At the time of his death (from syphilis), he was playing vaudeville. 

Georgie with children Ethel, Lionel and John.
There are no known photos of Maurice with his 3 children.

Juicy, no? Stay tuned for Episode 2 of Keeping Up With the Barrymores! 


Episode 2: Oh those kids!

While mama and papa Barrymore were colorful characters, they couldn't hold a candle to their world-famous progeny. Bursting with intelligence, talent beauty and and unsurpassed thirst for life, Lionel, Ethel and the great John Barrymore made sure that their famous name would never be forgotten.

Ethel

Lovely young Ethel began working on stage while still in her teens. Before long she was the toast of London and soon men were falling at her dainty feet. One famous suitor was Winston Churchill and, while Ethel decline to marry him, she maintained an intimate "friendship" with old Winnie for the rest of her life. 

The lovely young Ethel: no wonder the boys were mad for her

Her fame abroad paved the way for a triumphant return to the states and a deserved reputation as a great Broadway star in the early part of the 20th century. While she dabbled in silent cinema, she is chiefly remembered by film fans for her later roles in such films as "The Spiral Staircase" (1946) and "Rasputin and the Empress" (1932) in which she appeared with brothers Lionel and John. 

The Great Lady of the Theater

Ethel also dipped her dainty toes in radio and TV, but lest you think this lady a bit of a prig, she was a Barrymore by blood and that meant she was a lusty lass. Besides Churchill, she raised quite a romantic rumpus across pond, breaking the hearts of a Duke and several famous actors. She finally married Russell Colt (of the Colt firearms fame) in 1909. It was a rocky marriage that ended in divorce in 1923. While she never remarried, it is hard to imagine Ethel being lonely. She passed away in 1959 at age 79, her reputation as a great lady of the theater carved in stone.

Lionel

Big brother Lionel was the non-glamorous Barrymore. He began his career on the stage, as all good Barrymores do, but Lionel took to the new medium of film with gusto. From the earliest days of silents with D.W. Griffith to the golden age of the big studios, Lionel Barrymore was a distinguished and reliable (if sometimes grouchy) presence.

An intense Lionel Barrymore

Although Lionel was a talented actor, artist and composer, his private life was a little tame compared to his flamboyant family. He did enter into a squabble with brother John over the "honor" of his wife, actress Irene Fenwick. It seems Irene had dallied with wild brother John before she settled down with Lionel for a happy marriage in 1923 that lasted until her untimely death in 1936. 

The meanest man in town

Later in life Lionel suffered from health problems that caused him to suffer great pain while walking and eventually landed him in a wheelchair from the late 1930s until his death at age 76 in 1954.

John

The best known Barrymore, the best looking, the greatest star of the family and by far the biggest hell raiser, the legend of John Barrymore is larger than life. His reputation as a great actor is well known, but if this reality show is going to make it to episode 3, we need to follow JB on his off-stage and off-screen exploits. 

The Great Profile: a heart throb of the stage and screen

Already an alcoholic as a teenager, his reputation as a carouser and a ladies man was epic. As the baby of the family, John was a handful and the apple of his grandmother's eye. It seems women could not resist him from the start. He thought he might like to be an artist, but the lure of the stage was too great for him to resist. Before his great stage success, an early important love was the notorious and beautiful Evelyn Nesbit. 

Once Barrymore turned his attentions full-time to the theater there was no denying his beauty, presence and talent. He was the matinee idol deluxe, but decided to marry socialite Katherine Corri Harris in 1910. He soon described the union was a "bus accident." Katharine said he drank too much. The couple divorced in 1917.

During this time John began dividing his time between the stage and silent films. While the stage claimed his heart, films were a good source of much needed income. He also found time to romance the married writer, Blanche Oelrichs, who published poetry under the name "Michael Strange." Blanche became pregnant in 1920 and she managed to divorce her husband and marry John 6 months before daughter Diana was born.

