Cary Grant Revisionism

All British cast. Laura Aikman looks and sounds just like Dyon. Bully for her

What am I? Chopped Liver??????

Wasn't he a rent boy before Mae West made him a star? Anyone know who his benefactor was?

I don't know anything much about Cary Grant but - was there provable "ho-moe-sex-sue-al-ity" involved?

I think I read some quote from an actress who said he had very bad breath because of his false teeth and smoking or something.

Hey, apologies to Jennifer and Dyon. I am in it. I was so far down the cast list, I didn't see my name. Probably white washed our relationship.

Oh! It seems there was indeed "ho-moe-sex-sue-al-ity" involved...

Pathetic of them to do such.

r4, I was watching a Grant movie with my Dad, and he said, "He must have bad breath, because the actress recoiled slightly when he turned to speak to her in this close shot".

Your dad was spot on R8. Breath like Godzilla. Like I said, I know nothing about Cary Grant but I remember that quote from a famous actress (can't remember who it was). She said he didn't clean his dentures or something. Gross.

I just learned his name was actually Archibald Leach. No wonder he changed that. I read that story I linked at R6 and Grant seemed like a rent boy who had nowhere to live. Orry George Kelly wasn't exactly attractive but was probably loaded.

Which movie was it r8? AFAIK, Grant didn’t have dentures. He did have a tooth pulled but couldn’t afford a cap so he got a dental student to close the gap by pulling two of his teeth together. He was a heavy smoker like a lot of people were back then so maybe that’s why he had funky breath.

R9, Clark Gable had dentures and bad breath, not Cary Grant.

But everyone smoked! No wonder Sen-Sen was so popular.

Did they leave out the LSD and his preference for women’s nylon underwear?

Did they leave out the LSD and his preference for women’s nylon underwear?

They left them out twice.

Ooh maybe it was Clark Gable. I was a kid, so I don't remember that well. I'm also getting into Crone territory, so perhaps recollections may vary.

A lot of stars had bad teeth when they first started out. Gable and several others.

Cary was as Queer as a four leaf clover 🍀

Grant would hit the gay bars and social spots when he was in St. Louis for two decades, at least, after he spent the summer in 1931 doing 87 performances at the Muny Opera at the behest of the Shuberts.

I knew people growing up who not only knew Grant from that early arrival but later. He was a subject of admiration and popularity from the start, and they told me that "Miss Leach is back in town" was how the word would go out. Parties and wild times would ensue.

I hope the Dyan character uses her macaw laugh.

Trailer

Who is the guy in the thumbnail at R21? I could not find him on IMDB

Calam Lynch and Oaklee Pendergast play younger versions of Archie Leach.

Thanks. I saw the boy version of Grant on IMDB but not the younger man. Calam Lynch is a dead ringer for an American actor named Richard Gallagher.

Calam

Not handsome enough to be Cary. Just like that actress who portrayed Whitney.

I love Isaacs; he is one of the actors I never tire of watching, but - in my opinion - he had the worst instinct for picking roles with some rare exceptions during his career.

The Guardian

When Ryan O´Neal was unsure how to approach his part in "What´s Up Doc"(a hommage to "Bringing Up Baby"),the director arranged a meeting with Cary Grant.

His advice:" Get a tan,´caus then you won´t have to spend as much time in the makeup chair"

"Is that all?" O´Neal asked.

"One more thing. Wear silk underpants"

[quote]All British cast. Laura Aikman looks and sounds just like Dyon. Bully for her

It's an all-British production (ITV/BritBox).

I guess the Americans weren't interested.

Apparently a billboard in Tijuana.

A very elderly guy I know, now aged 94, said he saw him in a sauna in London back in the day.

Notice Grant’s daughter looks nothing like him? Girls usually resemble their fathers. She’s the spitting image of Dyan. Knowing her, ANYONE could be the kid’s father.

This film doesn't look interesting. I would much prefer "Who's a Fairy?"

A young Rob Lowe went on a date with Jennifer Grant and they watched a film ("Reds", I think) with Cary in his (Cary's) bedroom. 🤔

Cary told Rob Lowe he reminded him of a young Warren Beatty. 🤔🤔

Oh, sure, he was as straight as they come.

I’m liking the miniseries but wish Jennifer and Dyan had interviewed more people who knew him before they did. Just because they “didn’t see it” doesn’t mean it didn’t happen or wasn’t there. Obviously the man was smart enough not to bring conquests home or prowl about in his own neighborhood. The photos with Randolph Scott speak for themselves.

I thought the girl playing Dyan Cannon was perfect.....in some scenes, I thought it really was Dyan. And yes she did the "laugh" thing that DC always did in her movies.

Of course she was driving around in a '64 Mustang a couple of years before the car was even manufactured......but there you are.

