Popular Culture Review Vol. 10, No. 2, August 1999 | Page 29

The Aspern Papers and The Lost Moment

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for the role of an alcoholic in the film Smash-Up, written by Dorothy Parker (the
Associate producer of Smash-Up happened to be Gabel). The fact that Tina in The
Aspern Papers is nothing like the Tina of The Lost Moment seemed to concern no
one who was involved in the making of the film; therefore, the middle-aged, homely
niece of James’s tale becomes in the film a sensual and passionate character with a
split personality. It was a “double” part that would call for substantial versatility
from Hayward. Focusing on Tina’s psychological condition and her romance with
Lewis, the publisher’s literary quest receives less emphasis in the film. The theatri
cal trailer, for instance, stresses Lewis’s attraction to Tina more than his search for
the poet’s letters: “Irresistibly, he was drawn to Tina—strange, wonderful Tina—
part of her resisting, part of her craving the rapture every woman dreams o f”
The Lost Moment is a black and white film, but this did not stop the studio
from trying to promote it with the popularity of Hayward’s red hair. Theater show
men were told, “Since Susan Hayward is one of Hollywood’s most beautiful red
heads, consider the promotional possibilities of local lovelies with auburn, henna
and carrot-top tresses . . . Sell ‘em all the idea of painting the town red for the one
night when all redheaded gals are queens!” Indeed Hayward’s image dominates
most of the film’s posters and lobby cards—featured in open-mouth close-up pro
files and kissing a less visible Robert Cummings. Reviewers responded to
Hayward’s appeal. The New Republic"^ critic, for instance, remarked that “Susan
Hayward is so endowed that she cannot look pallid in the dreariest of bombazine”
(35). Lee Mostimer of the Daily Mirror raved in his review of the film that she
“dresses it up mightily,” calling her—in reference to her character’s schizophre
nia—^the “prettiest nut I’ve ever seen” (MoMA). Not to be forgotten was the cor
set Susan Hayward wore during the filming: it was “so tight,” according to the
press book, “that she could not sit down between scenes on the set.” All of the
publicity about her red hair, corsets, and swimsuits was intended, of course, to
counter the quite separate “literary” angle.
More in keeping with James’s tale is the film’s Juliana Bordereau, played
by Agnes Moorehead. Like Gabel the actor, Moorehead the actress was widely
respected for her work with Orson Welles’s Mercury Theater. Moorehead—as the
grotesque 105-year-old—added the element of thespian prestige. UniversalInternational’s trailer called her part “the acting role of the year,” and the make-up
job alone, which was elaborate for 1947, drew attention from the Hollywood press.
The process involved pouring and baking plastic molds to fit the contours of her
face; then significant amounts of make-up were applied to her mask. As the studio’s
press book explains, each day the process took four hours to apply and two hours
to remove. On camera, Moorehead appears as an “ancient hooded skull,” slumped
in an ornate chair that dwarfs her frame, much like James’s own shrunken, old
Juliana. Vocally, Moorehead’s delivery of Juliana’s lines combines the clarity of a