A Letter to the Stars | Dear Lucy...

Dear Lucy,

Here's a fun fact about myself: every day of my life I try to emulate you. No, really, it's the truth. If I am to be perfectly honest, sometimes I see a bit of yourself in me. Oh, I'm no where near as wonderful, but there are occasions where I feel that I can relate to you or understand you. Times where I can be empathetic with moments of your frustration, your passion, your pain. A lot of the time, however, I see the qualities in you that I have always desired and struggled with myself. Your courage, your this is the way I am, take it or leave it attitude, your drive, your perseverance, your patience. I know if you were to read this, you'd shake your head and wouldn't believe it, because you never knew how truly amazing you were. I'm not kidding, either. Each time you walked onto a talk show, an awards ceremony, a television special, game show, whatever it may be - the audience, whose hearts you'd won long ago, gave you a rousing applause and a standing ovation. Each time, you would get this look in your eyes, this special (and rare among celebrities) glisten that seemed to ask, "Is this really for me?" Genuine modesty was a hat you wore well, a trait that came out of your own naivety; you didn't know how great you really were.

Even your inarguable talent: when you won the Emmy for Best Situation Comedy in '53, you and Desi went up to the podium and profusely thanked your writers. "Would it be wrong to have them come up here and accept the award instead?" you said. Years and years later, when you were interviewed by Barbara Walters with Gary now by your side, you brushed aside your abilities. "I don't think funny," you admitted nonchalantly. "I can do funny things if people write them down for me, but I don't think funny." You would say, forget me.You'd argue that the true Queen of Comedy was Carole Lombard and that the funniest girl at parties could never be you but Judy Garland. ("I'm a mortician compared to Judy," you said.)

You were always quick to compliment other performers. You even once told someone, "If you want to see real comedy, don't look at me, watch Vivian Vance!" You never forgot to remind a reporter that Desi wasn't given enough credit for what he had done for I Love Lucy. You were sure to appreciate all fields of talent, from Julie Andrews to Audrey Hepburn to Lily Tomlin, whose comedy you admittedly did not "get", but enjoyed "studying". Even the stars that hurt you, the ones that you didn't get along with as well, the ones that didn't synchronize with your work ethic; never would you say a bad word. When the Richard Burton diaries were published in the early 80s, you ran out and bought a copy before someone could stop you. When you saw what'd he written about you*, I'm sure you felt awful, but you were above ever publicly badmouthing him. You just had such an immense respect and understanding for those with talent and those that honed this talent.


Self pity and luck were foreign ideas to you. Your morals lay in family, love, generosity, hard work, and loyalty. Perhaps it was loyalty that was one of your very strongest suits, and God, is it one of the things I love most about you, a quality I appreciate most often in people. When you liked someone, you loved them, and you never let them suffer in any sort of way as long as you were there to do something about it. Whenever someone helped you out in the slightest, you never forgot it. You kept the same employees for decades, at home or at the studio. I've read of so many occasions where you were assisted by someone during your movie career in the 40's, and later these people, or even their kin, got a job on I Love Lucy. Even their most minor of merits to you were rewarded; the director Mark Sandrich rearranged the few lines you had as a flower shop clerk in Top Hat so it worked better for you, and his kindness was never forgotten. When Mark's son was fresh out of the army in the 50's, he was given a job as an assistant director on Lucy.*

And if there had been the loyalty to your employees and your friends, there was even greater the one you had your family. They were dependent upon you, and you always took care of them: your mother and your brother and your grandparents and your cousin. I'm always touched by how truly important they were to you - and all that you did for them, which you never even thought twice about, because the fact that they loved you was reason enough. You were the kind of a woman that never let any act of generosity, kindness, or love go unnoticed.

You were one for the centuries, a woman with a drive and a deep passion; passion for the ones you loved, for your work, for your fans. You really were an every woman, and I'm not even kidding. Maybe the role you played best was at work, in your environment. But I know for certain that your favorite was as a domestic - as a wife, and as a mother - "I'd like to be remembered best as a good wife and mother," you once told a newspaper. You were raised with the classic virtues of your generation, values I think you cherished very much, but none the less defied. You grew up in a culture where it was the norm for a woman to depend upon a man, and though I believe that deep down you wanted that sense of protection very much so, there was something about you that couldn't help rebel against it. How could you not? Your own mother, DeDe, was a single mother (and of course, your various relatives, especially your grandparents, played a huge part in your rearing but all the while, when your father died she was left a single mother, a term so rare in those days), strong and independent.