The guy who played Cary had such an ugly mug.....the eyes and forehead were okay.....but the nose and mouth were hideous.

And the actor playing Hitchcock and the actress playing Doris Day were strictly from hunger.

Oh....and for the poster above - the LSD is in there a LOT.

As soon as Dyan dies we'll get a better biopic. Got to! Being gay is the only reason he's interesting. Let's explore that instead of his boring career.

Do they mention his annoying frugality?

r31, "Who's a Fairy" was actually what was known as a "Tijuana Bible"--they were cheaply produced comic books in the 1930s that explicitly showed celebrities of the day (like Mae West, Grant, Clara Bow) engaged in sexcapades.

He was at least bisexual. He moved to Hollywood after some time in NYC with Oery (sp?) Kelly who was a very flamboyant gay man and Cary’s roommate and best friend. In CA Cary put some distance between the two because of Kelly’s flamboyance. Kelly became a multiple Academy Award winning costume designer. Grant and Randolf Scott were a couple and rather open about it- double dating with beards, the whole works. When Kelly died Grant was a pallbearer. Grant was coy about his sexuality remarking that he was interested in everything, while obviously very aware of the damage living openly as a gay man would hurt his career.

He and Kate Hepburn, in my opinion wove the most clever and deceptive public images successfully of any movie stars of their day. I give them credit for their skill in doing so- Grant was not remotely his image although he became it as much as Mae West who also played her character in reality until the real person disappeared. .

R4 no, there wasn’t. That’s the issue. Because his sexuality has always been presumed to be gay years later people like OP think it’s a fact. No one who knew him has said he was gay.

It depends on "who owns the Cary Grant image" If Jennifer Grant owns her father's image, you will never get a true picture of Cary Grant. It can be implied that he's a Homo in an unauthorized bio-pic, check who owns Cary's image& how the estate is controlled.

To R43, you are correct, Cary and Lesbian Hepburn did weave the best stories about how str8 they were, controlled their public image. My neighbors in La Jolla never believed that Kate was str8 & her bf Spencer Tracy was 1 of the biggest cocksuckers in Hollywood during WW2. Covered up by the studio, naturally. Lots of servicemen went through LA during the war, Hollywood Canteen was a happening place& lots of HOMO hookups!!

Families of the subjects should never ever allowed to be involved in biopic and biographical miniseries. They always whitewash things and want to focus on boring things.

See also: Fosse & Verdon, Maestro, Sinatra (the miniseries)

[quote]I’m liking the miniseries but wish Jennifer and Dyan had interviewed more people who knew him before they did. Just because they “didn’t see it” doesn’t mean it didn’t happen or wasn’t there. Obviously, the man was smart enough not to bring conquests home or prowl about in his own neighborhood. The photos with Randolph Scott speak for themselves.

I agree. IMHO, there was a point that both Dyan and Jennifer were really very aggressively fighting the "Cary is gay" label. But as time went on, and more was revealed, I took note that neither of them would no longer deny the gay rumors/labels but would say that they never had any inklings, nor were they told, or had reason(s) to suspect. Now, granted... neither of them has admitted that it could be true, or anything is possible, but just that they did not know him like that. The closest thing that I've heard the daughter say of the rumors was that Cary knew of them and found them very amusing.

That old queen sued me for ten grand once. Over a joke.

I thought it was his widow Barbara Harris who owns the rights to Cary Grant and his image?

I know that Fred Astaire had it written in his will that no one could write about him after he died.

Gene Kelly’s last wife is also super protective of his brand.

[quote] think I read some quote from an actress who said he had very bad breath because of his false teeth and smoking or something.

I don’t think it was smoking or false teeth. It was a very very strong ammonia odor.

[quote] I know that Fred Astaire had it written in his will that no one could write about him after he died.

That would have had no legal bearing on anything. You cannot libel the dead.

^I also thought that you can't "dictate from the grave" either.

All you can do from the grave is dictate where your money will go. Other than that you have no power after you die.

Neither Cary Grant's daughter nor Fred Astaire's will 9or his survivors) could prevent someone from making an unauthorized film or book or miniseries about them. they could restrict their access to personal materials and refuse to interview them, but that's it. Both Astaire and Grant were public figures even when alive and so were fair game for biographical speculation, even though that would have been constrained during their lifetimes to libel laws. But once you're dead anyone can say anything about you, and if the survivors don't like it, tough shit from a legal standpoint.

R52 Release Roddys' memoirs!

I would not watch anything on Astaire anyway, I can’t stand him.

Y’all need to see the docu on Oery Kelly.

[quote]think I read some quote from an actress who said he had very bad breath because of his false teeth and smoking or something.

That was Clark Gable.

I don't know him.

He looks familiar.

R44 "He started out with the boys and he'll end up with the boys."

