This stunning portrait of Judith Anderson performing one of her greatest roles, Medea, was drawn by my talented friend Rachel. I’ve included the famous photo it’s inspired by so that you can compare them - the likeness is amazing!
Rachel is very modest about her creative achievements, but fortunately I managed to twist her arm and persuade her to allow me to share her art here ;-)
I think Judith herself would be highly impressed with the portrait, don’t you?
The 1st International Television Festival of Monte-Carlo. January 15 - 28, 1961.
The Princely Couple surrounded by several members of the jury at the reception that he offered, on January 16, 1961, to the personalities of the Festival. From left to right: Tetsuro Furukaki, Marcel Achard, Marcel Pagnol, Judith Anderson and Gore Vidal.
Wow. Today brings the biggest of big news for Dame Judith Anderson fans.
The academic Desley Deacon has just published Judith Anderson: Australian Star, First Lady of the American Stage. It’s the first ever full-length biography of the legendary actress. 520 pages and 100 illustrations, fact fans!
This book tells Judith Anderson’s life story for the first time. It recovers her career as one of the great stars of stage and television and an important character actress in film. Born in Adelaide, Australia, in 1897, brought up by a determined single mother, she parlayed her rich, velvety voice and ability to give reality to strong emotional roles into stardom on Broadway in the 1920s. Not a conventional beauty, she was alluring, with her beautiful body, perfect dress sense, and striking, volatile personality.
Having read papers Deacon wrote about Judith (even making a special trip to the British Library to do so), I’m very much looking forward to this book. I may even have rushed hoppity-skip through the house just now to come and tell you about it…
A detailed exploration of Judith’s life, career and achievements is, I’m sure you’ll agree, long overdue. If you can’t wait to dive into the biography either, head to Amazon to download the eBook or order the print-on-demand version. You’ll find a preview there too.
I hope Judith Anderson: Australian Star will tell us much we don’t already know. I hope it features photos that haven’t been seen for decades. I hope it portrays Judith’s complexity with insight and sensitivity. But most of all, I hope it leads to a renewed appreciation of her amazing work in 2019, just over 100 years after she left her homeland and sought success in the US.
I’d love to know your thoughts on the book if you read it.
Why’s Judith Anderson looking glum in this beautiful portrait from Blood Money (1933)? Could it be because this blog has been rather quiet lately?!
Unfortunately, I’ve been unwell since early September. But I’m hoping, now that I’m having some good/goodish days as well as bad, to return to blogging.
This week finds me contemplating the myriad ways in which being an admirer of Dame Judith Anderson (pictured looking elegant in 1966) enriches my life. Her work introduces me to or encourages me to revisit landmark plays and films (most notably MedeaandHitchcock’s Rebecca). Her performances inspire my creative writing (just ask @thisismrsdanvers how long I’ve been working on a Mrs Danvers-themed short story!). Her determination and incredible work ethic are incredibly motivating when I find myself procrastinating (’Work hard, and if it is to be, it will come,’ she once remarked sagely.) I’ve rediscovered the beauty of Daphne du Maurier’s prose, thanks to Judith, and discovered Robinson Jeffers’ astonishing poems (her readings of them are *sublime*).
On a more personal note, I’ve learned to accept myself more since becoming a fan. I avoid talking about Judith’s personal life on this blog out of respect, but what I will say is that I now feel more comfortable in my own skin, thanks to her influence. She’s taught me to be more resilient and to care less about what other people think about me (after all, she made a tremendously successful career for herself despite not conforming to the glitzy Hollywood stereotype). I know that you can be beautiful without looking like a Barbie doll. I know that being unmarried and not having children doesn’t make anyone a failure. I know that a woman can achieve truly amazing things when she puts her mind to it. And when all else fails, I know I can cheer myself up by looking at this photo;-)
Most of all, I’m grateful to Judith for bringing wonderful, life-enhancing friendships into my world (with @thisismrsdanvers,@satedanfire,@ralphsmotorbike and others). We can’t get to know the great lady herself, but those friends and I share a sincere appreciation of her acting talents and strength of character.
