Product Description

Rigorously researched and elegantly written, Cary Grant: A Biography is a complete, nuanced portrait of the greatest star in cinema history. Exploring Grant’s troubled childhood, ambiguous sexuality, and lifelong insecurities, as well as the magical amalgam of characteristics that allowed him to remain Hollywood’s favorite romantic lead for more than thirty-five years, Cary Grant is the definitive examination of every aspect of Grant’s professional and private life and the first biography to reveal the real man behind the movie star.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #172758 in Books
• Published on: 2005-09-27
• Released on: 2005-09-27
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 448 pages

From Publishers Weekly
During a four-decade career filled with outstanding performances (The Awful Truth; The Philadelphia Story; Notorious; North by Northwest; Charade), Grant's greatest creation was the illusion that the suave Cary Grant really existed offscreen. Born Archibald Leach in Bristol, England, in 1904, he was traumatized at 10 when told of his mother's death. Eighteen years later, he learned she was alive (his father had committed her to an asylum). Grant nonetheless succeeded in Hollywood. After making 24 films in five years, he refused to re-sign with Paramount and, in 1936, became one of Hollywood's first freelance actors. On-screen and off, Grant was pursued by women, but his openly gay relationship with Randolph Scott lasted until both were pressured by studios to marry. Eliot, who has coauthored memoirs with Donna Summer, Barry White and Erin Brockovich, convincingly alleges that Grant was pressured by the FBI to spy on his second wife, heiress Barbara Hutton, in 1942 in return for American citizenship. Eliot's fascinating, sympathetic portrait is of a consummate performer who hid inner demons and used filmmaking to distance himself from reality (and four of his five wives). After years of therapy, weekly LSD treatments and retirement from films, he had a daughter (at age 62), a later happy marriage (he was 74, she 25) and some inner peace before his 1986 death. Photos not seen by PW.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post
Of all the stars in the Hollywood heaven, the one we'd most like to keep there is Cary Grant. If we must have a new and comparatively unvarnished biography of the man -- and I, for one, would happily have gone to my grave with my fantasies intact -- then Marc Eliot proves himself to be the biographer for the job. Dismantling sacred images is a task fraught with peril, especially when it involves a subject as slippery as Grant. He was one of the cinematic greats but not in ways usually associated with the term -- as important for his physical elegance as for his dexterity in shifting registers. Few could move, as he did, between comedy and romance, even to moody withdrawal. But what we lose in the demystification of the myth, we gain in understanding the hard work that went into its creation, and the greater the obstacles -- enormous in Grant's case -- the greater our awe at the accomplishment. Earning our trust with his neutral, unsensational tone, the author fills in the blanks, without lingering over less flattering details in a lipsmacking manner. If Eliot's is not a book of startling critical insights, his more than adequate prose offers something just as valuable: the evidence by which a case can be made for Grant's stature, not just as myth or icon, but as an artist as well. Keeping the actor's astonishing career firmly in view, Eliot assembles a portrait that shows the dark shadows behind the gleaming façade, while also revealing Grant's own shrewdness in maintaining that fictional persona.

For Grant truly was, as one critic dubbed him, Cary Dorian Grant, his longevity unprecedented in a youth-obsessed medium. A favorite leading man for more than three decades, he partnered with an ever-younger supply of female co-stars, and his later films, when he was in his fifties, were even more successful at the box office than his early ones. In the 1930s, working under directors like Leo McCarey, George Cukor and Howard Hawks, he helped invent screwball comedy, wooing his leading ladies -- with the accent on ladies -- into the goofy lunacy of that airborne genre. In the 1940s, in films like "Suspicion," "Notorious" and "To Catch a Thief," Hitchcock uncovered Grant's darker, satanic side, shades of noir that accentuated the latent ferocity that was part of his magnetism. He was a man who wore a tuxedo like no one on Earth, suggesting, beneath the patrician confidence, the acrobat who might spring into a somersault and turn the stiffest of evenings into private hilarity without disarranging a hair on his shiny black head.

So how did a poor Bristol boy named Archie Leach who had come to America with a troupe of knockabout comedians acquire the spit and polish and know-how of a toff? For one thing, by working to make ends meet as a male escort, squiring rich ladies to black-tie charities and observing the ways of the rich. That was an item he was far more anxious to keep under wraps than his homosexual liaisons, but like such illustrious predecessors as Valentino and Gable, he seems to have learned useful lessons in this not-quite-savory trade. "Socializing with the tuxedo set," writes Eliot, "allowed Archie to observe, up close, the physical mannerisms of the wealthy and helped him iron out any of the lingering cultural wrinkles from his working-class upbringing. He listened carefully to the way people spoke and worked incessantly on modulating his natural British sing-song lilt into a more descending American rhythm. He practiced his walk to eliminate his street roll, the result of his naturally bowed, acrobatic 'rubber legs.' . . . All of this physical fine-tuning resulted in his becoming even more attractive to the women who hired him."