Remember, Fred Astaire's widow, Robin, made $$$$$(lots of it) by allowing a commercial of Fred dancing with a vacuum cleaner! Also, wouldn't allow the producers of a Ginger Rogers tribute to use images of Fred dancing with Ginger. Apparently, Robin Astaire is a total cunt.

In the 30's he was called Fairy Grant by the crew on the lot

[quote]Remember, Fred Astaire's widow, Robin, made $$$$$(lots of it) by allowing a commercial of Fred dancing with a vacuum cleaner! Also, wouldn't allow the producers of a Ginger Rogers tribute to use images of Fred dancing with Ginger.

Ya know... I'm okay with that. So many of these performers (particularly musicians) were royally fucked financially that many of them do deserve to get a little something from their images for their children, etc.

R60 Ole bitch would know as her own son William Hopper was one of those "boys".

R64, he had his career so that she wouldn't out Burr.

I’m going to pass on this one. Can’t tell you the last time I saw a good film biopic about a famous person. And I just saw MAESTRO 💩.

So now, in 2024, they still want to scrub Grant's intense lifelong relationship with Randolph Scott??

[quote]Mr Blackwell, the notorious fashion critic, lived with Cary and Randolph for several months. In his memoir he said that he considered them, “deeply, madly in love, their devotion complete…Behind closed doors they were warm, kind, loving and caring, and unembarrassed about showing it.”

[quote]They must have still be lovers at the time since the script supervisor, Bert Granet, for “My Favorite Wife” recalled Cary and Randolfs unusual behavior on set: “We shot the pool sequence at the Huntington Hotel in Pasadena. Cary and Randy Scott arrived as a pair and, to the total astonishment of myself, the director, and the ultra-macho crew, instead of taking separate suites moved into the same room together. Everyone looked at everyone else. It seemed hardly believable.”

[quote]Cary and Randolph remained extremely close their entire lives. The maître d' at the Beverly Hillcrest Hotel saw both actors in the 1970s, sitting in the back of the restaurant, long after the place had emptied. Cary Grant and Randolph Scott were sitting alone, quietly holding hands.

[quote]

[quote]

Watching it now. Yawn.

Recall reading somewhere that the Maître'D of the Beverly Hills Hotel said that Cary and Randy use to have lunch once a week together at the Polo Lounge. They sat at the same table in the back away from the main room. He recalled how sad it was to see these two old men holding hands in the dark.

R67 You are correct it was the Beverly Hillcrest Hotel . A much more secluded site for a tryst then the Polo Lounge.

And people still need to uphold the lies that he was straight. Jennifer is pitiful.

R58 Been there done that.

^ Doesn't mean jack shit.

[quote]And people still need to uphold the lies that he was straight.

Hmm... But could it be how one defines "gay"? Yes, maybe they were very affectionate, ie holding hands, kisses on the cheek, prolonged hugs and truly loved each other. Are they gay? Or, two men that simply loved each other

Or, is being gay a passionate kiss and sex? Or, is that just having sex and getting off?

What are you talking about r74?

R58 Just two chums talkin about Katie Hepburn's fellatio skills.

R72 Just two bros talking about Taylor Swift's lack of a gag reflex.

Carleton Carpenter said that Cary Grant asked him out

Dick Sargent said that Cary hit on him when he was a young up-and-coming actor

[quote]What are you talking about [R74]?

How do you define gay?

It was Clark Gable that was trading sexual favors to advance his career.

One of those who knew Gable biblically was George Cukor. This was the reason Cukor was replaced as director on GWTW.

Gable was far from gay, just an early example of gay for pay.

Cary Grant was an odd one and I believe the LSD was a form of conversion therapy. Apparently it was fun but not all that effective.

I think that's what we're seeing now with Aaron Rogers. We can expect the same result.

[quote]Cary Grant was an odd one

IMHO, like everyone else, I think that Archie wanted to be Cary Grant. Therefore, that is who he became and was willing to sacrifice true happiness for what he believed to be true happiness. I think that the only person that Cary Grant loved with every pore of his body and without question was his daughter Jennifer.

[quote] Hmm... But could it be how one defines "gay"? Yes, maybe they were very affectionate, ie holding hands, kisses on the cheek, prolonged hugs and truly loved each other. Are they gay? Or, two men that simply loved each other

How is that not gay?

^ Is it?

^You're just answering my question with a question, which is a deflecting tactic.

Since I asked first, the burden is on you.

For the record, IMHO Cary Grant was gay and was attracted to men. IMHO, he was more of an opportunist than anything else. I believe that he could not truly love anyone else (outside of his daughter) because he did not (never) loved himself. I do believe that he truly loved Randolph Scott but couldn't/wouldn't pursue that path because he was afraid.

NOW...

