Fay Wray

Fay Wray died a few years ago.  She did so in the way most of us would want: quietly in her sleep.  She was 96.  In the years after King Kong, she played to type--the blond damsel in distress whose already-gauzy dresses would--in the course of the film--either be shredded to tatters or thoroughly soaked. Until I began looking at her face more closely for this post, I felt certain that she--the beauty who killed the beast--had a look that wouldn't bar her from today's mainstream movie tastes. But in looking over photos of her career--1930s-1950s--I'm not so sure.  There's something of Meryl Streep in the eyes and nose, and--needless to say--we will have to investigate Meryl Streep in the future.

Bette Davis

You wouldn't have to work very hard to convince me of Bette Davis' beauty.  I first saw her in The Petrified Forest as a kid, and fell in love with what can only be described as the severity of her features: the sharpness of her nose and lips, the height of her brow, and, of course, those eyes--deep-set, heavy lidded, wide and wild.  Her face is iconic and instantly recognizable.  As for her abilities as an actor: ten Oscar nominations and two wins (Dangerous 1935; Jezebel 1938).  Nonetheless, there is a quirkiness to that face that I suspect would bar it from advancing in the homogenized world of contemporary movie making.

(Favorite role: Margo Channing, All about Eve; Runner-up, Jane Hudson, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?)

Gene Hackman

Speculating about the fate of certain actors in today's star system is relatively easy (see below); others are more evasive; take, for example, the case of Gene Hackman.  Twice an Academy Award winner (Best Actor The French Connection, Best Supporting Actor Unforgiven) and a recipient of dozens of other film honors, Hackman's long career stands as a testament to craft, intelligence, and professionalism, and while he can hardly be characterized as unattractive, Hackman possesses an everyman look--inconspicuously handsome, not double-take beautiful--that I think is inconsistent with the aesthetics of contemporary main-stream Hollywood productions.

(Favorite performance: The Conversation.  Runner-up: Young Frankenstein)

Ernest Borgnine

You may remember him from the short-lived TV series, Airwolf (look out for a post on then-heartthrob Jan Michael Vincent in the near future);  you may remember him for his role in the Poseidon Adventure; you may remember him as the lovable Cabbie in John Carpenter's Escape from New York; you may even remember his one-month marriage to Ethel Merman (grounds of the divorce: Ernie's fondness for Dutch-Ovens), but time was when this burly actor commanded much respect.  A sensitive turn as a lonely butcher who finds love a bit later than most won him an Oscar for Marty in 1955.   His role as the sadistic Sgt. "Fatso" Judson in From Here to Eternity stands as one of the undervalued gems of 1950s acting.  Nonetheless, could this substantial actor make it today?

(Favorite role: Sgt. Judson, From Here to Eternity; Runner-up: Dutch Engstrom, The Wild Bunch)

Shelley Duvall

If you only know her as Olive Oyl in Popeye or as Wendy Torrance--Jack Nicholson's terrorized wife in The Shining--you're missing a lot.  This doe-eyed, waifish actress began her career as part of Robert Altman's coterie of players.  Standout performances include 3 Women, Nashville, and Annie Hall ("Sex with you is a Kafka-esque experience.  I mean that as a compliment").  Her dramatic abilities are undeniable, but could she make it today?