Garbo Laughs

theniftyfifties:

Pier Angeli

(Source: signorinapierangeli)

deforest:

On April 16, 1976, photographer George Hurrell sent a letter to his friend and favorite subject, Joan Crawford. Hurrell’s constant collaboration with Joan had produced literally thousands upon thousands of photographs, and their work together eventually came to define Hurrell’s career and legacy almost entirely. Alongside the letter, he included a famous photograph from a 1930 session with Joan. He states of it:

Dear Joan,

I’ve always thought the soulful, tender beauty in the attached print was among our best efforts.

The depth of feeling and emotion you expressed in this pose has a dramatic quality that only a great actress could reveal.

Hurrell closed the letter with “love and kisses.” 

(via harlow-jean)

littlechiefpaleface:

so i was watching rope and i realized something

rupert cadell is the regina george of new york intellectuals

not exactly sure what’s going on here but i approve

(Source: farleysgranger, via gregorypecks)

(Source: katharinehepburn)

theniftyfifties:

Marlene Dietrich and Edith Piaf in Piaf’s dressing room at the Versailles Nightclub. 1952.

(via sharontates)

mollybot:

lillianbehrendt:

classicmoviefanproblems:

When Jay-Z refers to himself as “The new Sinatra”. Just because you both have songs about New York, does not mean you’re anywhere near Sinatra, and you never will be because Sinatra had far more class than you will ever have.

Submitted by: Anonymous

(MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY.)

Aside from the DUH RACIST RACIST FUCKED UP BUSTED NONSENSE,

Sinatra had a career because of ORGANIZED FUCKING CRIME.

What was so “classy” about him anyways? He wore suits? GUESS WHAT JACKASSES IT WAS THE 50’S EVERYONE WORE FUCKING SUITS

Fuck these fucks.

Lilzy lays down the LAW. These children… Think about what you’re really trying to say when you say something isn’t classy. Break it down in your head before you open your mouth, you might be surprised.

Mmhmmmmmmmmm.

(Source: justlittleclassicfilmthings)

factoseintolerant:

30 Days of Cary Grant  |  Day Ten —-> Favorite pics of Cary & Jennifer

(via bellbookandcandles)

bellecs:

Photographed by Eugene Robert Richee

cosmosonic:

BARBRA STREISAND

(via )

mollybot:

Anthony Perkins Publicity Still from Psycho 1960 Image from Dr Macro

I wrote this movie review for Garbo Laughs’ 2012 Queer Film Blogathon. You can also check out her tumblr here

A Newbie’s interpretation of Hitchcock’s Psycho or Why I don’t want Psycho touching me

Alfred Hitchcock’s immensely iconic 1960 film Psycho is a film that American culture knows without watching. It’s one of those movies forever referenced by media that it feels like you don’t even need to watch it to know it. Maybe that’s why it feels like a bit of a chore to sit down and watch. I know there’s the shower stabbing and I know that sooner or later we see Tony Perkins kill while dressed up as his aged mother.

For the record, I’m not a classic film buff. In the past five or so years I’ve learned some names and watched some movies to raise my status from a film dunce to a mildly enthusiastic newb. And I have to admit that one of my favorite classic movies, a film that gets me excited to watch more classic film, is Hitchcock’s Rope. Rope is a film that can do no wrong for me. That thing, where they never leave the room? That drives me nuts in every other movie I’ve seen *cough*CatOnAHotTinRoof*cough* but Rope did that right. Rope made me never want to leave that room, it made me connect with the villains, it made me an accomplice. If the only way queer characters get to be in Hays Code films is as murderers you damn well bet that I want them to be murderers that I can relate to. John Dall and Farley Granger’s characters in rope are almost lovable to me. Robert Walker in Stranger on a Train is more villainous but he’s defiantly not dull, I wanted to know more about him the whole time. These are all characters that Hitchcock had us intentionally read as queer or gay and even though they are baddies these depictions have never out right offended me.

Psycho does offend me.

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