Alain Delon 1935-2024

The unbelievably handsome actor Alain Delon, 1935-2024.

The French actor Alain Delon died yesterday at the age of 88. Delon was an icon of European cinema, and a towering figure in French culture. True to his reputation as a lover of animals, the announcement of Delon’s death mentioned his dog as well as his children.  

Thanks to his striking good looks, Delon was offered a contract by producer David O. Selznick in 1957, but he turned it down. Delon forged his own path through cinema, and it did not often involve Hollywood. He quickly became a star in France, and 1960’s Plein Soleil (released in the United States as Purple Noon, even though the French translates to Full Sun) established Delon as an international star. Delon’s performance as Tom Ripley was a perfect blend of charm and danger. The contrast between Delon’s angelic looks and Ripley’s immoral actions was highly effective.  

No summary of Alain Delon’s life and career would be complete without mentioning his looks. To say that Alain Delon was handsome is not enough—it’s like saying the Louvre is just a museum, or the Beatles were just a band. Delon was often described as the most handsome man in the movies, and I would agree with that. Delon had a full head of black hair, piercing blue eyes, high cheekbones, and arched eyebrows that made his face very expressive. The camera loved Delon, and directors quickly figured out that he was an actor capable of delivering expressive performances even with minimal dialogue. A perfect example is the 1967 film Le Samourai. There’s no dialogue until about 10 minutes into the movie, and you don’t need any dialogue—Delon’s face tells the story and gives you all the information you need.  

Delon made several American films, starting with a role in the 1964 anthology film The Yellow Rolls-Royce. In 1965 and 1966, Delon made his biggest push in Hollywood, as he starred in Once a Thief, with Ann-Margret, Lost Command, with Anthony Quinn, George Segal, and frequent Delon co-star Maurice Ronet, and Texas Across the River, a Western with Dean Martin. None of these films were especially successful, partially because mid-1960's Hollywood didn’t know what to do with Alain Delon. So, Delon went back to France, and I don’t blame him. He wasn’t going to find a movie like Le Samourai or La Piscine in Hollywood.  

Delon kept churning out the hits in France, stylish crime thrillers like The Sicilian Clan, and Borsalino with fellow French heartthrob Jean-Paul Belmondo. One of Delon’s finest performances came in 1976’s Monsieur Klein, which features the theme of being someone’s double—also a key element in Plein Soleil and La Piscine. Delon was also a producer of many of his 1970’s films, and he eventually branched out into other ventures, such as men’s cologne.  

Controversy followed Delon numerous times. In 1968, Delon’s bodyguard Stevan Markovic was found dead in a garbage dump. Delon was questioned, but never charged with any crime. The case turned into a lurid tabloid scandal, as allegations were made that Markovic had photos of Prime Minister George Pompidou’s wife in compromising positions, and that Markovic was planning to blackmail Pompidou. The case only increased the French public’s fascination with Delon, and his career was unscathed. The Sicilian Clan and La Piscine were the third and fourth highest-grossing films in France for 1969. Even late in life, Delon still made headlines, as earlier in 2024 his children were pursuing legal actions against each other, regarding their father’s health and care. The life of an icon is not always an easy one.  

In the United States, Delon never became a household name, but more of a cult figure of cool. I first encountered Delon’s films when I saw Le Samourai at a revival movie house in 1997. It was a new print of the film, and upon seeing Le Samourai I immediately thought that Alain Delon was the coolest, most handsome guy I had ever seen. All these years later, I’d say that 16-year-old me hit the nail on the head.  

Thanks to DVD’s and streaming services, it’s never been easier for American fans to watch the masterpieces of Alain Delon’s lengthy career. Delon’s films continue to find audiences—in 2021, La Piscine was held over for 18 weeks at the Film Forum in New York City, a testament to that film’s beauty, and the performances by Delon, Romy Schneider, Maurice Ronet, and Jane Birkin.  

Delon’s romantic relationship with Romy Schneider had been over for years by the time they filmed La Piscine together in 1968. But watching the film, you see the deep emotional connection Delon and Schneider shared. One of my favorite extras of the Criterion Collection DVD of La Piscine is the footage of Delon greeting Schneider at the airport just before filming of the movie began. You can see the sheer joy and delight on their faces upon seeing each other again. And Delon speaks so highly of Schneider’s talent as an actress, and how he convinced director Jacques Deray that she was the perfect choice for the role.  

Alain Delon was always much more than a pretty face. Delon was a fantastic actor, and his performances are masterpieces of naturalism. Delon was also an avid art collector—much of his collection was sold in 2023 in an auction by Bonhams Paris, with the proceeds amounting to $8.8 million. Like his fellow French star and sex symbol Brigitte Bardot, Delon was a lover of animals, and he was especially devoted to his dogs. Alain Delon was truly a Renaissance man, and he will be missed by fans of cinema throughout the world. But I feel confident in saying that Delon’s legendary performances will live on through many generations.  

