Top Ten Hollywood Walk of Fame Stars
More stars than there are in heaven above...
I expected the Walk of Fame to be just a few stars on the sidewalk over a couple of blocks, so I was astounded to discover that it covered both sides of the road (and a few side roads too) on a mile-long stretch of Hollywood Blvd.
The sun was beating down, it was sweltering but, with a large bottle of water and my camera at the ready, I set off in search of stars...
I expected the Walk of Fame to be just a few stars on the sidewalk over a couple of blocks, so I was astounded to discover that it covered both sides of the road (and a few side roads too) on a mile-long stretch of Hollywood Blvd.
The sun was beating down, it was sweltering but, with a large bottle of water and my camera at the ready, I set off in search of stars...
10. Thomas Edison
Thomas Alva Edison was, undoubtedly, talented in many areas. Many of the things we generally take for granted today, came from Edison's boundless creativity. He invented the phonograph, the incandescent electric lightbulb, the alkaline storage battery and held more than 900 patents and laid the foundation for the modern electric age. Electricity, where would we be without that? Well, for a start, you wouldn't be reading this now. OK, yeah, I appreciate that but, Nikola Tesla doesn't have a star on the Walk...
Whatever your feelings about Edison, his pioneering work in the making, distributing and showing of moving pictures, was instrumental in furthering, what was, in the early years of the 20th century, viewed as a fad and something that would never take the place of the music halls.
One other thing, Boris Karloff was not actually the first big screen Frankenstein monster. In 1910, Edison's studio produced the first of many movie adaptations of Mary Shelley's novel.
Whatever your feelings about Edison, his pioneering work in the making, distributing and showing of moving pictures, was instrumental in furthering, what was, in the early years of the 20th century, viewed as a fad and something that would never take the place of the music halls.
One other thing, Boris Karloff was not actually the first big screen Frankenstein monster. In 1910, Edison's studio produced the first of many movie adaptations of Mary Shelley's novel.
9. Carl Laemmle
Carl Laemmle (pron. Lem-lee) emigrated to America in 1884, from Germany and spent the next two decades in a series of dead-end jobs, mostly in Chicago. His dream was to own his own store and work for himself. After quitting his latest job over a pay dispute, Laemmle, invested his savings in a nickelodeon. Before long, he had also established a film distribution business that became one of the largest in America.
When he first sought out the promised land of California, Hollywood, was little but prime fruit-growing land. In 1909, he produced his first picture, a 15-minute version of "Hiawatha". By this time Laemmle had become the leader of the 'Independents', an ornery bunch of (mostly European immigrant) producers and distributors who did not want to bow to the might of Edison's New York monopoly.
In 1911, Hollywood began its transformation into the movie capital of the world. Laemmle was instrumental in that process and by the early '20s, his company, Universal, was the country's leading film producer. In 1915 Universal City, was built and became the first of the great movie-producing factories. The output consisted mostly of cheap, cheerful, low-budget westerns and melodramas, filmed on the lot and in the surrounding hills and churned out at a frightening rate. Nevertheless, Universal's dominance as the number one producer of horror movies throughout the '20s, '30s and '40s only came to an end when Hammer Productions took hold of the baton, in the 1950s. For me, the legend 'Carl Laemmle presents' will always signify some happy memories of being frightened to death as a child!
When he first sought out the promised land of California, Hollywood, was little but prime fruit-growing land. In 1909, he produced his first picture, a 15-minute version of "Hiawatha". By this time Laemmle had become the leader of the 'Independents', an ornery bunch of (mostly European immigrant) producers and distributors who did not want to bow to the might of Edison's New York monopoly.
In 1911, Hollywood began its transformation into the movie capital of the world. Laemmle was instrumental in that process and by the early '20s, his company, Universal, was the country's leading film producer. In 1915 Universal City, was built and became the first of the great movie-producing factories. The output consisted mostly of cheap, cheerful, low-budget westerns and melodramas, filmed on the lot and in the surrounding hills and churned out at a frightening rate. Nevertheless, Universal's dominance as the number one producer of horror movies throughout the '20s, '30s and '40s only came to an end when Hammer Productions took hold of the baton, in the 1950s. For me, the legend 'Carl Laemmle presents' will always signify some happy memories of being frightened to death as a child!
8. Johnny Depp
Johnny Depp makes me sick. Really, he does. He is the same age as me, but looks young enough to be my son, even when he hasn't slept in days, or washed his hair in weeks! He bought Bela Lugosi's former home, a gothic castle just off Sunset Blvd. I wouldn't mind but, he seems like such a nice guy and he is such a bloody good actor too, I want to vomit.
There aren't many stars these days which have that 'old-fashioned' star quality, but Depp is one of them. Depp has so much of it, it must hurt him.
