Wikipedia (which I donated to yesterday, and for which I encourage your monetary support) has this tremendous nugget on T. Wright:
"[Samuel] Goldwyn immediately hired the young actress for the role of Bette Davis' daughter in the 1941 adaptation of Lillian Hellman's "The Little Foxes," signing her to a five-year Hollywood contract with MGM. Asserting her seriousness as an actress, Wright insisted her contract contain unique clauses by Hollywood standards:
'The aforementioned Teresa Wright shall not be required to pose for photographs in a bathing suit unless she is in the water. Neither may she be photographed running on the beach with her hair flying in the wind. Nor may she pose in any of the following situations: In shorts, playing with a cocker spaniel; digging in a garden; whipping up a meal; attired in firecrackers and holding skyrockets for the Fourth of July; looking insinuatingly at a turkey for Thanksgiving; wearing a bunny cap with long ears for Easter; twinkling on prop snow in a skiing outfit while a fan blows her scarf; assuming an athletic stance while pretending to hit something with a bow and arrow.'"
A(n) hilarious, imaginative list from a no-nonsense woman who seems worthy of my anachronistic flutter.
3 comments:
If you haven't seen it, and by the apparent newness of your crush it seems you haven't, I suggest renting The Best Years of Our Lives, itself a Best Picture winner (1947). Wright is only one of an ensemble featuring its share of heavy hitters (Fredrich March, Myrna Loy, the under-appreciated Dana Andrews) and probably the best performance by a "non actor" in the history of the movies courtesy Harold Russel (factoid: the only person to win two Oscars for the same role), and yet it's Wright, in all her crush-inspiring splendor and winsome appeal, who stands out--even more prominently than Andrews' improbable chin.
Is this Dominic from Athens?
I have seen it, but I don't think I was ready for her yet!
Let's get together if you're around.
If not Dominic from Athens, the crispness of your prose earns you a drink if you're ever in Athens.
It would be my great pleasure to buy you a drink and/or some B. Evans ham. I seem to recall that you very generously bought everyone's late-night Union Street breakfast some years ago, and it's high time this kindness was reciprocated.
Tell you what: when you start bringing Dr. True out of the closet again, I'll make the trip to Athens and make good with the ham.
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