About the rumors of his homosexuality that regularly appeared in the gossip columns, Grant grew fairly impervious. Although he did sue a snickering Chevy Chase for calling him a "homo" and a "gal" on Tom Snyder's "Tomorrow" show in 1980, at another point late in his career, he ruefully welcomed the rumors as signs that he was important again. Bisexual -- or perhaps "bi-romantic" would be a better description -- he had feverish crushes on women, especially his co-stars (Irene Dunne, Grace Kelly, Ingrid Bergman and Sophia Loren), affairs with starlets, not to mention five marriages alongside a long-term house- and "soulmate" relationship with Randolph Scott. Their relationship, Eliot suggests, was less about sex than mutual narcissism and affection. "They resembled each other to a startling degree. . . . They liked the same things: drinking, smoking and expensive clothes. They also shared a wicked sense of humor."

One example was the in-joke of "My Favorite Wife" that had cognoscenti chuckling for years. Grant's wife (Dunne), presumed "lost" on a desert island, has now returned with Scott in tow. Have they been lovers? the movie coyly asks. In a climactic scene at the swimming pool, Grant, wearing a suit and meant to be in a stew of jealousy, wipes his perspiring face while a scantily-clad Scott, in superb desert island fitness, swims and dives to the admiration of all.

Eliot sees the preening and competitiveness as part of the attraction in a match that worked because "their physical needs and desires were not particularly overheated. Sex was almost like an afterthought, a natural extension of the buddy-buddy British-schoolboy-type friendship they shared in a world where the women they knew were for the most part cool and calculated personifications of professional ambition rather than heated objects of private pleasure."

In mid-life, Grant took up psychoanalysis and LSD (it was legal at the time), longed for a child and offered a million dollars (a rather big deal for this notorious skinflint) to the woman who would give him one. Tales of espionage for J. Edgar Hoover on wife number 3, Barbara Hutton, are not as unsettling as the news that he smacked Dyan Cannon a couple of times. His fourth wife, Cannon bore him a daughter, and in his possessiveness toward mother and child, he seems to have lost his famous reserve. A streak of old-fashioned authoritarianism surfaced, as he tried to make her give up her career. There were acrimonious partings and, in the custody hearings, a doctor (a witness for Grant) confirmed that he had " 'spanked' " his wife for " 'reasonable and adequate causes.' " The papers sensationally reported that "Grant Beat Wife." Such he-said-she-said stories, notoriously hard to adjudicate, are made more so in Grant's case as he had no chance to deny the allegation: there was no "he said." The actor maintained a gallant silence about each of his marriages and the women involved.

Fun-loving at times, Grant was also reclusive and moody. One of his best friends was Howard Hughes: He and the eccentric womanizer used to dine at Hughes's long, august table in companionable silence. Grant's inability to find refuge in love was understandable given the mysteries and absences of his background. His father, Elias, a tailor's presser with one eye for the ladies and another for the niceties of wardrobe, was unhappily married to the shy and repressed (and cleft-chinned) Elsie, who lost her adored first child before his first birthday -- an event her other son learned about only years later. When Archie was 10 years old, his mother simply vanished. He was told she had died of cancer, only to finally discover that his father had had her institutionalized so he could live with his mistress in Southampton without the expense of a divorce.

Grant's early moviemaking experiences convinced him he didn't want a life of bondage to the studio system, or of playing second fiddle to Gary Cooper at Paramount. Against everyone's advice, he walked away from a new contract and, with the help of a smart agent, Frank Vincent, took charge of his own career -- a defection for which Hollywood never forgave him. There were lawsuits and reprisals, including the denial of an Oscar until Gregory Peck in 1970 made sure he received an honorary one.

Not always the best judge of his own movies (his favorite was the somber Cockney fable "None but the Lonely Heart" because it reminded him of his background and his mother), he nevertheless had a firm and expanding grasp of his image. He found he could perform the daffiest stunts, don a feathery bathrobe and say "I've gone gay" (the famous gag in Hawks's "Bringing Up Baby" was his own idea), deliver the most cutting dialogue, without losing his dignity, credibility or appeal, but, Eliot tells us, he would never -- and surely this was among his most astute decisions -- doggedly pursue a woman onscreen. This edge of aloofness, like the hard-to-get game he also played with Hollywood, was perhaps the secret of his irresistible "easy come, easy go" magic.

Rarely have the background stories of the films been told in such detail, and the effect is to let us see with a clear but sympathetic eye how trial and error, blind spots and epiphanies, accidents and deliberate choices went into the fashioning of Cary Grant.