Johnny, if you're reading this, drop me an email, because I think we've got a lot in common and would get on really well. I love The Fast Show, HST, old blues music, and 30's Universal horror movies. We could have a night in, or out, I'm not fussed, get a few cans, a take away, we could be mates...
There aren't many stars these days which have that 'old-fashioned' star quality, but Depp is one of them. Depp has so much of it, it must hurt him.
Johnny, if you're reading this, drop me an email, because I think we've got a lot in common and would get on really well. I love The Fast Show, HST, old blues music, and 30's Universal horror movies. We could have a night in, or out, I'm not fussed, get a few cans, a take away, we could be mates...
7. Marilyn Monroe
Marilyn Monroe, is - and always will be - young, voluptuous and beautiful. And if they were falsies, they were a bloody good pair.
If you could have any job, past or present, what would it be? For me, I would it would have to be Billy Travilla's job... he had the job of sewing Marilyn into her dresses.
It is always easier to believe a conspiracy theory than accept that someone died of natural causes, or by their own actions. However, in the case of Marilyn, Jack was a whoremonger, Bobby was a viper, and they had her whacked. Oh, and I saw Jim Morrison at the Wal-Mart in Reno, and the guy who pumped our gas at a station on the New Jersey Turnpike looked a lot like Elvis. And you know, Diana and Dody, well she was pregnant with his baby and, well, Philip wouldn't have a little... it's not like they haven't done it before, is it?
If you could have any job, past or present, what would it be? For me, I would it would have to be Billy Travilla's job... he had the job of sewing Marilyn into her dresses.
It is always easier to believe a conspiracy theory than accept that someone died of natural causes, or by their own actions. However, in the case of Marilyn, Jack was a whoremonger, Bobby was a viper, and they had her whacked. Oh, and I saw Jim Morrison at the Wal-Mart in Reno, and the guy who pumped our gas at a station on the New Jersey Turnpike looked a lot like Elvis. And you know, Diana and Dody, well she was pregnant with his baby and, well, Philip wouldn't have a little... it's not like they haven't done it before, is it?
6. Tod Browning
Tod Browning was a strange man. Once dubbed 'the Edgar Allan Poe of the cinema', Browning ran away from home at the age of 16 and joined a circus. Undoubtedly, this experience coloured his life and provided material for his later films, including Freaks in 1932.
Browning drifted into the movie business, becoming a director in 1917. His career remained unremarkable until MGM partnered him with Lon Chaney. Their nine films included The Unholy Three (1925),The Black Bird (1926), London After Midnight (1927), The Road to Mandalay (1927), The Unknown (1927) and West of Zanzibar (1928).
It has been rumoured that Browning wanted Chaney to play Dracula, but the actor's untimely demise led Browning in the direction of Bela Lugosi. However, this may just be another one of those rumours that has been accepted as truth. There is actually no evidence that Chaney was earmarked by anyone for the role of The Count. Nevertheless, the success of Dracula can be attributed more to Lugosi's outstanding performance than Browning's bizarre (and often non-existent) direction. That said, the initial scenes at the castle are very atmospheric and are probably the best scenes in the film, armadillos notwithstanding. Ask yourself, why do armadillos scuttle across the floor in Dracula's castle?
After Dracula, Browning made the film for which he is universally remembered: Freaks. An astonishing film, which used real circus freaks in the title rolls, it is a true masterpiece of cinematic history and one of my all-time top ten movies. The film outraged Hollywood and was banned for many years popping up only at 'special' screenings. In the UK, the ban was not lifted until the 1960s.
Mark of the Vampire in 1935, again with Lugosi, was a remake of London After Midnight and one of his last films. Browning retired after directing Miracles for Sale in 1939.
Browning drifted into the movie business, becoming a director in 1917. His career remained unremarkable until MGM partnered him with Lon Chaney. Their nine films included The Unholy Three (1925),The Black Bird (1926), London After Midnight (1927), The Road to Mandalay (1927), The Unknown (1927) and West of Zanzibar (1928).
It has been rumoured that Browning wanted Chaney to play Dracula, but the actor's untimely demise led Browning in the direction of Bela Lugosi. However, this may just be another one of those rumours that has been accepted as truth. There is actually no evidence that Chaney was earmarked by anyone for the role of The Count. Nevertheless, the success of Dracula can be attributed more to Lugosi's outstanding performance than Browning's bizarre (and often non-existent) direction. That said, the initial scenes at the castle are very atmospheric and are probably the best scenes in the film, armadillos notwithstanding. Ask yourself, why do armadillos scuttle across the floor in Dracula's castle?
