Dark Star: The Untold Story of the Meteoric Rise and Fall of the Legendary John Gilbert is an exceptional biography of one of early Hollywood's greatest stars and consequent greatest tragedies. Dark Star is an incredibly special biography, though, as it is written by Leatrice Gilbert Fountain, Gilbert's daughter with second wife Leatrice Joy. The book was equal parts fact-based biography and heartwarming exploration of a daughter's attempts to connect with her larger-than-life father. Fountain writes with an authority that only she has, so it is genuinely impressive how objective the book remains.
A few months ago, I purchased Eve Golden's John Gilbert: The Last of the Silent Film Stars (which I also heartily recommend) and Dark Star together. I chose to read Golden's first to get an objective biography of Gilbert's life before I read Fountain's, expecting that there may naturally be embellishments on the part of a daughter writing about her father's life and legacy. My concerns were unfounded- the two books tell relatively the same facts, and Fountain shows no interest in painting her father to be anything he was not. The book then becomes an incredibly rich piece about Hollywood's early, golden years, but also a fascinating, intimate portrait of John Gilbert as a man, not just as the screen's mythic "Great Lover."
The picture that emerges of Gilbert from Fountain's book is one of a man with an insatiable zest for life and a big heart, who took the great injustices done to him with the utmost public grace. Perhaps what is most striking is that even after his very early death at thirty-eight in 1936, no one had a truly negative word to say about him. Though the marriages failed for different reasons, none of Gilbert's four wives ever had a bad thing to say, and he was genuinely well-liked in Hollywood, a fact both Golden's and Fountain's book relate. Of course, the difficulty for Gilbert came from the one person who truly and deeply detested him, MGM head Louis B. Mayer.
One of the most infuriating tragedies and injustices in the history of film is what MGM, Mayer specifically, did to John Gilbert. Rising from relative obscurity, Gilbert went on to become one of the biggest stars of the silent era, starring in the era's most profitable picture, The Big Parade, and earning his moniker as the screen's greatest lover in a series of steamy films with his off-screen love interest, Greta Garbo. Contrary to popular belief, the advent of sound did not kill Gilbert's career because of his voice. There was nothing wrong with his voice, even if it was slightly higher than some people expected (you can listen to him in a clip from his second-released talkie here), but Fountain includes a large number of reviews from the release of Gilbert's first talkie, His Glorious Night, that applaud his voice or make no negative mention of it. Instead, the problem was the ridiculous dialogue he was given and the erroneous direction of Lionel Barrymore. Gilbert had to deliver the line "I love you" in repetition several times to his leading lady with a straight face (lampooned in 1952's Singin' in the Rain), something audiences howled at and Gilbert himself recognized was silly. Reviews of the film were overwhelmingly negative, but not really for Gilbert.
Everyone was adjusting to talkies and how some dialogue looked fine on a title card, but sounded foolish aloud, so that initial failure on its own would not have sunk Gilbert. What did, though, was the fact that that is the caliber of content Gilbert continued to receive. There is still debate over the theory that Mayer deliberately ruined Gilbert's career by giving him poor scripts, and I acknowledge there is some real discussion to be had about the fact that if Mayer were so actively working against Gilbert, why did no one else do anything. However, Mayer was very open about his hatred of Gilbert, and there is evidence to suggest some level of interference. Premier film historian Kevin Brownlow looked at both His Glorious Night and Gilbert's subsequent talkies and found a noticeable difference in his voice, with it sounding significantly higher in his debut sound picture than his following talkies, giving credence to the theory that Mayer actively worked against him.
While the real truth of the matter is likely somewhere in the middle, MGM still treated Gilbert terribly. Despite being good friends with studio head Irving Thalberg, there are at least three times that Fountain mentions where Thalberg had Gilbert in line for a role that he then turned around and gave to newcomer Clark Gable, with the film being at least a modest hit every time. Gilbert almost played Richard Barthelmess's leading role in the successful The Dawn Patrol, with that again being pulled away from him while he was continually put into poorly scripted films far below his talents. Having worked as a screenwriter before becoming a leading man and with aspirations of directing, one of the few standouts of Gilbert's sound career is 1932's Downstairs, which Gilbert had written years earlier and allowed him to play an anti-hero, a role he relished. He is exceptional in that part, it is one of his best, but it is an exception in a sound career that has no traces of his former glory.
Speaking of Thalberg, Fountain shared a touching story that I had not come across in my extensive reading on MGM's Boy Wonder. She says at her father's funeral, Thalberg ran up to her and her mother, saying, "'You know, Leatrice, Jack was on the verge of a real comeback. He had a contract waiting to be signed, but I honestly don't believe he wanted it anymore.' It was then that I saw the odd look in Thalberg's eyes that I didn't understand at the time. Several people told me much later that Thalberg was tormented by his failure to stand up against Mayer for the man who had been his close friend" (Fountain, 256).
That is perhaps the greatest tragedy of John Gilbert's truly meteoric rise and fall. He had so much potential and was in the beginning phases of making his first film with Paramount when he died of a heart attack in 1936. Getting away from MGM and Mayer could have revitalized his career, he could have done so much more. But instead, a man who brought such tremendous energy and life to the screen and even more to those around him would die before forty, having been relegated to roles that paled in comparison to those that brought him his fame. Fountain shares a particularly heart-wrenching example of this in a story she tells as a result of reflecting upon all the things people had said to her about her father over the years, with one reaching the top: "I remembered something else that David Selznick told Mother on the set of Gone With the Wind the year after father died. 'You and I know, Leatrice, we buried the man who should have played Rhett Butler.'" (Fountain 260).
Jack Gilbert is in my top one or two favorite actors. I still remember the first time I saw him, watching Flesh & the Devil. It was like a revelation. Although I had watched several of his films in between, I felt that all over again months later watching The Big Parade, his best role and the one of which he was proudest. In those flickers, he felt so alive. That has always been the magic of Gilbert for me. He has a vibrance in every little smile, every little stare. Every time feels like the first time. Perhaps that is why the injustices he endured feel so incredibly unfair. He was a man of singular talent cut down because of studio politics and petty grudges. I cannot even imagine Gilbert as Rhett Butler without an aching pain at the thought of what more he could have done.
As I mentioned, John Gilbert is within my top one or two favorite actors, and one that means a good deal to me. As such, this review is longer than my others, and one that strays away from the book and into the history more than others. But Gilbert is a man whose legacy has been misrepresented and misunderstood for so long that it is imperative to discuss the truths of the matter at every opportunity. That, too, is why Dark Star is such essential reading. Fountain provides the true story of her father's success and fall, all the while imbuing it with personal details that invest the reader in Gilbert the man, not just Gilbert the idol. As people continue to write about and discuss the silent era, Gilbert deserves his rightful place as a man who left the medium better than he found it with an indelible film legacy, but one whose career and life ended far too early at the hands of studio politics. Fountain's book serves both as an incredible historical document and a beautiful personal portrait, and it deserves its place in the canon of books on the early history and golden age of Hollywood.
I found myself sobbing like a child...It wasn't from a sense of sadness, or loss of a father I loved, but because I knew then that Jack would always be alive. As long as there are movies, as long as people want to know how it all began- John Gilbert lives.
Leatrice Gilbert Fountain, Dark Star, p. 261
This book review is part of Raquel Stecher's Summer Reading Classic Film Challenge. Follow her on Twitter (@RaquelStecher) and check the hashtag #ClassicFilmReading to see reviews!