You came from a society that would have expected you to marry an older man and have many children quite young, but both of your husbands were younger than you - and you didn't have Lucie until you were thirty nine (obviously, this wasn't by your choice, but still). If you don't think that's something you necessarily have to be proud about, it is. In the decades since the liberation of women, each generation would like to think they gave birth to women like you who redefined the standard, but let's face it: you were doing it back in the 50's! And to top it off, you were a businesswoman; oh, I know, you didn't take on much of the financial aspects of running Desilu until later, but you did. Don't you see? You were "the every woman" long before the expression had ever been coined; the first woman to appear as pregnant on television and also the first to run her own studio. What was best of it all was you didn't do all of these things to make a particular point or to have a certain distinction; you were just being yourself.

And you mean a lot to me. Really, you do. You don't know how wonderful it is for me to take comfort in the fact that whenever I've had a bad day or am feeling upset for whatever reason, all I have to do is just think of you to feel better. Not just because you make me laugh and smile (which OBVIOUSLY you do), but also because I remember how strong and brave you were. You really had courage and you truly knew how to persevere. You never gave up. You never did. And you inspire me to to the same. There is a quote of yours, "You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world," and whenever I'm feeling sick of myself or disappointed, I try to remember that.

I hope you knew how loved you were, how loved you still are. Entertainers are appreciated, respected, and well liked  - but few have been adored to your extent. In 1986, with your final show not catching on in popularity, I'm sometimes afraid that in the end you didn't realize how much we love you. But you really were the most beloved performer. Hell, you even took the number one spot in a list of deceased stars (according to a poll anyways) that Americans wished were still alive. I Love Lucy is still considered the best show of all time. You gave in an interview to Johnny Carson, in about the late 70s, I guess, and he asked you, "Isn't it incredible to know that fifty years from now people will still be watching you?" You kidded him, you scoffed, you rolled your eyes as you laughed that that wouldn't be true. But it is. The "I" in I Love Lucy was originally intended to be Ricky/Desi, and it was, always, but soon the "I" became each one of us: we all fell in love with Lucy Ricardo, and then with you.

My favorite episode of Lucy, though very nearly impossible to pick, is the one where you told Ricky - Desi - that you were expecting a baby. When you and Desi cried at the end*, and your emotions were real, it is to me (and trust me, many others as well) the most sentimental moment in television history. Each time I watch it I'm moved; even the first time, when I didn't know the history behind that scene, I was touched entirely. And one can't help but become emotional even more so when they know of the miscarriages* you had.

Which brings me to say, your life was never easy; far from it. You prided yourself, I think, as being a tough girl who could handle whatever was thrown at her, and you did - but I know that there was a greater part of you that was deep, sentimental, vulnerable.. and that side of you, to me, is one of your most endearing qualities as an actress and as a human. I say as a actress (and especially as a comedienne) because you brought this vitality to your characters; a warmth, a particular lovable factor that made it impossible not to sympathize with the roles you played. Even when Lucy Ricardo was being absolutely ridiculous or made the biggest of goofs, we always wanted everything to turn out okay for her in the end - and there's that satisfaction in knowing it always did. Lucy, you forever gave us the happy ending, even when you didn't always get to have one yourself...

"I was no beauty, that's for sure," you once said, but don't deny it. You were gorgeous, inside and out. Oh, an incredible cliche for sure, and it sounds cheesy as hell, but it is true. You had eyes and a smile that seemed to make your emotions transparent even when you weren't speaking a word, and I think the best examples of that are times that had to do with Desi. The end of Lucy is Enceinte - Ricky and Lucy disappeared, you and Desi took the stage. Then there was the time you danced to "Cheek to Cheek" in the following episode; you two didn't cry, but the joy, bliss, and happiness shone through so obviously on your faces that even as a little girl I could see it. Fast forwarding years and years to the Kennedy Center Awards in '86; Desi had died just a few days before and you'd come straight to D.C. after his funeral. Robert Stack came onto the stage bearing a letter, written by Desi, expressing the words he had wanted to be there in person to say. As Robert Stack spoke, your eyes began to well up with tears and your lips trembled - so much so you covered your face with your hand. You weren't acting at the time, but your composure was what you struggled to retain, and you fought to do so, but in the end as you quietly cried, stricken with emotion, all your feelings became crystal clear. "I Love Lucy," he finished, "was never just a title."