After Dracula, Browning made the film for which he is universally remembered: Freaks. An astonishing film, which used real circus freaks in the title rolls, it is a true masterpiece of cinematic history and one of my all-time top ten movies. The film outraged Hollywood and was banned for many years popping up only at 'special' screenings. In the UK, the ban was not lifted until the 1960s.
Mark of the Vampire in 1935, again with Lugosi, was a remake of London After Midnight and one of his last films. Browning retired after directing Miracles for Sale in 1939.
5. Peter Lorre
Peter Lorre was a short, rotund, bug-eyed, little fellow but, my God, he could act. His unnervingly creepy portrayal of the sinister and shady types has rarely been bettered by anyone. Possibly, Robin Williams has found the secret, but not many others have, or ever will do.
Lorre's excellence in films such as The Maltese Falcon and Casablanca helped give them the edge that has made them classics. Truly, Joel Cairo is one of the greatest of all supporting characters in movie history - a cockroach in a suit. What's more, his portrayal of 'M', in Fritz Lang's German classic, is one of the most disturbing performances I have seen, in any film, to this day.
Lorre's excellence in films such as The Maltese Falcon and Casablanca helped give them the edge that has made them classics. Truly, Joel Cairo is one of the greatest of all supporting characters in movie history - a cockroach in a suit. What's more, his portrayal of 'M', in Fritz Lang's German classic, is one of the most disturbing performances I have seen, in any film, to this day.
4. Boris Karloff
William Henry Pratt was, by all accounts, a gentle, softly-spoken, English man. That he attained fame as Boris Karloff, one of the greatest screen monsters of all time, is more a testament to his skill as an actor, than simply to Jack P. Pierce's, admittedly, superb make-up.
Prior to Frankenstein, Karloff had only appeared in minor supporting roles, playing gangsters and was going nowhere, fast. Indeed, he was far from being the first choice to play the Baron's creation, for James Whale's 1931 screen adaptation of Mary Shelley's great novel. Whale, another ex-pat Englishman in Hollywood, spotted Karloff in the staff canteen one day, saw something in him, and gave him a screen test. The part of the monster had originally been offered to Bela Lugosi, following the Hungarian's runaway success in Dracula, but Lugosi had felt that it didn't offer him a chance to perform with his natural, boyaristic, flair and turned down the role. The rest is history.
The secret of Karloff's success was his ability to portray emotion and show that the monster was more than the sum of his many and varied body parts. Like Chaney before him, Karloff was able to dig deep and show that even the most hideously evil of his characters had some redeeming feature, however small and no matter how deeply buried it might be.
Prior to Frankenstein, Karloff had only appeared in minor supporting roles, playing gangsters and was going nowhere, fast. Indeed, he was far from being the first choice to play the Baron's creation, for James Whale's 1931 screen adaptation of Mary Shelley's great novel. Whale, another ex-pat Englishman in Hollywood, spotted Karloff in the staff canteen one day, saw something in him, and gave him a screen test. The part of the monster had originally been offered to Bela Lugosi, following the Hungarian's runaway success in Dracula, but Lugosi had felt that it didn't offer him a chance to perform with his natural, boyaristic, flair and turned down the role. The rest is history.
The secret of Karloff's success was his ability to portray emotion and show that the monster was more than the sum of his many and varied body parts. Like Chaney before him, Karloff was able to dig deep and show that even the most hideously evil of his characters had some redeeming feature, however small and no matter how deeply buried it might be.
4. Bela Lugosi
Béla Ferenc Dezsõ Blaskó was already a star before he ever got to Hollywood. Taking his surname from his home town, Bela Lugosi had already achieved fame as a stage actor, both in his native Hungary, and on Broadway, in the stage version of Dracula. His innate natural bearing and his eastern European roots had made him a perfect choice for the Romanian vampire nobleman and his on-screen performance, in Tod Browning's marvelous film, is mesmerising.
People believed that Lugosi was Dracula. Unfortunately, so did he, subsequently feeling that many of the parts offered him were beneath him and he rejected them, something that haunted him for the rest of his life. In fact, so desperate had he been to play the Count, in the film version, that he talked himself into a fee that was lower than many of the supporting actors.
Whilst Lugosi, undoubtedly, had a dominant on-screen presence and a menacingly hypnotic persona - and his heavy accent was perfect for Dracula - he was also hampered by these very same traits. Combined with his own intransigence to consider what he believed to be inferior roles, he rapidly became typecast, whilst his arch-nemesis and lifelong rival, Boris Karloff, snapped up his rejections, giving some of his best performances in those roles, many of them alongside Lugosi.
Lugosi lost respect and became virtually unemployable. He was eventually reduced to accepting any part that was offered him, many of them dreadful parodies of his most famous role.
