by Marc Eliot
INDISCREET (1958). Warner Bros./Grandon Productions. Directed and produced by
Stanley Donen. Screenplay by Norman Krasna, based on his play Kind Sir. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman, Cecil Parker, Phyllis Calvert, Megs Jenkins. Technicolor.
HOUSEBOAT (1958). Paramount/Scribe. Directed by Melville Shavelson. Produced by
Jack Rose. Screenplay by Melville Shavelson and Jack Rose. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Sophia Loren, Martha Hyer, Harry Guardino, Paul Petersen. Technicolor.
NORTH BY NORTHWEST (1959). MGM. Directed and produced by Alfred Hitchcock.
Screenplay by Ernest Lehman. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint, James Mason, Jessie Royce Landis, Leo G. Carroll. Technicolor.
OPERATION PETTICOAT (1959). Universal/Granart. Directed by Blake Edwards. Produced by Robert Arthur. Screenplay by Stanley Shapiro and Maurice Richlin. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Tony Curtis, Joan O'Brien, Dina Merrill, Gene Evans. Eastmancolor.
THE GRASS IS GREENER (1960). Universal/Grandon. Directed and produced by
Stanley Donen. Screenplay by Hugh and Margaret Williams, based on their play. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Deborah Kerr, Robert Mitchum, Jean Simmons, Moray Watson. Technicolor.
THAT TOUCH OF MINK (1962). Universal/Granlex/Arwin/Nob Hill. Directed by Delbert
Mann. Produced by Stanley Shapiro, Martin Melcher, and Robert Arthur. Screenplay by Stanley Shapiro and Nate Monaster. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Doris Day, Gig Young, Audrey Meadows, Dick Sargent, John Astin, Alan Hewitt. Eastmancolor.
CHARADE (1964). Universal/Stanley Donen. Directed and produced by Stanley Donen.
Screenplay by Peter Stone, based on a story by Peter Stone and Marc Behm. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, Walter Matthau, James Coburn, George Kennedy. Technicolor.
FATHER GOOSE (1964). Universal/Granox. Directed by Ralph Nelson. Produced by
Robert Arthur. Screenplay by Peter Stone and Frank Tarloff, based on a story by S. H. Barnett. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Leslie Caron, Trevor Howard, Jack Good, Verina Greenlaw. Technicolor.
WALK, DON'T RUN (1966). Granley. Directed by Charles Walters. Produced by Sol C.
Siegel. Screenplay by Sol Saks, based on a story by Robert Russell and Frank Ross. Principal cast: Cary Grant, Samantha Eggar, Jim Hutton, John Standing, Miiko Taka. Technicolor.
SHORT FILMS AND CAMEO APPEARANCES
SINGAPORE SUE (1932). Paramount. Written and directed by Casey Robinson. Cary
Grant in a minor part. Starring Anna Chang. B&W.
PIRATE PARTY ON CATALINA ISLE (1936). MGM. Produced by Louis Lewyn.
Continuity and dialogue by Alexander Van Horn. Musical direction by Abe Meyer. With Chester Morris (Master of Ceremonies), Marion Davies, Cary Grant, Randolph Scott, Virginia Bruce, Lee Tracy, Errol Flynn, Lili Damita, Sid Silvers, Eddie Peabody, Leon Errol, Robert Armstrong, Charles “Buddy” Rogers and his Band. Technicolor.
TOPPER TAKES A TRIP (1939). United Artists. Directed by Norman Z. McLeod.
Produced by Milton Bren. Grant was originally slated to star in this sequel but did not. A short clip from the original Topper with Grant was used to introduce the film; it is Grant's only appearance in the sequel. B&W.
ROAD TO VICTORY (1944). Warner Bros. Ten-minute propaganda film starring Bing
Crosby, Cary Grant, Frank Sinatra, Charles Ruggles, Dennis Morgan, Irene Manning, Jack Carson, Jimmy Lydon, and Olive Blakeney. B&W.
WITHOUT RESERVATIONS (1946). RKO. Grant makes an uncredited cameo appearance in this Claudette Colbert–John Wayne film directed by Mervyn LeRoy. B&W.
THE BIG PARADE OF COMEDY (1963). MGM. Two sequences from previous Cary
Grant films, Suzy and The Philadelphia Story. Grant sequences in B&W.
TRIBUTE TO AND SOLICITATION FOR THE WILL ROGERS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
(1965). B&W.
