March was an odd actor - very well respected and talented, technically a star (he headlined numerous popular movies) but not very well remembered today, despite winning two Oscars. The main reason I think is that he wasn't a personality star like say Errol Flynn, Bogart or Gary Grant - you never hear someone call a part a "Fredric March type character" or a "Fredric March" vehicle. He really was a character actor with leading man looks. So many times in his career he seemed to get a role that someone else turned down - Fred March was the star you had to settle for.
Still it was an amazing career with a swag of classic films. He deserved a book although his life wasn't super exciting - small town upbringing, well off family, he attended college and went into banking but got the acting bug. It didn't actually take that long for him to make it - he had talent, enthusiasm and looks (it's always easiest if you're a good looking young guy) - and was soon a name on stage, being particularly regarded for his John Barrymore turn in The Royal Family. Then it was off to Hollywood, where he signed for a time with Paramount then freelanced successfully: Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, The Barretts of Wimpole Street, Nothing Sacred, The Buccaneer.
Towards the end of the 30s he returned to the stage, which he gets props for doing because he was still much in demand as a movie star. I think he did it to make his wife happy but ultimately it proved to be a smart move (as Charles Tingwell once said, if you look after the acting the career will take care of itself) and his Broadway career would thrive when his star roles got less impressive - in the 50s he was no longer a box office draw, but he was a Broadway draw. March liked to blame the down turn in his movie carer on the fact he was accused of being a Communist; now that may have had a little bit to do with it, but I think more important was the fact that he appeared in a bunch of flops in the late 40s, he was getting on in years, and also he didn't fall back into some sure fire commercial genre like Westerns to stay in the public eye.
March didn't always do good work but he never sold out, always pushed himself; he seems to have been a joy for directors to work with - conscientious, diligent, aware of his tendency to ham, very open to new talents and directors, like Paddy Chayefsky and Elia Kazan when they were starting out, saying that films were getting better instead of whining about the old days. He also had excellent relationships with people like William Wyler and John Frankenheimer. This meant he was always in work, right up to the end - and it was consistently varied and interesting work too: The Best Years of Our Lives, Long Day's Journey Into Night, Gideon, Inherit the Wind, Hombre.
He was married for along time to Florence Elridge, always overshadowing her in terms of career success (on films and stage) and popularity with people - but they clearly relied on each other; he seemed to need her discipline and drive, and political nous (he was more a little boy); he was protective of her, promoted her career, and she would tolerate his many infidelities and constant on-set lechery (March was very much pro-sexual harassment in the work place). Their marriage reads like one of those arrangements where the wife basically mothers the husband. I doubt he would have accomplished half as much without her.
They adopted two kids - got along well with the girl but the boy was more of a handful, getting into trouble with the law and eventually dying in a car crash. (I wouldn't have minded more about their son actually.)
But this is a fine book, a worth tribute to a good actor and not particularly memorable star.
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