Well, I’ve written far more than I’d intended. Bonus points if you’ve got to the end of this! How does being a fan of Judith enrich your life? I’d love to know.
‘Positive energy,’ Mum said recently, looking in the direction of this photo.
When I asked her what she meant, she explained that’s what she thinks of whenever she sees the great Dame J :-)
Judith Anderson’s views about ‘pleasure-bored’ flappers
Judith Anderson cuts a characteristically elegant figure in this portrait from the premiere production of George Kelly’s Behold the Bridegroom (Broadway, 1927-8). The Museum of the City of New York has a production photo featuring Judith and two of her co-stars, John Marston and Thurston Hall.
Judith portrayed a spoiled flapper, Antoinette Lyle, whose undoing proves to be the fact that she possesses every material thing and social advantage one could wish for and yet is entirely dissatisfied with life. Antoinette simultaneously has it all and is empty. Marriage risks becoming just another diversion.
In the press, Judith spoke candidly - and sagely - about the poisoned chalice of privilege, particularly in relation to the 1920s social phenomenon of the flapper. She emphasised that she herself had escaped the curse of the ‘society butterfly’ to find fulfillment in her career (which, by now, was tremendously successful). I find Judith’s comments fascinating; they’re not only enlightening in relation to social history but also point to her good sense and acute self-awareness. It’s fortunate, she concludes, that her father lost his fortune. There’s no fate worse than wealth, it seems.
‘The type of girl symbolized by Antoinette Lyle,’ in Behold the Bridegroom, says Judith Anderson, the play’s star, ‘is universal. I use the word in its purest meaning and I ought to know, for in the last year I have traveled far from the United States and back again. And on every continent, in every city and suburb, I meet the Antoinettes or the near Antoinettes. Not that I have ever known one who died either for self hate or for deep love, but I have known many who have reached the stage of utter boredom with life, complete dissatisfaction with themselves, and perfect understanding of the value of the years they have wasted.
[…]
‘The flapper in the United States has her prototype in Australia. Some time ago some one coined a name for the flapper’s big sister. I think it was “zipper”. They, too, exist in both continents. Rich and unrestrained, they dash through a youth full of pleasure only to approach their 30s blase and disillusioned and a trifle shopworn. When I was of the flapper age in Adelaide, my native town in Australia, I was brought up to be a society butterfly. Like the Lyles, we lived in a community considered smart for our part of the world. And many of the first families had daughters and sons who belonged to a fast set. They wanted to show the English visitors that the colonials weren’t dull and slow. Father was at one time a very wealthy man. He was called the “Silver King” of Australia. I was pampered and spoiled by him and his generosity, just as Mr. Lyle spoiled his daughter in the play. Were it not for a quiet, loving mother and her intelligent direction, I myself might have developed as Antoinette did under the limp disciplinary rod her father wielded.
‘I doubt, however, if I were temperamentally inclined towards such a hectic existence as I lead in Behold the Bridegroom. But children of the rich are prone to develop into selfish adults with a rudeness often mistaken for wit. Fortunately, father lost his money, so we picked up our lares and penates and moved out of the wealthy pleasure-bored set to Sydney, where I started on my stage career.’
This week finds me contemplating the myriad ways in which being an admirer of Dame Judith Anderson (pictured looking elegant in 1966) enriches my life. Her work introduces me to or encourages me to revisit landmark plays and films (most notably MedeaandHitchcock’s Rebecca). Her performances inspire my creative writing (just ask @thisismrsdanvers how long I’ve been working on a Mrs Danvers-themed short story!). Her determination and incredible work ethic are incredibly motivating when I find myself procrastinating (’Work hard, and if it is to be, it will come,’ she once remarked sagely.) I’ve rediscovered the beauty of Daphne du Maurier’s prose, thanks to Judith, and discovered Robinson Jeffers’ astonishing poems (her readings of them are *sublime*).