The one film he disliked -- ironically, the comedy that launched him as a romantic farceur -- was "The Awful Truth," because he hated McCarey's improvisational style. The story of a philandering husband and his wife, their divorce (with shared custody of the dog), their wickedly funny shenanigans with suitors and showgirls was just the jumping-off point for a love story that miraculously combined antic humor and urban sophistication. But in the beginning, Grant couldn't understand how any man would commit adultery if he had Irene Dunne for a wife. He actually tried three times to get out of the part of the philandering Jerry, going so far as to ask Ralph Bellamy to change roles so that he, Grant, could play the smitten suitor. Yet the angst may have arisen because the brilliant comedy also represented a sort of deflowering, the moment when he understood just how far Cary Grant was going to take him from the real Archie Leach, and when he faced the void between past and future that nothing could ever quite fill. If we resist confronting the warts-and-all backstory of Grant, maybe we can be forgiven: Even his mother, adoring but addled by the time he finally found her, ended by confusing Archie Leach with Cary Grant.

Reviewed by Molly Haskell
Copyright 2004, The Washington Post Co. All Rights Reserved.

From Booklist
Nearly 20 years after his death in 1986, Cary Grant remains the quintessential Hollywood leading man. Although numerous biographies of Grant have appeared, this legendary film icon continues to fascinate and perplex both biographers and readers, and this new treatment by the author of the acclaimed Walt Disney (1993) undoubtedly will garner popular attention. Born in 1904 in working-class Bristol, young Archibald Leach's less-than-idyllic childhood was permanently shattered by his mother's apparent death in 1914. Laboring for many years under the delusion that his mother had died (she was actually involuntarily committed to an asylum and reunited with her bewildered son after 20 years of confinement), Grant spent a lifetime seeking an ever-elusive mother figure. Grant's five high-profile marriages are explored in detail as well as his less publicized but infinitely more intriguing 11-year live-in relationship with actor Randolph Scott. Eliot places Grant firmly in the bisexual camp, providing convincing evidence and arguments that Grant did indeed enjoy both genders as sexual partners. Other topics addressed include the evolution of Grant's comedic style, influenced by turn-of-the-century British music halls and honed on the American vaudeville circuit; his often rocky ascension to superstardom, culminating in his historic break from the repressive Hollywood studio system (a rift that would cost him dearly in terms of Oscar recognition); and his serious psychotherapeutic flirtation with LSD. Emotionally immature and sexually ambivalent, the private Grant still emerges as the ultimate charmer, possessing all the charisma, humor, and dramatic appeal of his legendary screen persona. Margaret Flanagan
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Customer Reviews

Very little fact and a shallow uninspired offering
Thank Goodness that Cary Grant led an interesting and sometimes spectacular life, otherwise this book would be a complete bore. My biggest complaint is that Marc Elliot only offers theories and opinions and very little fact or even sound logic behind some very outlandish claims. For example, he supposes that Cary Grant must have been a male escort because how else could he have survived in New York on his own at 17 years old. Even though we learn that he lived with two other men who helped him out and worked at any job he could get: stiltwalking, selling ties and starting up his own acrobat troupe. By the way since one of the men he lived with was gay, Marc also surmizes that he and Cary were lovers. As further proof of his being a male escort he offers the fact that Mae West casts the very handsome and young Cary in two of her movies even though he was a complete unknown. Furthermore, since she was known to arrange dates for rich men and women with her showbiz friends in New YOrk and since Cary was in New York at the same time and also in showbiz then she must have been his pimp in those early years. Add to that the fact that Cary couldn't stand Mae West seems to somehow substantiate this theory (at least in his own mind). It was this type of logic(illogic) and supposition that is peppered throughout the book that finally renderes it unreliable and essentially fictional.

He offers no first hand annecdotes, facts or source material that supports his theory/supposition that Cary is gay. Someone repeating gossip is just gossip and thats all thats offered. Even though he goes into great detail showing how Cary was blacklisted by the studios for being the first actor to go independent and even Marc Elliot suggests that much of the gay gossip orignated from the studios trying to punish and hopefully reign in their very very big star. They used Hedda Hopper and the other gossip mongers to beserch him in any way they could, hoping he would submit to their demands. Its sad that Marc Elliot doesnt offer anything of value; no articles, no interviews or even 2nd hand accounts of his homosexuality, bi-sexuality or even frugality. He just repeats old rumors that have been repeated over and over again through the years, and presents them as facts.

