brief candles: Mae Clarke

   It may seem a contradiction to speak of Mae Clarke in the context of brief candles since she lived to the age of 81 and her career in show business spanned the better part of five decades. But the ‘brief’ in this case refers to her, alas criminally short, run – not even one decade – as a leading lady in prestige films. Of course Mae Clarke is guaranteed her place in cinema immortality, if dubiously so, as the recipient of the grapefruit in the face compliments of gangsta James Cagney. Fans of horror films also remember her as Henry Frankenstein’s bride to be Elizabeth in the original 1931 version of Frankenstein. Elizabeth barely escapes the clutches of the monster but Miss Clarke wasn’t so lucky. In the sequel Bride of Frankenstein she was bumped in favor of the proper and more British Valerie Hobson, thus rounding out the all-Brit cast.

   The rest of the decade was a mixed bag for Mae Clarke. She was featured in some fine films but within a few years was being relegated to B pictures. She had the misfortune of appearing in her best role early on. She was barely twenty-one years of age when she was cast as the London streetwalker Myra Deauville in Waterloo Bridge, the 1931 version, not to be confused with the better known, and not as good, Vivien Leigh remake of a few years later. Historically the 1931 Bridge is of interest in that it dates from the cusp of the talkie films just starting to hit their stride, and perhaps even more so, as being a prime example of what today we refer to as pre-Code films. She never reached this peak again though there were some admirable turns in Night World, The Impatient Maiden, Lady Killer and The Front Page, among others. But by the end of the decade her career as a major leading lady was over. In the Forties she was gradually eased into supporting roles, mostly in low budget fare.

   In subsequent years opportunities became even more limited: when she was barely in her early forties, she was often typecast as protective, motherly figures. A prime example is in 1954’s Magnificent Obsession, in which she plays the grateful mother of a child saved by the skills of genius surgeon Rock Hudson. Within a couple of years she more or less essayed the same role in I Died a Thousand Times and Wichita. Gradually she began to be consigned to cameos, bit parts and the occasional television appearance [1]. There was a comeback of sorts with a stint on the tv soap opera General Hospital in the early 1960s. Her last film appearance (uncredited) was in 1970 in something called Watermelon Man, of which she later insisted she never appeared in. She took up painting later in life and by all accounts it brought her much pleasure.

   There are several possible explanations for her rapid rise and equally rapid fall as a film actress: perhaps health issues resulting from a nervous breakdown, and later, an auto accident; bad timing; her self-enforced sabbatical to Rio De Janeiro and stumbling attempt at a comeback. But perhaps the most likely reason is that Miss Clarke’s wholesome, working class persona was at odds with the prevailing glamorous, exotic aesthetic the studios preferred for lead actresses in the 1930s and 1940s, as exemplified by the likes of Crawford, Garbo, Dietrich, Norma Shearer, Hedy Lamarr and later, Ingrid Bergman [2].

   After living for several years at the Motion Picture & Television Country House and Hospital in the Woodland Hills area of Los Angeles, Mae Clarke passed on in 1992. At the time she was working with James Curtis on an autobiography, later published in 1996 as Featured Player: An Oral Autobiography of Mae Clarke. Looked at one way, Mae Clarke’s story is the all-too familiar trajectory of an actress whose career peaked much too soon and never quite reached the heights of stardom her exceptional talent merited [3]. On the other hand we have the handful of her best films, pre-Code gems that they are, and for that we are the richer.

   But perhaps there is some divine justice, however belated, lurking in the hall of mirrors we call the entertainment industry. Mae Clarke is enjoying a kind of renaissance these days, with the growing interest in pre-Code and resultant higher profile of her 1930s films via venues like TCM and DVDs. Moreover, Mae Clarke tributes are also creeping into the ‘Net. Finally there’s a growing appreciation of her unusually structured, difficult to find autobiography.

   [1] An exception was the sympathetic prison matron in the 1955 quasi-noir Women's Prison.
   [2] About the only two major actresses of the era who played mostly proletarian and middle class characters were Bette Davis and Barbara Stanwyck, and even they had their share of well-bred roles. Yes, there was also Kate Hepburn, hardly a glamour girl but nonetheless a major star who usually played upper crust types.
   [3] An interesting comparison is that of the actress Kay Francis, whose career also peaked in the early Thirties but who remains largely unknown today (although there are signs of a rediscovery). Miss Francis’s star shined even brighter than Mae Clarke’s, and for a time she was one of the highest paid actresses in Hollywood, ergo one of the highest paid persons in the world. But Kay Francis had a talent for self-destruction. Disagreements with Warners over material resulted in her demotion to B movies and the non-renewal of her contract in 1939. In the 1940s her star faded quickly* and she was consigned to supporting roles and work at poverty row studios. Her last film was Wife Wanted for Monogram Pictures in 1946.
     * Along with her star status her looks began to fade as well, possibly brought on by smoking and her lifelong fondness for alcohol.