Happy Halloween From Hollywood's Past

 In honor of Halloween, here is a look back at some publicity photos from Holllywood's past, that remind us that riding the wave of a trend (even an annual one) to capture some attention is an idea that has been around long before social media. 

 

A couple of things you're likely to notice? 1.Nary a man in sight. While men were often called on to pose for publicity photos, they were more often called in for photos that could be used for multiple occasions, to point up their masculinity, edge and dashing heroics. Typical holiday shots, whether for Thanksgiving, Halloween, and even Christmas, were reserved almost exclusively for women.

Of course, some of this was related to their use as pin-ups, and many of them were obvious opportunities for a "cheesecake" shot. And yet, children were the occasional subjects of Halloween portraits as well, so it's just as likely that the hesitancy to associate a male star with anything that could be conceived of as frivolous or undignified.

While it was perfectly acceptable for B- Movie and serial stars to be "caught" in the act of showering, or for even most highly ranked male stars to be seen lounging at their pool, to go in for a sitting and pose amongst props? Nope. 

This is not to say that the women of Hollywood were treated carelessly. Their images were catered to as much as that of the matinee idols, and each photo conveyed the image they were carefully constructing.  tone of the photo was chosen to convey  The more revealing photos were usually reserved for contract players who had yet to make a real impact, and models/aspiring actresses being shot by independent photographers. In the case of Yvonne DeCarlo, the shot above, available in 1946, was distributed just after DeCarlo had just appeared in Salome, Where She Danced, as the seductive title character, but prior to that she had mostly performed in uncredited roles. 

You may also have noticed that the setups are often quite simple. Many times similar props were distributed to celebrities and in some cases the very same set-up was employed by different stars, as these photos were not intended to have a particularly long lifespan. Even when the set-design is more elaborate, the costumes used were often pieced together using recycled pieces from prior films (just in case the witch's hat in the photo below, featuring Judy Garland in 1941, seems familiar)

Happy Halloween/LGBT History Month!

 October, with the packed, double punch of being the month leading up to Halloween and all of its many flavors of creepy and being LGBT History month, has got to be my favorite of the year. Yes, there's December and February, both truly lovely in my estimation, but October is when the leaves turn russet and when the weather turns crisp and cool, and when you are practically obligated to indulge in ghost stories, monster movies, and the darker mysteries of the human experience. But, when you add in LGBT History month, it adds a very different flavor to the recipe, and as a result, I am finding myself torn. I vascilate from daily readings of Vito Russo's masterpiece "The Celluloid Closet" to nightly viewings of the latest ghostly televised series by "The Haunting Of Bly Manor". I want to sing out the praises of some of our lesser known queer entertainers, and pour forth with all the recommendations I have for past sitcom Halloween episodes that deserve special attention. All of this simply acts as a pre-amble to say, get ready for some split personality posts, that likely won't seem contradictory to many of you, seeing as Halloween has always had an indefinable appeal to the gays, possibly because it's a day when everyone steps into someone else's shoes for an evening. Gay people have often had that experience forced upon them, to always wear the bland brown leather shoe when one's heart longs for the violet suede. Halloween was always an opportunity to slip on a more decadent persona that we wouldn't have dared to allow ourselves otherwise, and if someone questioned it, we could always escape to the refuge of joining in the spirit of the holiday. And now that it's easier to publicly admit the side of ourselves that don't conform to the arbitrary whims of the greater society, Halloween allows us to push those boundaries further. 

At its best, Halloween is festive, decadent, and daring. It's a celebration of bravery, and of laughing at the unknown and therefore frightening things that haunt the corners of our imagination. And since LGBT history month celebrates those who came before us and braved the very real dangers and oppressions to make life better for themselves and those like them, maybe it's not the worst fit after all. 

"Stay-In-Aissance"

Whether you are someone who believes our current world situation is over-hyped and inflated, or one who thinks it may be one of the great crises of our time, because of COVID-19, we are definitely having a shared "moment". For myself, I am still very hopeful that this will be a temporary change to all of our lives, and that relatively soon we will be able to fully understand it, grieve for those many people impacted by it, and respectfully bring some normalcy back into our lives. Yes, we will come out of this changed, with a stronger awareness of how germs spread and how our actions affect others. And yes, when we do finally emerge like mole people, blinking and bewildered in the light of day (with, as my friend Leslie likes to say, hands that look and feel like crusty bread loafs from all the scrubbing and chemicals) it will take some readjusting. But we will emerge! And when we do, I like to imagine the pendulum swinging the other way for a while, making it a time where we throw down our phones (onto a soft pillowy resting place, of course) and take in the actual environments we live in. Concrete! Sun! Cement lion sculptures lining the streets! People!!! People we can hug again!!! Incidentally, I also see that near future as a time when we all rush to the museums and theaters, and restaurants that are just a vital part of why so many of us choose to live here (#supportmuseums, #newyorktransitmuseum, #momi, #broadway... you get the drift).

In the meantime, however, we are all staying in.  It's a moment that I'm trying to frame as cozy and rejuvenating by joining with culture critic and author Linda Holmes in calling it The Stay-In-Aissance. (Please know that Linda doesn't know I've joined her in this. We haven't chatted about it over scones or anything, as I've never met her. But nonetheless, we are joined in the using of this phrase). And If, like me, you are just a little burned out on contemporary episodic bingeing and want to watch some of the time-tested classic films that are pretty hard to find streaming, then you might want to treat yourself to the Criterion Channel".  It's the only place I am aware of that has a strong and constantly refreshed selection of classic Hollywood cinema, as well as acclaimed foreign and independent films. And that's all they do!

