When I moved to LA, it seemed like everyone I knew suggested I re-invent myself. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what they meant. Was I supposed to pretend that everything up to that point hadn't happened? Keep the facts but give them a new interpretation? Were they telling me to lose weight? Or just dye my hair (again), change my name, and hope for the best?
Ruth Gordon is my go-to guru. So I decided to employ Ruth's version of re-invention--"Ignore the Facts". In an address to a Quincy, Massachusetts high school graduating class she once said (this is a paraphrase),"When I was young, if I had accepted the facts-- that I was not pretty, too short, bowlegged, with not enough talent, money, or contacts to be an actress, I never would have won an Academy Award". Something like that. Fill in your own blanks.
Peter Lawford was good at ignoring facts. Hollywood's the perfect place for that, of course--but did you ever wonder why his right hand was hidden in films? Just look at him--it's pretty hard to focus on his hand in this photo--but see, it's hidden in the sand. There are many stories about his hand injury, one being that his staunch determination alone kept him from losing it completely in a childhood accident.
How much determination does re-invention require? In spite of his injury, Lawford became a great left-handed tennis player and surfer. He sang and danced in lavish MGM musicals, though he had almost no natural aptitude for either. And when he married Patricia Kennedy, he didn't let his citizenship or religion or even his birth certificate get in the way--he simply changed them all.
His mother, Lady Lawford, was a master of the survival-by-ignoring-the facts philosophy. A little alcoholism, a little dementia, and a lot of paranoia probably fueled her later years, but before she was Peter's "Bitch!", she managed to survive her first husband's suicide; a disastrous second marriage(also a suicide); and the scandal of an affair with her husband's superior officer, General Lawford. They travelled the world until the gossip died down, the money ran out, and their beautiful son became a successful actor, all the while presenting a smile and a ready wit. Is re-invention just a waiting game?
And my hero, Ruth Gordon--the girl from Quincy who never faced facts?--she dropped her last name (Jones), got kicked out of the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in 1914 or so but didn't tell her parents, stayed in New York, and got an acting job without any training. Then she married Gregory Kelly, a matinee idol who died much too young, had an affair with the notorious producer Jed Harris, gave birth out of wedlock when it just wasn't DONE (she went to Paris for awhile), became an unlikely Broadway leading lady, met a boy wonder 16 years her junior, married him, wrote brilliant plays and films, created memorable roles onstage and film, and became a symbol of eternal enthusiasm.
Is re-invention just a matter of luck, or a decision to get lucky? Must it be a conscious act? Could re-invention be the natural result of living through a personal crisis, a change of locale or an everyday epiphany? Is it really self-realization? And can anyone re-invent herself, anywhere, anytime?
I'm still counting on it.
No comments:
Post a Comment