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1992-09-16
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SID AVERY: THE PRINTS OF MOVIEDOM
By Jon Van Zandt
The photograph on the cover of Sid Avery's book,
"Hollywood At Home," is one of his most famous ones - a 1952
portrait of Humphrey Bogart sitting on the floor reading to
his young son while a pregnant Lauren Bacall looks on and a
matching trio of big dogs sleeps benignly in front of them.
The photo resonates with security and solid family values -
until you look closely and notice that there are no pictures
on the walls, and just a few books in the built-in shelves
to the right of Bacall. Was Avery making a comment about the
Bogarts' lack of culture? And why were those dogs so quiet -
drugs in their meat, perhaps?
"I'm constantly amazed at what critics and ordinary
viewers see in photographs," says Avery, a genial and
soft-spoken man of 74 whose portraits of movie stars at work
and at leisure now hang in museums around the world. "The
Bogarts had just moved into that house and hadn't finished
unpacking - which is why I had to work very hard to persuade
him to let me take any pictures at all. As for the dogs,
that's just the way they happened to fall asleep."
During the 50 years he has been taking pictures of
movie stars - first for such now defunct American magazines
as the weekly Life, Look, Collier's and the Saturday Evening
Post; more recently as a director of commercials, industrial
films and documentaries - Avery has been described as a
subversive and a social critic by writers anxious to see
more in his photographs than he himself thinks is there. "My
job was to bring back as many story-telling pictures of that
person's life as I could persuade them to let me shoot," he
says. "People trusted me because they knew that I didn't do
sneaky pictures - didn't shoot over fences or from
helicopters or try to get them without their hairpiece on."
It was this trust, Avery says, which let him get
access to even the legendary loners - stars like James Dean
and Marlon Brando. "I never overdirected people," he
explains. "I was working with very creative people, who had
a very good idea of what their persona was; it was my job to
let them be themselves.
"When I walked into a house, I'd always say, 'What
are you doing now?' Brando said he was playing chess; then
he had to pack to go to New York. I asked if he minded if I
shot a few pictures while he did these things. Then, when he
saw that I wasn't being demanding or intrusive, I got him to
clean up his kitchen so that I could get a few shots of him
cooking. If I'd asked him to do that at the beginning, he'd
probably have thrown me out." The resulting pictures still
explode wth youthful energy, a fond reminder of Brando's
early gifts.
In 1952, the Saturday Evening Post ran an article
about Rock Hudson, illustrated by a series of Avery's
pictures of a party at Hudson's house. They featured
attractive young couples engaged in healthy American
activities like charades and barbecues. In the light of what
was to come - Hudson's announcement of his lifelong
homosexuality and his subsequent death from AIDS - does
Avery now feel he was being conned or used? "I suppose in
retrospect that the Hudson shooting was a kind of deception
on the part of his studio publicists, but I didn't know it
at the time," he says. "Don't forget, in those days most
stars were under contract to the major studios, and they did
pretty much what they were told."
Working closely with movie stars led Avery to a few
lasting friendships, as well as at least one professional
dilemma. "Ernest Borgnine became a very close friend; my
wife and I were the only people outside the immediate family
to be invited to his wedding to Ethel Merman," he explains.
"I took some pictures for him, but when Life called and
offered lots of money for one of them I had to turn them
down."
Avery's public pictures have gone from the pages of
magazines to the walls of museums and galleries around the
world, often attracting top prices. But without false
modesty, he finds himself still uneasy about the transition
from journalist to artist. "I've never felt that my
photographs were art," he says. "I feel that they reflect a
time and a place, and are records of the way people lived.
I've always admired more serious photographers: Irving Penn
was and is one of my idols."
Much of his time these days - and a lot of the money
he has made over the years - is spent on a pet project, the
Hollywood Photographers Archives. "In the early 1980s,
friends started telling me about how the movie studios were
routinely dumping tons of photographs they didn't want any
more," he says. "I also knew from personal experience how
bad most photographers were about saving their own work.
Something had to be done to preserve those images of
Hollywood history, so I elected myself." The Archives now
leases rights to its thousands of pictures to magazines and
other media, bringing in money which allows Avery to donate
10,000 to 20,000 fresh prints to museums every year.
It says a lot about Sid Avery that of all the
glamorous stars he has photographed in luxurious poses, his
personal favorite picture shows the elderly comic actor Ed
Wynn eating lunch during a break in the filming of The Diary
of Anne Frank in 1959. There are no fancy houses or pools
here; just an old man unwrapping a sandwich. "Here was a man
who had been one of the biggest stars in the world," Avery
says. "Now he was trying to make a comeback as an actor in
his old age. I was lucky enough to have caught that in my
picture."
ENDS
Copyright (c) 1992 by OVERBYTE