A cinephilac blog about an actress, silent film, and the Jazz Age, with occasional posts about related books, music, art, and history written by Thomas Gladysz. Visit the Louise Brooks Society™ at www.pandorasbox.com
Happy Halloween from the Louise Brooks Society. The two spookiest images involving the actress that I could find are these two publicity images from The Canary Murder Case (1929).
The closest Louise Brooks ever came to appearing in a horror film was when she was considered for the title role in Bride of Frankenstein
(1935), the James Whale classic. Of course, the role went to the
another actress with iconic hair, Elsa Lanchester, who was brilliant in
the dual roles of the Bride and Mary Shelley. Would Brooks have been any
good in the role? It is hard to say.
There is a new (to me) photograph floating around the internet that some claim depicts Louise Brooks. I am not sure. It could be of Brooks, or it could be of an unknown, similar looking starlet or showgirl.
I messaged the person who first posted the image, asking where it came from, but have not heard back. Context can often provide a clue. To me, the image looks like the sort one would see in the "girlie" magazines of the 1920s, like Artists and Models. I am guessing that this image was taken in 1924 or 1925.
THE ARGUMENT AGAINST: The model is not identified. Most models were back then, even something vague like "the newest star of the Follies." However, the identity of this model could have been lost when a caption was trimmed from the image. Hence, my request for the picture's source. Secondly, I don't recall seeing this bit of clothing on Brooks before. When originally posted, some thought the image depicted Colleen Moore. It does not.
THE ARGUMENT FOR: The model does bear a striking resemblance to Louise Brooks, especially in her face. The hair is also right. And so is the body type. Some of the fake nudes floating around get that last point wrong. Also spot on, and this could be coincidence, is the way the model in this photograph holds herself. At some point early on, Louise Brooks was taught to pose. This model knows how to do so. She is also holding her hands -- fingers spread -- in ways Brooks did in some of her early images. As well, there is also the use of a curtain in the background. This is something other photographer's of the time, such as John De Mirjian of the "draped nudes" scandal, would sometimes employ.
CLOSING ARGUMENT: I don't know.
If anyone know who this model is, or knows more about the origins of this picture and where it might have been printed, I would certainly appreciate hearing from you.
Admittedly, I have been fooled before. I once came across a 1920s photo of a pretty model, the so-called "sepia-toned nude," and believed it to be Louise Brooks, even though the model was identified as being of someone else. But still, the resemblance was so great I talked myself into believing it was Brooks to the point of creating a little narrative in my mind as to why the image was deliberately misidentified. Wishful thinking. . . . until other images of this similar looking model-showgirl were pointed out.
It's no secret I adore Hailey Tuck, not just because she is darn cute and sports a swell bob, but also because she is a gifted jazz vocalist. Hailey is a singer from Austin, Texas who, in her own words, is "based in Paris & London in the 1920's."
I have been spending a good deal of time on YouTube over the last few days (refurbishing the Louise Brooks Society YouTube channel) when I came across a 2018 interview with Hailey in which she mentions the impact Louise Brooks and Brooks' own memoir, Lulu in Hollywood, had on her life and career. I hadn't seen it before. My bad. And thought to post it here.
I have written about Hailey in the past, as have many other publications including Marie Claire, who once described her as “The millennial's Louise Brooks.” Back in 2015, Hailey contributed a piece to the Louise Brooks Society blog in which fans of the actress were asked to submit their story of discovery -- of how they first came across Louise Brooks and what the actress means to them. Before I reprint that piece, here is another 2018 video clip of Hailey's UK TV debut, singing "That Don't Make It Junk" on the BBC show, Later... with Jools Holland.
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Hailey Tuck's story of discovering Louise Brooks by Hailey Tuck
When I was 18, I was working in a rare and out
of print bookstore in Austin, TX and lazily attending a mess of random
liberal arts classes at the community college across the street. I'd
graduated from a Baptist military boarding school early, and
subsequently 'suffered' two heart wrenching defeats in attempting to
gain admittance to Julliard, and though I can look back on that malaise
with the same wry smile as reading my self-aggrandizing childhood
diaries, I do acutely remember looking at my options and feeling very
"none of the above."
The job itself was a total
dream, and still my number one back up in case I didn't manage to become
wildly successful in jazz. My grandmother was a bookseller and called in
an old favor for her bibliophile granddaughter, and voila I became their
only employee. The shop opened at noon
(ideal) and I was mostly left to my own devices, or occasionally joined
by my boss, Luke -- an obviously extreme literate, and general good time
-- or one of the eccentric collectors who would come and have a whiskey,
or tutor me in French.