Is a person gay if they find their kindred spirit, soul mate, or whatever you want to call it and that person just happens to be of the same sex?

^ Yes. Can we put this issue to rest now and go back to Cary revisionism?

No one under 60 even knows who the hell Cary Grant is? Old Fraus and Older Fruits ?

r84, I love that you STILL are answering my question with a question.

Cary Grant has a somewhat "icon" status, but rarely gets mentioned among the "hottest evah" discussions here. He was tall and handsome, yet somehow not "hot" - sort of the way Armie Hammer was before the cannibal days.

Forget which actress said she didn't find Grant attractive because he looked like he was " carved from mahogany"

Yes all those women chasing him seemed silly because he didn't seem interested. For me the quintessence of Grant's appeal was Every Girl Should Be Married and he actually married his co-star Betsy Drake.

[quote]According to YouGov, Cary Grant is the 324th most popular all-time person and the 148th most popular actor. In 1999, the American Film Institute ranked Grant second on its list of the 100 greatest film stars of all time, behind Humphrey Bogart.

R74 is being exhausting. Deliberately speaking in circles.

It must have seemed like a Hollywood insider joke to cast Randolph Scott as the stud with whom Irene Dunne was marooned in My Favorite Wife (1940).

Cary Grant's Hidden Gay Relationship with Randolph Scott.

The fraus in the comment section; "Who cares???" "Let the man rest in peace!", "I don't believe he was a homosexual!".....

That’s not Randolph. That’s Billy Haines.

I think Cary Grant would be termed sexually fluid in these times, bisexual with the scale more firmly pushed on the gay side in private, but the hetero side in public.

Jason Isaacs looks more like a middle-aged Laurence Olivier, but nonetheless he’s great casting.

[quote]Grant and Randolf Scott were a couple and rather open about it- double dating with beards, the whole works. When Kelly died Grant was a pallbearer.

[quote]I do believe that he truly loved Randolph Scott but couldn't/wouldn't pursue that path because he was afraid.

Cray Grant (d. November 29, 1986) and Randolph Scott (d. March 2, 1987) died within three months of each other, too.

[quote]Families of the subjects should never ever allowed to be involved in biopic and biographical miniseries. They always whitewash things and want to focus on boring things.

[quote]See also: Fosse & Verdon, Maestro, Sinatra (the miniseries)

Also, SELENA with Jennifer Lopez.

It's a great performance, but she's let down by a Disneyfied script/characters. Her killer is even reduced to a cameo with two or three lines.

IMO, the film would have worked better as a psychological drama told from the perspective of Yolanda Saldivar, who in a few short years went from being a nurse and random fan to Selena's fan club president to the manager of her clothing boutiques and trusted friend.

The film should focus on their relationship, specifically Yolanda's obsession with Selena and how she finagled her way into her inner circle.

I see Yolanda like Judy Dench's character in NOTES ON A SCANDAL -- a seemingly nice, older lady who is secretly harboring a fatal attraction toward a pretty young woman and who strikes back when she is rejected.

Through it all, you learn about Selena's backstory and experience her meteoric rise and fall but from Yolanda's perspective, so not a proper biopic.

Vanity Fair.- Cary Grant and Randolph Scott’s Hollywood Story: “Our Souls Did Touch”

[quote]"Hedda Hopper once asked of Grant, “Whom does he think he is fooling?” The star’s bond with Scott has been the subject of nearly a century of speculation, but the truth about their impact on each other’s lives has been hiding in plain sight."

In the spring of 1933, Cary Grant told a fan magazine about his favorite fish dishes. The routine was standard for Modern Screen’s “The Modern Hostess,” a homemaker-targeted column that spotlighted “recipes for foods that we know men like”—or more specifically, that male celebrities would agree to discuss publicly. But when it came to his strongest piece of advice, Grant deferred to another up-and-coming actor’s tastes. “If you want to talk to a real authority on fish—particularly shell fish—you ought to get a hold of Scotty some time,” he said. “That lad’s a hound for lobsters and crabs and shrimps and such.” The publication took note. That fall, fresh off of 18 rounds of golf, Grant and his roommate, fellow rising Hollywood star Randolph Scott, were interviewed while lunching together in Los Angeles. It was Scott who ordered for the table.

This Modern Screen feature was at once utterly typical and utterly atypical of its period. In the ’30s, at the dawn of the talkies, fan magazines became a primary tool for studios like Paramount, which had both Grant and Scott under contract, to deliver coordinated and pseudo-intimate glimpses of their brightest stars’ private lives. Here they could exert some media control. But for two supposed close friends to play ball for a pithy joint housekeeping profile? Certainly out of the ordinary. Grant would nudge his seafood connoisseur to keep the good vibes rolling—prodding Scott to describe their preferred recipe for crabmeat chow mein, say—while Scott boasted of converting his buddy’s tastes for the better. “I’ve even gotten Cary eating shell fish with the same enthusiasm [as me], you’ll notice,” he said.