Your home movies, the ones taken in the 40s and 50s, are some of my favorite footage of you. Because I feel that those clips show the real you, the you that no biography could ever possibly put into the words. The girl in those movies is a total and utter summary of why you're my favorite person. Running up to the camera to say hello, waving and grinning. Showing off your legs in a swimsuit, cuddling with your cats and your dogs, dressing up in crazy costumes. Making your silly 'Lucy' faces, sitting and smiling quietly, playing with and hugging your children. Then there's you and Desi: embracing and kissing, mouthing "I love you, I love you" to one another, licking the frosting off of Lucie's hands on her first birthday, him biting your cheek playfully, standing at the church in your second wedding, and then proudly with your completed family in 1953: Desi, Jr. in your hands and Lucie in his. I've read that even after you had divorced Desi, even after the kids had grown up, and you had settled into your senior years, you still loved to show those old movies in your living room, over and over. You never got sick of them and I know why you loved them best: because those movies showed who you really were, and what made you that way.

Way back at the start of this letter, in the first sentence, I said, "Everyday I try to emulate you." I think all of the above explains why, but there's more: much, much, more, more that I couldn't even possibly put into words, and even if I were to try, this would be, let's face it, a never-ending letter. Just a handful of the things I love about you so much, the things that made you so special and so beloved, the things that fused together to make one incredible woman that will surely, surely never be forgotten. At least as long as I'm around, but let's face it, you in no way need me, or anybody else, for that matter, to keep your memory alive. You were too amazing for that. Your legend lives on, your candle burns on eternally, and Lucy - you did that all by yourself.

Let me finish this letter by thanking you. Thank you for the millions of laughs and smiles you've given us; and to me, personally. Thank you for making this world a just a little brighter. Thank you for giving me a role model. Thank you for always being me there for me. Thank you for cheering me up when nothing else can. Thank you for being the best. Thank you for changing my life.

You are my favorite and always will be.

I didn't have to write so much... I didn't really have to write all of this, because it could have all been summarized in three words: "I love you." I do. I love you.

All the love in the world,

Rianna

FOOTNOTES -

*1: Richard Burton & Lucy (as well as Elizabeth) worked together for an episode of Here's Lucy. Burton and Lucy clashed, and later Burton wrote a disgusting monlogue about her in his diaries, which were published posthomously after his death. An avid reader of celebrity biographies & autobiographies, Lucy was quick to buy a copy.

*2: Jay Sandrich would go on to work on such notable shows as The Mary Tyler Moore Show, The Cosby Show, & The Golden Girls.

*3: Lucy had three miscarriages before giving birth to Lucie in 1951, just a month short of her fortieth birthday.

*4: Their tears here were unscripted. As they had struggled so much to have children, when they had Lucie they were sure they would have no more, and when taping they became overwhelmed with the emotions of being blessed with not just one, but two children. Embarrassed, they called for a second take, but the audience stood up and protested. The original filming is what aired and continues to air. 

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Okay, there's my overly emotional entry. Now, remember, it's not too late to write your letter and send your links into: alettertothestars@hotmail.com. It doesn't have to be as long as mine. Write even a paragraph if you'd like; the more entries the merrier! ...Also, I want to apologize, to all of you readers & especially Marcela and Nat, because I was supposed to have this letter up yesterday, but thanks to a change in my plans, faulty Internet connection, my own stupidity, this didn't go up until about a day... and a half later then I promised. Thus, I pretty much derailed everything. I'm so sorry, dahhlings.

You can see all of today's submissions here. There will be more to come on Monday & Tuesday. Thanks so much for participating guys!!! xxx

61 years later, we still love Lucy

61 years ago on this day, on a Monday night, at 9 PM, I Love Lucy went on air and has never gone off since. I wrote this post a few weeks ago with the intentions to post it earlier, but then decided to hold it off for the 15th, though I hadn't necessarily planned to do a post about the show's anniversary this year (as I did one last year for the big 6-0). Anyway, here's the post, I hope you enjoy it, and don't forget to squeeze some Lucy into your day today.

***

A couple of weeks ago, I happened to come across an article that wondered if we had finally reached the first generation not growing up on reruns of I Love Lucy. It wasn't the main topic of the article (and it was a pretty rubbish piece, anyways), but, to be quite honest with you, it did scare the hell out of me. As a classic film fan I am well aware of this generation's lack of appreciation of yesteryear's Hollywood, but I have always also felt that there are exceptions to the rule - movies, and, in this case, TV shows, that have defied the odds and still manage to be remembered by the greater part of society today. Like Gone With the Wind. Casablanca. The Wizard of Oz. Actresses like Audrey Hepburn & Marilyn Monroe. It's well known around these parts that I'm not always a fan of the idea of an "icon", but I have learned to be grateful for the "iconization", if you'd call it, of these films and people because it does keep Old Hollywood alive. It's nice to know that there are certain things that give Classic Hollywood and yesterday's entertainment a face, even if there is so much more beyond the face. Know what I mean?

