Artist: Tab Hunter
LP: Tab Hunter
His "only five singing lessons" may be fairly apparent when you listen to this 1958 LP, but still, there's something about Tab Hunter's voice that hits me like a bolt of scraped velvet. Or maybe more like a bolt of scraped Polyester. Tab certainly had an interesting life, moving from young heartthrob in the 1950s to senior gay activist with the release of his autobiography in 2005, in which he finally confirmed all the rumors. But what a career! He's probably the only actor ever to have starred in movies with both Linda Darnell and Divine! It was sad news to hear that Tab suddenly collapsed and died or cardiac arrest on Sunday, just a few days before his 87th birthday tomorrow. You can find his obituary in Vanity Fair here, and go here to read more about his life and career. I just learned that Jack Warner created Warner Bros. Records in 1958 partly just to keep Tab from releasing an album with Dot Records as a follow-up to "Young Love," his #1 hit single for that label, which was owned by Paramount. Fascinating!
I'm currently making my way through "The Great Movie Stars: The International Years" by David Shipman, so I'm including Shipman's write-up on Tab Hunter here, though it only covers up until 1980, when the revised edition was published.
I'm currently making my way through "The Great Movie Stars: The International Years" by David Shipman, so I'm including Shipman's write-up on Tab Hunter here, though it only covers up until 1980, when the revised edition was published.
The Great Movie Stars: Tab Hunter
Of all the pretty-boy teenage idols, Tab Hunter was probably the most appealing—by half an inch or so. He did at least have glimmerings of talent and might have gone further if he had kept his own name (Arthur Gelien) and not been landed with such a silly one. It might also have helped if he hadn't looked so much like a sugar candy-bar.
He was born in New York City in 1931. The family moved to Los Angeles, where he was schooled. He planned to be a professional ice-skater, but did various jobs—drug-store assistant, garage-attendant, cinema-usher, sheet-metal worker, packer. He had been interested in drama at school and "when one day"—went a studio biography—"somebody told him he ought to be in pictures, he decided to do something about it. He managed to get a very tiny role in a film." That was The Lawless (1950), but he was edited out on the cutting-room floor. He got himself an agent, Henry Willson, sponsor of some other handsome young male stars, like Rock Hudson, and Willson got him tested by director Stuart Heisler, who wanted an unknown to play opposite Linda Darnell in Saturday Island (1952). He got the part to qualified approval. Variety: "Hunter, as a young marine, displays a healthy torso, but not a great deal of talent." But he now had a toe inside the glamorous door and producer Edward Small signed him to a three-picture deal: Gun Belt (1953), a low-budget Western, as George Montgomery's brother; The Steel Lady, a low-budget war film with Rod Cameron; and Return to Treasure Island (1954), opposite Dawn Addams as Jamesina Hawkins, descendant of you-know-who. The latter pair were directed by E. A. Dupont, the famous German Silent director, now mainly functioning as a Hollywood agent.
Warners signed him to a long-term contract. He played Robert Mitchum's younger brother in Track of the Cat, cowed at first but manly later. He was one of the male line-up with Van Heflin and Aldo Ray, in Battle Cry (1955), from Leon Uris's best-seller, as a nice young soldier in love with two girls (the one here and the one back home). That one was a big box-office hit, and Hunter was already a big noise in the fan magazines. After playing a German cadet (under John Wayne's command) in The Sea Chase, Warners decided to star him: The Burning Hills (1956), a western, and The Girl He Left Behind, miscast as a spoilt rich kid who resists discipline till he's broken in and becomes as tough a non-com as there is in this man's army. Natalie Wood was the girl in both: Warners saw them as a great new screen team, but no one else did.
Things weren't good between Hunter and Warners. He had turned down a supporting role in the egregious Liberace Sincerely Yours, and was suspended for refusing Darby's Rangers, reportedly in revenge when Warners refused to release an album he had made (he had some brief success as a singer). On TV he did 'Fear Strikes Out' and 'Hans Brinker on the Silver Skates'; and in 1957 he made this statement, "I'm typical of where publicity is a zillion years ahead of career." Warners took him back and dressed him in uniform again, a member of the Lafayette Escadrille (1958), with Etchika Choureau, but this World War I drama wasn't a success. He was loaned out for a Western with Van Heflin, Gunman's Walk; and then was good in Damn Yankees, just the right side of obnoxious as the all-American youth—Faust as a baseball player—from a hit Broadway musical with the original cast (except for him). Despite much skill and the delicious virtuoso performance of Gwen Verdon, and good notices, it was a so-so hit in the US and a failure elsewhere. None of these films pleased Hunter much; his agent demanded better parts and better terms. According to Jack L. Warner's memoir, Hunter went down on bended knees asking for his release. He got it on payment of $100,000.
Which only goes to prove you never know when you're well off. At first he did okay: he was a young GI seeking to take That Kind of Woman (1959) Sophia Loren from George Sanders, not knowing she was That Kind—only his heart didn't seem to be in the part. He was better in They Come to Cordura, supporting Gary Cooper and Heflin, as a meanie; and excellent in The Pleasure of His Company (1961), as a country boy bewildered by the prospect of losing bride Debbie Reynolds to the long-lost father who reappears at the wedding. In Italy he made La Freccia d'Oro/The Golden Arrow (1962), some Oriental claptrap with Rosanna Podesta, playing the head of a gang of thieves. In New York he appeared in Tennessee Williams's flop 'The Milk train Doesn't Stop Here Any More' with Hermoine Baddeley. All Hollywood offered was an AIP war movie, Operation Bikini (1963), supporting Frankie Avalon. In Ride the Wild Surf (1964) he supported Fabian; the British Troubled Waters never seems to have been shown; in The Loved One (1965) he was one of the stars in cameo roles, as a cemetery guide. Then he was in a British cheapie, City Under the Sea, supporting Vincent Price. Things didn't get better: he supported TV comic Soupy Sales in Birds Do It (1966).
In Spain he made a low-budget comedy-thriller for PRO, The Fickle Finger of Fate (1967). It occasioned this review in Variety: "Hunter is the major surprise, and his timing and momentum are mainly responsible for the film's fluid pace. More relaxed and charming than he's been for years, he seems to have conquered the stiffness he so awkwardly projected in his Warners contract days." He was in an A. C. Lyles Western, Hostile Guns, with George Montgomery, and was then inactive. On his way to Europe to make Quel Maledetto Ponte sull'Elba (1969)—as a veteran sergeant—he said this was the best time of his life: he wasn't under contract and could pick and choose his vehicles. Like La Porta del Cannone, a second Spanish-Italian war film, and A Kiss From Eddie (1971) with Isabel Jewell. Then he had a featured role in The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972) with Paul Newman, and he was rather good as a crook. He didn't film again till he did one of the cameos in Won Ton Ton the Dog Who Saved Hollywood (1976).
Tab Hunter
[ July 11, 1931 — July 8, 2018 ]
We will miss you, Tab.
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