Their dynamic resembled that of the romantic couples profiled in those very same pages, and even 90 years ago some people wondered if there was more between Grant and Scott than met the eye. The notorious columnist Hedda Hopper reveled in fanning the homophobic flames against Grant, once implying he wasn’t “normal” and later asking in a letter, “Whom does he think he is fooling?”

From the moment they moved in together nearly a century ago, Cary Grant and Randolph Scott were subjected to speculation about the nature of their relationship. They lived together on and off for about a decade, an arrangement that outlasted multiple marriages between them and paralleled Grant’s evolution into a Hollywood icon. Several men have since recounted queer sexual encounters with the pair, and still more have claimed to witness a romantic love between them. Other people who knew them firmly believed nothing went on beyond a rich friendship. Much is not—and cannot ever be—known about closeted gay life in pre-WWII America. In that messiness, biographers have been all over the map in their judgment of what exactly went on.

Yet none of that—the debates over gay or bi or straight, who witnessed what and when, the coding of certain photoshoots—approaches the question of what Grant and Scott meant to one another, or how this relationship shaped who they became both privately and on-screen. At least one acquaintance of theirs has even quoted Grant calling Scott the love of his life. Prior accounts of this relationship, ranging from biographies to documentaries, haven’t fully examined what was publicly known and disclosed at the time, instead relying on cheeky magazine photographs and headlines. But the intimate contents of those articles, combined with the eventual testimony of men who knew Grant and Scott, paint a unique portrait of cohabitation, codependency, and love—platonic at minimum, and very possibly romantic.

Who knows why Paramount agreed to have two of its hottest up-and-comers talk to Modern Screen about cooking and fine dining, just as career-ending—in those days, maybe life-ending—rumors started trailing them. The studio had talent to promote and a strange arrangement to navigate. “It was all very odd, not the least because it was all very open,” Anthony Slide wrote in his 2010 book Inside the Hollywood Fan Magazine. “The two men, the writers, and the readers were either incredibly naïve or the actors were willing to risk the readers not guessing the truth of the relationship. Perhaps it was the sheer transparency of the couple’s life together…that kept it from ever becoming identified as a homosexual relationship.”

What we do know is that this transparency offers a brief window into how these actors spoke to each other, influenced each other, and found comfort in each other. Unwittingly, perhaps, it’s in the rigidly orchestrated publicity machine of ’30s show business that the story of Grant and Scott was told—hidden in plain sight.

The man named Cary Grant was only a few months old when he met Randolph Scott in 1932. Before then, he was a British troublemaker named Archibald “Archie” Leach, suffering through an unhappy upbringing: an alcoholic father, a deeply depressed mother, and never enough money to go around. When he was eleven, his mother was committed to a mental institution by his father, and years later he was expelled from his school due to erratic behavior. Leach ran away at 15 to pursue a performer’s life. Cramming his way into the world of vaudeville and New York café society marked his own roaring 20s. He was ruggedly handsome, an acrobat and a tightrope walker; he’d eventually hit Broadway, which would in turn bring him to Hollywood, but before that big break, he’d make money by walking on stilts outside the Capitol Theater and around Coney Island.

In 1927, Leach met Orry-Kelly, the Australian designer and costumer who’d leave New York around the same time to embark upon a great Hollywood career of his own. Orry-Kelly was gay and traveled in queer circles during that time, trading his small-town upbringing for a fashionable, fabulous life. Initially, an aspiring actor getting by on his tart wit, Orry-Kelly first spotted Leach holding only a “two-foot-square shiny black tin box which held all his worldly possessions,” he later recalled in his memoir. Upon this first impression, he took him in.

The pair lived together in a shabby one-bedroom Greenwich Village apartment for almost a decade. Though historians have suggested that they were a couple, Orry-Kelly did not confirm anything in his book. (Orry-Kelly’s memoir was published posthumously in 2015, following the Gillian Armstrong documentary about him, Women He’s Undressed.) He found Leach often in bad health, a whole lot of fun, and a far cry from the suave persona that would come to define Cary Grant. According to Orry-Kelly, Leach once drunkenly hit him after a long night with friends gone awry, and his style left much to be desired: “[He] returned from England wearing a plum-coloured suit the likes of which I’d only seen on cockney vaudevillians in Australia,” Orry-Kelly wrote. “I told him the purple plum shade made him look bilious.”

[quote]Several men have since recounted queer sexual encounters with the pair, and still more have claimed to witness a romantic love between them.

What are "queer sexual encounters"?

The people who said Cary was gay were homophobes like Hedda Hopper who was actively trying to destroy him. There’s little evidence that he was gay. Just the opposite. You should discuss Montgomery Clift, not broken down drunk Cary Grant.

