Here's an interesting thought. According to Maurice Speed, who compiled the film quiz for The 1989 Film Diary, Marilyn Monroe " had more books written about her than any other film star in recent times."27 How many people who have read all these books have ever heard of My Story, by Marilyn Monroe? Perhaps it is more of a compilation of first-person recollections or private personal observations presented as a book by her "friend, confidant, and business manager, Milton Green."28 Whatever, what she herself had to say would be tossed aside for sensational material written by someone who never met her: human nature. If Clara Bow had written her memoirs, would it be ignored for the scandalous garbage we are told we prefer? In Films in Review, Rudy Belmer says, "On many occasions over the years she has announced she would write her memoirs, but to date she has been deterred by the possible effects on her family." Clara Bow's private life could not have been written. What interesting exposes would therein be disclosed?
The peculiar quality of some of Clara's films seems to be rooted in the misfortunes nature may have foisted upon her. One of the reasons many of her later films appear to be so erratic is that many of the surviving actors and actresses of the 1928-1933 period were stage trained and exaggerated gestures were needed to convey emotions across a crowded theatre and reach the back seat. These same gesticulations were magnified by the camera. They were trying to make Clara Bow, with some of the horrible dialogue she was directed to speak, come off as being another stage actress trying to be another movie actress. In reality, Clara, already a movie actress, was forced to act like a theatre actress trying to look like just another movie actress. If they had left her alone from the beginning, she would have been all right. Unfortunately, she was fertile seed cast upon barren celluloid. This was another example of alchemy of the Schulberg touch, turning gold into excrement. Hollywood is a business, and the moguls were convinced from the beginning that to make even more money on the new, the old had to be done away with and forgotten. I suspect that Clara Bow is but one of a number of great talents, who, along with Renee Adoree, Tod Browning, Chester Conklin, and others forgotten by modern Hollywood and its audience are yet to be rediscovered. These are their roots.
Someone suggested that I re-read Hollywood Babylon by Kenneth Anger. I hesitated to do so, considering the editorial content, despite all the unique and historical photographs therein. The old football story was here as well, of course. (The bigger the lie the easier it is to get people to believe it. Adolf Hitler said that.) I was surprised to find the following two comments. In the chapter devoted to Frances Farmer the author states, "Genius and madness composed Janus-face creativity. Of all the Hollywood Magdalenes who have drunk at the well of madness-Clara Bow, Gail Russell, Gene Tierney-we nominate their patron, Frances, Saint."29 Well said. (As per the last name, I suggest you read Shadowland, the story of Frances Farmer, by William Arnold, to get a true picture of another Hollywood horror story.) Additionally, there is Anger's comment, "Though Clara's talkie comeback the following year was brilliant, Call Her Savage did not save the day."30 Apparently, Anger is the only contemporary writer who has stated in print that this is a great film. Moreover, in the 1990 edition of Leonard Maltin's TV movies and Video Guide, the author gave it two and one-half stars. Considering the bizarre, rambling story this is an achievement. I believe she earns four stars, though the film itself subtracts about one and a half stars from that, therefore making his assessment fairly accurate.
Let us focus on two of her less notorious films. In Dangerous Curves, a circus picture of 1929, she is certainly cute in her little riding outfit, but the dialogue is very dated. Richard Arlen plays a high-wire genius whom Clara adores and wins in the end. As has been written before, her "Brooklyn accent" is used to her best advantage. Unfortunately for the audience, Eda Warren, the credited editor, did not do a very good job. In Clara's opening scenes, she speaks perfectly naturally and she and her voice are indeed a delightful combination. Occasionally, when she speaks to the hero, Richard Arlen (whom I've always held in high regard), she drifts into a kind of cutesy-baby talk which isolated by itself is the only memorable part of the film. Unfortunately, this marvelous bit of business is unevenly spread thoughout the film. Sometimes she talks in a 12-year-old's accent and did an expert job of imitating it. Only Lily Tomlin and Gilda Radner have succeeded as well in mimicking a child's voice and mannerisms in modern film. (Clara actually walked a wire, but this is mentioned nowhere in print that I can find so far.) It is in the scene where she proposes to Arlen that they form an act together that this great talent becomes apparent. In the scene with Joyce Compton and Stuart Erwin at the cafe, she is a mature flapper again. Apparently, she has been directed to float in and out of character at the director's unconscious whim. This could have been a memorable film, however, thanks to director Lothar Mendes, this opportunity was lost. They should have known better by 1929, and I think they did. The fact that by the first one-quarter of the film the viewer has no idea of what to expect concerning Clara's dialect is certainly not the star's fault.
The diner scene with her and Arlen shows the love which she was capable of exhibiting on celluloid. This piece is priceless. I strongly recommend anyone to see it if they can. From everything I've read about her, "Pat Delaney's" devotion to "Larry Lee" is indicative of Clara Bow's true personality. When she talks to herself in the mirror to congratulate herself on her act, she almost looks like a young Tina Louise of Gilligan's Island fame. Clara's hurt expression, when Larry brings back Zara Flynn (Kay Francis) and betrays Pat, is equalled in Wings, Kid Boots, and other films. Her hurt, little kitten, teary-eyed expression of pain has never been equalled on the screen.
Also, here I find no hint of Clara's microphone terror-or in any of her sound films-that she is allegedly so famous for. There are numerous stretches, long cuts where she speaks and speaks perfectly, whether in or out of character. The quality of her voice is documented later in this article to refute the charges that talkies killed her career.
In Saturday Night Kid (Paramount, 1929), the Janie Barry character played by Jean Arthur accurately recreates the Daisy DeVoe betrayal. The only memorable part in this film is when Mayme Barry (Clara) sneaks up on and mimics Ms. Street (Edna May Oliver). She follows the older woman only a few steps, but all of the magic of the "It" personality is concentrated, in this film at least, in these few seconds of footage. Also, the footage where William Taylor (James Hall) chases her around the empty department store is of the same vein. She excellently employs baby talk similar to Dangerous Curves, yet when her sibling attempts this it is only annoying. So much so that I resent it.
The severe hurt and nonchalant "I don't care," a Bow trademark, are also evident when her sister steals her boyfriend (Hall) and causes her to be the victim of malicious lies, just as Daisy did. Perhaps that's why this film, of all the ones I've seen, is so difficult to watch. The Jean Arthur character is too similar to real-life characters Clara met, all her life. I understand Clara wanted to play the role that Jean played. I'm glad she didn't. (This film was directed by A.Edward Sutherland, who felt that Clara wasn't good enough to invite to his snob-infected parties. Louise Brooks stated this in her interview forFilm on Film: The History of Hollywood, Chapter 12.)