Leslie Caron says she got rid of the “dead wood’’ writing her autobiography, “Thank Heaven.’’
The candid, lyrically written tome of the French actress’s storied life chronicles her childhood in Paris, her suffering through World War II, her teenage years as a ballet dancer with Roland Petit’s acclaimed company where she was discovered by Gene Kelly, her career at MGM starring in such classics as “An American in Paris’’ and “Gigi,’’ her two Oscar nominations, her three failed marriages and high-profile love affair with Warren Beatty, her mother’s suicide, and her own battles with depression and alcohol.
I remember being elated, if slightly puzzled, to see her guest-star on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit a couple of years back, especially as her presence meant French was spoken on the show. The article is very pedestrian and uninteresting, as the headline gives some indication, but it has alerted me to her autobiography, which I will try to pick up at some point. It has been far too long since I have seen either An American in Paris or Gigi, two of my absolute favorite films, the condensed essence (and alas the twilight) of the Golden Age movie musical. God, I remember never seeing so much color in my life, even setting aside the famous Impressionist set piece of the former. And despite all this James Cameron dry-humping, count me unimpressed by Avatar. Those movies had a palette. And, not to mention, human beings. We would all do well to remember that. Even that overdetermined behemoth, Gone With the Wind—which just celebrated its 60th (I think) anniversary—had more drama in its melodrama than the most earnest "prestige" pictures.
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