The Girls: Sappho Goes to Hollywood

Homosexual activity in Old Hollywood was wrapped in such a thick shroud of secrecy, it's doubtful there will ever be a "definitive" book on the subject. The reviewers who criticize this book as being too speculative miss the point that, with so little provable fact to work with, any book on the subject winds up being speculative. (Even interviewing surviving family and friends doesn't guarantee the researcher will avoid opinions, lies and personal agendas.) Since there are so many holes chroniclers must fill in, the books end up being more of a Rorschach test of the authors than an objective presentation of the history. (And in reading the reviews here, I'd hazard the opinion that it becomes a Rorschach of the READERS, too!) Here's my personal Rorschach: I couldn't disagree more with the comment that McLellan's tone was off-putting. Her tone was precisely what I liked best about this---yes---speculative romp. (The term "my girls" is patronizing? Funny, I felt the author's distinctive *affection* for her subjects with that phrase.) I have read far too many Old Hollywood biographies written by disapproving authors. In these books, lesbianism was presented as a seedy, shamefaced, sideline activity which resulted from either inebriation or narcissistic hedonism. However, McLellan dares to create a tone of celebration when talking of her subjects and their attraction to each other. Yes, these women were catty and manipulative and their affairs were short-lived and often shallow. However, throughout the book, McLellan creates the feeling that these women were capable of genuinely loving life and each other between melodramas. Wow. Women-loving-women being portrayed as actually being FUN? How radical is that? (wink) Take the book with a grain of salt, (like all other books on the subject, even William J. Mann,) but enjoy the fact that women-loving-women in Old Hollywood DID exist and that some of it was actually a celebration.

I've never been a fan of biographies or gossip, biographies often seem too wooden and gossip too unreliable and salacious. But I read this book from cover to cover. Not only has Diana McLellan crafted a credible and well-researched account of the 'intimate' female community in Hollywood during the golden days of cinema, she has the brought the encouragingly entertaining, colourful and often hilarious lives of women such as Tallulah Bankhead so to life that the era has interested me like never before. The author has a wonderful sense of humour, often letting our heroines' own words and situations speak for themselves. She says in the introduction that the book grew not so much from what was right infront of her, as it did from that which was absent. A lie is always told to hide the truth, making it an excellent departure point for investigation. The web of lies that covered the contents of this book is fascinating, and McLellan's talent lies in the way she has managed to weave the public front: the 1930's Hollywood we remember from films and fan magazines; the notorious and infamous underground lesbian culture that was obviously evident if you knew the right people; and the intimately secret, private lives of the world's most famous women, hidden from not only the public, but even their friends and lovers.I think that this book succeeds, not simply because of the revelatory nature of much of the material: the alleged affair Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo had together in Berlin prior to their Hollywood careers; Dietrich's marriage to Otto Katz, communist and spy during World War II; the other roles Dietrich played during the war besides those of 'morale-builder' and entertainer, but because of the way McLellan has captured the zietgeist of the era. This book is not merely an expose, it is also a social history of lesbianism from 1900-1950, a detailed account of the Hollywood Star System and the advent of talkies. (it certainly made me appreciate 'Singin' in the Rain' all over again!). It also spans far beyond Hollywood, incorporating the bohemian and cultured worlds of Paris and New York and their fascinating figures. It captures the public and private worlds of, literally, a cast of characters in a way that is realistic and endearing. I imagined a film being made from this book as I read it, that's how believable, alive and intimate McLellan's narration is.I have to admit that the picture McLellan paints of Garbo is really depressing: that of a bitter, indifferent woman who ruined her life by keeping her 'cells' entirely seperate.. a star who was infinitely lonely, her career dying, because she trusted no one. I must also say that while I loved McLellan's wonderful humour, her witty quips, her wonderful sense of brevity... I tired of the ominously leading comments (cue the forboding theme music): 'this event would have a significant effect on upon the rest of her life'... 'a friendship which would, in fact, trigger the end of her ca

The Girls provides quite a different look at the Hollywood environment of the 1920s to the 1940s as Diana McLellan examines the lives of lesbian and bisexual actresses of the times, analyzing relationships, power plays, and politics alike. The Girls provides a lively, fun chronicle of affairs and scandals and is a recommended pick for any fan of Hollywood intrigue and culture.

Dear Mr. Polt, Thanks for your good note. I'm of course aware that some believe that Herta von Walther played the Dietrich role in the Garbo film Die freudlose Gasse, "The Joyless Street". The two women looked vaguely similar - although von Walther's features were coarser, her eyes a little closer together. They were probably friends as well as colleagues. (As you know, von Walther was considered by Josef von Sternberg for the juicy role of Lola-Lola in 1930's "Blue Angel", before it went so gloriously to Dietrich, and changed her life.) My theory is that Marlene asked Herta to lie for her when she promised to pipe down about being in "The Joyless Street" with Garbo, and that Herta agreed. (I go into the reasons at length in "The Girls".) No wonder she "laughed" when she was identified as Dietrich! Despite her vow, Dietrich, when cornered, occasionally conceded that she was "an extra standing in line" in "The Joyless Street". Only one figure in that line could conceivably be Dietrich - the one who catches the fainting Garbo in her arms. If one compares the close-up I show of the black-haired Marlene (with her widely spaced eyes!) in "Street" with certain shots made later (without von Sternberg's face-modelling lighting) it's very clear that it was she, not von Walther, in that role. She actually told her late-life friend and biographer David Bret, who knew from her Berlin friends that she had been in "The Joyless Street", "Yes, and in the end I killed the butcher..." To know about that ax-murder - so horrible that it was completely slashed by the censors - she had to be there. I too have seen that film program, by the way. I believe it was printed to accompany a later re-release of the film. Again, thank you for your communication. Sorry to bore the reader who doesn't want to know all this! All good wishes, Diana McLellan

This book should find a wide, appreciative audience. It captivates with the three beautiful women gracing the jacket, and sweeps the reader along with a stream of gossipy news. Everyone seems to have a mention, from the major players, (The Girls of the title) to fascinating parentheticals (Nancy Reagan). Film buffs will enjoy the exploration of a long suppressed area of Hollywood history, finding endless anecdotes of film-society life, a who-was-who of lesbian Hollywood. Love-matches are made, vows are broken, dirt is dished, Dietrich betrays Garbo's intimate secrets, and we are party to it all. Diana McLellan weaves a fascinating tapestry, that entertains and informs. She does far more, however, by probing the motives of women caught in the gears as American society turned down a prudish path, dragging Hollywood moguls along. If it's hard for lesbian and gay performers to be out in 2000, how must it have been in 1920? McLellan had a difficult task in unearthing deeply buried secrets, but she makes a compelling case that her deductions are correct. Of particular interest is her questioning the claim, made by both Dietrich and Garbo that they had never met, until formally introduced in Hollywood. Stuff and nonsense, says McLellan. Her evidence that the two women not only met, but were lovers, is central to the book's theme. (One would wish the Fatty Arbuckle scandal had been treated with more skepticism, but that's a quibble on my part.) This book is better than a night at most movies!