ELVIS: THAT'S THE WAY IT IS (1970). Brief uncredited appearance as himself.
Technicolor.
THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT (1974). UA/MGM. Sequences from Suzy and Pirate Party on Catalina Isle. Grant sequences in B&W and Technicolor.
THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT, PART II (1976). UA/MGM. Sequence from The Philadelphia Story. Grant sequence in B&W.
TELEVISION APPEARANCES
ACADEMY AWARDS PRESENTATIONS. Cary Grant's live appearances at Academy
Awards ceremonies were televised five times: in 1957, when he accepted the Academy Award for Ingrid Bergman at the twenty-ninth annual Awards; in 1958, as the presenter of the Best Actor Oscar to David Niven (Separate Tables), at the thirtieth annual Awards; in 1970 at the forty-second annual Awards, when he accepted his Honorary Oscar; in 1985 at the fifty-seventh annual Awards as the presenter of an Honorary Oscar to James Stewart; and in 1979 at the fifty-first annual Awards, to present an Honorary Oscar to Laurence Olivier.
DAVE AND CHARLIE (1970). Sitcom. Unbilled guest appearance. The show starred Cliff
Arquette (as Charlie Weaver) and David Wilcock, two former radio stars. Grant loved the show and insisted on appearing on an episode as a background hobo.
BROTHER, CAN YOU SPARE A DIME? (1975). Archive footage.
HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD (1975). Archive footage.
IT'S SHOWTIME (1976). Archive footage.
THAT'S ACTION (1977).
HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN CANADA? A HISTORY OF CANADIAN MOVIES
1939–1953 (1979). Archive footage at Oscar dinner, 1942, with Rosalind Russell.
KEN MURRAY SHOOTING STARS (1979). Archive footage.
AMERICAN FILM INSTITUTE SALUTE TO ALFRED HITCHCOCK (1979).
SINATRA: THE FIRST 40 YEARS (1980).
KENNEDY CENTER HONORS: A CELEBRATION OF THE PERFORMING ARTS
(1981). Honoree.
GEORGE STEVENS: A FILMMAKER'S JOURNEY (1985). American Film Institute Salute to Gene Kelly (1985). Cinemax: Cary Grant: A Celebration of a Leading Man (1988). Fame in the Twentieth Century (1993). Uncredited archive footage. Seventieth Annual Academy Awards (1998). Archive footage. Hitchcock, Selznick, and the End of Hollywood (aka American
MASTERS: HITCHCOCK, SELZNICK, AND THE END OF HOLLYWOOD) (1999). PBS. Archive footage.
HOLLYWOOD SCREEN TESTS: TAKE 2 (1999). Uncredited archive footage.
A&E BIOGRAPHY: SOPHIA LOREN—ACTRESS ITALIAN STYLE (1999). Archive footage.
MARILYN MONROE: THE FINAL DAYS (2001). Uncredited archive footage.
SHIRTLESS: HOLLYWOOD'S SEXIEST MEN (2002). Uncredited archive footage.
RADIO APPEARANCES
THE CIRCLE (1939). An NBC network talk show.
THE HOLLYWOOD GUILD (1939). On the CBS radio network.
THE LUX RADIO THEATER
Adam and Eve (May 5, 1935) First broadcast.
Madame Butterfly (March 8, 1937)
Theodora Goes Wild (June 13, 1938)
Only Angels Have Wings (May 28, 1939)
The Awful Truth (September 11, 1939)
In Name Only (December 11, 1939)
I Love You Again (June 30, 1941)
Here Comes Mr. Jordan (January 26, 1942)
The Philadelphia Story (July 20, 1942). Special victory show for the U.S. government.
Talk of the Town (May 17, 1943)
Mr. Lucky (October 18, 1943)
Bedtime Story (February 26, 1945)
Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer [sic] (June 13, 1949)
Every Girl Should Be Married (June 27, 1949)
Mr. Blanding [sic] Builds His Dream House (October 10, 1950)
I Confess (September 21, 1953)
People Will Talk (January 25, 1954)
Welcome, Stranger (April 5, 1954)
GRANT AND THE ACADEMY AWARDS
Even before resigning from the Academy, Grant had privately expressed his disdain for the industry's self-serving practice of giving out awards to itself. In 1946 Harold Russell won a special Oscar for his performance in William Wyler's The Best Years of Our Lives in addition to a regular Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for the same performance; Grant's performances in two films th
at year, Michael Curtiz's Night and Day and Hitchcock's Notorious, were ignored by the Academy. Grant thereupon remarked to a friend, “Where can I get a stick of dynamite?”