Leach was the first to leave for the other coast. At the end of 1931, when signing his five-year contract with Paramount just 10 days after landing in California, the wily English runaway known as Archie Leach officially transformed into Cary Grant, studio-mandated name change and all. Just months into his new identity, Grant met Randolph Scott on the Paramount lot. They were in production on different projects and bonded swiftly. Orry-Kelly claimed to be the one who suggested that Grant move in with Scott, before gradually losing touch as Grant immediately got to work on the seven movies released in 1932 alone—and starting his life with a new man. Grant and Scott moved in together first in apartments, then a small Beverly Hills home by year’s end. They could pool the rent as two struggling newcomers, the logic went, a fairly common practice at the time.

The Virginia-born, strikingly blond Scott had already been around the movies for a few years and wasn’t escaping a mysterious, tumultuous past like his new roommate. “While Cary ran away from home in his middle ‘teens and struggled for recognition for years, Randy had no bumps,” a 1935 profile said. “The Scotts were wealthy and willin’.” Scott oozed refinement, his thick Southern drawl blaring a kind of all-American authenticity. He loved Grant’s relatively loose sense of humor. Scott knew how to comport himself, and dressed impeccably. Then there was Grant, trying desperately to remove any trace of Brit in his accent, and still with some rugged edge to him by his screen debut in 1932’s This Is the Night. (He portrayed an Olympic javelin thrower.) According to the biographer Scott Eyman, the film director Henry Hathaway once dismissed Grant as “that Cockney guy with the long neck and the big ears,” pointing out the scarf he’d wear to hide his more distinctive physical features. “He’s no gentleman,” Hathaway said.

But Scott knew this rarefied world. From the moment he moved in with Grant, he showed him how they could live in it together. Eyman wrote of their packed calendars in their first year of knowing each other, “The boys were everywhere, social butterflys on a mad whirl”—greeting Amelia Earhart when she visited Paramount, attending glamorous parties for performers like Helen Kane. Their profiles were rising fast, with Scott redefining himself as a tender Western hero (Heritage of the Desert, which Hathaway directed) and Grant stiffly introducing himself as a dramatic heartthrob. Grant’s early movies (Blonde Venus, She Done Him Wrong) unveiled an actor out of his element, maybe misunderstood by the industry trying to make him the next big thing. But this was a creation starting from scratch, and only the first step on what would become an epic mythmaking quest.

During prohibition, underground gay nightclubs boomed in Los Angeles, even as homosexuality was still punishable by prison. “There’s B. B. B.’s Cellar where the boys dress up like girls,” read a 1933 Hollywood editorial, and “Jimmy’s Back Yard where the girls dress up like boys.” The crowd in these establishments—which Jenny Hamel has reported included the likes of Grant, Dietrich, and more big names of the era—varied greatly in terms of sexuality and gender, and stuck around even as intermittent raids threatened shutdowns and arrests. Until the war, the clubs remained robust, as did the free-for-alls taking place within them.

This was Grant and Scott’s social scene. They remained boldly public amid loudening whispers. The pair would occasionally, flamboyantly attend costume parties in women’s clothes, according to biographer Marc Eliot. “Randolph Scott and Cary Grant carry this buddy business a long way,” a Photoplay gossip blurb commented in April of 1933. “They go every place together and even share the same house.”

Anyone who says queer sexual encounters is a purple haired poser.

This item was printed a month after Grant and Scott gave their first extensive joint interview for Silver Screen. Their relationship had, by all accounts, reached the next level. They’d bid adieu to their cramped Beverly quarters for a secluded, eight-room Spanish abode on West Live Oak Drive, just outside the Griffith Observatory in Los Feliz and with a sweeping view of the city. The big living room featured a grand piano, modern paintings, and a fireplace that Grant would light after supper, while new dance music played on the radio in the adjoining library. The place came furnished, but was peppered with personal touches, like the coffee pot Scott bought when he was in a “domestic mood,” or Grant’s new Packard roadster parked out front beside Scott’s Cadillac.

This setup was first written about by Silver Screen’s Ben Maddox, a closeted gay journalist according to film historian William J. Mann. Maddox arrived on the occasion of Grant and Scott’s first dinner together in the new home since they’d moved in two weeks earlier (these were busy guys), and stuffed his article with playful innuendo. “Cary is the gay, impetuous one. Randy is serious, cautious,” he wrote. “Cary is temperamental in the sense of being very intense. Randy is calm and quiet. He must know a person for some time before he can break down and be absolutely natural.” At the time, the word temperamental was used among queer people to identify themselves.