In the past few week I've watched quite a few films, and am making a strong effort to choose artfully made movies along with comfort films, and other "fluff and fancy" delights. So far I've seen 
Hans Christian Anderson and Support Your Local Sherrif, and rewatched Sorry, Wrong Number, Strike Up The Band and Darby O'Gill And The Little People, two of the films on that list are currently featured on Criterion. And in the next couple I plan to add some greats I've never seen, like Gilda, Asphalt Jungle, and The Sweet Smell of Success, all on The Criterion Channel. 

Now, if your eyebrows are currently raised and you are metaphorically casting a suspicious gaze my way, please know I'm not getting kickbacks from Criterion. I do, however, want to support them and spread word of them to others who might be into what they have to offer for the handy dandy price of just $10.99 a month!

Regardless of how you are spending this time, I hope that amongst all the working-from-home, and the referee-ing amongst fighting children, and donating, and frugal spending, that you get a chance to give yourself some love and appreciation, whichever form that takes. And when we are all finally back together hanging out and being just a little less conscious of bumping up against each other, I plan to be able to tell everyone what a profound and mighty impact Strawberry Fields has made on my life... should it ever come up, purely by coincidence, in the most casual of conversations. 

A Different Strength

Recently, I've been more purposeful about the messages I'm putting into my head, as a way to encourage positive thoughts about myself and the world around me. Because I know that when I fill my ears and eyes with art, and stories and songs of positivity and truth, my life seems to go so much better. Not only do I find myself more motivated and able to find worth in risking putting energy out into the world, but the things that might have unsettled me or given my day a metaphorical shaking up, are much easier to reframe when I'm living and doing and receiving with purpose.

Things that have been boosting the happiness factor are a couple of creativity podcasts that help to keep me focused, the words of Maya Angelou (especially through her "resonating down to the bottom of her soul" voice) the inspiring writings of Eric Butter-worth, and the music of Mister Rogers.

Now, I am not in anyway trying to infer that I've discovered Mister Rogers and like Prometheus to the suffering mortals I bring this spark. "Mister Rogers! Pretty good guy!!!" He is, after all, extremely beloved, and in this moment, having a bit of a resurgence. There's the recent documentary, the film directed by Marielle Heller, and a new biography on the shelves. It's more cool than ever to love and appreciate Mister Rogers. And, I'm not trying to say I want to BE Mister Rogers and speak of hope and joy to everyone in the way he did. That role has been taken. I do want to speak of hope and joy and love, but in a way that feels in line with who I am, and is unique to me.

What I am saying is that I'm finding a lot of comfort in being a student of Mister Rogers. And lately I find myself asking "What would Mister Rogers tell me in this moment?" I hesitate to say that I'm loving him and actually ingesting his message in a way that I don't remember doing as a kid, because not only does it feel like a bit of a betrayal to his work, it shares a secret thrill of mine that has felt like a very personal and private relationship with Mister Rogers, and I worry that if I share it, it isn't mine any more. But it is. Always will be. And your relationship with his work is yours, and private and personal, too. And you're never too old to hear that you are worthy in this very moment, exactly as you are.

Besides that, as an adult, we can appreciate the work on a different level. That slow and evenly paced patter of his no longer triggers suspicion because we have some understanding of how intrinsic it was to him. We can read about his sensitivity as a child, his experiences being bullied, and that he took experiences and turned them into opportunities to empower other children who may feel alone in the world at times. He refused to listen to the negativity around him, and said, to a very wide audience, that it is ok to care. In fact, it is wonderful, because caring is the essence that fuels our individual strength so that we can go out into the world and be strong and courageous examples of good.

My grandmother loved Mister Rogers. Fervently. And it makes me a bit sad to think that when I leaned this as a child I thought it was weird. And then as I got older I thought it was sweetly naive. My grandmother was very gentle, very positive, and like Mister Rogers, was sometimes accused of being in denial of the world's realities. But now I am coming to a realization that she and Mister Rogers knew very well about the world's darkness (I mean, here was a man who was directly confronting assassination and bigotry on television and very gently and purposefully taking some of its fearful power away, and as woman my grandmother had been through her own days and nights of pain and fear, and in spite of these she emanated warmth and acceptance and emotional nourishment) and came through their lives with the understanding that there are ways to be strong that we underestimate, and they are the way to overcome our greatest challenges. We may have brushed them aside as insubstantial during times of great crisis, but they aren't going anywhere. We can always pick them up again.

Yes, Mister Rogers spoke to children. He knew that they needed his messages. Children often don't feel empowered or in control of their own lives, and may have been told that they weren't good enough. Mister Rogers fervently teaches them that they are wonderful just as they are, and the world is a beautiful place, even if it seems scary at times.

Mister Rogers also speaks to children who are now grown ups, like me and you. He knows we need his messages, because we have been told many ways that we are not good enough, and we can often feel like we are just reacting to the wounds that life deals us. For us, he teaches that we are wonderful just as we are, and we have so many lovely and unique qualities, some of which we may have dismissed as weaknesses. He teaches us with the faith to step out into the world and not just to enjoy its beauty, but to cultivate it. It can and should be our purpose in life to cultivate the good, to see its power, and to share it with others; adults and children (especially children).