SassMouthDames

Unfairly branded as one of the stars who couldn't make the transition to sound, Pola Negri was in desperate need of a hit when she went to Germany in 1935 to make the film. Pola delivered her greatest triumph in talking pictures, with a gut-wrenching performance of a singer on trial for killing a composer. Unfortunately, Jack Warner bought the rights and suppressed her film, so no one in Hollywood saw it. The episode concludes with a passage from Pola Negri's 'Memoirs of a Star'.

One of the most durable storylines in a woman's picture explores the search for a fresh start. Can women leave their past behind and start over? What happens when Baxter tries to move from being a madame in a brothel to a lady? Add in swoon merchant Rock Hudson, Julie Adams as a bitchy rich girl, and baby Natalie Wood and you have exquisite melodrama. I close the episode with an excerpt from Anne Baxter's smart and hilarious memoir 'Intermission', about the time when she left Hollywood to start over in the Australian Outback.

Lifelong friends, the rapport between Joan and Glenda translated to their onscreen work together in eight films. In five masterclass scenes, they become the ultimate tricksters, serving court summons to witless men who only see two hot blondes. I close the episode with an article Joan Blondell wrote in 1936, 'My Pal Glenda'.

Gloria Swanson was no stranger to ruthless men. She was crafty and figured out how to get permission for a banned production. Later, she fought the studio moguls who tried to stop her. Let it be said the bastards couldn't keep a good woman down. I close the episode with an excerpt from her memoir Swanson on Swanson, which tells the story of real conversion in Gloria's life, when she became an advocate of natural food for wellness.

For episode 20, I'm pleased to welcome my first guest, Matt Harris, an archivist and hardcore Joan Crawford fan (@Glamorous_Matt on Twitter). We disregard the lukewarm critical reception and celebrate one of Joan's best films from her tenure in Warner Bros. Anyone who insists on calling Joan too old for the part should remember her character's salvo 'You just wouldn't believe how much trouble it is to dispose of a dead elephant'.

Although she takes third billing, Mayo Methot shines as the true star of Vanity Street (1932). With the face of a Pre-Code angel, she runs the gamut from hard as nails to raw vulnerability. Gertrude Purcell’s riveting script illustrates how quickly fortunes turn when your name lights up Broadway. This picture—a true gem—doesn’t receive half as much attention as it should. The episode concludes with a passage from Bogart, by Ann Sperber and Eric Lax.

Instead of glass slippers and a poofy ball gown, Claudette Colbert receives a trunk full of glamorous clothes from her fairy godfather, played by John Barrymore. Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder offer a modern update to the classic Cinderella fairy tale. They replace the old standby wicked stepmother and evil spawn with a formidable high society adversary played by Mary Astor. Directed by Mitchell Leisen, it’s an outstanding pictures from one of the most celebrated years in Hollywood history. I close the episode with an excerpt from Mary Astor’s memoir A Life on Film.

Ava Gardner saves this picture. There's no question that without her, it would have gone down in the annals of cringeworthy productions. Forget about the Spanish Civil War and a bounty on priests. Instead, read this picture as an allegory for how Hollywood wasted her in simple sexy dame parts. At the end, I read a brief passage from Mearene Jordan's book Living with Miss G. Mearene lived with Ava for decades as her friend and personal assistant.

Joan Bennett demonstrates that ignoring a man can be as effective as having an expert sass mouth. Her natural champagne blonde hair suits the icy character she plays. George Raft exhibits more range here than in any other film of his career. He cracks jokes, sings, and tries to be worthy of Joan Bennett. I close the episode with an excerpt from Tay Garnett's memoir Light Your Torches and Pull Up Your Tights, which recalls the time when he was hired by Harry Cohn to direct the picture.

This one is an overlooked gem.

Olivia de Havilland won her first Oscar for Best Actress in Mitchell Leisen's drama about unrequited mother love. Through attention to detail of the period and emotional finesse in underplay, the picture explores the way women carried on despite personal sacrifice. Olivia's performance has so much depth and nuance that she never renders the character as simply a noble cardboard cutout. The episode ends with a portion from an interview with de Havilland, Leisen and John Lund.