The ghost of Archie Leach and his harsh cockney accent had all but “vanished,” Maddox wrote, and here was the charming Cary Grant instead, eating and relaxing and aimlessly chattering in his big house in the Los Feliz Hills beside the person with whom he’d chosen to share his life. Marc Eliot reported that Grant took ownership of how they dressed when out in the world, while Scott still oversaw decor and dining. It’s an image of stability at astonishing odds from what Grant had experienced in his early years. His friend Bill Royce once said that Scott taught Grant “what kind of man he wanted to be off the screen.”

This kind of conspicuous domestic profile fueled the rumor mill, of course, but still single and “eligible,” Grant and Scott proceeded with more intimate joint magazine features, like that aforementioned housekeeping column. They acted as if there was no noise around them—until, in the beginning of 1934, Grant wed the actress Virginia Cherrill. He later told Royce this was partly a result of newfound pressure from Paramount to distance himself from Scott. This was not a marriage of love. It took place against the backdrop of the Hays Code, which was adopted that same year with the explicit purpose of cracking down on, among other things, any presentations or tolerance of homosexuality. Hollywood had effectively banned its presence on-screen and within the industry. William J. Mann called the choice for LGBTQ+ people “conform or get out.”

Eleven days into their union, the happy newlyweds were staying at the Algonquin Hotel, “exuding young love” for all to see. They gave an exclusive interview to Silver Screen that hinged on Scott’s persistent presence in his roommate’s life. You read that correctly: The boys were still living together. “Randy Scott has been constantly with us—the three of us get along so well,” Cherrill said, presumably through gritted teeth. (She’d eventually put her foot down and live with Grant alone until they divorced.) The “impetuous” Grant that Silver Screen had profiled a year earlier was nowhere to be found. After rambling through a defense of the three-way living arrangement—“It’s so huge Randy couldn’t possibly be in our way”—Grant asked the reporter if the dynamic was unconventional. When she assured him it was not, “Cary seemed so relieved.”

The trio finally moved out of the spacious Los Feliz home, with Grant and Cherrill finding an upscale apartment—and Scott leasing the unit next door. A Modern Screen reporter met Scott on the Paramount lot, conducting a one-on-one interview in, of all places, Grant’s dressing room—a location suggested by Scott, no less. “Randy seemed to be quite as much at home there as if they had been his own quarters,” the article said. Scott stretched comfortably on an armchair. He flung his hat onto a nearby table as if by pure habit. And he expressed a subtle, profound sadness the longer he talked, admitting to missing the “constant companionship” with Grant, the dinners they’d plan out in advance. He confessed his fear of coming between Grant and Cherrill, of causing his friend any unhappiness or burden. He stared at his hands, withdrawn, as they discussed the wedding. The reporter observed that “one instinctively feels the sense of loss and emptiness that has come into Randy’s life since Cary married Virginia Cherrill.” More callously, the story’s lede asked, “Is he jealous of the girl who now comes first in his pal’s affections?”

By the end of 1934, Grant had become testy when asked about Cherrill. “Gone was the Archie Leach full of fun,” Orry-Kelly wrote of his old friend during that period. The marriage was a swift failure. By 1935, Grant and Cherrill were bitterly divorced while the boys were reunited. “Well, well! That sterling couple, Cary Grant and Randy Scott are back together and keeping house again!” cheered a gossip blurb in Screenland. “No aspersions intended, boys, we all know you

Cary Grant was all over the movies by this point, if not yet a star. Shortly after he moved in with Scott again, though, he entered his prime. In 1935 Grant starred in Sylvia Scarlett, his first movie with his famed collaborator Katharine Hepburn. He was on loan from Paramount, where he was flailing in thin, bland leading-man roles. (He’d soon leave the studio for a joint deal with Columbia and RKO.) But this daring and unusual romantic comedy, directed by the great George Cukor (My Fair Lady), loosened him up, subtly hinting at the screwball maestro that Grant would soon become.

In the film, Hepburn plays a con artist donning full drag as a man named Sylvester. She brings a bracing androgynous spark here, never more ignited than when she meets a fellow swindler played by Grant (one of the rare roles in which he deployed his native cockney accent). They meet in one scene on a train, and a steamy Grant unbuttons his shirt to reveal his bare chest to “Sylvester.” Hepburn turns away to conceal any expression of arousal; Grant keeps the vibe alive by suggesting they sleep in the same bed, reasoning, “You’ll make a proper hot water bottle.” He assumes Hepburn is a man throughout. This nearly explicit, frankly hot queer text—Cukor was gay, Hepburn long the subject of lesbian rumors—helps to explain the mass walkouts and disastrous box-office numbers that followed the release of Sylvia Scarlett. It’s also brilliantly, subversively enhanced by the presence of Grant, since those rumors about him never really went away.

