Captain Elvy, who worked as a sideshow attraction, displays his beautiful back piece designed by “Sailor” George Fosdick. 1943
The final sequence in Bonnie and Clyde, which includes sixty shots in less than a minute, took longer to film than anything else in the movie. [Arthur] Penn used four cameras for every setup, each one filming from the same angle but running at a different speed. He extended the gunfire from five seconds to twenty-five; he rigged Beatty and Dunaway with dozens of squibs and blood packets that would be set off when Beatty squeezed a pear Clyde was eating; he attached a piece of prosthetic scalp to Beatty’s head that an off screen makeup man would pull off using an invisible nylon thread (a subliminally fast moment designed expressly to evoke memories of the Kennedy assassination); he tied one of Dunaway’s legs to the gearshift of the car so that she would eventually be able to fall dead according to “the laws of gravity” without hurting herself; and he devised separate pieces of choreography for Beatty, who is quickly knocked onto the dusty road by bullets and Dunaway, who dances like a marionette behind the steering wheel, unable to even fall over as the bullets jolt her in every direction. “There’s a moment in death where the body no longer functions, when it becomes an object and has a certain kind of detached, ugly beauty,” he said. “It was that aspect I was trying to get.” Penn mapped out every shot in advance, including the fast, flashing sequence of close-ups in which Beatty and Dunaway realize what’s happening and lock eyes. The elaborate setup of the squibs meant that he had time to film the scene from only two angles each day. On the fourth afternoon, he was done.
The leading Ladies of Hollywood 1920s - 1960s
"For an actress to be a success, she must have the face of Venus, the brains of a Minerva, the grace of Terpsichore, the memory of a Macaulay, the figure of Juno, and the hide of a rhinoceros."
Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell on the set of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)
Marilyn Monroe and Warner Bros. Pictures announce at a Hollywood press conference that they’re joining forces.
"For her seventeenth birthday in 1949, she was exhibited by Life as an icon of sexual opulence. In a seated portrait by Philippe Halson, she stares out from the page, vacant and voluptuous, her heavy breasts, three quarters bare, supported by a dull satin gown the color of melted money. While she was still earning titles like Miss Junior America, she looked, in the words of the critic Richard Roud, dipping back into his high-school lexicon, ‘like a girl who would really put out and I mean really put out’.”
The pet fawn of Brad Curry watches him depart from home every morning on his school bus. Galesburg, Michigan, 1960.