The funniest/insulting part was Marc Elliots' ( as one reviewer said) attempt at psychoanalysis of Cary Grant and his sexual relationships. Its amazing since the author never met Cary Grant and doesnt interview anyone who knew or slept with the man for that matter, even though 3 of his wives are still living. He bases this in depth analysis on divorce records and gossip again. He says Cary's first marriage fell apart because of his relationship with Scott, but his first wife according to these same records only accuses him of being domineering and jealous: Randolph Scott doesnt come up at all even as a buddy who is around too much; since she was in the midst of a divorce trying to get a rather large settlement (but failed) you'd think something juicy like that would have come up. He also skips over completely his five year live in relationship with Phyllis Brooks who lived with him off and on at the Scott beach house or that Scott himself married twice and had two children during this supposed affair. The author seems to edit things as he sees fit to substantiate his theories, but just gets so much wrong its hard to take any of it seriously. I think the worst example is his accusing Cary of having a gay affair (again) with his chaueffer, even though the chaueffer says it never happened and admits to having a relationship with Cary's 3rd wife after their divorce. Elliot never interviews or seems to take notice of interviews with Betsy Drake (3rd wife), Cannon (4th wife) or his 5th wife who all state that Cary was never gay and he also never interviews the chaueffer, though he's also alive and well. The book is such a shallow offering that it seems to come from nothing but the most salacious rumors the author could find and put in a book form. He put no time or effort into this and its obvious.

The only value I found in this book were the first few chapters of Cary's early life. What a sad childhood and what a brave and resourceful man Cary Grant must have been to survive without love or care and to be on his own since 10 years old and truly overcome insurmountable obstacles. That alone is enough to make his star shine brighter.

Only the Illusion of Authenticity
This really isn't that bad of a biography - it's fairly well-written and organized and interesting - however I like the biographies I read to strictly adhere to FACT and not mix it with FICTION. This biography appears to be 60% fact and 40% imaginative fiction, fiction which spins basic facts into in-depth descriptive stories. I think that any critical reader will realize that from the sources that the author has identified and stated, there is no possible way that he could have had an accurate knowledge of much of what he is presenting here in rich detail. It is well-known that Grant and Randolph Scott were devoted lovers, but neither left either memoirs of the affair or talked in detail to others about it. Yet Eliot states with great certitude what they were thinking and feeling in many scenes and presents intimately choreographed moments that he would logically have no access to unless he had been a fly on the wall in one of his previous lives. Eliot does this a great deal! And though it makes for good drama and interesting reading, the thoughtful reader will stop and ask himself how the author could possibly know these details. The answer is that he doesn't - it's just artistic license which fills in the blanks and creates intriguing exchanges that might have taken place, according to the author's educated guess work. It's so convincing that I bet very few readers notice it to question. But, for me, the thought of so much clever fictionalizing here destroys the reliability of the biography. After all, Grant's life has been thoroughly documented in numerous books by now, and if you're interested in the topic, there is absolutely very little that is new and revealing here. In essence, it was an unnecessary book, unless the previous biographies weren't available for checkout at the local libraries. In trying to present the overwhelming illusion of strict fact, fact, fact, and scrupulous scholarship, Eliot uses the time-honored ploy of constantly padding his fictitous passages with tons of extranneous film facts - facts gallore on almost every other page that divert focus from the suject and overwhelm the reader with unneccessary and unwanted information at that point in the story. Example, Grant is to star in Night and Day and suddenly Eliot breaks away from the narrative and present a page-long paragraph going into listing the dozens of other actors and actresses who have made biographical films - really for what purpose other than the magician's trict of diverting our eyes and attention from noticing his less factual and creative passages concerning Grant, his detailed inner thoughts and feelings and the specifics of private undocumented coversations and meeting. Also, some of this almanac of film facts Eliot slides in are totally erroneous, such as when he introduces Irene Mayer Selznick on page 242 as Grant's great friend and stating that the friendship was firmly established back in the 1920's when Grant was an actor in NYC on Broadway and Irene was a Broadway producer. Eliot often gets confused like this. In fact, Irene was a schoolgirl in Hollywood during the 1920's when Grant was on Broadway. She didn't go to NYC and become a producer until after she divorced David Selznick after WWII. This author gets his facts easily confused, and I think he's more committed to what sounds good than to what factually was. He also, in boosting Grant's superstar, asks us to believe that Frank Capra originally planned "It's a Wonderful Life" specifically for Grant, and when Grant refused the role, Capra was forced to settle for Jimmy Stewart. If you belive that, you're not movie-savy enough to be bothered by everything else in this work of fact-based popular fiction.

Not a great bio
Given how the author of this biography gets certain facts about details in Cary Grant's films incorrect, it makes other claims suspect as well. For example refering to his character in "The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer" as a teacher, although he was not. If the writer could not be troubled to get things that are easily checked correct I have a difficult time believing that several details about Grant's personal life are true.

This biography also spends way too much time focusing on Grant's sexuality.