Lugosi died on on August 16th 1956, a sad, penniless, drug-addled shadow of the man he had once been, whilst filming Ed Wood's truly appalling, Plan 9 From Outer Space. He was buried in his Dracula cape and ring. Ironically, Martin Landau, in Tim Burton's film about Wood, won an Oscar for his performance as Lugosi, an accolade that Lugosi never came close to being honoured with.
People believed that Lugosi was Dracula. Unfortunately, so did he, subsequently feeling that many of the parts offered him were beneath him and he rejected them, something that haunted him for the rest of his life. In fact, so desperate had he been to play the Count, in the film version, that he talked himself into a fee that was lower than many of the supporting actors.
Whilst Lugosi, undoubtedly, had a dominant on-screen presence and a menacingly hypnotic persona - and his heavy accent was perfect for Dracula - he was also hampered by these very same traits. Combined with his own intransigence to consider what he believed to be inferior roles, he rapidly became typecast, whilst his arch-nemesis and lifelong rival, Boris Karloff, snapped up his rejections, giving some of his best performances in those roles, many of them alongside Lugosi.
Lugosi lost respect and became virtually unemployable. He was eventually reduced to accepting any part that was offered him, many of them dreadful parodies of his most famous role.
Lugosi died on on August 16th 1956, a sad, penniless, drug-addled shadow of the man he had once been, whilst filming Ed Wood's truly appalling, Plan 9 From Outer Space. He was buried in his Dracula cape and ring. Ironically, Martin Landau, in Tim Burton's film about Wood, won an Oscar for his performance as Lugosi, an accolade that Lugosi never came close to being honoured with.
4. Vincent Price
Vincent Price needs no introduction. He was one of the all-time greats and was Poe-made-real for an entire generation.
Price was a highly educated, extremely refined, gourmand, who started out his acting career treading the boards of the English theater circuit before gravitating to the world of the moving picture. His early roles consisted mainly of the handsome cad, in costume dramas, until he discovered the horror genre. The half-sneer he had perfected for his role of Richelieu in 'The Three Musketeers' became his trademark and he rapidly carved a niche a mile wide as the ultimate sinister villain.
The classics came one after another. Between 1957 and 1960 he made The Fly, House on Haunted Hill, The Bat, The Tingler and Return of the Fly. Then in 1960, he signed with Roger Corman for House of Usher and over the next five years became the principal screen interpreter of Poe in six more Corman adaptations, including The Pit and the Pendulum in 1961, The Raven in 1963, The Masque of the Red Death in 1964, and Tomb of Ligeia in 1965.
Price became a parody of himself, but he did it with such knowing panache, you had to love him. A trio of black comedies: The Abominable Dr. Phibes in 1971, Dr. Phibes Rises Again in 1972, and Theater... of Blood in 1973, were perhaps some of his best performances. The camp style and black humour have never been delivered with more style than by Vincent Price. I, personally feel that his finest hour was as the Shakespearean ham , in Theater... of Blood, who literally slays his detractors. That said, his touching portrayal, in his last screen role, as the old inventor in Edward Scissorhands, is quite superb too. And let us not forget his contribution to Alice Cooper's Welcome To My Nightmare project either. Inspired performance.
Finally, don't you think it is creepy the way the shadows fall over his star in my picture? I do.
Price was a highly educated, extremely refined, gourmand, who started out his acting career treading the boards of the English theater circuit before gravitating to the world of the moving picture. His early roles consisted mainly of the handsome cad, in costume dramas, until he discovered the horror genre. The half-sneer he had perfected for his role of Richelieu in 'The Three Musketeers' became his trademark and he rapidly carved a niche a mile wide as the ultimate sinister villain.
The classics came one after another. Between 1957 and 1960 he made The Fly, House on Haunted Hill, The Bat, The Tingler and Return of the Fly. Then in 1960, he signed with Roger Corman for House of Usher and over the next five years became the principal screen interpreter of Poe in six more Corman adaptations, including The Pit and the Pendulum in 1961, The Raven in 1963, The Masque of the Red Death in 1964, and Tomb of Ligeia in 1965.
Price became a parody of himself, but he did it with such knowing panache, you had to love him. A trio of black comedies: The Abominable Dr. Phibes in 1971, Dr. Phibes Rises Again in 1972, and Theater... of Blood in 1973, were perhaps some of his best performances. The camp style and black humour have never been delivered with more style than by Vincent Price. I, personally feel that his finest hour was as the Shakespearean ham , in Theater... of Blood, who literally slays his detractors. That said, his touching portrayal, in his last screen role, as the old inventor in Edward Scissorhands, is quite superb too. And let us not forget his contribution to Alice Cooper's Welcome To My Nightmare project either. Inspired performance.
