Читать книгу Backwards and in Heels - Alicia Malone - Страница 12

INTRODUCTION

“After all, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did.

She just did it backwards and in high heels … ” —Ann Richards

When I think back to my childhood growing up in the suburban capital of Canberra, Australia, my memories are patchy at best. My friends sometimes try to remind me of the time when we did this or that together, but all I can do is stare at them blankly. The one thing that really stands out when I think back are the movies.

I remember our house being filled with movies, hundreds of VHS tapes with films my Dad had recorded from the television, piling up in precarious towers in our spare room; my Mum making trips to the local video store to get a weekly supply of movies; the living room with its multiple copies of Leonard Maltin’s Movie Guides; and my bedroom, plastered in film posters. From a young age, I was introduced to the magic that lay within movies, and this ended up transforming my life in so many ways. I would sit transfixed by the screen, watching the glamorous Marilyn Monroe, the icy Hitchcock blondes, and sassy Katharine Hepburn. I loved how these women were powerful, strong, sexy and vulnerable all at once. And sometimes, I related strongly to one of the characters on screen, like the young Liz Taylor in National Velvet at the time I too was obsessed with horses. It’s a very powerful thing to see yourself or someone you would like to be reflected as the hero of a movie. She made me feel like I could do anything. And so, if you had asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up (after ditching the idea of a being an Olympic-level horse rider), my answer would have been, “a film director.” I wanted to create that same type of special magic, including inspiring heroes and fascinating stories that would appeal to future film buffs; to ignite the same love for movies that I had felt. This continued throughout high school, when I challenged myself to learn more and more about the art of cinema. I devoured seven movies a week, read all the books I could get my hands on, and sat in the front row of film class, eagerly hanging on to every word the teacher said.

Then, I decided that my school peers needed to love movies as

much as I did. I started my own Film Club where I elected myself President, transforming a school badge I found on the ground with white-out and a marker to wear as a symbol of my new self-appointed role. I still giggle to think that I called myself “President,” which is not a typically Australian term, especially because all the actual roles at school were “Captain” or “Vice-Captain.” Every week, I would book the screening room at school with a movie of my choice. It was always a classic film. And even though I was painfully shy, I forced myself to get up on stage during school assembly to plead my case as to why everyone should see Citizen Kane. Nobody ever came to my club, and eventually the school Principal asked me not to get up in assembly anymore.

Around this time I also began to create my own videos using my step-father’s camcorder, interviewing my fellow students with my fist held tight, as if it were holding a microphone, asking hard-hitting questions about their futures. I edited the videos using the method of record/pause/record/pause on my trusty VHS tape player, and showed them eagerly to my classmates.

By the time I graduated high school, I had changed my answer about what I wanted to do with my life. Because after reading all of those film books and watching so many movies, I had come to the conclusion that it was just too hard to be a female director. Or for that matter, a female cinematographer, producer, editor, writer, etc. It seemed like the odds were so stacked against getting work in those jobs, and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to make it. So instead I went to work in television, making my way slowly up the ranks in behind-the-scenes roles.

All of that led to my real dream job. I’m now a film reporter who lives in Hollywood and makes a living talking about films, interviewing movie stars, and traveling the world to attend film festivals. I know, I’d be jealous of me, if I weren’t already me. I actually didn’t know this could be a real job when I was young; but when I think about it, I am still President of my own Film Club, I just use television, social media, and YouTube to plead my case for people to watch classic and independent movies. And I’m still interviewing people, only now with a real microphone. My original reason for wanting to be a director, to ignite a love of movies in others, is what I continue to strive for every day.

This is exactly what I hope to do with this book. Because amongst all of those film books I read when I was young, I didn’t come across many stories of the women who worked in Hollywood. Their absence told me that film was exclusively a man’s world, which is simply not true.

This is not meant to be a complete history of women in Hollywood. That would take a good couple of years to research, and multiple volumes of books to tell. There are many women that I have had to leave out, and that was hard, but I wanted to describe the plight of women in film in a different way. I have handpicked a few stories about women from each era of American cinema. These women are inspiring in their accomplishments, and their stories are illuminating as far as what they’ve had to struggle against. Each story stands for a wider problem or a solution in Hollywood, with statistics and expert opinion weaved in.

I’d like this to be a guidebook, an entry into the world of women in film. Some stories you may already know, some you may be surprised by. You can flip directly to the story you want to read, or go from the beginning and work your way to the end. However you do it, I hope you will be as enamored of these ladies as I am, and join me in keeping the pressure on Hollywood to let more women in.