Gregory Peck was the best Atticus Finch there ever was and there ever will be. For me. And for Harper Lee, at the very least. 'Cos she said, her Atticus Finch was a role that allowed Peck to play himself. Peck. A quiet man. A quiet, decent man. He had to " put everything I had into it – all my feelings and everything I'd learned in 46 years of living, about family life and fathers and children. And my feelings about racial justice and inequality and opportunity". Peck was a decent man. The quietly decent kind. Decency is special. It is such an underrated virtue. Decency is heroic in these trying times. Hollywood, please, no remakes.
It’s common knowledge that I am a huge fan of Bette Davis. So after an all too long time, I watched another Bette Davis movie – The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1938) in garish Technicolor . Bette of course delivered a stunning performance. There might be some places where she went a tad bit overboard but that was the way they acted back in those days (late 30s). She went as far as to shave her head to create the bald look of the aging queen. Her face was painted white for the entire movie. In all this hideousness, there was something heartbreaking about her portrayal of the Queen. There is this famous scene where she goes on a mirror shattering rampage in the palace. In about 4 seconds in this scene, she examines herself in the looking glass - at her most insecure, most vulnerable, most yearning and most without-a-mask moment. My heart went crack when I saw her just for these 4 seconds. For a minute when you see Bette acting out this breathtaking turmoil on screen, u do...
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