Finally, don't you think it is creepy the way the shadows fall over his star in my picture? I do.
3. James Cagney
When I was younger, I never appreciated the excellence of James Cagney's performances. Then, I watched Yankee Doodle Dandy and my gob was, quite literally, smacked - and so it should have been, I hear you say. His performance, as George M. Cohan, was nothing short of astounding. Here was someone who was a screen tough guy, playing a song and dance man so convincingly, but then so he should have done, for that is exactly how he started out. (Actually, his first role as a performer was as a female impersonator!)
In the years after WWI, Cagney and his wife, Frances, toured in vaudeville, before securing parts in Broadway shows in the late '20s. It was one of these which got him noticed and he was Hollywood-bound. In the great scheme of things, Cagney had not really been in town for too long before he made an impression, as bootlegger Tom Powers, in The Public Enemy. Cagney's hyper performance (including the famous scene in which he ad-libbed and shoved a half-grapefruit into actress Mae Clarke's face), in addition to the excellent direction and fine supporting acting, made the film a tremendous hit and rocketed him to stardom. In some ways it remains one of his best performances.
Throughout the '30s and '40s, Cagney appeared mostly as a tough guy, on one side of the fence or the other and turned in some memorable performances. My personal favourites are G-men, Angels With Dirty Faces, The Roaring Twenties and Each Dawn I Die. Then, of course, there is the film for which he got an Oscar, Yankee Doodle Dandy; and the one he didn't get an Oscar for, White Heat. Both are awesome films in their own right, but how did White Heat not pick him up a statuette? Go figure. Cody Jarrett is one of the greatest screen performances ever and I'll fight anyone who disagrees with me, see? Yeah, that's right!
Possibly the most uncharacteristic role he took on was in 1957, when he starred in Man Of A Thousand Faces, the film biography of Lon Chaney. The plot was romanticised beyond all recognition, as they do in Hollowwood, but the film remains a touching and engaging portrait of the man and is a credit to both Chaney's memory and Cagney's legacy.
James Cagney retired in 1961. After thirty years in the business, he simply walked away from it all. He only appeared on-screen twice more, content to live his life on his farm in upstate New York. He died in 1986, of a heart attack and seems to have been one of the few men in movies who was not gay.
In the years after WWI, Cagney and his wife, Frances, toured in vaudeville, before securing parts in Broadway shows in the late '20s. It was one of these which got him noticed and he was Hollywood-bound. In the great scheme of things, Cagney had not really been in town for too long before he made an impression, as bootlegger Tom Powers, in The Public Enemy. Cagney's hyper performance (including the famous scene in which he ad-libbed and shoved a half-grapefruit into actress Mae Clarke's face), in addition to the excellent direction and fine supporting acting, made the film a tremendous hit and rocketed him to stardom. In some ways it remains one of his best performances.
Throughout the '30s and '40s, Cagney appeared mostly as a tough guy, on one side of the fence or the other and turned in some memorable performances. My personal favourites are G-men, Angels With Dirty Faces, The Roaring Twenties and Each Dawn I Die. Then, of course, there is the film for which he got an Oscar, Yankee Doodle Dandy; and the one he didn't get an Oscar for, White Heat. Both are awesome films in their own right, but how did White Heat not pick him up a statuette? Go figure. Cody Jarrett is one of the greatest screen performances ever and I'll fight anyone who disagrees with me, see? Yeah, that's right!
Possibly the most uncharacteristic role he took on was in 1957, when he starred in Man Of A Thousand Faces, the film biography of Lon Chaney. The plot was romanticised beyond all recognition, as they do in Hollowwood, but the film remains a touching and engaging portrait of the man and is a credit to both Chaney's memory and Cagney's legacy.
James Cagney retired in 1961. After thirty years in the business, he simply walked away from it all. He only appeared on-screen twice more, content to live his life on his farm in upstate New York. He died in 1986, of a heart attack and seems to have been one of the few men in movies who was not gay.
3. Humphrey Bogart
Possibly the only one who can, in my not so humble opinion, equal James Cagney's achievements is Humphrey Bogart.
Humphrey DeForest Bogart was a star before he was even out of diapers. His father was a prominent doctor and his mother, Maud Humphrey, was a celebrated illustrator and she immortalised her young baby in an advertisement for a jar of baby food.
His early years were quite comfortable, his family was wealthy, but young Bogart was considered a bit of a waster. He failed to stick at anything and was shipped off to a military academy. He was expelled. Eventually, he joined the US Navy and was injured in a shelling, giving him his signature lisp and paralysed lip. He drifted through life without direction until he fell into acting. In his 1922 stage debut, he was described as 'inadequate'.