Like some sort of adult
Montessori school, my browsing led me to a total cultural revolution
for a curious 18 year old. After dully expressing my distaste for
poetry, Luke pointed me to Pablo Neruda and Rainer Maria Rilke, and like
a light-bulb I suddenly understood the art behind the subtlety of
expressing something sensuous or painful without the directness or girth
of literature. I pawed through sections on occult, anthropology, Swedish
furniture. I bought the entire play section. I dated a professor from
the university who slept in a soundproof, light proof box and cut off my
black hair because I wanted to look like a New York art dealer in the
90's. And luckily, I picked up a book called Lulu in Hollywood
because the illustration of the chick on the front had my hair cut.
Reading,
or inhaling rather, doesn't cover it. For once I felt I was reading a
real story, and one that closely echoed my own -- sexual abuse,
alcoholism, family troubles, and then looking at traditional success
and saying, "Fuck that I'm going to make weird ass art house movies in
Germany!" Some might view Louise's subsequent eeking descending fall
into obscurity as a classic tragedy, however from my current vantage
point as a young performer, I see someone who made deliberate u-turns
based on a desire to be the most authentic version of themselves,
regardless of the viability for commercial success. And most
importantly, I saw myself, and felt steeled to seek out my own
adventure, regardless of the wobbling uncertainty of ditching college,
my father's approval, and the American dream.
My
newfound hubris manifested into a one way ticket to Paris. I should add
that I also had the rare luck of a modest trust fund of sorts --
before you start gagging -- it was an insurance settlement. A
lonely month or so later on the metro, this American girl
complimented my vintage dress, and I asked her how she knew I spoke
English, and she said, "I don't, I just speak to everyone in English!"
For some reason it seemed entirely charming, and I asked her if she
wanted to get off and have a glass of champagne together. She told me
about her strange marriage to an older wealthy record producer (they
have separate houses, and she collects dollhouses) and I told her that I
was sort living in this squat and was too scared to tell my Dad, or
he'd make me come home. She happened to be house sitting this beautiful
apartment in Voltaire and offered for me to sleep on the red velvet
fainting couch. One night later we were throwing a party and I was
sitting on my bed/fainting couch and this completely decadent red headed
American, in head to toe 1920's sat down next to me and I told her I'd
been living there on this couch, then asked her the proverbial, "Do you
come here often?" She looked at me sardonically, and patiently replied
that this was her house. And her couch. After a second/hour or so of
complete embarrassment I bumbled and mumbled my way through an
explanation about being fresh off the boat, wanting to do acting or
singing or something, and a few glasses of Prosecco later she had yanked
off the music and had me singing Billie Holiday's "I'll Be Seeing You"
on her dining room table.
When I read Luluin Hollywood I
had this grand idea of what Europe might be -- cavorting with
intellectuals and passing out at orgies at Rothschild mansions. But when
I got there everything seemed garishly contemporary, and lonely. I just
felt like an American at an overpriced cafe.
But whatever Sorrel saw in
me on her dining room table was the catalyst for everything I could
have imagined. I got upgraded from fainting couch to painting studio,
introduced to a swath of filthy Italian phrases, chess on trains,
regency balls, schooled on not offending Venetians at Carnival, posing
nude in an Art Deco harem, literally physically force-dressing me for
winter time, and above all encouraged and supported to sing at every
single event, party, and opportunity possible until, like learning the
other side of poetry, or understanding the inevitability of forever, I
became the most true, authentic version of myself as a jazz singer
trying to evolve and challenge myself in Europe, and of course offending Venetians and passing out at Mansion parties.
I'm still sort of making
wobbly guess-choices, but I do know that everything that has led me to
where I am now feels right, and nothing about it seems like the beaten
path to any real commercial success, and that feels great. And when
Marie Claire did an article on me this year, I definitely felt a wry
self-aggrandizing smile when reading the title "The Millennial Louise
Brooks".
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In 2020, Hailey released another splendid album, Coquette. To keep up with Haily and her career, be sure and check out her website at haileytuckmusic.com/ or follow her on Twitter or YouTube. That's where I am headed now to watch a few more videos.
Lately, I have been revamping (pun intended) the Louise Brooks Society YouTube channel. Among other things, I have created some new and different playlists of interesting and quirky things I have found on YouTube. Among them are a handful of videos of individuals drawing Louise Brooks, which I never knew was a thing. Here are a few examples of from my new playlist. If you have done one a video drawing, or know of one I have missed one, please let me know.
Writer/Artist Rick Geary draws a portrait of silent film actress Louise Brooks, who was a relative of his. Show here in time lapse . . . and one of my favorites. I have interviewed Rick Geary in the past. Read my interview HERE.
Time lapse digital speed painting of Louise Brooks by Jeff Stahl done in Photoshop CS5 with Wacom tablets Cintiq 12wx and Intuos 4L. Real time: 1h16min.
The first video in a series from Bee the Artist titled "Bio-pics" - a mix between portrait drawing and film history. This video is a bit longer, and features multiple sketches.
