Book Review--Grabtown Girl: Ava Gardner's North Carolina Childhood and Her Enduring Ties to Home

 

Grabtown Girl: Ava Gardner’s North Carolina Childhood and Her Enduring Ties to Home 

Doris Rollins Cannon 

Down Home Press, 2001 

When I had Ava Gardner Museum board member Lora Stocker as a guest on Watching Classic Movies podcast, she kindly sent a package of goodies from the gift shop afterwards. One of the items was Grabtown Girl: Ava Gardner’s North Carolina Childhood and Her Enduring Ties to Home. I’d read more than one book about Gardner, but I was intrigued by the idea of exploring her roots, because I think her pride in where she came from had a lot to do with her appeal. I also loved that it was a local publication, written by the chairman emeritus of the Museum. 

Based on interviews with family and friends of Gardner, it’s a bittersweet volume, because many of these people have passed since the publication of the book. It’s best looked upon as a sort of supplement to Gardner’s memoir (which is referred to here), filling in the blanks, getting to the truth of various stories, and providing a fuller perspective on a woman who was never especially impressed that she became a star. 

The first part of the book tells the story of Ava’s childhood through the eyes of those who knew her. Part two focuses on the years after she went to Hollywood through the lens of her contacts with home. There’s also a chapter devoted to the creation of the museum, in which Ava tries to visit it when it is closed and declines to get someone to open it up because she figured she’d lived it all herself. 

In essence, the book is a collection of anecdotes like that. Gardner never failed to charm, throughout her life, and there’s a lot of love for her here. Unlike many versions of her life story, she isn’t shown to be a miserable, poverty-stricken child. Of course there were lean years, but thanks to the work and care of her devoted mother and a strong family and community, she thrived as a child and didn’t lack anything she needed. I found it a heartwarming read, a brief one too at 142 pages, but there’s a lot to this slim book. Cannon was able to find a remarkable number of people to reminisce. 

When Lora asked me to record a tribute to Ava for the Museum’s celebration of her 100th birthday, a lot of what I had to say was backed up by Grabtown Girl, a tribute to a woman who found strength in her roots. 

Many thanks to Lora Stocker for providing a copy of the book for review.

On Blu-ray: A Stunning Cast in John Huston's The Night of the Iguana (1964)

 

I don’t know how many times I’ve watched Night of the Iguana (1964) and I’ve always gone into each viewing thinking of it as an Ava Gardner film. Which isn’t entirely off-base. It’s one of her best; she gets the chance to truly act, still gorgeous, but far from the glossy movie queen image that brought her fame. 

This is much more than a Gardner flick though. It’s full of incredible performances, brought to their heights with the support of director John Huston. It’s best described as a great ensemble piece. I was reminded of that when I recently revisited the film on a new Blu-ray from Warner Archive. 

Based on a stage play by Tennessee Williams, Night of the Iguana is a simple story that covers the breadth of human need and desire, as is typically case with the playwright’s works. Richard Burton is a defrocked clergyman making his living as a tour guide. He trundles up to a cheap Mexican hotel, with a bus full of confused school teachers and one 16-year-old (Sue Lyon) who is determined to seduce him. There he reconnects with the owner of the ragged establishment and widow (Ava Gardner) of an old friend he’d hope to see. Soon they are joined by an artist (Deborah Kerr) and her ailing poet grandfather (Cyril Delevanti), who have no money, but hope their skills will pay their bills from day-to-day. 

What follows is a series of emotional collisions, between the tour guests and Burton (Grayson Hall is especially indignant as their leader), the sexually charged Lyon and Burton, Gardner and Burton, Gardner and the constantly cash-poor Kerr, and at great length, Kerr and Burton. All of these interactions vibrate with the messiness of life. The misunderstandings, missed connections, frustrations, and chaos that come with being human come to life in that particular way Williams had of bringing truth and high drama together. Everyone is at their best here; the set stories that Huston was a sympathetic and encouraging director are shown to be accurate on the screen. 

What struck me on this watch though was Burton and Kerr. They have several frank discussions which I’ve come to see as the most profound strength of the film. These two strangers who have spent their lives staying within certain boundaries open themselves up to each other and enjoy a free and deep emotional intimacy. It’s moving, sad, and in a lot of ways amusing to see them connect and, in a way, hold confession for each other. 