In 1931, Bogart won a contract with Fox studios, but failed to make an impression. Then, in 1936, following the insistence of the leading man, Leslie Howard, Bogart played Duke Mantee in The Petrified Forest, as he had on the Broadway stage. Whilst it was a breakthrough role for him, and secured him a long-term contract with Warner Bros., the studio didn't know what to do with him; he just wasn't handsome enough to be a leading man.
He appeared in a succession (28 to be precise) of gangster and western roles until 1941, when he hit box office gold. From that point on, Humphrey Bogart was Hollywood royalty and could do very little wrong. Every one of his movies after High Sierra was a hit, some of them are amongst the top movies of all time, no matter who you ask. In fact, there are so many good ones, it's difficult to pick favourites. Casablanca, Key Largo, Dark Passage, Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The Caine Mutiny, Sabrina, The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, The African Queen, Across the Pacific; and those are just the first ten that spring to mind - and every one a gem.
There is one film missing from that list. My all-time favourite motion picture: To Have and Have Not. This film is, in my opinion, the finest piece of celluloid ever run through a projector. The on-screen chemistry between Bogart and Bacall is pure lightning in a bottle. Even though I have seen the film more times than I can remember, the famous 'You know how to whistle...' scene still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end; it is sheer magic.
"Bogey" received the Best Actor Academy Award for The African Queen in 1951 and nominations for Casablanca in 1942 and The Caine Mutiny in 1954. He died in his sleep at his Hollywood home following an operation for throat cancer in 1957, but his legacy remains and he will always remain of the best to ever step in front of a camera lens.
And, yes, that is where Maurice Mickelwhite got his stage name from.
Humphrey DeForest Bogart was a star before he was even out of diapers. His father was a prominent doctor and his mother, Maud Humphrey, was a celebrated illustrator and she immortalised her young baby in an advertisement for a jar of baby food.
His early years were quite comfortable, his family was wealthy, but young Bogart was considered a bit of a waster. He failed to stick at anything and was shipped off to a military academy. He was expelled. Eventually, he joined the US Navy and was injured in a shelling, giving him his signature lisp and paralysed lip. He drifted through life without direction until he fell into acting. In his 1922 stage debut, he was described as 'inadequate'.
In 1931, Bogart won a contract with Fox studios, but failed to make an impression. Then, in 1936, following the insistence of the leading man, Leslie Howard, Bogart played Duke Mantee in The Petrified Forest, as he had on the Broadway stage. Whilst it was a breakthrough role for him, and secured him a long-term contract with Warner Bros., the studio didn't know what to do with him; he just wasn't handsome enough to be a leading man.
He appeared in a succession (28 to be precise) of gangster and western roles until 1941, when he hit box office gold. From that point on, Humphrey Bogart was Hollywood royalty and could do very little wrong. Every one of his movies after High Sierra was a hit, some of them are amongst the top movies of all time, no matter who you ask. In fact, there are so many good ones, it's difficult to pick favourites. Casablanca, Key Largo, Dark Passage, Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The Caine Mutiny, Sabrina, The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, The African Queen, Across the Pacific; and those are just the first ten that spring to mind - and every one a gem.
There is one film missing from that list. My all-time favourite motion picture: To Have and Have Not. This film is, in my opinion, the finest piece of celluloid ever run through a projector. The on-screen chemistry between Bogart and Bacall is pure lightning in a bottle. Even though I have seen the film more times than I can remember, the famous 'You know how to whistle...' scene still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end; it is sheer magic.
"Bogey" received the Best Actor Academy Award for The African Queen in 1951 and nominations for Casablanca in 1942 and The Caine Mutiny in 1954. He died in his sleep at his Hollywood home following an operation for throat cancer in 1957, but his legacy remains and he will always remain of the best to ever step in front of a camera lens.
And, yes, that is where Maurice Mickelwhite got his stage name from.
3. Bette Davis
Now, what do you make of it that I could find Bette Davis' star but not Joan Crawford's? Personally, I think that Bette would have loved that and Joan would have had a wire coathanger moment.
Each of these two feisty, quite possibly deranged ladies, were fine actresses in their own right (watch Now, Voyager and Mildred Pierce if you still need convincing) but it was the fireworks that frequently flew between them that made life interesting. For years, they feuded, exchanging the Queen of Hollywood crown many times. Rather like Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, each constantly sought reassurances that they were better than the other.
Ironically, it was together that they were truly awesome. In 1962, they joined forces for what is one of the greatest films ever made and certainly one of my top ten: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? The acting is of a level that transcends mere greatness. With each trying to out-act the other, both gave performances of a lifetime and the sheer hatred that was on-screen for all to see, was not entirely false. As with Bogart and Bacall in To Have and Have Not, there is real [black] magic on-screen, that not even David Copperfield could improve upon.
