Bette Davis became a star through sheer force of will; if she had to skirt self-parody to do it, that was part of the price. She was not a genteel heroine. The large eyes popped with wounded neuroses, and she bit into dialogue as if it were pemmican. She wasn't classically beautiful, although her intensity gave her what Graham Greene called a ''corrupt and phosphorescent prettiness.'' What Davis was about was strength — and the thwarted woman beneath the strength.
The first star to challenge the studio system in court, she played the warrior in life as well. Signed to Warner Bros. in 1932, Davis chafed under the poorly written melodramas foisted on her (the movie that made her a star, 1934's Of Human Bondage, was a one-shot for another studio). She went on strike, was suspended without pay, and when she planned to appear in a British film, Warner slapped her with an injunction. She countersued, with great publicity, and lost the legal battle but helped win the war. Thanks to Davis, actors slowly began to gain as much power off screen as they had on it.
Her career soared, in spite of Jack Warner's reputed tendency to turn white whenever he heard Davis wanted a word with him. The films she made in the late '30s and early '40s are feverish, overripe, and glorious: Dark Victory; Jezebel; Deception; Now, Voyager — the titles themselves sob. Joan Crawford's melodramas are about the world doing horrible things to Joan, but Davis' are about Bette doing horrible things to the world. She played schemers, bitches, murderesses — all equal parts victim and avenger, and that's why we prize them. Her characters burn in hell, but brightly.
MUST-SEES
· Of Human Bondage (1934) A fierce, fascinating talent arrives as a
cockney tart who uses and abuses Leslie Howard.
· The Letter (1940) She plays one of her greatest damned heroines,
a plantation owner's wife who finds amoral freedom in adultery and
murder.
· All About Eve (1950) Davis is actress Margo Channing — Our Lady of Perpetual Cynicism — in an acid martini of a movie.