And lastly, a drawing of Louise Brooks by Gregory Roth, drawn in ArtRage.
Recently, I was tidying up the Louise Brooks Society blog (I hope you like what I have done with the place) when I noticed it was coming up on a milestone. Today's post marks the 3400th blog.
I started blogging back in August 2002, first on LiveJournal, and then on Blogger starting around 2009. I managed to transfer the most interesting pieces from LiveJournal to Blogger, and have been writing and blogging and posting all along. Admittedly, those very early pieces were infrequent and sometimes slight. In 2006, however, during the Louise Brooks centennial, I posted 290 times. There was a lot to report. In 2011, I posted only 69 times. The best year was 2014, when I posted 306 times. I can't imagine how I did it. The pandemic has certainly slowed things down, as there are fewer screenings and news items to write about. My goal these days is to focus on more substantive pieces and newly found material, and to post about 100 times a year. I figure it all adds up.
The LBS blog has hundreds of followers. IF YOU ARE NOT ONE, SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE IN THE COLUMN ON THE RIGHT. Since 2009, according to my hit counter, the Louise Brooks Society blog has been viewed more than 1,665,000 times by individuals from all around the world. That is pretty cool. Check the flag counter below or in the right hand column to see if your country is represented. Not surprisingly, English speaking countries lead the roll call of visitors. And of course, France and Germany (where LB made a few films) also show many visitors. It pleases me that Russia and countries in Latin America also show up, as does India. But come on New Zealand, you can do better! And so can you, Poland!
As many longtime readers of this blog know, my other online writings about Louise Brooks have appeared on examiner.com, Huffington Post, SFGate (website of the San Francisco Chronicle), Open / Salon, Pop Matters, and recently Film International. And what's more, my articles have been tweeted about by the likes of Roger Ebert (twice!), Neil Gaiman, and others. That is really cool. In 2018, I collected a number of my best articles and blogs into an illustrated, 296 page book, Louise Brooks, the Persistent Star. Why not ORDER a copy today!
Just recently, I noticed one of my past blogs caught the attention of Greil Marcus back in 2015. Writing on BarnesandNobleReview, the famous critic and author singled out a 2012 blog I penned on Louise Brooks and the Kansas-born artist Bruce Conner. Here is a screen capture of Greil Marcus' blog about my blog.
Again, I was pleased by the attention. The Louise Brooks Society blog is a proud member of the CMBA (the Classic Movie Blog Association). I was also heartened back in 2018 when the Classic Movie Blog Association profiled the LBS blog and even interviewed yours truly. That is certainly another highlight in the life of the Louise Brooks Society blog. The recognition is nice, and so is the feedback.
My sincere thanks to the blogs which link to the LBS blog (some are linked in the right hand column), and to the bloggers (including Immortal Ephemera), online publications (including Shelf-Awareness), and websites (including Columbia University Press) which have written about its various entries. I will end this pat on the back with another little seen portrait of Louise Brooks from the 1930s. Long live Lulu!
Another little seen portrait of Brooks from the early 1930s
It is a shame Louise Brooks' career fizzled out in the early 1930s. She could have been a contender.
In early 1930, publications carried stories of Brooks’ return to Hollywood. Behind the scenes, the actress was being courted by Columbia Pictures, where there was talk of a possible role in a Buck Jones western. Brooks, however, refused the part and walked away from a contract with the up-and-coming studio – just as she had done with Paramount in 1928, and American Pathé in 1929. Eventually, she found work in a trio of American talkies released the following year.
Brooks’ career had achieved a momentum which necessitated a strong role in a good film to keep her in the public eye. . . that film might have been the celebrated crime drama, The Public Enemy (1931), if only Brooks had accepted the role offered her by director William Wellman. Instead, what the world got were supporting roles in three lesser films. Each received scant attention and relatively few showings - the most popular and certainly the best of the lot was the slightly suggestive pre-code farce, God's Gift to Women. Nevertheless, it too was a lesser film, and none of the three did anything to help her flagging career.
Windy Riley Goes Hollywood promo photo
Which again is a shame, because Louise Brooks could have shined in pre-code films. The actress even adapted her look, brushing back her bangs, exposing her forehead, and letting her hair grow just a little bit longer as was the style of the time.
It Pays to Advertise promo photo
God's Gift to Women promo photo
Following the release of the three films in 1931, Louise Brooks dropped out of Hollywood for what amounted to a five year absence. She declared bankruptcy in 1932, got married and divorced in 1933, worked and toured as a ballroom dancer in 1933 and 1934, and drifted along until 1936, when she played a supporting role in the Buck Jones western, Empty Saddles (Universal). But before that, she was considered for but never offered the title role in The Bride of Frankenstein (1935), James Whale's sequel to his 1931 hit film, Frankenstein. Oh, what might have been. . . .