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? is two hours of utter greatness and it contains just about everything that you will ever need to know about movie-making. It is not just the great performances from Bette and Joan that make it a classic, but the sets, costumes, lighting, cinematography, supporting cast and direction are all faultless.
As a double-act, Bette and Joan took one-upmanship to a whole new level. Joan had by 1962, through marriage, become a board member of the Pepsi company. On the set of Baby Jane, Bette had a Coca-Cola vending machine installed. In one scene, Jane (Bette) has to drag the 'paralysed' Blanche (Joan) across the floor. Joan put weights in her pockets and made herself dead weight. Oh, and the face slapping wasn't faked.
So, who was best? Bette or Joan? Who knows, and who am I to say? They were both great ladies and I still love watching their movies. Joan may have tortured her children, husbands, friends, bosses, employees and pets for all I know but, by God, she made some great movies. As for Bette, she made some great movies too and she was known for giving good quotes. She gave the world one, which I still appropriate today. She once said of Joan: "I wouldn't piss on her if she was on fire!"
But, to Bette goes the last word and one of the greatest quotes of all time. Talking about the death of her longtime rival she said: "You should never say bad things about the dead, you should only say good... Joan Crawford is dead, good!" How can you not love the woman who had the balls to say that?
Each of these two feisty, quite possibly deranged ladies, were fine actresses in their own right (watch Now, Voyager and Mildred Pierce if you still need convincing) but it was the fireworks that frequently flew between them that made life interesting. For years, they feuded, exchanging the Queen of Hollywood crown many times. Rather like Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, each constantly sought reassurances that they were better than the other.
Ironically, it was together that they were truly awesome. In 1962, they joined forces for what is one of the greatest films ever made and certainly one of my top ten: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? The acting is of a level that transcends mere greatness. With each trying to out-act the other, both gave performances of a lifetime and the sheer hatred that was on-screen for all to see, was not entirely false. As with Bogart and Bacall in To Have and Have Not, there is real [black] magic on-screen, that not even David Copperfield could improve upon.
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? is two hours of utter greatness and it contains just about everything that you will ever need to know about movie-making. It is not just the great performances from Bette and Joan that make it a classic, but the sets, costumes, lighting, cinematography, supporting cast and direction are all faultless.
As a double-act, Bette and Joan took one-upmanship to a whole new level. Joan had by 1962, through marriage, become a board member of the Pepsi company. On the set of Baby Jane, Bette had a Coca-Cola vending machine installed. In one scene, Jane (Bette) has to drag the 'paralysed' Blanche (Joan) across the floor. Joan put weights in her pockets and made herself dead weight. Oh, and the face slapping wasn't faked.
So, who was best? Bette or Joan? Who knows, and who am I to say? They were both great ladies and I still love watching their movies. Joan may have tortured her children, husbands, friends, bosses, employees and pets for all I know but, by God, she made some great movies. As for Bette, she made some great movies too and she was known for giving good quotes. She gave the world one, which I still appropriate today. She once said of Joan: "I wouldn't piss on her if she was on fire!"
But, to Bette goes the last word and one of the greatest quotes of all time. Talking about the death of her longtime rival she said: "You should never say bad things about the dead, you should only say good... Joan Crawford is dead, good!" How can you not love the woman who had the balls to say that?
2. Erich von Stroheim
Erich von Stroheim was notoriously difficult to work with. The problem was simple; he was a perfectionist. His 1924 classic Greed is, without a doubt, one of the finest films ever made, even in its existing state, a butchered 10 reel version.
The original director's cut of Greed is, officially, the longest film ever made. Von Stroheim's 42 reel version was only ever shown once; it lasted for nine hours and was reputedly a work of supreme excellence. However, it was not commercial, by any stretch of the imagination. It was demanded that the director cut it down to a manageable length, so he reluctantly edited it down to 24 reels. But, that was still four hours long and von Stroheim was, unceremoniously relieved of the responsibility of further cutting. His pride and joy was eventually hacked down to the sub-two hour version we have today, something that he never forgave MGM for.
Even so, Greed is an awesome film and one can only speculate on the magnificence of the original cut. Unfortunately, we shall never know as the original 32 reels of cut negative were melted down, at the time, to retrieve the minute quantity of silver from the nitrate film stock.
The original director's cut of Greed is, officially, the longest film ever made. Von Stroheim's 42 reel version was only ever shown once; it lasted for nine hours and was reputedly a work of supreme excellence. However, it was not commercial, by any stretch of the imagination. It was demanded that the director cut it down to a manageable length, so he reluctantly edited it down to 24 reels. But, that was still four hours long and von Stroheim was, unceremoniously relieved of the responsibility of further cutting. His pride and joy was eventually hacked down to the sub-two hour version we have today, something that he never forgave MGM for.
