Monday, January 18, 2016

Book review - "Ladd: A Hollywood Tragedy" by Beverly Linet (1979) (re-reading)

Why was Alan Ladd so sad? It's hard to fathom - he was so determined to be an actor for so long, putting in years upon years of plugging away, scraping together his pennies to attend acting school, playing all sorts of small parts, refusing to give up even though he had a wife and small baby to feed, finally getting regular work in radio and earning the devotion of Sue Carol, who pushed his career to the next level and eventually the career defining role in This Gun for Hire.

After a decade of effort he became an "overnight" star and remained a star, really, until he died - for the last few years he was a second tier star, for sure, but still a name capable of headlining movies. This was in part because Ladd tended to be co-operative and professional, but also because he made so many easily commercial films - Westerns, noirs, gangster flicks. He had several healthy children and step-children, a keen brain which meant he earned money with his investments and films, his own production company, a seemingly happy, devoted spouse... why did he become an alcoholic? Why did he get so puffy and so depressed he tried to kill himself in 1962 and take a (possibly accidental, possibly not) overdose of tranquilisers shortly afterwards?

No one ever really knows but Linet's excellent look at Ladd's life - I've read it a few times now and it holds up - offers clues: a father he never really remembered dying of a heart attack, guilt from burning down a house accidentally when he was young, lack of extended family (no grandparents, aunts, uncles), a poverty stricken childhood in the depression, a step father who died young of a heart attack, an alcoholic mother who killed herself in front of Ladd, guilt from divorcing his devoted first wife in favor of the ambitious Carol, crippling insecurity from his seeming lack of acting ability.

Ladd had enough drive to become a star but lacked the ability to enjoy it when he arrived. He was looked after pretty well by Paramount, who cast him in some decent vehicles - The Glass Key, The Blue Dahlia, Whispering Smith, even The Great Gatsby - but left them over money. In hindsight he probably should have stayed, where he was comfortable, although some of his movies for Warners and Warwick were entertaining. He definitely should have tried to push his range and work with better directors, because when he did - with George Stevens in Shane - it resulted in the biggest success of his career.

But he wanted to play it safe - when he should've tried cutting his price and/or pushing his name forward to work with people like John Ford, Howard Hawks, Hitchcock or Anthony Mann, he stuck with old professionals like Frank Tuttle and Gordon Douglas. He foolishly turned down the role of Jett Rink in Giant because it wasn't the lead, wasn't a particularly bold producer (unlike say Burt Lancaster) and just made more and more crap. He physically disintegrated, didn't appear enough times against a star of equal popularity, and his films got worse. Watching his last few movies is almost uncomfortable.

But in his day there was no one like Ladd - cold, ruthless, with considerable grace, blonde hair and that imposing voice. At his best he was a compelling star and it's a damn shame he didn't enjoy acting more.

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