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Sunday, March 1, 2009

Mary Pickford

Little Mary, America's Sweetheart.

I don't like her.

This will probably prove to be an extremely unpopular statement among silent film fans, but it's true. I don't like Mary's doe-eyed expressions or her endless little-girl roles. I know that in real life, Mary was a very shrewd businesswoman, one who knew how to get paid for her work.

That doesn't mean her work was exceptional; it just meant that Mary knew how to get what she wanted. I read that most of the budget for A Romance of the Redwoods went to pay Mary's salary. And this was in 1917. Before three more years had passed, of course, she had cofounded United Artists. She was the highest-paid star in the world.

Well, so what? When I watch her, I feel as if her real-life business sense had spilled over into her screen performances. It looks to me as if she's crafting each performance with the utmost care, not to be the best she can be, but to keep the audience hooked and the money machine in top operation. She just doesn't ring true to me, particularly in her early films, when despite claims that she brought a naturalistic style of acting to the screen, she makes the common mistake of striking a dramatic pose with her arms over her head. Quite a few actresses who made far less money than Mary were doing the same thing. Years later, when she finally played her last little-girl role in Sparrows, she raises her hands over her head in horror. Didn't learn much, did she?

She's simply a neat little package, always adorable, makeup always perfect. She appears on the screen, milking the character for all she's worth. The only time I've ever seen her play an unattractive role - and unattractive it is - is in the film Stella Maris. According to the documentary I watched, most of the crew didn't even recognize her when she appeared on set, hair dull, no makeup, completely opposite to her usual look.

Now, if Mary had done this more often, I might have more respect for her. As it is, I don't feel that acting was her life's passion. Unlike Lillian Gish, who went to great lengths to make her performances the best she could make them, Mary strikes me as someone who viewed acting as a means to an end, said end being financial security. She knew she was in the right profession, and rather than working for it, she made it work for her.

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