Discovering Lulu

Last year I posted about my deep dive into the life, career(s) and films of Hedy Lamarr, which included reading a few biographies and watching many of her films.

Though I didn’t delve as deeply, I recently became curious about silent era icon Louise Brooks when I caught Pandora' s Box on TCM, the film that made the actress an international star. With her iconic and striking bob hairdo, she epitomized the 1920s' flapper girl.

As a lifelong film fan, I was vaguely aware of Brooks, as a Hollywood personality, but like my experience with Lamarr, hadn’t seen any of her films to have any real understanding or personal view of her library of work.

Having seen Pandora’s Box, I understand now all the fuss—she’s amazing in the film given the context of the era. In her day, audiences and critics apparently didn’t seem to think she did much acting since she did not engage in the kind of overplaying and projection that were more typical in silent era films, and likely stage acting, where you had to project to the back rows. In contrast, Brooks (when working with a sympathetic director) recognized that film provided an intimacy with the audience that allowed for more naturalistic, subtle performances.

Adding to Pandora’s Box notoriety is much of its pre-code content. In the film, Brooks plays Lulu, essentially a kept woman, whose sugar daddies and lovers are driven to ruin (and worse) because they can’t resist her charms. The film is also recognized for its portrayal of the first lesbian relationship on film. Though she marries one of her lovers, her actions nevertheless leads to everyone’s ultimate downfall, herself included. Lulu at first seems a bit innocent and oblivious of her charms, though there is one scene where she clearly shows she knows exactly what she’s doing.

It must be said that Brooks had a few similarities to Lamarr—in addition to likely not achieving the full potential of their talents, both actresses seemed to be impulsive and more apt to follow their hearts rather than make shrewd career decisions. Brooks was even more of a free spirit—unhappy with the quality of the roles in Hollywood, she fled her Hollywood contract with Paramount to accept an offer from German director G.W. Pabst to star in Pandora’s Box. Based on a series of stage plays, the character was deemed quintessentially German, so casting Brooks caused controversy. But Pabst was determined to cast Brooks after spotting her in another project. (Pabst had Marlene Dietrich waiting in the wings if Brooks was unavailable.)

Later, when Brooks returned to Hollywood, she refused to dub lines in a film she had shot prior to leaving for Germany so that it could be turned into a talkie. As a result, she was dubbed by another actress and then blacklisted for being "difficult"—the studios' cover being that she did not have a voice for film, which was untrue. (I actually found YouTube interviews with her from the 1970s, where you can hear her voice—it’s perfectly fine and you can see that she was certainly a woman of strong will and opinions.)

Due to Brooks’ partying ways, and her multiple affairs and infidelities, Pabst feared she’d reach an end not too unlike Lulu's in the film. While she did indeed hit close to bottom, eventually living as a recluse and near poverty in New York City, she was re-discovered by critics and film scholars in the 1950s. She eventually became an admired essayist about her days as a film star and other subjects (collected in her book, Lulu in Hollywood) and found a level of financial security in her later years. (Some assistance came from a monthly stipend provided to her by CBS founder William Paley, who was one of her lovers as a young man. He only asked that she keep his financial support secret.)

Anyway, it was a joy to discover Brooks and to appreciate her incredible screen presence and legacy nearly a century later.