I have always seen I Love Lucy as one of these exceptions. Why not? By many, it is considered the greatest television show to grace the small screen. It seems that at some point or another, just about everyone has seen an episode, or has at least heard of it. Even before I came to watch the show, I knew it existed - it was exactly what I thought of when thinking of "classic television." So many of the episodes are famous in their own individual right, and everyone seems to know them - "the Vitavetavegamin one ," "the candy factory one," "the grape stomping one"... the list is seriously endless.

So, no, I couldn't really bring myself to believe that this was a generation not growing up on I Love Lucy reruns. I remember sitting in the hairdresser's chair a couple of years ago as he recounted having nostalgically caught an episode of the show a few days before while channel surfing. Or going to a family party and meeting a family friend of my age who could remember seeing - and enjoying - at least a few episodes. Or the other day in school, where one of my new friends asked who the face on my iPhone case was (yes, I have a Lucy case) and another said, "It's Lucy from I Love Lucy, see?"

Still, as I said earlier, frankly, the very thought that Lucy had reached a generation which demeaned it less timeless as all the generations before it scared me. A lot. But a couple of events have fully assured me that that article was just as rubbish as I thought; and that over sixty years later, we still love Lucy very much.

Out of my curiosity, I decided to do my own little test of Lucy's popularity. I don't know how many of you readers are on Tumblr or aware of how it works (follow me; loving-lucy!) but a popular game on Tumblr is to do a sort of "Reblog if you love ___" post and see how many notes it gets. Now, I knew I wouldn't be able to get the most accurate of results because despite definitely having a nice, faithful group of followers, I'm most definitely not "Tumblr famous." Still, I decided to give it a try; Tumblr's target audience is teenagers/people in their twenties, thus people of 'this generation.'

[my GIF]

The post has so far gotten well over a thousand notes, but better than the notes were the comments that people added when reblogging the post. "This show was my childhood", "I know them all by heart", "Lucille Ball is my idol" and "I'm watching it right now" appeared frequently; but best of all were the specific memories or emotions the show provoked.

I Love Lucy has been my favorite show since I was 8 years old. I’ve seen every episode more times that I can count and somehow it’s always just as funny as the first time I ever watched it. The show is timeless and I refuse to believe that future generations won’t find the joy, wonder, and laughter that Lucy has brought into my life and the lives of many others. - melodylingerson

I thought I Love Lucy reruns were like…eternal. This show is incredible and I have the fondest memories watching it with my grandparents. - curlyqshoo

If you are not growing up on I Love Lucy, you are doing it wrong. And by “it” I mean life. - grahamburgers

This show was and always will be genius - and I think it would shock people of my generation (and younger) how much of the comedy we see today is referenced or based off this amazing show. - obamayourmama

Heck, some people even said they'd personally educate this generation with DVDs of I Love Lucy - others refused to ever raise children in a Lucyless society! One reblogger added that her mother had gone into labor with her while watching Lucy, while others remembered being little kids and watching the show with family members; knowing that when the theme song ended it was time for bed. Anecdotes like those proved to me what I'd fully suspected.

What was also beautiful to read were messages users left for me in my tumblr inbox. They might not necessarily apply to members of "this generation", but attest to the joy Lucy has given many, and what an incredible tool laughter is.

My grandmother runs her own home for women with Alzheimer's and dementia and watching these women watch I Love Lucy was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Some of these women can't respond to their name being called but would just laugh until they were in tears when Lucy would come on. It was so beautiful. Just thought I'd share. - ciarakenadie

 I work at a nursing home and they have the Alzheimer's unit. You can't even imagine how hard life is for them. BUT, Everyday the one thing that they remember is I Love Lucy is on. They all rush to the meeting room to watch I Love Lucy on the tv. We only have about five episodes but they just watch them over and over again. It is a beautiful thing it always makes me a little teary. - xprincessdiana

About a month ago, Barbara Walters hosted a 20/20 special entitled "Best in TV," to count down the best television shows of all time (or, the past sixty years anyways) as chosen by the public. This was split into various categories: Best Comedy, Best Drama, Best Cop Shows, Best TV Mom, etc. with a top five for each, and it was topped off with what voters chose to be the Top 5 Greatest TV Shows of All Time. Obviously, I tuned in with fingers crossed to see Lucy might win.