Barrymore as Hamlet

Meanwhile, Barrymore had hit his stride on stage and screen. The legendary performances as "Hamlet" and "Richard III" wowed the critics and film fans were mesmerized by his "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." As his second marriage began to crumble, Barrymore began an affair with his 17-year old "Beau Brummel" co-star, Mary Astor. However, it was his co-star in 1926's "The Sea-Beast" that won his heart. Falling head over heels in love with beautiful Dolores Costello, Barrymore divorced his second wife and embarked on his third marriage. Sadly, alcoholism destroyed this union, as well.

Beautiful Dolores Costello: John's third wife
and Drew Barrymore's grandmother

Barrymore's beautiful speaking voice made the transition to talking films easy. He was aging, but still managed to play the lover, notably to Garbo in 1932's "Grand Hotel." But his days as the ideal lover were coming to close. The physical deterioration due to alcoholism was becoming increasingly noticable and the great Barrymore now began playing a parody of himself - the washed up has-been. His performance in "Dinner at Eight" is almost too sad to watch. He still managed a home run or two (1934's "Twentieth Century" is still a favorite of classic film fans), but it became well known that he was increasingly unable to remember his lines and was holding up productions. In 1934 he suffered a collapse and Costello was granted a divorce in 1936. By then, Barrymore, the jolly, witty bon vivant, had become a shadow of the man he once was.  

"The Twentieth Century" - one of Barrymore's greatest roles

He continued to work (with the aid of cue cards) as a supporting player in such A-list films as "Marie Antoinette" (1938) and "Romeo and Juliet" (1936), and even managed one last, great starring role in 1939's "The Great Man Votes," but time was running out. With his last wife, Elaine Barrie, he toured in a dog of  play called "My Dear Children." The show was a success primarily because Barrymore, unable to remember his lines, made up new ones every night and freely let the expletives flow. Sometimes he was drunk. The actor who set the theater world on fire with his Hamlet was but a memory.

His final performances were on radio, continuing with the self-parody that had become his stock in trade. In 1942 he died of cirrhosis of the liver. Legend is that fellow hell-raisers Errol Flynn and Raoul Walsh stole Barrymore's embalmed body before his funeral to share one last toast with their departed friend. Biographer Gene Fowler denies the legend, but it sure would make for a great show.

Episode 3: The Curse, the Legacy and Hope

Diana Barrymore

Poor Diana Barrymore. The daughter of John and Blanche, she never had a chance. The child of divorce, she did not have a close relationship with her father until she was an adult. Her famous name and her pretty face got her on the cover of a magazine and a role in a play on Broadway. Hollywood wanted her, too, but she had inherited her father's weakness for alcohol. In 1942 she was called the year's "Most Sensational Screen Personality." By 1950 she was broke, depressed, a drug addict and an alcoholic. In 1957 she published her autobiography, "Too Much Too Soon," and by 1960, after 3 marriages, she ended it all with a handful of sleeping pills and an alcohol chaser.

John Drew Barrymore

The son of John and Dolores, John Drew Barrymore was a stranger to his father. His famous name and good look assured his opportunity in film. He was afforded some good roles, but the Barrymore curse followed him as surely as it had his father and his half-sister, Diana. He became better known for public displays of drunkenness and arrests for drug use and spousal abuse.

He managed to find work on television, but by the 1960s his addictions and mental problems were so great that he was unable to function, much less work. Married four times,he had four children. His last child, Drew, cared for him until his death in 2004 from cancer.

Drew Barrymore

Can the curse be broken? Finger crossed, because Drew Barrymore has shown herself to the family member who can beat the odds. A little bit of Ethel and a little bit of Dolores, she's the cute kid who beat the booze and is living the life that can bring some luster and respect back to the Barrymore name. You go girl - you've done it and you never let the world forget you're a Barrymore, a member of the theatrical Royal Family. We are all staying tuned for episode 4!