Barbara Kent: “I really didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but being an actress was not it.”

—The Sound of Silence, by Michael Ankerich.

Barbara Kent, b. Barbara Cloutman, who passed away a few weeks ago, was one of the last surviving movie stars—Mickey Rooney, ailing and frail, might be the last—who worked in the golden era of silent movies and then made the transition to sound.

She was a reluctant actress, a star whose light shined quite briefly, and then with exquisite sanity, she stepped out of the limelight and into the embrace of private life and marriage.

In 1925 Kent won the Miss Hollywood beauty pageant. Apparently, her parents pushed her to enter the contest. Thus, from the very beginning, Barbara was playing a role she neither sought nor desired. Though she had no acting experience, Universal offered the tiny—she was under five feet tall—baby-faced, 17 year-old beauty queen a contract.

In 1926, Kent was cast in ”Flesh and the Devil” (1926) as a young woman in love with the dashing John Gilbert who has eyes only for the heartless vamp Greta Garbo. Garbo gets all the loving close-ups, but I’ve always felt that Kent was far more attractive and desirable than the remote and narcissistic Garbo.

Kent starred opposite Oliver Hardy in “No Man’s Law” (1927). In this film, she’s seen swimming in the nude, but in fact she was wearing a flesh-colored body stocking. This was something of a minor scandal, but a little scandal has never hurt the career of a Hollywood ingenue.

My very favorite Kent film is “Lonesome” (1928), a near-masterpiece set in Coney Island, directed by Paul Fejos. Kent plays Mary, a switchboard operator who meets Jim (Glenn Tryon), a factory worker, in Coney Island. They spend the day together, fall in love, and then get separated in the bustling crowd. It’s a simple urban tale, a slice of poetry that’s distinguished by the heart-breaking sincerity of the performances and the director’s keen eye for location and expressive camera movement. Sadly, Universal added three stiff talking scenes to the film in order to show off the new technology. This bone-head move—the studios were in a panic about talkies—nearly ruins the magic of a wonderful if obscure movie.

Barbara Kent and Harold Lloyd in “Welcome Danger” 1929, her first movie of the sound era.

After taking voice lessons, Kent made the switch to talkies. She starred opposite the great Harold Lloyd—he first laid eyes on her at Hearst’s San Simeon castle—in his first sound film, “Welcome Danger” (1929). Kent plays Lloyd’s love interest, though she’s dressed as a man when they first meet.

In “Feet First,” (1930) Lloyd plays a shoe salesman who believes that Kent is the boss’s daughter and goes to lunatic lengths to impress her. Lloyd was a great spotter of talent. That he used Barbara in two pictures back to back is evidence of Kent’s promise as a star.

In both films Kent is charming, feisty and adorably mischievous. She’s the all-American girl every American boy aspires to marry.

Kent married MGM executive-turned-agent Harry Edington in 1932 and, except for a few more film roles, she retired to private life. The two remained together until Edington’s death in 1949. Kent married Jack Monroe, an engineer, in 1954. Monroe died in 1998. Towards the end of her life, Kent lived in Palm Desert, Calif.

Kent granted few interviews and frequently denied that she was ever a movie star. Make no mistake about it, Kent is a Hollywood success story. She survived the grinding wheels of stardom. Later in life Kent observed:

“It saddened me when I watched the likes of Bette Davis and Anita Page crawling across the screen looking like a cross between Baby Jane Hudson and a tired, chipped old porcelain dolly. I am a firm believer in the Mary Pickford school, where one should quit whilst still good-looking and on top.”

An active woman, Kent piloted light aircraft until her 85th birthday and played golf well into her mid-90s.

It is odd, but I suddenly realize how deeply attached I am to the stars of the silent screen. Their images have nourished me, their films taught and continue to teach me my craft as a screenwriter. I have internalized their dramatic emotional lives, and in some cases I have come to understand—however imperfectly—their real lives which were, quite frequently, even more tumultuous than their fictional lives.

Now, I am witness to the final heart beats of that remarkable generation. Movies are ribbons of dreams–and this dream, the age of silent movies, when the visual language of movies was invented and perfected–is coming to an end.

RIP, Barbara Kent.

She was the hottest sex symbol to hit the motion picture screen since, well, since the flickers started flickering. Bara was, the Vamp, the sexually insatiable woman, the lethal seductress who sucks the life out of a man, then abandons him, leaving only chaos and destruction in her wake.

This was, of course, a carefully created image.

Theda Bara as Cleopatra, 1917, a lost film.

Theda Bara was, in fact, Theodosia Burr Goodman, (1885-1955) a Jewish woman from Cincinnati who led a quiet and scandal free private life. In fact, she was a bookworm who liked nothing better than to curl up with a cup of tea and devour volume after volume of poetry and art history. She did not drink alcohol, go to night clubs, take drugs, or indulge in wild sexual escapades. She worked hard in the flourishing motion picture industry, saved money, stayed married to one man, director Charles Brabin, and wisely invested her considerable earnings.

A world-weary, hardened show-biz trooper who failed all efforts at a legitimate stage career, Theda got a break in pictures and patiently cooperated with the outlandish publicity which claimed she was born in the shadow of the Egyptian pyramids, the pampered child of a beautiful French actress and an Italian sculptor.

Fox studio publicity men Al Selig and John Goldfrap—flamboyant geniuses who invented the playbook on celebrity publicity—further embellished this nutty tale as they coached Theda to speak to the press with a heavy French accent.

