In Praise Of "The Big Boys" by Ecce Homo!

Not exactly a secret, I like bears, or "Big Boys." In fact, there's little that excites me more than a big, hulking, hairy man-mountain that turns out to be a homo. And if he has "gay voice" it really makes me really crazy. What these examples of "Big Boys" all have in common is talent and magnetism. None of them were stars in the strictest sense (they generally didn't headline films), but they added dimension to every movie they appeared in. Not saying I'd do all of them, but they do intrigue me.

Laird Creger: a quiet, intelligent man who hoped that despite his girth (and gaiety) he might one day be a leading man and a star. He achieved both goals, but only briefly. A commanding figure (6'3" and weighing over 300 pounds), he attracted the attention of critics and Hollywood talent scouts as soon as he appeared onstage in various plays.

Alas he went on crash diets and popped lots of pills to lose weight and conform more to the prevailing idea of a leading man, and his heart gave out on December 9th, 1944 at age 31. Still, his film work remains intact, including 2 classic noirs. "The Lodger," the 1944 remake of Hitchcock's classic silent film, was vaguely based on Jack the Ripper:

And "Hangover Square," a grim but stylish follow-up to "The Lodger" co-starring the delightfully effete George Sanders and the disgustingly beautiful Linda Darnell, truly one of the nicest actresses in Hollywood history. In 1952 a young, closeted gay actor Tab Hunter got his first starring role with her and he felt homesick and out of place, so when she learned his birthday was coming up, she arranged a party for him and brought out a big cake. She made him feel special and he never forgot it.

 

Who knows what Cregar might have accomplished had he lived longer?

Or how 'bout Victor Buono? Another tubby gay man who died young, but he made quite an impact while he was here. His first big role on film was Edwin Flagg, the nauseatingly misogynistic mama's boy in 1962's "Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?" He thinks he's sly, taking financial advantage of Baby Jane, but she's so nuts he doesn't stand a chance. Edwin's just a cream puff people keep stepping on. I actually want to bully him when I watch it, he's just such a putz. However...when he showed up for Robert Aldrich's follow-up in 1964's "Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte" he's an entirely different character. As Charlotte's papa he's malignant and unscrupulous, but he's commanding and in charge. I might have been able to spend some private time with Big Sam Hollis, but I could nevah do the same for Edwin. 

Although he never made leading man status (except in a few grade-Z horror films), he had a successful career, and consistently got work until his premature death in 1982 at age 43. He even managed to play King Tit in TV's "Batman" before he left us. 

Raymond Burr: another closeted gay man vying like hell to be a star (even to the point of manufacturing idiotic lies about his personal life). I can't hold it against him, since most celeb biographies back then were bullshit, and he had the talent and powerful persona to make it. Still, he never headlined a film. His most famous role was as the psycho killer in Hitchcock's "Rear Window."

Later, he had massive success as "Perry Mason" on TV, from 1957 to 1966, and in further iterations in TV movies from 1985 to 1995 (and can I just say, MeTV really screwed up their Sunday night line-up when they took those TV movies off). "Perry Mason" is one of the best classic TV shows of all time, and there's a lot of backstory involved. Hedda Hopper didn't like the gheys, but she kept it cool with Burr, maybe because her son William Hopper played Paul Drake, and there were *some* rumors about him. As an aside, Perry Mason was produced by Gail Patrick, who was a fledgling actress in the 30s who always remembered how kind Joan Crawford was to her when she was starting out before she branched out and became a Hollywood powerhouse behind the scenes. 

She was smart as hell and shrewdly realized that retaining the syndication rights would be financially advantageous for everyone concerned. And she was right. 

Burr was also a very decent man. Cribbing from Wikipedia: "Burr was a well-known philanthropist. He gave enormous sums of money, including his salaries from the 'Perry Mason' movies, to charity. He was also known for sharing his wealth with friends. He sponsored 26 foster children through the Foster Parents' Plan and Save The Children, many with the greatest medical needs." Happily, he found a loving partner, whom he left his estate to, Robert Benevides.

There's one more "big boy" I'd like to mention (although, as far as I know, he wasn't gay) namely: Sydney Greenstreet. He was girthy (indeed, fat as hell), and most known for playing venomous, corrupt, amoral characters, as in "The Maltese Falcon," "Casablanca" and one of his last films before ill health led to his retirement, 1949's bizarre noir classic "Flamingo Road." It's WEIRD, but oddly, it totally works.

But my favorite performance of his is much more benign than those others, in 1948's Rosalind Russell murder mystery "The Velvet Touch." It's not exactly a mystery, since we know "who done it" right from the start, it's more a mystery of how long the killer will be able to keep up the pretense of innocence, and Greenstreet's police captain Danbury is very compassionate toward the killer. Claire Trevor is wonderful as Rosalind's rival; mild-mannered, but so full of hate that you know if Rosalind's Valerie were hit by a bus, she'd celebrate. It's fun and sophisticated, along the lines of "All About Eve," a bitchy, witty and glamorous backstage glimpse into the "theatuh."

 

And, just to wrap this up, a little something something about a former coworker. Picture a younger Stephen Fry, only attractive and likable. 

I haven't felt anything that strong in a long time, he's hilarious and fucking SMART and sometimes out of nowhere he'd just put his arm around me and strike up conversations. It meant a lot to me (believe it or not, I'm terribly shy), but he got a job in his chosen field in December of last year and he is out of the picture. It's just as well. We may look around the same age (despite how horribly I've treated my derelict carcass, I'm remarkably well-preserved), but I'm about 20 years older than he is and the thought of having to tell him that singes me. So it's for the best. But just thinking about him makes me happy.