#scary diva

[bitter69uk]

“I love people. I’ve been asked if I ever go around in disguise. Never! I think disguise is corny. If you’ve earned a position, be proud of it. Don’t hide it. I want to be recognised. When I hear people say, “There’s Joan Crawford!” I turn around and say, “Hi! How are you?””

/ From My Way of Life (1972), Joan Crawford’s ultra-kitsch, wildly impractical lifestyle manual on how to be a gracious, serene and enchanting wife, hostess and career woman /

“Hollywood’s most representative “Great Movie Star” and the screen’s finest personification of no-holds-barred ambition, Joan Crawford created her own screen persona early, doubtless basing it on her own desperate climb from the bottom of society and pushed this screen image to the very peak of stardom. The outward manifestations changed, but the core of the image never altered: she was a tough, shrewd, determined woman who wanted the best things in life and would do anything to get them – even murder. “I love to play bitches,” she once said, and in the end, she came to symbolize the bitch-goddess success, the dark side of the American dream. She looked like a star, she behaved like a star, she was a star.”

/ From The Illustrated Encyclopedia of The World’s Great Movie Stars (1979) by Ken Wlaschin /

Died on this day: incomparably fierce and regal Miss Joan Crawford (née Lucille LeSueur on 23 March 1906 – 10 May 1977). Pictured: portrait of Crawford with two of her pet poodles. (No idea which two these are: around this time, she had three poodles - Chiffon, Camille and Clicquot).

[bitter69uk]

“The one thing I don't think I could live without would be the soundtracks to horror films,'' she said. ''I love to play them in my car as I drive down the freeway.'' Miss Galás sees no contradiction in that she is as fond of grade-B horror movies and of the heavy-metal rock of AC/DC as she is of Verdi and her vocal idol, Maria Callas.”

/ From a 1985 New York Times profile of Diamanda Galás /

Happy 70th birthday to fierce operatic Greek American avant-garde diva, pianist, composer, performance artist and AIDS activist Diamanda Galás (born on 29 August 1955). Don’t let the resemblance to Morticia Addams fool you - Galás has SOUL! Once memorably described by The New Yorker as a “lounge singer in a world on fire”, she wields her remarkable bird-of-prey voice like a weapon and possesses the same kind of wraith-cheekboned, raven-haired beauty Walt Disney endowed his animated evil queens with. Galás reportedly got her first break singing in front of insane asylum inmates, has paid tribute to serial killer Aileen Wuornos and in performance used to take the stage stripped to the waist and smeared in fake blood. Appropriately, director Francis Ford Coppola enlisted her to provide eerie shrieks-of-the-mutilated for the sound effects of 1992 version of Dracula. I haven’t seen Galás perform in many years, but I vividly remember the last time: she was reinterpreting jazz standards like “All of Me” and “You Don’t Know What Love Is” at The Barbican in London in her own inimitable (blood-curdling) way, which lulled the uninitiated into a false sense of security. People were filing out in dismay all night! Keep doing what you’re doing, lady! If you’ve never dipped a toe into Galás’ wild, wild world, I’d suggest starting with the relatively accessible albums The Singer (1992) and The Sporting Life (1994), her collaboration with John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin. Pictured: Galás by Paul Harris, San Diego, 1985.

[bitter69uk]

She’s ready for her close-up! On this day in 1974, the fiercely glamorous Faye Dunaway featured on the cover of People magazine. (The “hot summer movie” the headline refers to is Roman Polanski’s Chinatown).

[bitter69uk]

“There is something medieval about her: I have the feeling that if you picked Nico up and dropped her back into a village in the 14th century she would not be disconcerted, and might even feel more at home … In the liner notes on her first album Chelsea Girl there is a very typical Nico statement about Lenny Bruce. “I like him for that thing … that nothing is wrong to do or to say or to take … he really destroyed himself in the end.” Ten years later her beautiful face shows the ravages of a life lived much too hard, but if she is self-destructive, she is contentedly so. I don’t think she suffers much from self-doubt or anxiety or regret. There is something impervious about Nico, as if her real life is lived at some still centre of herself where experience cannot go. People call her music depressing, but it is very soothing too: her songs are as tranquil as morphine, peaceful like the grave.”

/ From Mary Harron’s interview with Nico in the November 1978 issue of New Wave magazine. Harron, of course, would go on to direct provocative films like I Shot Andy Warhol, American Psycho and The Notorious Bettie Page /

Light a black candle! The late, great heroin-ravaged German chanteuse, actress and fashion model Nico (née Christa Päffgen, 16 October 1938 – 18 July 1988) - the Marlene Dietrich of punk, Edith Piaf of The Blank Generation, ghostly femme fatale, Warhol Superstar, Moon Goddess, Exiled Countess of Gloom, “possessor of the most haunting wraith cheekbones of the twentieth century” (thank you, James Wolcott of Vanity Fair) - was born on this day 87 years ago. The eternally alluring and inscrutable Nico has always been my favourite singer (and John Waters’ too, for that matter). Pictured: Nico photographed outside The Effra Hall Tavern in Brixton by Peter Noble, 1985.