Grant did not officially rejoin the Academy until September 1970, five months after receiving his Lifetime Achievement Oscar, and only after receiving a long and conciliatory letter from Academy Award–winning screenwriter Daniel Taradash, the newly elected Academy president who succeeded Gregory Peck. Taradash implored Grant to return to the fold. Only then did Grant reluctantly agree to end his thirty-five-year self-imposed exile. In response to Taradash, Grant wrote, “At the time because of what may have since become outmoded principles, I deplored commercializing a ceremony, which, in my estimation, should have remained unpublicized and privately shared among the artists and craftsmen of our industry. I'm not at all sure that my beliefs have changed; just the times.”
FILM NOTES
Highest estimated earnings by movie stars during the four decades Cary Grant made films:
1930s: Mae West. $480,833 per annum
1940s: Betty Grable. $800,000 per annum
1950s: James Stewart. $1 million plus per film
1960s: Cary Grant. $3 million per film
Highest-grossing films starring Cary Grant, based on the first initial theatrical domestic release. The list was compiled in 1972 by Weekly Variety, based on theatrical receipts in the United States and Canada. It should be noted that it has not been corrected for inflation, and that during Grant's thirty-five-year career, the average price of admission fluctuated between five and seventy-five cents. Nevertheless, Grant's later films managed to outgross his earlier ones consistently. None of the forty-seven films he made before Notorious (1946) make the list.*
Operation Petticoat (1960) $9,500,000
That Touch of Mink (1962) $8,500,000
North by Northwest (1959) $6,310,000
Charade (1963) $6,150,000
Father Goose (1965) $6,000,000
Notorious (1946) $4,800,000
The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947) $4,500,000
To Catch a Thief (1955) $4,500,000
The Pride and the Passion (1957) $4,500,000
I Was a Male War Bride (1949) $4,100,000
Night and Day (1946) $4,000,000
Walk, Don't Run (1966) $4,000,000
* Sources: Guinness Book of the Movies, Guinness Book of Records, Herrick Library, Rebel Road Library, Archive of Film and Music, The Films of Cary Grant by Donald Deschner.
FINAL THOUGHTS AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I WAS JUST A BOY when I first became aware of Cary Grant. The film was North by Northwest. I saw it in its initial run one Friday night at the Loew's Paradise on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. Because I was underage, I asked an adult if he would buy me my ticket. He agreed, I gave him the three quarters I had saved, got in, bought some popcorn (fifteen cents with real butter) and a Coke (ten cents), found a seat toward the front of the enormous theater with the artificial stars in its beautiful faux “sky,” and settled in to be transported. By then, although my access was by today's standards severely limited— no cable, no video, no DVDs, no Turner Classic Movies, and relatively few and far between revival houses, I was well hooked on the movies, on Alfred Hitchcock, and, after this film, on Cary Grant.
North by Northwest was, along with a handful of others (High Noon, On the Waterfront, From Here to Eternity, Shane, Sons of the Desert), one of the seminal films of my formative years that were so powerful and affecting they managed to change the emotional and creative direction of my life. With North by Northwest, it was not because of anything in its convoluted plot or sophisticated multitracked themes. I was too young to “get” all the multiple-theme doppelgängers, the “hidden” dark artistry of Alfred Hitchcock, the peculiar resistance to the love-lipsticked Eva Marie Saint—but was immediately and completely spellbound by the unbelievable, if for me still inexplicable, charismatic allure of its three stars, the evil James Mason, the provocative Ms. Saint, and the handsome Mr. Grant. For the first time, despite the very real presence of my father in our small and cramped apartment, I understood my mother's open, hopeless, and unconditional love for Cary Grant.
After graduating from the High School of Performing Arts and receiving my B.A. at the City University of New York, I lost two years recovering from a serious accident before I applied for and won in 1970 a fellowship at Columbia University's Graduate School of the Arts. Thus I began my new five-year educational marathon—two years spent earning my M.F.A. in writing, three more to study film history and criticism in the School of the Arts' Ph.D. program under the aegis of someone who was to completely change my thinking about movies. His name was Andrew Sarris, at the time the film critic for The Village Voice newspaper and a professor at Columbia University, where he had joined the faculty of the School of the Arts after having shaken up the cinematic universe with his monumental The American Cinema, a book that propounded the “Auteur Theory” and that became for me, and an entire generation of students and filmmakers, cinema's holy grail. Although auteurism is, today, as standard an approach to film as low carbohydrates is to dieting, at the time Sarris's work had the power to outrage the mainstream while at the same time awakening it to the realization of the true artistry of the American cinema.