The results were just as I could have hoped for; Americans chose Lucy as their favorite comedy as well as their all time favorite television show. There was a nostalgic ten minute monologue for the show to cap off the special. ABC News collaborated with People magazine for this, and the magazine's editor likened Lucy to the Book of Genesis in television - "In the beginning, there was Lucy." In the monologue, we were reminded of some incredible facts: that Lucy has been translated into seventy-seven different languages, that it is the most watched television show to date, and CBS still makes millions of dollars off the show per year. (Originally, Lucy & Desi owned the episodes, and then sold them back to CBS in 1957 for four million dollars, giving birth to the rerun. Of course, Lucie & Desi, Jr. still hold interest in their parents's images and the many requests they get to use them with "Desilu, too")

On the special, Betty White summed up what Lucy did for women in comedy in one statement: "You had this gorgeous, gorgeous woman who did all these funny things." Isn't this true? Because of Lucy, women have all the opportunities in television and comedy as they do now, and they don't have to appear "unflattering" to be comedic. Whilst flipping through the channels the other day, I caught a bit of a Julia Louis Dreyfus sitcom, and I couldn't help but notice how much her character's wacky resourcefulness reminded me of Lucy Ricardo. Then, come to think of it, almost every comedic female character on television today has a little bit of Lucy Ricardo in her: that screwball spirit, that touch of sarcasm, that goofy steak. That's how deep the influence runs. And besides that, Lucy was a pioneer in the television industry in technical ways that are still apparent today, too. They invented the three camera technique that is still used by most sitcoms today, gave birth to the rerun, and came up with solutions for many of early television's obstacles in lighting & set design.

Lucie and Desi, Jr. were interviewed by Barbara for the special. At the end, Barbara asked Desi, Jr. what he thought it may be that makes his parents's show still incredibly successful sixty years after first going on air. I think he explained it very well when he said it is the show's principles that are timeless: laughter, friendship, and love.

So maybe there are some jokes that just never grow old.

At the end of the day, I've thankfully come to the conclusion that Lucy is still very much popular and very much needed. What was significant about that 20/20 special? Americans voted for their favorites, and Lucy came out on top - not but critic's choice, but by people's choice. In a 1984 televised event, Sammy Davis, Jr. told Lucy with great affection: "You are the one that they love the most." Call me biased, but he was very likely correct.

But why do we still need Lucy? The world has changed so much since when Lucy & Desi owned the airwaves. It's become more explicit, for sure - you couldn't say 'pregnant' then, but now you can air a woman actually giving birth. It's become a busier place and lacks the warmth that we once had. But this difference between their generation and ours is, I think, the very reason we still need Lucy. The world still needs Lucy because is something familiar that comforts us with the best memories of the past, and gives us something to smile about, even if for only twenty-four minutes. I'm sure there are only a few who, having watched even a single episode, haven't smiled or giggled or laughed at least once.

I guess the only way to end this post is to say two words to the cast, and, primarily, that beautiful redheaded girl who starred in the show: thank you!

"The world not only loves Lucy. The world, as it is today, needs her very much."
[my GIF]

Happy Birthday, My Favorite British Dames | Deborah, Greer & Julie

I'd first like to apologize for having disappeared into thin air for nearly three weeks! In that time, I missed a blogathon I'd promise to write an entry for, several SMRs, and also consequently reached 100 followers! (As of now, it's 101 - it could be apt to change if I lose one or two but anyways, this is my first time reaching this milestone!) I'm sorry I haven't been around as of much - it's just one of those terrible times when real life gets in the way of blogging, you know? I'll have a little note about the SMRs at the end of this blog, but most importantly I want to give a big THANK YOU ♥ to all 101 of you that follow me. It really does mean a lot to me, and hopefully when I have a little more time on my hands I can come up with a more creative way to celebrate making it past 100!

***

As it so happens, three of my favorite actresses have birthdays three days in a row! How wonderful is that? (Albiet exhausting, most definitely.) I felt that bombarding you with three birthday posts in a row would be a bit too much (especially seeing how that would come after my being M.I.A. for so long), so I'm combining it all into one post. (I chose this date because's it's the middle one.) 

The three actresses are: Greer Garson (September 29th), Deborah Kerr (September 30th) and Julie Andrews (October 1st). Interestingly enough, all three British dames are actresses that I finally come around to truly appreciating within the last year. Needless to say, I now adore them to bits and find them all pretty much perfect.