I’m grateful for this film and the many ways it works as entertainment and something a little deeper. It’s a great showcase for its cast and the prime example of how lucky we are that a director as complex and intelligent as Huston had the power of studio budgets and support for as many years as he did. 

Special features on the disc include a trailer for the film and the illuminating documentary shorts On the Trail of the Iguana and Night of the Iguana: Huston’s Gamble. Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review.

On Blu-ray, Musical Delights for Troubled Times: My Dream Is Yours (1949), On Moonlight Bay (1951), and Show Boat

With all the tension and troubles in the world right now, I nearly cheered at the opportunity to review this trio of musicals recently released on Blu-ray by Warner Archive. Great music, gorgeous stars, and beautiful settings; there’s nothing like a well-made classic musical.

My Dream Is Yours (1949) 

Doris Day followed her remarkably assured debut in Romance on the High Seas (1948) with another impeccable performance in My Dream Is Yours (1949). It’s amazing to me that this perfectly paced and charmingly acted film isn’t better known. The story of a single mother hustling with her determined manager to become a singing star is a perfect showcase for Day's daisy-fresh persona.

Day is paired again with Jack Carson. Next to Rock Hudson, I’ve always thought Carson was her best screen partner. They both have an energized, but effortless appeal, like neither of them has to work too hard to entertain. 

In addition to an amusing batch of catchy songs, including the cheerful Cutting Capers and the swoon worthy title tune, the film is full of visual delights, such as a bizarre dream sequence featuring Bugs Bunny, the elegant presence of an all-female radio orchestra, and lots of colorful costumes and sets. 

The supporting cast is a sharp crew of Warner Bros players including Eve Arden, Adolphe Menjou, and S.Z. Sakall, who is always a welcome sight, though it’s a shame none of his characters ever seemed to have an intellect above that of a preschooler. 

Special features on the disc include a theatrical trailer, the cartoon A Ham in a Role, the drama short The Grass Is Always Greener, and the comedy short So you Want to Be an Actor.

On Moonlight Bay (1951) 

It’s funny to see Doris Day transition from the sunny, but savvy career girl in My Dream Is Yours to her role as an innocent teenager in On Moonlight Bay, but it’s impressive too because she pulls it off. 

I love the corny good cheer of this turn-of-the-century comedy (I hope the equally amusing sequel By the Light of the Silvery Moon [1953] makes it to Blu-ray). It’s a great balm for tense times. 

Day plays tomboy Judy, who abruptly decides to switch gears and put on a dress when she meets the handsome Bill (Gordon McRae). Until World War I rolls around, nothing more traumatic than a broken leg happens in their pleasant, small town world. 

The film is a series of gentle vignettes, featuring a cast of appealing and under-used character actors including Leon Ames and Rosemary DeCamp as her parents, the refreshingly unmannered Billy Gray as her brother, and Jack Smith as Judy’s handsome, but hapless and irritating suitor. The never under-used, ubiquitous Mary Wickes is also a delight as the family maid. 

Special features on the disc include a theatrical trailer, the cartoon A Hound for Trouble, and the musical short Let’s Sing a Song About the Moonlight.

Show Boat (1951) 

While there is much to love about the pink satin and ribbons MGM-style grandeur of George Sidney’s adaptation of this legendary stage musical, I’ve never fallen completely under its spell. 

For one, James Whale’s artistically lensed 1936 version captured the grittiness of the story with greater flair and having legendary personalities like Paul Robeson and Helen Morgan on hand certainly helped. I’m also not a fan of the operatic singing style of Kathryn Grayson and Howard Keel, which somehow doesn’t work as well for me on the screen as it would in a stage production. Viewers who like that style will find this film heavenly; I tend to resent it a little more because it meant that Ava Gardner’s lovely singing voice with that perfect Southern drawl had to be dubbed so that she’d fit the bill. 

As in Whale’s version, the supporting cast is delightful, featuring Joe E. Brown in an unusually reserved performance, Agnes Moorehead, William Warfield doing a wonderfully rumbly version of Ol' Man River, and Marge and Gower Champion as the show boat’s comedic team. Ava Gardner is the stand-out though: she’s passionate, raw, and unafraid to appear stripped of her glamour (she remains stunningly beautiful even when she's supposed to be ragged). 