Book Review: Milkweed, a novel by Jerry Spinelli (2003)

The cover of  Milkweed, a novel by Jerry Spinelli, 2003.

Milkweed by Jerry Spinelli might seem to have an unlikely plot for a young adult novel. It is set in the Warsaw Ghetto during World War II. The narrator is a young Gypsy (Roma) boy who thinks his name is “Stopthief,” since that is what people yell after him. Eventually his friend Uri gives him the name of Misha.  

Misha is an orphan and doesn’t remember much about his family. He lives with other orphan boys, who are all Jewish, and they steal whatever they need to survive. At the beginning of the novel, World War II has begun, but the Jewish ghetto in Warsaw has not been established yet.  

Misha is ignorant of the political situation brewing around him, and he swings from admiring the Nazis, whom he calls Jackboots, to wanting to be Jewish, and eventually he voluntarily enters the ghetto. Misha befriends a Jewish girl named Janina, and once he finds a place where he can sneak under the ghetto wall, his thievery of food helps her family survive.  

The novel succeeds in large part because of Spinelli’s ability to channel Misha’s voice. Every new experience stirs wonder in Misha, and Spinelli communicates this very well. Although the reader knows what the terrible fate of the Warsaw Ghetto will be, Misha has no idea. The mounting tension and dread are supplied not by the narrative itself, but by the reader’s own engagement with the text.  

Milkweed is a beautiful and haunting novel about a sad and difficult subject. Spinelli ably conjures up a bleak world where the most pressing concern is where your next meal is coming from.  

Book Review: Ex-Wife, a novel by Ursula Parrott (1929)

Originally published in 1929, this is the cover for the 2023 paperback reprinting of Ex-Wife, by Ursula Parrott. 

After I read Marsha Gordon’s excellent 2023 biography Becoming the Ex-Wife: The Unconventional Life & Forgotten Writings of Ursula Parrott, I knew I had to read Parrott’s first novel, Ex-Wife. Published in 1929, Ex-Wife became a sensation, selling over 100,000 copies and launching Parrott’s career. Ex-Wife was republished in 2023 by McNally Editions. Unfortunately, it’s the only one of Parrott’s books that is currently in print. But the fact that Ex-Wife is finding a new audience is a positive one.  

Even though it’s now 95 years old, Ex-Wife is still a powerful book that asks deep questions about marriage and women’s roles in society. Parrott’s writing feels modern and vibrant, and she creates interesting characters to tell the story of Patricia and Peter, and the breakdown of their marriage.  

Ex-Wife was quite a shocking book in its day, and I’ll admit that I was shocked when just a few pages in Patricia and her roommate Lucia have a frank conversation about men. Lucia says, “We are awfully popular, and we know endless men, and we go everywhere.” Patricia responds, “They all want to sleep with us. So soon as they get here for dinner they begin arranging to stay for breakfast.” (p.8) That exchange felt very modern for a 1929 novel.  

Parrott’s nimble prose style keeps the reader swiftly turning the pages of Ex-Wife. There are harrowing moments, but the first-person narration doesn’t dwell on self-pity. Patricia is torn between the Victorian Age and modernity. The dilemmas she faces in Ex-Wife are those of women of every era: the balancing act of marriage, divorce, dating, love, family, children, career, friends. The result is a novel that still feels fresh and vibrant today.  

There’s a marvelous chapter in Ex-Wife that uses George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” as a motif. The sheet music from excerpts of “Rhapsody” is reprinted in the text of the novel, creating a marvelous fusion between music and writing. Perfect for “the Jazz Age.” 

Speaking of “the Jazz Age,” there’s even a reference in Ex-Wife to F. Scott Fitzgerald, who famously coined the term “the Jazz Age.” Patricia tells Lucia “Myself, I’ve progressed, in taste, from Scott Fitzgerald to Ernest Hemingway.” Lucia asks, “How much progress is that?” Patricia replies, “A damn long distance on the road to bigger and broader vocabularies.” (p.68-9) As a Fitzgerald fan, I’m a bit annoyed at this slight against Scott’s writing, but I can understand Patricia’s comment—certainly the subject matter of Fitzgerald and Hemingway was quite different.  

There are many marvelous lines in Ex-Wife, and one of my favorites was Lucia’s description of an older man who occasionally takes her out to dinner: “There’s a man who never got lost among the nuances, for he wouldn’t know a nuance if he saw it.” (p.96) Lucia has another great zinger: “Great Lovers...they remind me of the man who wanted to be a musician and so took one lesson on each instrument in the orchestra...he couldn’t play a tune on any of them in the end, Pat.” (p.134) 

I’d recommend Ex-Wife to anyone interested in a superb novel from the 1920’s that deserves a wider audience today.  

Book Review: Memories Are Made of This: Dean Martin Through His Daughter's Eyes, by Deana Martin, with Wendy Holden (2004)

The cover of Memories Are Made of This: Dean Martin Through His Daughter's Eyes, by Deana Martin, with Wendy Holden, 2004.