Even so, Greed is an awesome film and one can only speculate on the magnificence of the original cut. Unfortunately, we shall never know as the original 32 reels of cut negative were melted down, at the time, to retrieve the minute quantity of silver from the nitrate film stock.
2. Lupe Velez
Lupe Velez, 'The Mexican Spitfire', was, is, and always will be, the sexiest woman that ever lived. Yes, even sexier than Marilyn Monroe, I would say.
Only 5ft tall, the petite, natural beauty was a hot-tempered, passionate woman used to getting her own way. This was the role she played on-screen and that was how she lived her life, especially during her five tempestuous years of marriage to Tarzan star, Johnny Weissmuller. She was best known for her role in the Mexican Spitfire series of movies between 1939 and 1942, in which she played Carmelita, a fiery Mexican entertainer. Sadly, on December 13, 1944, tired of yet another failed romance with Harold Raymond and pregnant with his child, Lupe committed suicide with an overdose of Seconal.
She was only 36 years old.
"The first time you buy a house you think how pretty it is and sign the check. The second time you look to see if the basement has termites. It's the same with men." - Lupe Velez
Only 5ft tall, the petite, natural beauty was a hot-tempered, passionate woman used to getting her own way. This was the role she played on-screen and that was how she lived her life, especially during her five tempestuous years of marriage to Tarzan star, Johnny Weissmuller. She was best known for her role in the Mexican Spitfire series of movies between 1939 and 1942, in which she played Carmelita, a fiery Mexican entertainer. Sadly, on December 13, 1944, tired of yet another failed romance with Harold Raymond and pregnant with his child, Lupe committed suicide with an overdose of Seconal.
She was only 36 years old.
"The first time you buy a house you think how pretty it is and sign the check. The second time you look to see if the basement has termites. It's the same with men." - Lupe Velez
2. Lon Chaney
Lon Chaney is, in my opinion, the greatest movie actor of all time. The Man of a Thousand Faces was one of the biggest box office stars of the silent era, yet most people today are completely unaware of his achievements, other than the wild, wacky, and wholly inaccurate stories that have been passed down and become folklore. Chaney's mastery of the art of make-up, paved the way for those who came later; Jack P. Pierce, the marvellous Universal monster-maker of the '30s and '40s and Stan Winston, whose modern day make-up effects are legendary.
Chaney always created his own make-up and whilst he, undoubtedly, put his body through much pain and discomfort to achieve his stunning range of cripples, freaks and monsters, he never lost sight of the one thing that made his characters stand out; he never lost sight of the humanity that was present in even the most freakish and evil of his creations. That is what made Chaney great. His most twisted, deformed, depraved creations showed what was beneath the surface and made you care whether they lived or died. That is acting. That is star quality. Sadly, he died of throat cancer in 1930, having made just one talking picture, a remake of his 1925 silent masterpiece, The Unholy Three.
I eventually found his star in front of 7046 Hollywood Blvd., between Orange and La Brea, outside a boutique purveying items of an adult nature. I don't know whether Lon would have found that amusing, or not, but it made me chuckle. I knelt down and touched the sidewalk, where his name has been immortalised. I don't know when the paving stone was laid, or if Chaney ever touched it, but it was the closest I'll ever get to meeting him.
And, in case you were wondering, Lon is short for Leonidas.
Chaney always created his own make-up and whilst he, undoubtedly, put his body through much pain and discomfort to achieve his stunning range of cripples, freaks and monsters, he never lost sight of the one thing that made his characters stand out; he never lost sight of the humanity that was present in even the most freakish and evil of his creations. That is what made Chaney great. His most twisted, deformed, depraved creations showed what was beneath the surface and made you care whether they lived or died. That is acting. That is star quality. Sadly, he died of throat cancer in 1930, having made just one talking picture, a remake of his 1925 silent masterpiece, The Unholy Three.
I eventually found his star in front of 7046 Hollywood Blvd., between Orange and La Brea, outside a boutique purveying items of an adult nature. I don't know whether Lon would have found that amusing, or not, but it made me chuckle. I knelt down and touched the sidewalk, where his name has been immortalised. I don't know when the paving stone was laid, or if Chaney ever touched it, but it was the closest I'll ever get to meeting him.
And, in case you were wondering, Lon is short for Leonidas.
1. Ritchie Valens
"It could have been worse, you could have been Ricky Zuela."
Ritchie Valens I took especially for the missus... well, she did let me go to America, on my own, for three weeks, with a bunch of drunken, smelly, punks..
Ritchie Valens I took especially for the missus... well, she did let me go to America, on my own, for three weeks, with a bunch of drunken, smelly, punks..