It’s a fine spectacle, but I kept thinking back to Robeson, Morgan, and the magical way Whale filmed the sparkling river water. 

Special features on the disc include commentary by George Sidney, the Show Boat sequence from the 1946 musical Till the Clouds Roll By, an audio clip of Ava Gardner singing Bill and Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man, a Lux Radio on Theater Broadcast, and a theatrical trailer.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Quote: Lena Horne on Ava Gardner

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She didn't feel she was born to rule. She felt that life was crappy and that a lot of people got mistreated for weird reasons and she liked to see people like each other.

-Lena Horne

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On Blu-ray: Billy Budd (1962) and The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972)

While Billy Budd (1962) and The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972) take widely different approaches to a period milieu, they are both at their best when they spotlight their charismatic performers. The literary-sourced Budd and life-based Bean were recently released on Blu-ray from Warner Archive.

I’m generally not fond of the dudes on a ship genre, but Billy Budd has its own rhythm and transcends any genre trappings. I’ve found that my enjoyment of high seas drama depends dramatically on which dudes are aboard and that is one of the strong points of this film based on a stage play drawn from Herman Melville’s final, and posthumously published, work.

Set in 1797, all of the action takes place on a naval vessel where naïve crewman Billy Budd (Terence Stamp) has been taken from a merchant ship to serve. With dreamy eyes and dandelion fluff hair, the crew is baffled by the gentle, optimistic Budd, though they eventually admire his positive perspective. The sadistic master-at-arms John Claggart (Robert Ryan) feels threatened by Billy’s comfort with and desire to befriend him. He attempts to frame the young man for attempted mutiny, which ends up being deadly on multiple counts.

In his film debut, Stamp makes Billy an almost otherworldly character. He always seems a step removed from the pain and fear that plagues the rest of the crew members. This frightens Claggart, who is perturbed that he can't control him with fear and perhaps a bit disturbed by his attraction to Budd. He is the sort of man who gets an intense thrill from whippings and drawing blood, that this joyful boy should exist in his orbit dampens that erotic charge.

The captain of the ship (Peter Ustinov, who also directs) knows how destructive Claggart is for his men, but he fears Billy more; he could lead the crew to a more lusty mutiny than the master-at-arms. As a disillusioned elderly sailmaker, Melvyn Douglas, wearily watches Budd move towards his doom, though even he can’t see where it all is leading.

Billy Budd hits its stride when it begins to focus on one-on-one conversations. The tension between Ryan and Ustinov, and especially Stamp and Ryan is presented with menacing intimacy. These private moments form the dark core of a story the crew cannot begin to understand, increasing the overall tension. What is expressed stands equal to the repressed fears and desires of all aboard but the innocent Billy.

Special features include an interesting commentary in which director Steven Soderbergh talks with Terence Stamp about his experiences making the film. Perhaps because the pair worked together on The Limey (1999), they have a good rapport and their conversation has a nice flow.

The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean is a more comic enterprise. Its humorous success varies, depending on who has the spotlight in this loosely history-based western full of cameos. Director John Huston pulls together some good tall tales, but never weaves them into a cohesive whole.

As the frontier-based Bean, Paul Newman moves from the bad side of the law to impose his own morally-flexible definition of justice. He lusts after the distant star of the stage Lily Langtry (Ava Gardner), falls for a young Mexican girl (Victoria Principal), and tangles with an unruly cast of characters.

Newman is the weakest part of Roy Bean. He doesn’t have the ornery toughness or the comic juice to make his crusty character pop. While the actor could be funny in the right circumstances, he had a bad habit of seeming more amused by himself than the audience. That quality is at its worse here.

A diverse cast of characters take up the slack, in a series of amusing vignettes. Anthony Perkins sets aside his jittery persona in favor of a wry restraint as traveling man of the cloth. Leaning into his gravelly voice, Tab Hunter works against his pretty boy looks as a shifty, but oddly sympathetic outlaw. Most amusing is Stacy Keach as the bandit Bad Bob. No one relishes an over-the-top role like this actor; he looks like he is having the time of the life, which adds to the humor. Roddy McDowall and Ava Gardner also demonstrate reliable ensemble chops as a hapless lawyer and Langtry respectively.

