Irene Dunne's Recipe for Happiness

By Grace Wilcox

 

 

 

 

 

In Hollywood Irene Dunne and her husband, a New York doctor, live the life of average Californians - swimming, playing golf, riding. In New York, where Irene goes whenever she has sufficient time of from pictures, they live the life of averaged cultured New Yorkers.

IF I were a feminist or feminine psychologist, I should make a bee-line for Hollywood. 

 Here a scientist is able to study the female of the species in all her varying moods attributes and complexes. He may analyze the wheels motivating the mind and heart of the modern woman, he may stumble upon the secret which causes her to choose a career instead of a husband.

 Beautiful women, charming women, glamorous women, homely women, thin women, fat women, old women, young women and middle aged, they are all here, reaching for the magic lamp which promises them luxury, security adn fame. Yes, even love, if it is love they want.

 Quite often I hear those who possess the magic lamp and have achieved their heart's desire talk about their lives. They explain, discuss and reveal themselves. It is surprising how few of them are really contented, how few of them are truly happy. 

 I have come to the conclusion that success, fame, glamour and happiness cannot occupy the same place at the same time. They are not good companions. The first three are bought with a price and there seems to be no coin of any value which can purchase happiness.

 

INDEED, I have so frequently heard the film people of Hollywood describe the hardships connected with their careers that I have long since decided the game is hardly worth the effort expended. Certainly those who play it gamble with happiness and contentment - yes, even love if they value love. 

 So, sentimentalist that I am, I have decided to try my own hand at a little psychology and discover if I may why it is that these luscious ladies who apparently have everything, so often seem to feel they have nothing.

 Then Irene Dunne came to my mind. I remembered my visit to her quiet home, with its Tudor library, its airy music room and its atmosphere of peace and serenity incidentally. I remembered how she told me she managed a successful and happy career and an equally successful and happy marriage.

 Her recipe sounded very simple: "I devide my life into two parts," she said. "When I work, I work. When I finish working I become the average wife living the average life of a woman married to a successful man. My husband is a physician and our home is in New York. I maintain another home here, so that when I have a short time between pictures Dr. Griffin can come to me. On my long vacations, I go to him. When I am in our New York home I live the life of the average New York woman - plays, museums, art exhibits, concerts, bridge. When Dr. Griffin comes to California, we live the life of the average Southern Californians - golf, swimming, tennis, badminton, horseback riding. No matter what happens we always have Christmas and other holidays together."

WITH this in mind, it seemed a good idea to discover whether or not, after a year, Irene Dunne's recipe is still working. During that year, Miss Dunne has added new laurels to her crown. She had made several successful pictures, notably "The Age of Innocence," with John Boles and "Roberta," with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. These she made under her contract with RKO-Radio. At the moemtn she is working in "The Magnificent Obsession," opposite Robert Taylor at Universal. Later she is going to Columbia Studios, where she is scheduled for a certain number of films a year. 

 On a set of "Magnificent Obsession," Irene Dunne in an organza dress and picture hat looked as crisp and freah as an illustration on a magazine cover. The set, modern as a design done by a German architect of the new school might have been Miss Dunne's own New York apartment. 

 Looking more radiant than ever her expression is that of a thoroughly happy woman - a woman who is interested in many things and alive to many more.

 Irene Dunne despite all her modernity, has something peculiarly mid-Victorian and quaint about her. Her youth is apparent, but I can imagine that her baby pictures must have been somewhat old-fashioned. She is modern, but her personality belongs to a more gracious and leisurely past. 

 

WE immediately fell into a discussion of the women of today and what they want from life. As alsways I was surprised at Irene Dunne's viewpoints. She never reacts in the obvious manner. She had thought of many things and thought them trough to a conclusion, which is unusual anywhere in America, whether in New York of Hollywood, San Francisco or a small Southern village.

 "It is a trite to remark that within the past few years there has been a radical outward change in the attributes of the American girl," she said. "Her whole attitude toward the world is different. She is different. This is apparent to the most obtuse of us."

 She submitted to a little hair arranging and a few pats with a powder puff, before going on.

 "However, the change is outward only. The heart and nature of women of the past generation were the same as we find them today. Underneath the superficialities, she is the same girl. A generation ago a spirit of true romance existed, a more tender and sincere regard for affairs of the heart. But men have lost the romantic spirit of the troubadours. This has brought about an alteration in the attitude of the girls with whom they come in contact."

 She looked a little self-conscious and had to be urged to go on with her dissertation. Irene Dunne has a horror of the pedantic or the explanatory.

 

SHE continued with a tremulous smile. "Girls of yesterday gave more painstaking attention to the development of the feminine graces. Yet even more in those days, the ideal girl was not of the shrinking violet type. Such a girl gives nothing to life; she is wholly negative. She has never been popular in the true sense. No man wants to marry a girl who is afraid of her shadow. The American man has always admired, just as he does today, the girl who goes out and accomplishes things for herself."

 Going out on the set for scene she threw herself instantly into her role reciting a long speech, with never a retake. When she returned, she picked up the threads again:

 "While a girl is apt to lack any striking individuality, the most commendable trait of the modern is her intelligence her smartness, if you will, her self-reliance. She has the advantage of leading a more active life, socially. But the girl of 1935 is trying desperately to appear wicked and sophisticated. She would much rather be smart then sweet. Her mind has become more active and her modern spirit of independence is much to be preferred to seclusion as a mysterious nonentity. The ability of a girl to look out for herself is an admirable trait whether of today of yesterday." 

 After a change of costume and of hairdress, she talked again on women and their careers. The Dunne mind certainly works, with no time off for a lot of nonsense.

 

"SOMETIMES," she continued, "we see women isolating themselves from society by a decided step out of the conventional. Such a woman must love very deeply as in the case of Anna Karenina, for instance. She realizes that when she takes such a step she must live apart, a bitter sweet life of seclusion, sacrificing all else on the altar of love. She has the courage of her own conventions and it takes strength of character to stand by such a decision. I am not encouraging it I am merely pointing out that only a very strong woman is capable of such love and such sacrifice.

 "Then there is the woman who is merely love-hungry and too impetuous in disposing of her affections. A girl should strive to exercise a rigid control over her feelings, resolving that she will not mistake infatuation for real love. If her strongest efforts are not effective in preventing the growth of the feeling, she may be safe in thinking herself truly in love. Though she may enjoy the companionship of other men, there is only one whose every touch will thrill her. And seperation will not dim this feeling; it is constant as the stars. A woman is the abject sevant of her love and of her man. She cannot be content, but she is resigned."

 So there you have Irene Dunne's feeling about feminine psychology. You will notice that she doesn't make much of a point about happiness and contentment, but she has something to say concerning sacrifice.

 Perhaps it is because she understands that there can be no true love without sacrifice that she is one of the few happy women of Hollywood.

 At any rate, her recipe for domestic happiness my interest you. It seems like such a simple way of arranging one's life when it encompasses marriage and a career. And the beauty of it is that Irene Dunne has proved it is workable.  

 

(The Oakland Tribune, "Screen & Radio Weekly," November 17, 1935)  

                                                      top

                                       newspaper articles main

                                                 press main

                                                      home