Greer Garson

(SEPTEMBER 29, 1904 - APRIL 6, 1996)

“I think the mirror should be tilted slightly upward when it`s reflecting life -- toward the cheerful, the tender, the compassionate, the brave, the funny, the encouraging, all those things -- and not tilted down to the gutter part of the time, into the troubled vistas of conflict."

Greer Garson, my beautiful bonny daisy. I fell in love with her nearly a year ago, after watching Adventure (1945). To say that Adventure is a perfect movie would be an overstatement, but I will always love it because it introduced me to Greer. Instantly, I loved her: her voice, her smile, her refined acting. I wouldn't be lying if I say I have very nearly seen everything Greer was in, and I worked my way through most of her films within a couple of months. I couldn't get enough of her. Despite having won an Oscar and having been nominated countless more times, Greer is an actress that isn't as well remembered as she should be today. She brought real vitality to her performances, which she combined with sweetness and warmth and a particular sensitivity. It's impossible not to sympathize with a Greer Garson character. Gregory Peck once described her as "all woman", and she was: radiant, funny, and brave. Greer Garson should be every lady's aspiration and every girl's heroine.

After reading her biography, I came to the conclusion that Greer Garson might also very well be one of the most likable people of all time. It seems that her real life disposition wasn't a far cry from the image she projected on screen. My favorite personality trait of hers was how she was famous (or maybe infamous) for talking nonstop! The speech she gave when accepting her Oscar for Mrs. Miniver (1942) is the longest in the history of the Academy Awards, a whole five minutes long where she has been said to have thanked everyone from the doctor who brought her into the world to the film's production crew. (Needless to say, the following year the Academy instilled a forty second limit on speeches which is even more greatly enforced nowadays because the event is televised).

Greer was the biggest box office draw of the World War II years. From the start of the era, she won the hearts of moviegoers with her most famous role as the endearing, resilient Mrs. Minivier, who soon enough became a model for combating the war to American & British women alike. She was just what both countries needed at the time: a little hint of sunshine and spirit that was a reminder of what we were fighting for. Happy birthday, my bonny daisy.

Deborah Kerr

(SEPTEMBER 30, 1921 - OCTOBER 16, 2007)

“I'd like to be remembered as a good actress, but above all, as a good human being."

Deborah Kerr, is, to me, the most versatile actress in films, then or today. I don't think there was a role that Deborah couldn't tackle and make her own, or a character that she failed to lend her own touch of ladylike gentility to. (Glenn Close was correct when she said that Deborah played "nice ladies and not-so-nice ladies, but always ladies.") She rolled around in the sandy surf with Burt Lancaster in what is remembered as one of the sultriest kisses in movie history in From Here to Eternity (1953). She was center stage in one of Hollywood's most beloved musicals in The King and I (1956). She also played a nun that Robert Mitchum couldn't help be immorally attracted to in Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957), a haunted governess in the creepy The Innocents (1961), and the newspaperwoman Sheilah Graham in Beloved Infidel (1959). She gave into her feelings for a younger man in Tea and Sympathy (1956), became illegitimately pregnant with William Holden's child in The Proud and the Profane (1956), and even briefly appeared topless in The Gypsy Moths (1969).

Can you imagine playing roles like those in the 1950s while still maintaining a ladylike reputation and public respect? It's needless to say that Deborah could do it all, and I don't think there was any role she wasn't afraid of. The biggest atrocity in movie history is that she never won an Oscar, because of any actress truly deserved one, it was her. So many of her movies and so many of her performances are among my favorites. She's always a joy to watch, and absolutely gorgeous. That red hair and that perfect dimpled nose. There's a story that goes that a woman once approached Deborah inquiring about the doctor who had done her nose for her. In her polite manner, Deborah informed the woman that her nose was, thank you very much, quite real.

"She is warmly human and sympathetic and possessed of a humor that ranged from the subtle to the downright wicked," said her good friend Robert Mitchum, who considered Deborah his alltime favorite actress and 'the only leading lady he had a strictly platonic relationship with.' One of my favorite stories about Deborah is in good attest to that quote. It was during the filming of Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison and Deborah was in a canoe rowing a boat. "Faster, row faster!" the film's director, John Huston was constantly shouting. Finally, the intensity of Deborah's rowing resulted in the oars splitting into half in her hands, and in her soaked nun's habit she yelled, "Is that f--king fast enough?" Mitchum laughed so hard he nearly drowned.

 Julie Andrews

(OCTOBER 1 1935 - )

“ Perseverance is failing nineteen times and succeeding the twentieth." 

