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« on: July 05, 2002, 09:36:04 PM »
For those curious, here is a longish snippet from a version I wrote a couple of years back of my chapter on Polly Magoo. This comes after I've explained that Grayson played a character in the movie named Miss Maxwell, who was based upon Diana Vreeland who edited Vogue magazine in the Sixties.
If anybody copies this to their site, could you please indicate that it is an excerpt from Grayson: a woman's face, the forthcoming book length study of Grayson Hall's life and art by S. R. Shutt?
Thanks, Steve
Originally, Klein wanted New York actress Ruth Gordon for the part of Miss Maxwell. But Gordon did not know French-contrary to current widespread European practice, Klein wanted the actress to be able to loop her own dialogue-and, moreover, was unwilling to put her career on hold for a couple of months to make a trip to Paris. Klein had met Grayson at a party a few years previously, and gotten to know her in the course of various visits to New York; she seemed like the next logical choice when Ruth Gordon proved unavailable. As he recalled recently, Grayson was "a little bit hungry, and crazy enough to do it." He expressed considerable satisfaction with Grayson's performance, recalling her as "a very good actress."
The film certainly gave her the most dramatic entrance of her entire cinematic career. In the midst of the chaotic preparations for a fashion show held inside a huge, Cubistic, beehive-shaped structure, she marches in, lips pursed in disapproval, eyes wide and scrutinizing, a packet of Marlboros, a cigarette lighter and a pair of sunglasses clutched tightly in one hand. Her dress in this initial sequence showed elegant restraint, and included a chic white cape, provocatively draped over one shoulder. As the first model enters wearing a strange confection of angles and curves carried out in shiny, glittery aluminum, all eyes are on Grayson, eagerly and anxiously awaiting her verdict, which bursts like a cry of basso exaltation from her almost feverish lips: "Magnifique!" A triumphant Handelian chorale (the baroque score was the work of Michel Legrand) carries forward the cry of "Magnifique, magnifique, magnifique!" as the camera swirls around a poised procession of models, each in a more unlikely and immobilising suit of haute-couture "armour" than the previous one. The final model appears enveloped in a long steel tube that leaves her unable to move, with a sort of bulb at the top for her breasts and arms. As she is literally elevated (on a lift) over the mob of fashionistas and photographers, with angles that suggest Mary's Apotheosis, Miss Maxwell leaps to her feet and declaims the line: "He has re-created Woman!" The scene is not only devastatingly beautiful; it's a brilliant slash at the strange ways in which fashion literally paralyzes women in its cruel but glamorous grip.
Although reviews and summaries of the film describe this sequence as including a scene in which Miss Maxwell acclaims Polly Maggoo as incarnating the new Look, in the final version of the film such a scene does not exist. Instead, Klein cuts away to Polly walking the streets and dealing with the attentions she receives from her obsessed fans. Grayson's second appearance in the film comes about about a third of the way through the running time. This time she enters in the midst of the rackety but sybaritic melee of the Vogue offices-ladies receiving pedicures, makeovers, noodling away at arcane layouts, or simply gossiping whilst lolling about on cushioned divans. Again, Grayson's entrance is flamboyant: she swaggers into the room attired in an extraordinary costume that might best be described as "seraglio chic." A huge turban tied with a black moire bow and a pair of vast earrings composed of intricately worked filigree beads frame her face, heavily painted a la Theda Bara, with glitter eyeshadow shimmering exclamation points above her naughtily gleaming eyes. A vest and blouse in sheer silk provide the backdrop for festoons of gems and a medallion that could have been used by Julia Hoffman a year later as a lethal weapon. Huge pantaloons with gathered pleats emphasize her imperial role as undisputed sultan of this haute-couture satrapy, and little harem slippers provide yet another of those notes of jarring whimsy that were one of Diana Vreeland's signature points. Her rings spark further fashion explosions, especially the outsized knuckle-duster spyglass ring with the thick black frame that seems to gleam with a frenetic lustre. The scene has barely begun when Miss Maxwell grabs the telephone and begins dictating her latest proclamation, full of bold headlines such as: "Fashion is dead! Long live fashion!" She repeats her battle cry: "The great producer of the female body, Isidore Ducasse, has recreated Woman!" and, with a sly wink, describes his aluminum chic collection as suitable for "The Eve of the Atomic Era!"
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