The Silent CollectionBy Tammy StoneFeaturing:
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Search My Store for Mae Murray
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#96 Most Popular - 1917 (Poor Mae!) |
See Mae Murray On the IMDB |
It’s a funny thing about silent film
stars. They will always go down in history as the first big screen legends,
stars, starlets, and matinee idols. They were the ones who got the world hooked
on the movies, who brought the best of the theatre world to screens projecting
to millions. Yet now, when all our movies are talkies and so many of the great
oldies have disappeared, few of us have access to the personalities behind these
earliest photo-plays. There is, however, a loyal fan base for several of them to
this day, and these fans are seriously devoted to the stars of yore. Most often,
each fan tries to claim that their star is the most underrated of all; this is
nowhere more true than with Mae Murray, an early dancing queen, splashily known
as “The Girl With the Bee-Stung Lips.”
Before Renee Zellweger became known her own lips of kind, before Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Cyd Charisse and Gene Kelly became the great dancers of the next generation, Mae Murray was there to pave the way and create her own brand of starlet. Born on May 10, 1889 in Virginia, USA, Mae loved performing; her professional debut came in 1906, when she sang “Comin’ Through the Rye’ in “About Town”. She garnered enough attention to become a Ziegfeld Follies girl in the 1910s, where she honed her craft, more in the showgirl skills than acting. This was an era, however, when musicals, along with melodramas, were the most popular form of entertainment, be it stage or screen – Judy Garland would later become another famous Ziegfeld girl. Audiences wanted to pay money to be transported to other words of glamour, fashion, and escapism – Mae Murray was able to provide this in spades.
Her moment of fame came when she filled in for Irene Castle in Irving Berlin’s “Watch Your Step”, in 1910, and worked regularly from there. By 1915, she had caught the attention of Paramount Pictures’ Adolph Zukor, who was scouting for screen contract players, and saw her in the Follies – he particularly noticed Mae’s hysterical impersonation of Mary Pickford. Within a short time, Mae was on her way to achieving a new kind of fame she could have never before understood: movie stardom. But modesty was not one of her strong suits, as we can see in this quote, in which she takes instant superstardom to celestial heights: “Once you become a star, you are always a star.” Perhaps, but the story doesn’t end there.
Mae wasn’t the type to graciously accept the good things that came her way. She
soon wanted out of her Paramount contract to attain more 
freedom, but the studio
lords were more powerful than she was. Not that she was altogether miserable, as
the life of a major star suited her very well. Where she lacked in straight
acting skills, she shone as magnetic performer, especially in the dancing arena.
She was perfect for the mid-1910s era of the ultimate melodrama and silent
musical. The name of her star vehicles alone indicate the type of films she
excelled at: Sweet Kitty
Bellairs (1916), Princess Virtue (1917), Her Body in
Bond (1918), Danger, Go Slow (1918), The Delicious Little Devil (1919), Idols of
Clay (1920), Jazzmania (1923), and The French Doll (1923), are some of the
titles in which she gestured and danced her way into the American psyche.
Many of her films were versions of the classic fairytale Cinderella, and her real life – at least on the surface, followed suit. In 1919, while on break from a film shoot, she married her favorite director, Robert Z. Leonard – the wedding was grand, as was her first wedding, which publicists tried to keep under wraps (this marriage, to New York high society man Jay O’Brien only lasted a few days before ending in divorce).
In 1923, Mae starred in “Peacock Alley”, which did very well with audiences, and was released by Metro, the company that would soon merge with Goldwyn and Mayer, to become MGM – Mae Murray was their first big contract star. And they didn’t do wrong by her, either. Her biggest role came in 1925, when Mayer decided to make a screen version of “The Merry Widow”, to be directed by Erich von Stroheim, a huge talent. The film was unbelievably successful, and would be the biggest movie of both star and director’s careers. They didn’t get along though – Mae often called Stroheim a “dirty Hun” – an attitude that reflected her less than congenial attitude toward people in general.
Known for her biting tongue and as an actress difficult to work with, she did
stay at the top of her game for awhile longer, mainly because the box office
figures were way too good to ignore. By then, she had divorced Leonard, and
married someone she thought befitting her status: she
married Ukrainian Prince
David Mdivani, and became an official Princess. Her ego now rapidly getting out
of control, she turned down the lead in 1927’s “Women Love Diamonds”, after
which she was more or less blackballed in the industry. She did manage to eke
out a few more films, but 1931’s “Bachelor Apartment” and “High Stakes” were
highly disappointing, verging on humiliating, and Mae was revealed for the aged,
former star she had become. Her looks had by and large disappeared, and she had
never had enough talent to work as a ‘character actress’, especially in the
sound era.
She tried to save her career, and many former silent stars did, by going back to her theatre roots. She had periods of modest success here, and managed to get a biography about her made, “The Self-Enchanted.” It came out in 1959, but no one much cared for it, or remembered who she was – although it is widely believed that she was the inspiration for the starring role in Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard. The star she had been was gone, relegated to an older era. Still, in 1964 she went on a publicity tour of her own initiative, and failed miserably. She was found, sickly and homeless, in St. Louis, and was carted back off to Hollywood. She didn’t go down without a fight; she insisted everyone call her “Princess”, and was found humming refrains of the Merry Widow Waltz on the streets of Tinseltown. She succumbed to heart failure in 1965.
Mae Murray might have been the first to invent the
“movie-star-temper-tantrum-and super-inflated-ego” syndrome (one which countless
others would one day assume), but will be recorded in history for her charisma,
sensuality, and awe-inspiring dance routines. People might forget now how
popular silent musicals were, but to revisit those days would be to meet the
charm and sheer force of “The Girl with the Bee-Stung Lips.” With Mae Murray, a
diva was born.
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Tammy Stone is a freelance writer and journalist based in Toronto. Watch for her
regular column on the greats of the Silent Screen here in
The Movie Profiles & Premiums Newsletter. Tammy invites you to write her at
stonetamar@hotmail.com with any questions or comments on her column.
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