The only thing, in my opinion, that Julie Andrews hasn't been yet is Queen of England (and if you ask me, she should - after all, she's already a Dame!). Jools is Maria Van Trapp, Mary Poppins, Cinderella, Eliza Doolittle, and the Queen of Genovia. It could probably be statistically proven that most people's childhoods are spent much of the time with Julie Andrews.

Jools is quite honestly the sweetheart to end all sweethearts - "I'm so sweet sometimes even I can't stand it!" - but what I love about her is the less wholesome side of her. Let's it face it, no matter what she does Julie will never be able to shed her General Foods image, because to us she will always most prominently be Maria twirling on the hill or Mary Poppins powdering her face with chimney ashes. 'Wholesome' will forever be the word associated with her, used most often to describe her, and the word she hates most (she's been quoted as saying so).

But there is definitely a side to her that's a little less sweet and a bit more, I guess you could put it, raunchy and that's one of the main reasons I love her. I didn't discover that not-so-lily-white side to her until I became a true fan of her within the last few months, and once I learned about this I couldn't get over how fabulous she is. It's that part of Jools that swears like a sailor, appeared topless in S.O.B. (1981), and as a cross dresser - "a woman, pretending to be man, pretending to be a woman?" - in Victor/Victoria (1982).

(Please, if you will, pardon the swearing that appears here :D) Once, when she appeared on Jay Leno's show, he told her that her best friend, Carol Burnett, had once told him that she could "outcuss anybody." Julie's reactions to that were of shock. She dropped her jaw and turned to the audience, "Me? Me?" "I couldn't believe it!" Leno told her. Julie, shaking her head said, "That bitch!" Best are some of the bloopers from The Julie Andrews Hour. Trying to close on episode, she encouraged viewers to tune in next week, but after flubbing up fell down the wrong path. Tilting her head to the side, she said, "Tune in, you silly bastards, we're not getting good enough ratings." In another clip, one of her co-stars swears loudly after messing up a scene, and Julie says with fake innocence, "I never heard that word before." Still, she hasn't shed her image completely - she once said on a talk show, "I thought it would be fun if I really, really wanted to change my image, I would take the centerfold of Playboy, but do it with the hat, the umbrella, and the carpet bag of Mary Poppins - and period!"

And all the while, she's still the star of the two most family friendly films of all time, the author of several children's books (which, by the way, came as a result of her breaking a bet with her stepdaughter that she could go without swearing), and one of the most beautiful singers of all time. Her late husband, Blake Edwards once said, "As long as we've been married, I've never really found anything I didn't like about her." And I feel the same.

***

So many, many birthday wishes to these three fabulous, favorite ladies of mine. As for that little note about the SMR I mentioned:

You might have noticed that I have been unable to keep up with my biweekly Sunday Movie Review schedule. At the moment, I feel like I'm too busy with schoolwork to really maintain regular features on here, you know? So, as of right now, I'm putting the Sunday Movie Review on the backburner - I will still be doing movie reviews (hopefully still on Sundays to keep some kind of consistency around here, but not necessarily), only there will not be fixed dates for when I put them up. Which means the appearance of reviews on this blog will be a little more erratic, but I do promise to keep on writing them. Hopefully, in the near future I'll be less occupied with real life and will be able to return the SMR to it's usual format, but for the time being, I think that's best. It allows for a greater variety of posts (so not every other article in the stream is a review), as well as when I do do reviews they will be (hopefully) better written and longer. And, I won't feel so guilty about missing SMRs! So the SMR isn't gone - it's only on a kind of a semi hiatus.

That being said, I also promise to be post more frequently. I already have some posts drafted up, so never fret: I'll be spamming your dashboard soon enough again! Also, don't forget to to sign up for the Letter to the Stars blogathon I'm cohosting with Marcella & Nat; you can do so here. 

And lastly - 

A Letter to the Stars. Or alternatively titled: Co-Hosting Yet ANOTHER Blogathon?

A Letter to the Stars Blogathon 

Best of the Past | In the Mood | Frankly, My Dear

October 21 - 23 2012 

Wait, I'm co-hosting another blogathon? Wasn't it only a few months ago did I did this? No, it's not deja'vu, it's for real. You'd think I'd wait before throwing myself back into the blogathon pool again, but when one of my favorite people on here, Marcela, asked Nat and I to help her co-host her blogathon, how could I resist? Especially when it's such a particularly incredible idea.