In the end, the mess of stories, punctuated by a scene-stealing black bear, becomes a bit exhausting, but the cameos help to renew interest when the action flags.


Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing copies of the films for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On Blu-ray: March, Lancaster, Douglas and Gardner in Seven Days in May (1964)

Seven Days in May (1964) was director John Frankenheimer's follow-up to The Manchurian Candidate (1962), meant to be another unsettling portrait of power and politics. Given today's political climate though, it is striking how relatively sane everyone seems in this story of an attempted military takeover of the US government. While there are dark forces in the mix, for the most part the players here are intellectual, sober-minded and determined to act with honor. It feels like a fantasy. Now available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, this engrossing, underseen film is a fascinating comment on its own times and a timeless story of the eternal truth that everyone thinks they are the good guy.

Fredric March is embattled U.S. President Jordan Lyman, an increasingly unpopular leader who is under fire for signing a nuclear disarmament treaty with the Soviet Union in the midst of the cold war. In fear for the safety of the nation, Air Force General James Mattoon Scott (Burt Lancaster) has been working undercover to overthrow the president and create a government which satisfies his concept of defense. When Colonel Martin "Jiggs" Casey learns of the imminent takeover, he rushes to inform the president and preserve the union.

What follows is a muted, but intense race to thwart the uprising in the seven days before it is to begin. Jiggs struggles to find his way through the conflict, a situation in which he does not agree with the actions of his president, but is determined to uphold the constitution. He is unsettled by the wrong he must do to protect his leader, and particularly that he must betray Scott's former mistress, and his friend, Eleanor Holbrook (Ava Gardner) to obtain potential ammunition.

I don't know how much Rod Serling's script draws from the Fletcher Knebel and Charles Bailey II book, but it bears his mark: a plea for reason, belief in honor, but little faith that humans can act in their own best interest. While the film makes protagonists of Jiggs and Lyman, it doesn't necessarily celebrate them. Perhaps they have the constitution behind them, but in some ways they can't claim moral superiority to Scott.

The General is a threat, but he isn't a monster either. Made during the Cuban missile crisis, many Americans agreed with General Scott's belief in a strong military offensive. Frankenheimer didn't, but he wanted to portray Lancaster's character as sane and level-headed.

Frankenheimer recorded commentary for the film, included in this release, in which says that he doesn't believe that this movie could be made today, because he doesn't think audiences would accept a president with the morals of March's Lyman. He believes the office has been debased. I don't know when he made those comments, but it is worth noting that this feeling about the highest office in the land has existed in varying degrees of passion since Kennedy's assassination.

Due to political tensions at the time, co-producer Kirk Douglas recalled getting pushback from several directions when he wanted to film the story. It was only when President Kennedy not only gave his approval, but encouraged the producers to continue that the production could continue. JFK had had his own experiences with a dangerously influential general and seemed to want the public to understand how fragile democracy can be.

Here that fragility is revealed quietly, behind doors, coming to the edge of crumbling without a hint to the public. In some ways it is insidiously subtle; Jiggs knows the threat is real, but in fighting to be heard, you sense his self-doubt. It isn't so much that he doesn't believe in his end goal, but rather that the forces against him are so relentless that he struggles to keep his focus and moral grounding.

While these major players drive the action, they make victims of their foot soldiers. The emotionally exhausted Holbrook is already down when Jiggs further betrays her trust. In their quest for truth presidential advisor Paul Girard (Martin Balsam) and Senator Raymond Clark (Edmond O'Brien) become casualties of their own patriotism. It is a trio of moving performances, all of them pawns in different ways.

March and Lancaster communicate their entitlement smoothly.Their characters are more alike than they'd care to admit, both of them in power because of their ability to ask for sacrifice and their ferocity in standing by their beliefs. It was interesting to see two actors with such bold personas playing low-key roles. Still, though they are more subtle, but you can see the confidence surging beneath the surface.

A fascinating commentary by John Frankenheimer is the sole Special Feature on the Blu-ray.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On DVD: Ladies of the Night Gina Lollobrigida and Ava Gardner

Go Naked in the World (1961) is a glossy, glamorous mass of big feelings. It's obsessed with horrible, naughty, glorious sex. The pre-code era is limping away though, so it's okay to talk about it, and even to indulge in eroticism, but somebody is going to pay.

