End-of-the-year, dawn-of-the-new-century lists of what's
in and what's out can battle over what's been had and
what's happening, but if there's one thing that we can
all agree on, it is this: Women have problems. Lots of
them. We aren't pretty enough, we're fat, no one takes
us seriously, our boobs are always being ogled, wah, wah,
wah. It's enough to make you want to be a man. And where
do we turn for help? To other women, naturally.
We get a little too excited about Dr. Laura. We read
stuffed shirt Naomi Wolf. Log on to impersonal advice
Web sites. Listen to that overrated, unglamorous kvetch
Janeane Garofalo. Stick our legs together for A Return
to Modesty. In short, we seek guidance from dubious mentors
who try too hard.
Good job. You are now officially a whiny bore who cries
over bad movies. Come on, girls, to ease your pain, to
grow stronger, to find yourself, you have to look back
to a time before Oprah, back to a certain lady in red.
Try Jezebel. 1938. Starring the only womanly guru
you'll ever need: Bette Davis.
That's right, Bette Davis. If there is, or was, any female
figure to whom others should turn in times of crisis,
loneliness and despair, it is Miss Bette. Why? Because
Bette Davis is every woman (and some men) wrapped into
one: ugly and beautiful, sweet and biting, honest and
deceitful, classy and vulgar. There isn't a side of Bette
that every woman doesn't see in herself. So, forget The
Rules. Forget Camille Paglia. Forget Go Ask Alice.
And yes, even eschew Jesus. When you need advice on how
to live your life, women, just ask yourself, "What would
Bette do?"
"I'm not as pretty as Gwyneth."
Oh stop. Relish what you've got while you've got it.
In her later years Bette recalled, "Christ, I was always
bitching about how I hated my face in those days. Compared
to what I look like now, I was an absolute living doll!"
God knows she had the eyes, but Davis, like every woman,
had her imperfections. Instead of harping on her flaws,
she played them up. In All About Eve, she's supposed
to be an insecure, aging star. Yet even when Marilyn Monroe
(who wakes up looking like a peach, even after consuming
numerous Valium and splits of champagne) walks on, you
can't take your eyes off Bette. And it wasn't just her
looks. Everything Bette did--walking (in minced steps),
talking (with exacting enunciation), smoking (in circular
jabs)--she did with style. Like Coco Chanel and Greta
Garbo, Bette was her own unforgettable invention, which
unlike sanctioned beauty is something that never fades.
"Help! I've been jilted."
Then go out in a blaze of glory, for Bette's sake. Though
her demise was devastating in Of Human Bondage,
she pulled off a stunning, final fuck-you. Sitting in
a flophouse, emaciated but still snarling, wearing a sexy
slip with bleached blonde hair and runny eye makeup (Bette
was the original riot grrl), all it took was a few withering
looks to leave Leslie Howard's passive-aggressive character
with an image to smolder for a lifetime: Here I am--warts
and all. Can't handle it? Your loss. Now go have bad sex
with your nice new girlfriend.
Hmmm, so who dumped who?
"My boss is a bitch."
Fight back. Sick and tired of the parts the studio was
contractually instructing her to take ("I was cast as
the star of a piece of junk called Ex Lady, which
was supposed to be provocative--and provoked anyone of
sensibility to nausea"), Bette Davis was the first star
to go to war over her material. She lost, but at least
she tried, goddammit. And soon, others fought and won
after her.
"My date wants to kiss, but I'd rather swallow hemlock."
How to deal with this delicate situation? Bette teaches
us to spare him the psych-speak and exit with a baffler.
As Ms. Davis' Southern belle character drawled in Cabin
in the Cotton, "I'd love to kiss you, but I've just
washed my hair." Remember to be polite.
"The guy I'm seeing wants to settle down and build
the picket fence."
Not all women want marriage and babies. In Beyond
the Forest, Davis' character is married to
Joseph Cotten--not a bad catch. But she grows bored and
becomes critical (like anyone should) of what marital
bliss is supposed to be. Though cast as an evildoer in
the film, really she was just limited and then, dear God,
pregnant. So what did Bette do? She hauled herself off
the side of a mountain to abort the child. Sure, it wasn't
the coolest move, but isn't it better to be a martyr than
a mother and a martyr?
"People say I'm pushy."
Who cares? Long before it became an extreme-sports mantra,
"No guts, no glory" was Bette Davis' motto. She, like
other gutsy women, made men's head spin: "Is she a bitch?
Or an assertive fox?" She had a Napoleon complex, but
we love that in men (Pacino, De Niro). We get a thrill
watching Joe Pesci shove a pen in someone's eye. But Bette?
That would scare the shit out of us. OK, leave the pens
in the inkwell and make verbal statements instead with
these clip-and-save lines.
From Marked Woman: "I'll get even if I have to
crawl back from the grave."
In It's Love I'm After: "You're going to have
love for breakfast, love for luncheon and love for dinner.
Sweet, sugary, sticky worship. You're going to have a
steady diet of it till you're ready to scream, you billy
goat!"
And the more subtle diamond dagger from The Little
Foxes: "I don't ask for things I don't think I can
get."
Finally, some real life advice from Bette Davis herself:
"Never, never trust anyone who asks for white wine. It
means they're phonies."
Cheers.