Dean Martin was handsome, charming, funny, and had a terrific way with a song. Martin’s act as a loveable drunk was an invention, but it fooled the public for many years. After his breakup with Jerry Lewis in 1956, Martin needed a new nightclub act. Now he could expand his talents, as he no longer had to be just the straight man to the manic Lewis. Of course, the magic of Martin and Lewis was that Dean was so much more than just the straight man. Dino borrowed some of comedian Joe E. Lewis’ drunk act and made it his own. The transition from comedy duo to solo star was so successful that by 1961, a Saturday Evening Post article largely focused on the discrepancy between the public “Dino” that audiences saw on TV and nightclubs, and the private Dean Martin, who was in reality an early riser so he could get out on the golf course. 

Martin’s daughter Deana gives readers an intimate view of the Dean Martin that few people saw in her 2004 memoir Memories Are Made of This: Dean Martin Through His Daughter's Eyes, written with Wendy Holden. The book is a fascinating look at the handsome, amiable man who succeeded at every medium he tried. Television, movies, records, live appearances, Dean Martin ruled them all.  

Deana was born in 1948, the fourth and final child from Martin’s first marriage to Betty McDonald. While Dean quickly remarried, wedding Jeanne Biegger the following year, Betty never got over the breakup of their marriage and descended into alcoholism. When Betty left her children with her sister Anne, promising to be back in three hours, but then disappeared for three days, Anne took them to Dean and Jeanne’s house. This was the real beginning of Deana’s relationship with her father, who quickly obtained custody of his children from his first marriage.  

Deana grew up in a blended household with six siblings, a very sweet stepmother who she quickly started calling “mother,” and a father who was working constantly.  

Deana’s own personality seems to have been very in tune with her father’s and she realized quickly that she had to adapt to Dean’s schedule and interests if she wanted to spend time with him. High on the list of Dean Martin’s interests was golf. So, Deana gladly went with him to the driving range. Conversation was kept to a minimum. “Happy with his own company and entirely self-contained, he didn’t feel the need, as most of us do, to fill a gap in a conversation with chitchat.” (p.88) The hours Dean spent with Deana at the driving range meant a lot to her: “After years without a father, I was spending time alone with Dad at last, and that, to me, was the greatest prize of all.” (p.89)  

At the very beginning of the book, Deana tells us what her response is when people ask her the question “Was he a good father?” She writes “No. He wasn’t a good father, but he was a good man.” (p.3) It’s an interesting distinction to make, and I think by the end of the book it makes sense.  

For Dean Martin fans, one of the joys of reading Memories Are Made of This is knowing that Dean was just the nicest person. As Deana writes, “My father was, truly, the sweetest man in the world. He had a unique aura and was brilliant at making everyone around him feel good.” (p.79) That’s a true gift, and Martin’s warmth still comes across through the screens today. Whether he’s singing a song or acting in a comedy sketch, it’s impossible to watch Dean Martin and not smile.  

Deana reveals some interesting facts about her father. One of the tidbits I found most interesting was about Dean’s reading habits: “He claimed he’d read Black Beauty in school, and it made him cry, so he decided never to read another book again.” (p.151) On the one hand, as someone who loves books and the written word, I’m flabbergasted that Dean wasn’t a reader. Didn’t he even read Airport, by Arthur Hailey, when he was cast in the movie? But on the other hand, I find it quite hilarious and pragmatic that Dean only read one book. Books make you sad, why read another one? Deana writes that if anyone ever told Dean at a party that they had written a book, Dean would reply “Congratulations, I read one.” (p.151) Which is a very funny and snarky thing to say.  

Dean’s sadness over Black Beauty also connects to his love of horses. Dean rode the same horse, Tops, in many of his westerns. Dean was so sad when Tops died in 1972 that he left the set of the movie Showdown to bury the horse. Universal Pictures sued Dean for leaving the set, but he eventually returned. The writer Nick Tosches felt that Martin leaving the set of Showdown was so significant that he used it as a short prologue to open his 1992 biography Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams. Although in the prologue Tosches doesn’t mention anything about Tops’ death, which seems to have been the catalyst for Martin walking off the set.  

Deana Martin doesn’t dish too much dirt about her father, but she does mention that he had relationships with singer Petula Clark and actress Inger Stevens. I’m not surprised about Dean’s relationship with Petula Clark, as she and Dean had amazing, electric chemistry. Inger Stevens co-starred with Dean in the 1968 western Five Card Stud, which also starred another laid-back icon of mid-century cool, Robert Mitchum. Deana reveals that she had a brief relationship with Mitchum while they filmed Young Billy Young. Deana never told her father about her relationship with Mitchum, which is understandable. (p.164)  

Deana’s special bond with her father was solidified when Dean’s mother Angela taught Deana how to make pasta fagioli, Dean’s favorite. One of the sweetest chapters of the book is when Deana starts making pasta fagioli for Dean after his mother’s death. It was a way for Deana to do something for her father, a man who had everything.  

Memories Are Made of This is a charming and touching look at Dean Martin, one of the great entertainers of his time.