George Cukor

The MGM publicity department first branded George Cukor a "woman's director" to hype his projects with contract lionesses Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford, and Norma Shearer. But in the hands of fanzine writers— and without complaint from Cukor—the premise stuck, and shadowed him from the golden age of The Philadelphia Story and The Women to his swan song, Rich and Famous, in 1981. Only occasionally did he bristle at inquiries into his method with the ladies, once memorably crowing, "I feed 'em dope!" Given his lot, not altogether a bad idea. Far more fair an appellation for Cukor would have been "actor's director." After all, Spencer Tracy gave some of his best performances for him, as did Cary Grant. Katharine Hepburn has written that the director's reputation suffered because he was "primarily interested in making the actor shine," not hoarding attention for himself. Modesty can be a dangerous trait in Hollywood. Still, Cukor's generosity and good taste (and his extravagant parties) are legendary. Now, happily, his career is being reassessed in a new biography, George Cukor, Master of Elegance (Morrow), by Emanuel Levy.

MATTHEW TYRNAUER