Gina Lollobrigida is high-priced prostitute Julie Cameron. She attracts the attention of the aimless Nick Stratton (Anthony Franciosa), son of the famous, and overbearing self-made millionaire Pete Stratton (Ernest Borgnine). Nick does not know how Julie pays for her lush apartment, or that his father is one of her clients. He doesn't seem like the sharpest tool in the drawer.

In a flashy role that suits her perfectly, Lollobrigida glides around in furs, jewels and figure-skimming cocktail dresses. She carries herself with an expectation of luxury. Without it though she would still be entrancing, confident in her allure, and perfectly in control of every little shrug of the shoulder or elegant flick of the wrist. The actress doesn't have much of a script to work with here, but all she really needs is the spotlight.

While Franciosa can sizzle with Lollobrigida, he doesn't make much of an impression on his own. It's appropriate for his role as a man struggling to distinguish himself and escape from the shadow of his strong-willed father. Though he is younger and more handsome, you can't help fixating on Borgnine in their scenes together. Even when the elder Stratton is being an insufferable bully it's mesmerizing to watch him.

This is the sort of lavish drama where people announce ideas more than they actually communicate with each other. It flirts with being unintentionally funny, but doesn't quite rate as camp. Everyone has exciting, nostril-flaring emotions, and there's not much of substance to back them up, but this is a spectacle, and thanks to Lollobrigida and Borgnine, often a very entertaining one.

The Angel Wore Red (1960) is a more downbeat drama, set during the Spanish Civil War. Ava Gardner is Soledad, a so-called "cabaret girl". She falls for Father Arturo Carrera (Dirk Bogarde), a priest who has rejected his vows, though he is still hunted by Loyalists fighting the church.

This was a sad time in Gardner's life, and you can see it in her performance. The long nights and drinking show in the bags under her eyes, and there's a sort of weary resignation in her demeanor. She was starting to sour on making movies, and after the production she had planned to retire from the screen. Fortunately that did not happen, as Ava had a knock-out performance in The Night of the Iguana (1964) ahead of her.

According to Bogarde, Gardner lost her enthusiasm for the project when she was forced to wear glamorous make-up and a girdle after producers saw the early rushes. She wanted to be a respectable actress; they didn't want her to attempt an Anna Magnani impersonation. While it is odd to see the actress turned out so impeccably in what are supposed to be such trying times, not to mention Bogarde with his perfectly fluffed hair and pressed shirts, her, and his, beauty are undeniably thrilling.

Bogarde and Gardner got on well. Their friendship would last beyond the production, and they would even act together in another trying film, Permission to Kill, in 1974. Their mutual sympathy translates into a touching onscreen romance. I'd never put them together, but they're a charming pair.

Bogarde is warmer and more intimate than many of Gardner's screen partners. The actor brings out her more grounded side, because he doesn't treat her like a sex goddess. He cherishes her, and she responds with a less breathy and more down-to-earth performance than in her earlier films.

In a supporting role as a broadcast journalist, Joseph Cotton is uncharacteristically over-the-top. He made the odd choice to shout most of his lines in a misguided attempt to play an eccentric. Vittorio De Sica is equally unusual as a British soldier. His dialogue appears to have been dubbed, but there was no way to disguise his clearly Italian body language--especially those expressive hands.

In his memoirs, Bogarde wrote that The Angel Wore Red opened, "apparently to ten eskimos in North Alaska, closed the next day and sank without trace." Perhaps it's no tragedy that this film isn't better known, but it is definitely of interest, particularly because of the intriguing chemistry between Gardner and Bogarde.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Book Review--Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations

Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations
Peter Evans and Ava Gardner
Simon & Schuster, 2013

I admit it, I wanted to read the racy stuff. I've always heard that Ava Gardner lived her life with abandon, so when I read her 1990 autobiography, I was disappointed that for once she seemed to be holding back. While Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations is far from a definitive or even comprehensive memoir, it does appear to deliver the real Ms. Ava. She shares a lot, while having the sense to not share everything, and yes, that includes the sex.