[bitter69uk]

“Faye Dunaway gives a startling, ferocious performance in Mommie Dearest. It's deeper than an impersonation; she turns herself into Joan Crawford, all right, but she's more Faye Dunaway than ever. She digs into herself and gets inside "Joan Crawford" in a way that only another torn, driven actress could. (She may have created a new form of folie a deux). With her icy features, her nervous affectations, her honeyed emotionalism, Dunaway has been a vividly neurotic star; she has always seemed to be racing - breathless and flustered - right on the edge of collapse. In Mommie Dearest, she slows herself down in order to incarnate the bulldozer styles in neurosis of an earlier movie era; her Joan Crawford is more deliberate and calculating - and much stronger - than other Dunaway characters. As Joan the martinet, a fanatical believer in discipline, cleanliness, order, Dunaway lets loose with a fury that she may not have known was in her. She goes over the top, discovers higher peaks waiting, and shoots over them, too. Has any movie queen ever gone this far before? Alone and self-mesmerized, she plays the entire film on emotion. Her performance is extravagant - it's operatic and full of primal anger; she's grabbing the world by the short hairs … Dunaway takes this star-machine Joan Crawford and shows you that she isn't evil or inhuman - she's frighteningly human ... Dunaway sees a grandeur in Joan Crawford, and by the size and severity of the torments she acts out she makes Crawford seem tragic … It could be hair-raising if Faye Dunaway were to have trouble shaking off the gorgon Joan.”

/ Pauline Kael’s typically perceptive analysis of Faye Dunaway’s portrayal of Joan Crawford in her review of Mommie Dearest in the 12 October 1981 issue of The New Yorker /

Dunaway’s performance in Mommie Dearest continues to be widely ridiculed. Is it time for a reappraisal? Let’s have a heated debate when the FREE Lobotomy Room film club presents cult classic Mommie Dearest on 19 March at Fontaine’s – almost in time to coincide with UK Mother’s Day! Reserve your seat by emailing [email protected]. Need more info? See event page.

[bitter69uk]

“This absurd suspense melodrama was the next-to-last film of Joan Crawford’s career. She’s cast as Monica Rivers (a typically glamorous Joan Crawford character name), owner and ringmistress of a circus where strange murders occur. In the very first scene, a tightrope walker falls to his death. Joan takes charge immediately, shooing away the paparazzi and sending out a contingent of clowns, who flap their arms to amuse and distract the audience. “We’re running a circus, not a charm school!” she points out, “and, most importantly, people have to be entertained!””

/ From High Camp: A Gay Guide to Camp and Cult Films Volume 2 (1997) by Paul Roen /

How much can you stand … before YOU go BERSERK? Find out for yourself on Thursday 20 November when the FREE monthly LOBOTOMY ROOM cinema club (committed to Bad Movies for Bad People) presents deranged 1967 horror shocker Berserk (original title: Circus of Blood)! Downstairs at Fontaine’s in Dalston (enquire about the £6 cocktail offers!). Starring the perennially fierce Joan Crawford in one of her final film roles (and – because the budget was so low for this one, wearing her own clothes!). See Berserk at your own risk! All you need to do to reserve a seat is email [email protected]. Full details here.

[bitter69uk]

“A nightmare of suspense pushes you closer and closer to your shock limit as Joan Crawford finds menace in every shadow. Fear in every footstep. Berserk! The picture that pits steel weapons against steel nerves. How much can you stand … before you go BERSERK? See Berserk at your own risk!”

YES! This coming Thursday (20 November) experience this twisted 1967 circus-themed horror shocker for yourself (if you dare!) when the FREE monthly Lobotomy Room film club (committed to cinematic perversity) presents Berserk! Downstairs at Fontaine's! Starring fierce veteran Hollywood screen diva Joan Crawford (in her second last movie) striding around in hotpants and fishnet tights as a circus ringmistress! You won’t want to miss this one (over £6 special offer cocktails!). Email [email protected] to reserve a seat NOW!

[bitter69uk]

“The one thing I don't think I could live without would be the soundtracks to horror films,'' she said. ''I love to play them in my car as I drive down the freeway.'' Miss Galas sees no contradiction in that she is as fond of grade-B horror movies and of the heavy-metal rock of AC/DC as she is of Verdi and her vocal idol, Maria Callas.”

/ From a 1985 New York Times profile of Diamanda Galas /

Don’t let the resemblance to Morticia Addams fool you - Diamanda Galas has SOUL! The fierce Greek American avant-garde diva, pianist, performance artist and AIDS activist (who was born on 29 August 1955, turning 69 today) convincingly styles herself as an Angel of Death. Once memorably described by The New Yorker as “lounge singer in a world on fire”, she wields her remarkable bird-of-prey voice like a weapon and possesses the same kind of wraith-cheekboned, raven-haired beauty Walt Disney endowed his animated evil queen stepmothers with. Galas got her first break singing in front of insane asylum inmates, has paid tribute to Aileen Wuornos and in performance is apt to take the stage stripped to the waist and smeared in blood. Appropriately, director Francis Ford Coppola enlisted her to provide eerie shrieks and gasps for the sound effects in his 1992 version of Dracula. I haven’t seen Galas perform in years, but I vividly remember the last time: she was reinterpreting jazz standards like “All of Me” and “You Don’t Know What Love Is” in her own inimitable (blood-curdling) way, which lulled the uninitiated into a false sense of security. People were filing out in dismay all night! Keep doing what you’re doing, lady! (If you’ve never dipped a toe into Galas’ oeuvre, start with her spine-tingling interpretations of “I Put a Spell on You”, The Supremes' “My World is Empty Without You” or Johnny Cash’s “25 Minutes to Go").