On a more personal note, I’ve learned to accept myself more since becoming a fan. I avoid talking about Judith’s personal life on this blog out of respect, but what I will say is that I now feel more comfortable in my own skin, thanks to her influence. She’s taught me to be more resilient and to care less about what other people think about me (after all, she made a tremendously successful career for herself despite not conforming to the glitzy Hollywood stereotype). I know that you can be beautiful without looking like a Barbie doll. I know that being unmarried and not having children doesn’t make anyone a failure. I know that a woman can achieve truly amazing things when she puts her mind to it. And when all else fails, I know I can cheer myself up by looking at this photo;-)
Most of all, I’m grateful to Judith for bringing wonderful, life-enhancing friendships into my world (with @thisismrsdanvers,@satedanfire,@ralphsmotorbike and others). We can’t get to know the great lady herself, but those friends and I share a sincere appreciation of her acting talents and strength of character.
Well, I’ve written far more than I’d intended. Bonus points if you’ve got to the end of this! How does being a fan of Judith enrich your life? I’d love to know.
If I find a more striking photo of Judith Anderson this year, I’ll eat my hat.
Another great photo. What’s the doggie’s name?
If we assume that the photo was taken in the late thirties or thereabouts (that’s mine and @thisismrsdanvers‘ best guess), there are a few possibilities.
Judith Anderson began keeping dachshunds in 1932, when she was appearing in Lajos Zilahy’sFirebird on Broadway, as a newspaper article about this ‘glamorous and elusive’ actress explained at the time:
‘She has two dachshunds that accompany her in Firebird. They were bought for her for the play. But Miss Anderson has become so attached to the dogs and the dogs to Miss Anderson that they are now her personal property. One is called Miklosh, and the other Suzette.
‘She walks home from the theater - a matter of 21 blocks - after every performance in order to give them their exercise. Just in case you meet her and don’t know her off-stage, you may recognize her by the two black dachshunds on a red leash.’
The situation gets a little confusing around 1934. I used to think by that point she owned a trio of sausage dogs, thanks to the addition of a little fellow called Nichols. However, it turns out that the English equivalent of the Hungarian name Miklosh is Nicholas, which isn’t all that far removed from Nichols. So perhaps Judith had just changed the dog’s name and still had only two. (I don’t think I’ve ever seen her photographed with more than two.)
The upshot is that I can’t be sure what the name of the dog in the photo is, but it’s probably Miklosh, Suzette or Nichols.
Judith was deeply devoted to her dachshunds and, as far as I’m aware, continued to keep this beautiful breed of dog for the rest of her life.
(I don’t think I’ve ever seen her photographed with more than two.)
I stand corrected! Thank goodness for fans with good memories!
As shown in this photo I’ve snaffled from @thisismrsdanvers (thank you, and please forgive me!), Judith owned three dachshunds by 1939, when Rebecca was filmed. This could well be a group shot of Miklosh, Suzette and Nichols, then.
I wonder if she had a favourite.
Ah, the mystery deepens!
@academicxaesthetica has kindly pointed out a Photoplay article featuring Judith from 1940, which mentions her three dachshunds by name. Miklosh was still around (the article offers an alternative spelling of the name, Miklos), and there were two new ones, Goony and Tinkertoo (named after a cat Judith had previously, Tinker!). They were, says the article, her ‘prize possessions’.
Presumably they’re the three pooches in the photo from the filming of Rebecca. So, if the glamorous portrait of Judith and one of her dachshunds dates from the late 1930s or early 40s, the dog she’s with could be Miklosh, Goony or Tinkertoo.
I’m going out on a limb here and saying it’s probably Miklosh in the photo, as he was her longest-serving sausage dog by that point so probably merited special treatment.
Never let it be said that this blog doesn’t cover the important stuff…