Sylvia Scarlett—the movie that quietly introduced Cary Grant, Movie Star—made queerness and fluidity an irrefutable aspect of his screen persona. Grant’s commercial breakout followed two years later in The Awful Truth, one of the great divorce comedies; Marc Eliot wrote that it was “remarkable for the extent to which gender characteristics assigned to women could be presented as being desirable and attractive in a man.” The critic Pauline Kael once observed in The New Yorker that “Grant doesn’t yield to cartooning femininity or to enjoying it; he doesn’t play a woman, he threatens to—flirting with the idea and giggling over it.” The screwball era—its role reversals, its physical gags, its winks and nods and Code-skirting secrets—provided the mold for the modern star, and Grant sculpted it to suit his presence and his personality.

After Grant’s divorce from Cherrill, he moved with Scott into a Santa Monica beachfront bungalow, boasting views of the Pacific. You’d see white everywhere you looked: white sand glistening beneath the tiled terrace; elegant white Venetian blinds gently welcoming sunlight in the mornings; white flowers that Grant would buy to zen up the living spaces; and of course, the rambunctious white Sealyham dog named Archibald running around and causing mischief. Screenland’s 1936 article on the property unfolds like a gloriously engineered Architectural Digest tour, infusing every corner of the home with fluffy backstory. The reporter called it “one of the cheeriest and joyous houses I’ve seen,” highlighting the long living room and shared desk, the backgammon setup in the den, the charmingly odd mealtimes. Grant at one point panicked, knowingly, about the beds not being made—in their separate bedrooms—while at another, he playfully battled Scott during the cutest, most ridiculous, and just maybe most clearly staged dog-shampooing mishap ever committed to print.

Some nights, both Grant and Scott would stay out working until late, and so they’d ask their cook to put dinner in the fridge. “When we come wandering in at some late hour, we have a feast,” Grant said. Scott chimed in, “I wonder why meals out of a refrigerator and eaten in the kitchen always taste so good.” (Grant’s theory: “Probably because we are still a bit primitive.”) They bickered about certain differences. Cary liked meat, while Randy liked veggies. Cary tea, Randy coffee. They both loved artichokes, but only Cary would eat them cold. Randy was the dessert guy. “Every morning when we aren’t working,” Grant said, “we jump out of bed, into bathing trunks, run for the surf, and sprint along the beach for a couple miles!”

Grant and Scott both remained under Paramount’s thumb for a little while longer. From the studio’s perspective, this portrait of codependency and late-night scrounging meant to serve, if anything, as a reminder that the stars were still very single and eligible. The excuse that they were too poor to live on their own had long expired, however, and so their life was their life—its contents unavoidably intimate. Scott married his childhood friend Marion duPont later that year, but she mostly still lived across the country; his relationship with Grant continued through to and beyond Scott’s 1939 divorce. In a profile for Modern Screen, Grant said at one point during Scott’s marriage, “Randy’s wife didn’t come between this pair of friends. On the contrary. Remarkable institution, women.”

Grant was uncomfortable doing press without Scott by his side. He gave dull, reticent, at times combative solo interviews, even to fan mags. In 1935, Scott told one reporter, “I’ve seen [Cary] actually lose sleep and weight after reading certain items that touched upon his personal life and thoughts.” In a Movie Mirror profile “Heart Whole and Handsome,” Grant curtly affirmed he was not looking for a romantic partner; his vow of independence met a disruption when Scott actually crashed the interview at their home, commenting, “To think you’ve been enjoying yourself like a bloated gentleman of leisure while I’ve put in a grueling day at the studio, making tests from nine o’clock this morning on, in order that you could continue living in the style I’ve accustomed you to.” The still-circulating, homoerotic-coded photos that accompanied the Screenland piece, meanwhile, visualized that lifestyle. They depicted Grant and Scott taking a swim, enjoying a meal, and playing with the dog together. In one sense, the imagery maintained the standard set for years, in terms of the public understanding of the Grant-Scott dynamic as bachelors just getting by; in another, they rather starkly illustrated what a years-long partnership would look like in the media’s prying gaze.

The photographer for the article was a younger gay man named Jerome Zerbe. Brendan Gill wrote in The New Yorker that Zerbe, an acquaintance of his, “was a lover of both Grant and Scott” during this time. According to Gill, Zerbe explained the tone of the pictures as intending to both “honor the prevailing Hollywood taboos” and generate favorable publicity. Zerbe journaled about “madhouse” parties at the home of Orry-Kelly, long nights spent with Grant that lasted past 1, sometimes 3 in the morning. One evening, he had dinner with Grant and Betty Furness, the actress pushed aggressively by the press as Grant’s romantic interest of the moment; after they finished up, Zerbe went to Grant’s home with Frank Horn, Grant’s gay private secretary, not getting back to his own place until 1:45 am.

The Santa Monica beach pad housed boozy, sexy gatherings and entertaining. