It is one of the more agreeable facets of human
existence that we are able to dream, to imagine ourselves in other places and
in other incarnations, to taste fame and fortune as in a fairy tale or to be
the victor of a titanic mythological contest. Some such reveries place us in
palaces or vast mansions, to roles to which we aspire but will never
experience: but other daydreams are more realistic and place us in more
familiar territory, our homes, our streets our shopping malls or our jobs.
Hollywood was the most successful purveyor of all these dreams for a century
and has left an indelible mark on our collective psyche.
Such thoughts have been brought on by the
passing a few days ago of Doris Day
at the grand old age of 97, a star of stars and the most successful female
performer of her time. Already a much admired big-band singer, her screen persona was as American as apple pie,
confident and energetic, the tomboy girl-next-door. She exuded wholesome
innocence and yet also an understated whispery allure, enormously fortified by
her genuine singing ability.
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| Doris Day |
I first saw Doris in It’s Magic in about 1950, her film debut, in a modest cinema in Aberdeen called The Grand Central, long gone, and she shone brightly, well supported by such reliable faces as Jack Carson, Oscar Levant and S.Z. “Cuddles” Sakall. In the early 1950s she delighted with nostalgic pieces like Tea for Two, On Moonlight Bay and By the Light of the Silvery Moon co-starring with Gordon McRae. Her career moved up a notch with the hit Calamity Jane (1953) with Howard Keel. Her delivery of rollicking numbers like The Windy City and The Deadwood Stage were memorable but the best song was Secret Love with Doris in classic torch song mode.
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| Doris as Calamity Jane |
Doris exuded the optimism and unchallenged attitudes of America in the Eisenhower era, when all obstacles could be overcome and all peaks climbed. Her apogee was actually in the early 1960s with her popular comedies playing opposite Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Rod Taylor, James Gardner and above all Rock Hudson, with whom she had a unique chemistry. Films like Pillow Talk, That Touch of Mink and Move over, Darling epitomized the genre, with Doris enjoying a sexless battle of the sexes and the public loved her. From 1960-64 Doris was ranked the biggest star in America eclipsing all others.
Inevitably tastes changed and stronger
meat was demanded: Doris gradually lost her audience, latterly being derided as
“the oldest virgin in America”. She made her last film in 1968 but carried on
with her TV show. Her third, of 4 wholly unsatisfactory husbands, had embezzled
her $30m fortune and she was broke. She had to work hard to rebuild her
finances and eventually retired to Carmel, California devoting herself to
animal charities. The media said she was reclusive, but she saw plenty of her
friends – declining intrusive interviews was her call and entirely rational.
Given her tempestuous private life, she would doubtless echo Madame de Stael in
the early 19th century “The more I see of men, the better I like
dogs.” Brigitte Bardot followed the same road. Let’s allow Doris her privacy and
happily celebrate her brilliant talent and life-enhancing career.
Our next purveyor of dreams is The Eurovision Song Contest, whose
final throes are on Saturday – indeed its motto is “Dare to Dream”. This year
it comes from Tel Aviv and her more Orthodox citizens will be astonished by the
invasion of vast numbers of gays, trans-sexuals and bohemians to attend,
commentate upon and perform at this peculiar SongFest. Last year’s winner was
Israeli 25-year old Netta, a very well-built lady, who sang “Toy” wearing Micky
Mouse ears and bounced about like a demented chicken. This is part of an
increasingly eccentric Eurovision tradition – who can forget bearded
trans-sexual Conchita Wurst who wowed us in 2014, the pride of Austria!
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| Netta, triumphant in 2018 |
Heroically I managed to watch the first
semi-finals last night, 2 hours and 10 minutes of torture, as the dire singers
from 17 nations displayed their wares. I somehow kept awake and kept my scores
and quite how dismal Slovenia and tuneless San Marino got through escapes me.
Maybe 5 of the songs were passable. The lighting effects are flattering and we
watched the girl from Australia (that well-known European country), dressed
like a Christmas-tree fairy, rise through the clouds on high wires singing her
ditty. Tomorrow a further 18 hit the semis and Saturday’s grand final will
feature 26 contestants. I may have lost the will to live by then or will have
slipped into a catatonic trance, so I cannot promise to cover the story
further. Eurovision always springs surprises and even if the Balkans all vote
for each other, the Scandinavians ditto and Greece and Cyprus scratch each
other’s backs, my tip for the week is that the juries will be seduced by the
French entry “Roi” sung by Bilal Hassani, the young gentleman below. Oh….. and
by the way, the unpopular UK will gather in nul
points!
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| Bilal Hassani, tipped singer for France |
The Eurovision contestants and their fans will have their dreams of fame and fortune, as will those in all manner of global talent show. Their dreams will be very unlike the dreams of Doris Day and her followers – different aspirations, different values and quite different worlds.
SMD
15.05.19
Text Copyright © Sidney Donald
2019
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