One misfortunate of us Old Hollywood fans is that most of us will never get the oppertunity to write a gushy fan letter to our favorite star. I know  won't. (I did send a letter to Lauren Bacall for her birthday, however. But I'll never get to send fan mail to the other actress with the initials L.B. You know, the one that, to me, is the queen of everything. The one I worship to bits and pieces. Yeah, that girl.)

Okay, so here are the rules:

1. Just leave a comment here and let us know you're going to be writing to. No dibs on stars, it's okay if someone's already taken who you wanted to do, you can do them too.
2. The blogathon is taking place on October 21 - 23 (three days, three hosts. Get it?). All you have to do is, on the day you are assigned, write a letter to the star of your choice. It'd probably be a good idea to do your favorite, but hey, it's up to you. No hatemail, though okay? Just tell them why you love them, what are your favorite things about them, their favorite performances, even ask them questions I guess (though, if I were you, I would expect a response... okay, not funny). Anyways, any of the normal things you'd put into a fan letter, except you can't actually send it.
3. Post your letter and email the link to alettertothestars@hotmail.com
4. That's it! As the blogathon draws near, you will be assigned a date and a host. For the most part, this worked pretty well for Nat and I last time... If you have conflicts with the date, scheduling can fix it, just so you all know. But let us know if you're having too much conflict anyways and we can fix it up!

There are more banners over at Marcela's post so GO and look! Any questions? You can ask me or Nat, but Marcela's probably the best to ask as it's her idea. (And what a fabulous one at that.) That's pretty much all. I guess you're all scratching your heads wondering who I'm going to write to. I'll leave you all in suspense, but I'll give you a clue: she has red hair and a husband with an accent. ;)

Sunday Movie Review: "Penny Serenade" (1941)

PENNY SERENADE (1941) |★★★ 1/2

Penny Serenade (1941) stars Irene Dunne and Cary Grant as Julie and Roger, a happy young couple who fall in love and get married. When a tragic circumstance results in Julie becoming sterile, the two look to fulfill their wishes to become parents in the event of an adoption, which gives way to unexpected joy and heartbreak. The story is told through a series of flashbacks provoked by a stack of Victrolas played by a nostalgic Julie as she reflects back on what she and Roger had and lost. Beulah Bondi costars as the the orphanage caretaker.

There were things I liked about this movie, and things that I didn't like as much. Over all, I thought it was an average but enjoyable film, and there's no drastic reason not to give this a viewing. 

It had been quite a while since I had seen one of Irene Dunne's movies - I remember watching more of her when I just began to watch old films, a handful of her best - Theodora Goes Wild (1936), The Awful Truth (1937), My Favorite Wife (1940), I Remember Mama (1948). She is always a pleasure to watch on screen, a warm and sweet actress with a terribly infectious smile. (I would like to think she's grossly underrated as well, I believe she never won an Oscar). The best thing about Irene was that she had a quick wit for comedy but finely tuned emotions for drama, and she gets to use both of them in this film. More of the latter but there are a few chances for her to show off a hint of her comedic flair, as well. She's enjoyable and endearing as Julie, breaking our hearts bit by bit, and you can hardly help but not sympathize with her.

There's no need to wonder what I thought of Cary Grant in this movie, because, of course, I thought he was perfect - but I do think that about anything he was ever in. (Cary Grant could try to sell me Oxy-Clean in an informercial and I would buy it, just because of him.) As he always is, he's witty, charming, and marvelous. He gets more of the witty lines than Irene, like when their adopted child begins to cry and he says flatly to Irene, "Well, make her stop!" 

As a pair, they are adorable, especially with the addition of a small baby, then it's almost too much. I like the idea of how the film is told through a sentimental journey of memories brought on by a "serenade" - the title song is "You Were Meant For Me," and if that sounds familiar, it probably is: it was also used in Singin' in the Rain (1951). There are cute scenes and sweet scenes. But the movie also drags a bit too long and it ends in yet another tragedy that seemed completely unnecessary. In the end, it comes off looking a little too sappy and heartbreaking. 

The pairing of Dunne and Grant was done twice before: The Awful Truth (1937) and My Favorite Wife (1940), both of which, as I mentioned before, I have already seen. Out of the lineup Serenade comes off as the most average but it's still an enjoyable movie with warm performances. I would say that the film's main fault is trying to be too sad (which is often the case with movies like this), and it eventually feels as if it's harnessing itself to our heartstrings and tugging until it tears. Whatever can go wrong for this couple seems to, which works for a while but then ultimately is a bit too corny. Still; it's most certainly not a bad film and you could definitely give it a watch all the while!