Elaine Stewart

(On Cable TV, August 2019) In the pantheon of Hollywood movies about Hollywood, The Bad and the Beautiful still stands tall as being emblematic of its era, right before the weight of studio producers crumbled before television, antitrust legislation, and the end of exclusive studio contracts. Kirk Douglas is in fine form as a movie mogul with numerous enemies, bringing three of them together so that he can convince them to work on his next project. But it’s a framing device, as the producer recalls his history with each one of his three listeners, leading to three shorter related stories about a director, a star and a writer. In each case, the protagonist plays the spoiler, pushing them to further heights even as he (as they put it) ruins their lives. As a way to take a multifaceted look at the way Hollywood worked up to that point, The Bad and the Beautiful is ingenious—it takes us in three different sub-worlds of Hollywood, loosely linked together. The tone is strictly melodramatic, which does add to the period charm. Douglas plays a magnificent bastard here, willing to sacrifice relationships in order to make movies … and then get the band back together. As befit a framing device holding together three shorter films, the ending is a bit weak, but that’s fine: this is very much a journey-is-the-destination film where the climax is less important than the scenes leading to it. At this point in time, it almost feels like comfort viewing—a paean to a lost Hollywood, but whose echoes can still be felt today.

(Second viewing, Streaming, May 2025) Every year, I learn a little bit more about Classic Hollywood, and that in turn changes the experience of re-watching the films of that era.  A second looks at The Bad and the Beautiful is not quite the same.  Sure, Kirk Douglas is just as impressive as a life-altering studio mogul — but this time around, I get to appreciate Dick Powell in a later-career role unlike his earlier turns.  I get to take in Gloria Grahame’s short but striking role a Southern belle that the script heartlessly dispatches as being a distraction from creativity.  (Lana Turner is top-billed, but Graham, and to a lesser extent, Elaine Stewart, make more of an impression in a shorter time.)  I get to chuckle at the nod to Val Lewton’s Cat People, and revel in the glimpses of classic-era film-making.  There are quite a few touches of wit in director Vincente Minnelli’s direction, working with the script to punch-up some fake-outs (“It stinks!”) and amusing reveals (such as the pool dip).  Sure, The Bad and the Beautiful is melodramatic, uncomfortably dissonant with modern values, and perhaps too much in love with Classic Hollywood to deliver an honest conclusion.  But it’s fun, witty, an utterly splendid illustration of a specific era in film history, and a pretty good acting showcase.  It stands on its own as a story, but it becomes greater when measured against its era.