Theda Bara was labeled: The Wickedest Woman in the World.

Draped in velvet cloaks in an overheated hotel room—the press was told that she was accustomed to the desert climate of her native Egypt—Theda dramatically announced to the assembled reporters:

“Raised in a huge tent not far from the Sphinx, the oasis, our little home for years, was to us like the Garden of Eden. My mother taught me the languages, expression, and the art of pantomime. On the other hand, my father taught me how to paint, and the beauty and combination of colors. And through the instruction of both I learned the symphony of the soul.”

At the height of Theda’s career, while filming “The Forbidden Path,” and during World War I, Theda received a telegram that she lovingly preserved in one of her huge, crumbling scrapbooks:

Feb.11, 1918: 158th Infantry Regiment selected you for its Godmother by unanimous vote today. This regiment composed of Arizona men all sincere admirers of yourself. Mary Pickford has adopted 143rd Artillery Regiment here. Will be greatly disappointed if you turn us down. Please wire your acceptance at once.

Theda Bara’s brother Marque, was stationed at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, in the Signal Corps. In 1917 Theda was asked to sign the American flag carried by a company of volunteers from York, Pennsylvania. Graciously, Theda autographed the stars and stripes. In gratitude the regiment sent her an ebony communion cup—unaware that she was Jewish.

This request from the 158th was profoundly touching to the patriotic movie star. She adopted the troops as her boys and finally got to meet the entire regiment in June 1918. She broke down and wept as she spoke to the star-struck soldiers.

“My heart is too full—words can’t come. This has been the most glorious day of my whole life.”

The soldiers responded by rewriting their marching song, doing their maneuvers to: “Vamp, Vamp, Vamp. The Boys are Marching!”

Theda, along with Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks were the most effective war bond salespeople in the United States. In 1917, on the steps of the New York Public Library, Theda sold $70,000 in bonds a single afternoon. She returned in November and sold another $300,000 worth of bonds during several rallies.

In times past, Hollywood actors and executives were deeply patriotic. As Jack Warner explained to Louella Parsons in 1941:

“My brothers and I are examples of what this country does for its citizens. There were no silver spoons in our mouths when we were born. If anything, there were shovels. But we were free to climb as high as our energy and brains could take us.”

As a first generation American—her father, a Polish born tailor, and her mother from Switzerland—Theda Bara most obviously loved America, and like all first generation American Jews, was grateful for the golden opportunities this land offered. This great movie star went out of her way to support her country and the brave troops who sacrificed so much on the bloody western front.

Theda Bara as Cleopatra.

In 1918-19 a flu epidemic swept across the United States. The motion picture business was hard hit. All across the country, film and stage shows closed, people wore cotton masks in the street. In October, one hundred and ninety-six thousand people died of influenza in America. World-wide, forty-million people lost their lives, far more casualties than combat deaths in the Great War.

Theda Bara, the vamp who made love to men and then cruelly destroyed them, in an act of incredible bravery and compassion, visited veteran’s hospitals while the flu was still raging.

She refused to wear a face mask, insisting that the veterans should have a chance to look their idol’s face.

That is a genuine movie star.

And a stark contrast to the bratty and ever so fashionable leftist celebrities who imitate—and quite badly—movies stars in contemporary tinsel town.

Theda Bara as The Vamp, publicity photo, 1915

During the mid 50’s, in one of her last interviews, Theda Bara spoke with Hedda Hopper about silent films and the essence of Hollywood stardom: glamor and mystery.

“To understand those days, you must consider that people believed what they saw on the screen. Nobody had destroyed the great illusion. Now they know it’s all make-believe… It’s the stars themselves who have been failing the fans. People have always been hungry for glamor—they still are. But it takes showmanship and a constant sense of responsibility to hold their interest. A star musn’t allow her public to see her in slacks. She should dress beautifully at all times—I don’t mean in a bizarre way. She must live their dreams for them and remain a figure of mystery. Glamor is the most essential part of Hollywood.”

Theda Bara, Motion Picture Magazine

For the information in this brief profile, I am indebted to Eve Golden’s book Vamp: The Rise and Fall of Theda Bara. A fine biography of this important star, highly recommended.

Theda Bara made forty-two feature films between 1914 and 1926. At the height of her fame she was earning $4,000 a week. Keep in mind that those were the days before income taxes. Complete prints of only six films still exist.  In 1937 there was a massive fire at Fox’s nitrate film storage vaults in New Jersey destroying most of the studio’s silent films, and the majority of Theda Bara movies. The rest were lost to nitrate deterioration or destroyed by uncaring studios. The four complete films—The Stain (1914), A Fool There Was (1915), East Lynne (1916), and The Unchastened Woman (1925)—to judge by reviews and articles, are not her best work. The loss of Cleopatra, save for 40 seconds, is particularly cruel. The costumes and sets, glimpsed in publicity stills, are stunning. Also lost are: Du Barry, Carmen, Salome, and Camille. Still photos from all four productions hint at deliriously lush productions.

A Fool There Was, 1915 DVD starring Theda Bara, May Allison, Victor Benoit. The film that made Theda Bara an overnight sensation. And yup, this is the movie where Theda commands: “Kiss me, you fool!”

Theda Bara.net

Denny Jackson’s Theda Bara Page

Silent Ladies & Gents, Theda Bara: Photo Galleries

Theda Bara: Silent Star of the Month

Theda Bara IMDb