During the 1940s, Dan Duryea developed an odd, almost fetishistic on-screen forte beating women. His deviate sexuality was first exploited by Fritz Lang in The Woman in the Window (1944). He padded the stick-thin actor with a double-breasted suit, bowtie and straw boater, a get-up that was, for awhile, his signature ensemble. Suitably decked out, Duryea struck the pose that would become his trademark: lounging in a doorframe, worrying a toothpick, a sly smile creeping across his face. "I'm just naturally what they call a cynic, honey," he drawls to co-star Joan Bennett. When Duryea paws his way around Joan's apartment, looking for the hidden murder weapon so he can blackmail her, Lang stages it like a gross sexual imposition. Bennett stands immobilized, panting slightly, while the insouciant Duryea rummages through her drawers, fondles her clothes, daubs himself with her perfume, and relishes her helplessness. Later, when Joan tries to feed him a poisoned scotch, Duryea wises up and turns malevolent. "You drink it," he seethes. When she demurs, he pops her with a curt backhand and throws her to the bed. "How could you lie like that to Pappy," he sneers. He takes her money and dismisses her with a flick of fingers off his chin. Duryea had the patent on all these rude bits of business.
In Lang's Scarlet Street, the actor upped the ante, having his way with sexy Joan, then blithely slapping her around. His caddish behavior struck a chord especially in women. Duryea started getting fan mail by the truckload, most of it from infatuated females. Producers developed more inventive ways for Duryea to backhand distaff co-stars. These outbursts always caused Duryea's Brilliantined hair to come unglued, spilling long blond strands down his billboard-sized forehead. He was one of the first stars to act with his hair. This stylish affectation provided tonsorial precedent for, among others, rock and roller Jerry Lee Lewis.
Beatings administered by Duryea were so telegraphed that Universal's publicists felt it necessary to offer a disclaimer when promoting Black Angel (1946): "Something great has happened in Hollywood, land of great things. Beautiful June Vincent met dangerous Dan Duryea and escaped unscathed. Prolific Dan, beater of such gorgeous femmes as Joan Bennett, touches nary a strand of June's blonde hair in Universal's Black Angel, a story of guys and gals some good, some bad. Maybe it was mother love that moved Duryea to confine his poundings to honky-tonk pianos for this is June's first role since the birth of her baby. Quien sabe?"
- Eddie Muller, Dark City, New York, 1998, p.162
No comments:
Post a Comment