If one is to fully appreciate the achievements of Joan Crawford who was born Lucille Fay LeSueur in the Yellow Rose state, 1906 as truly being one of Hollywood's most indestructible stars, one would have to strip away the accretions - most of which were firmly placed there by hers truly. There was, of course the difficult to forget 'Mrs Pepsi Cola' image, which came courtesy of being wed to then widowed to soft drink tycoon Alfred Steele (her fourth and final husband), she would make herself quite as indomitable a business player as the doughy protagonist in 1945's Mildred Pierce. And interestingly all of Crawford's marriages sans Steele would suffer the four year itch, and it occurred for the first time with better half of the 'it' couple Douglas Fairbanks Jr. (1929-1933), then Franchot Tone (1935-1939) and the third time was contrarily none the charm with Phillip Terry (1942-1946) And then there was the contentious rise to Hollywood stardom, with aspersions a'plenty and rumors of her starring in blue films and endless casting couch fiascoes and then there was the sad but true child cruelty accusations perpetuated by daughter Christina's shocking memoir.
Crawford's off screen image would be an ironic one as it to a great extent overlapped the complex characters that she portrayed via the screen. Her first appearance would be as a showgirl in Monta Bell's silent 1925 comedy Pretty Ladies and by this time the ever ambitious Miss Crawford already proved herself adroit in a myriad of mediums, from musicals to the comedy. She was a protege of the irascible Louis B. Mayer, who on his lonesome would fashion her into a major MGM player. The actress's work with Howard Hawks in the 1930's (Today We Live,1933 for example) testified that she was indeed refining her craft, one in which acting lessons were pointless as hers was an intrinsic ability.
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| Joan's just a living doll in 1937's Mannequin. |
After a long host of failures Crawford was relegated as being 'box-office poison,' she would however so graciously and gracefully arise from the ashes in the year 1937, with an impressive turn in Frank Borzage's Mannequin and a rare-form George Cukor thriller A Woman's Face (1941). Crawford's facial disfigurements in A Woman's Face were a primer for the horror films Cukor ,who Crawford considered to be a father figure, would make later down the line of his career along with low-budget leviathan William Castle and Robert Aldrich. Joan's first substantial role was based on a book by celebrated crime writer James M. Cain - Mildred Pierce, in which Michael Curtiz would adeptly adapt for the silvers. Crawford grasped for dear life, the histrionic ingredients with both hands and demonstrated that although she may have been bereft of nuance as an actress, she could more than compensate for this with her unadulterated charismatic star power.
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| In The Middle of Flamingo Road... |
There would be further engagements with the crime genre, among those Possessed (1947), the noir inflected Flamingo Road (1947), with Sidney Greenstreet who would also not shirk here in the basilisk intensity department. In 1950's The Damned Don't Cry, Crawford is Ethel Whitehead, archetypal man-eater extraordinaire . In David Miller's tough-boiled take on the 'woman's picture' Sudden Fear (1952) a film that would garner several Oscar nods, one of those for the actress's gripping performance and Jack Palance would also be nominated for his supporting role Lester Blaine, a part that was declined when originally offered to Marlon Brando.
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| Oh no, please not that Chris de Burgh tune again! |
In the frenetic Autumn Leaves (1956), Joan portrays Millie a solitary spinster who is romantically pursued by the decidedly younger and troubled Burt ( Cliff Robertson in his breakout role). Crawford teaming here with Robert Aldrich, and oh what a volatile duo they made - but a formidable one all the same. Crawford would work once again with the director when he churned the delectable train-wreck;What Ever Happened To Baby Jane (1962) and the two of it's stars spar as only expected, what with arch-nemesis and fellow argumentative Aries Bette Davis, who was culpable for a bit of character assassination herself just so happening to be it's other star? (Oh the tension)! And all the ax wielding messhuganah mayhem would not stop there - come 1964 we would be treated to more of the same with William Castle's Strait Jacket.
And yes undoubtedly her life was a blatant rip off of her art, or could that be the other way 'round? The inarguable icon suffered a fatal coronary thrombosis on May 10, 1977 in New York City, she was 73. Miss Crawford would be interred at Forest Lawn Cemetery.