In 1988, Gardner was broke. Still partially paralyzed from a major stroke and unable to work, she decided to sell her life story, with the modest hope that she would earn enough to make the rent on her London flat near Hyde Park. She found Peter Evans, a former journalist more interested in writing his novel than documenting movie stars, and used the full force of that star power, and her seductive Ava-ness to draw him to the project.

Their collaboration was always on uneasy footing. Gardner appears to have been a loyal woman, and it must have been difficult to lay out her secrets for cash. She fretted constantly about how she would come off (she wasn't aware of how much she swore until Evans gave her some sample chapters to read) and whether she would hurt former husbands Mickey Rooney and Frank Sinatra with her raunchy, revealing tales of married life.

In the end, it was loyalty, or at least deference to Sinatra that killed the project. She found out the singer had sued Evans several years previously and immediately stopped work on the book. Eventually she told her story in a different, less revealing way in, Ava Gardner: My Story.

Several years after Ava's death, with the permission of her estate, Evans cobbled together a different book from what he had planned. He shares the few passages of the memoir that he completed, but the bulk of it consists of his memories and transcripts from the long, often combative conversations the two had over the course of their turbulent work relationship.

That tug-of-war between writer and star can get tiresome, they tangle over the same issues repeatedly, but it is as true a picture as you could get of Gardner in her late years. She missed the freedom her health gave her and the ability to earn her living as she was accustomed, but she also knew she had lived a remarkable life. Ava was a great storyteller and she describes her memories vividly.

I've always admired the way Gardner indulged her passions in an age where it was unseemly for women to do so. In fact, this attitude towards female sexuality has never gone away entirely, which makes her determination to fulfill her appetites all the more admirable. Stories of romping in the sack with Mickey Rooney (I'm still a bit baffled that he was such a ladies' man) and Howard Hughes are plenty steamy, but it's also just fun to think of this young woman finding out she loves sex and pursuing it with gusto.

While these episodes were amusing, Gardner's memories about her childhood stuck with me much longer. She talks about her rough, but not deprived childhood as a farmer's daughter with bittersweet tenderness. Her closeness to her father, and her struggle to survive alone with her mother after his death are made all the more remarkable when you think that she could barely keep clothes on her back in 1939 and was the elegantly-gowned wife of the biggest movie star in Hollywood by 1941.

There's very little about Gardner's acting career here, which disappointed me, though I never got the impression that she wanted to discuss her work in great detail. As dynamic as she was on the screen, Ava was never deeply devoted to her career. She had natural appeal and astonishing beauty, which she developed into good performing chops, and most of the time that seems to have simply served her as a great way to make a lot of dough.

Despite her depression at the time she collaborated with Evans, Gardner has plenty of joy to share. She may have lamented the way her life turned out, and how the stroke reduced her mobility, but she was never pathetic. Ava was too self-aware to fade away with her movie star delusions. She had her heyday, and she lived it up, but she didn't cling to it when those days were gone. It's just that she didn't know what to do after the rush of youth was gone.

Many thanks to Simon & Schuster for providing a review copy of the book.

Win your own copy of Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations from Classic Movies! Click here to enter. 

A Classic Giveaway--Win a Copy of Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations

Curious about the new Ava Gardner book? Well here's your big chance to check it out! Simon & Schuster has generously offered to send two lucky readers a copy of this candid look at a talented, big-hearted and delightfully foul-mouthed star of the golden age of Hollywood.

How to enter? Tell me what your favorite Ava Gardner flicks are, and why, in the comments section of this post. It's easy!

As I am frightened by all the blogging contest widgets out there, the winners will be drawn old-school-style from a large, black sunhat which would probably would have looked amaaazing on Ms. Ava.

You have until 11:59 PST Thursday, July 11 to enter. Entries are limited to the continental US. I will announce the winners in my Classic Links post on Friday, July 12.

Good luck!

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Quote of the Week

Deep down, I'm pretty superficial.

-Ava Gardner

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TV Tuesday: Ava Gardner on What's My Line?

Has there ever been anyone as effortlessly alluring as Ava Gardner? In her appearance on What’s My Line? she plays a guessing game like a seduction scene, but she always exudes dignity and class. She is also nearly as good at flirting with her hair as Rita Hayworth!