As much as I loved the surface of the silver screen, Sarris taught me about another layer of movies, those that lurk beneath the shimmering surface and connect directly to the soul. Uncovering these provocatively textured layers of emotion released their greater power and meaning, and the heat of the director's vision fanned the flames of my own creative fires. Sarris also taught me how film's dreams of reality help reveal the reality in my own dreams.
For many years after my time at Columbia I tried to see at least one movie every day of my life. Eventually I reemerged from this subtextural delirium and returned once more to the primal source of my attraction to it, the compelling, wondrous, and irresistible force of the messengers of their meaning. Having been immersed for so long in the examination of the emotional bones that lay beneath the perfect skin of its larger-than-life stars, I once more got the picture, as it were, after seeing a screening of North by Northwest in the mid-'80s at a Hitchcock festival in one of New York's revival theaters. It was then I realized all over again that no one ever looked better, had a greater face or deeper soul, than the cinematic miracle that was Cary Grant. And that the real magic of movies and actors was how they showed you both.
THE RESEARCH FOR THIS BIOGRAPHY was conducted over a five-year period of interviews, library and private collection research, and, of course, repeated viewings of Cary Grant movies (of which, by my count, I have now seen sixty-three of the seventy-two).* As a biographer I probably put less stock than others in firsthand “eyewitness” recollections of those who knew, or claim to have known, Cary Grant. For one thing, nearly twenty years have passed since his death in 1986 at the age of eighty-two. By the time I began this book, relatively few people from his early and middle years were still alive and able to tell their tales. Some of the others who did, as I have sometimes painfully discovered in my career, shared an unfortunate (but prevalent) tendency to either rewrite history for the sake of the departed, or elevate their own position in his saga. Any decent biographer shares the same fraternal joke: that he or she has met at least a dozen of his or her subject's “best friends,” “closest companions,” or “most trusted confidants.” When I wrote Death of a Rebel, my first biography, of Phil Ochs, although he died in a web of severe loneliness, I somehow came across dozens of “best” and “closest” friends.
Far more important, I believe, is an accurate documentation of events, and equally important, the ability to understand and determine the meaning of those events. When Grant died, there was an unfortunate but inevitable rush of hopelessly inaccurate accountings of his death, with the “big secret” of his life revealed “at last,” the “hidden” fact of his homosexuality. A generation later, this subject no longer produces the
shock and often accompanying outrage it did in the months after his passing. What it does do now is offer a clearer window into the way Hollywood reacted to the gay issue in Grant's lifetime, and in a larger sense the way it was generally regarded by the twentieth century's so-called mainstream culturalists.
As for his work for the FBI, another poorly researched “sensation” that first surfaced in the immediate wake of Grant's passing, the painful lesson we have come to learn is that virtually no one in the entertainment industry of the thirties, forties, fifties, and sixties was able to escape the long and grisly arm of the monstrous (and monstrously powerful) J. Edgar Hoover. As I have done in the past, I used the Freedom of Information Act for a source of invaluable information. The FOIA is a direct, if hard-fought-for, application of the Constitution that in a free world guarantees the public's essential right to know, a byproduct of our First Amendment. I have used the FOIA for four books—Death of a Rebel, Rockonomics, Walt Disney: Hollywood's Dark Prince, and this biography of Cary Grant. I must report that despite numerous court decisions in favor of the public's right to access, the FBI continues to make it extremely difficult, if not impossible, for journalists to receive meaningful and important documents, and that they retain a seemingly unchallenged right to alter and withhold whatever information they feel is not in the best interest of the public.
In the case of Cary Grant, they have continued to insist that despite all evidence to the contrary, there never was any file kept on Cary Grant (more likely, if it does not exist it was destroyed along with thousands of others by J. Edgar Hoover, at his direction, shortly before and after his death). Fortunately, I was able to piece together much of what I needed from files made available to me by people outside of the government who had, from time to time, gained access to the FBI's dossiers on others, and they are noted in the Sources section of the book.