The seven deadly sins of Hollywood (1957)

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THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS OF HOLLYWOOD I'm playing tortured characters now. A convict and a drunk in my last film. Now a blind playwright who has lost faith in himself in 23 Paces to Baker Street. There is no reason why a tortured man shouldn't have freckles, is there? Or why a freckled man shouldn't be tortured?" I said, "No reason at all." I have no idea what Van Johnson was like after I had closed the door behind me. You never know, do you? Robert Mitchum has given a good deal of ammunition to people who are determined to think the worst of Hollywood — and of him. In 1948 he was sent to gaol for smoking cigarettes made of dope. He has, on his own admission, been involved in quite a few fights — which were not strictly in the line of duty or business. Despite all the unsavoury publicity he has had, people who know him well say he is a nice guy. But bent on self-destruction. This could be true. Certainly he did not give me the impression of being the boorish hooligan which some of his films and a few newspaper headlines might have led you to expect. As far as I am concerned, he is redeemed by his sense of humour, if by nothing else. At the police station where he was charged with smoking doped cigarettes he was asked his occupation. Quipped Mitchum in reply, "Former actor." Asked by reporters at a later date what it was like in gaol, he said, "It's just like Palm Springs without the riff-raff." I do not know what sort of man I expected him to be. A less articulate John Wayne, possibly. A slow-talking, slow-thinking muscle-man, perhaps. The outdoor type with an indoor (night-club) tan. 116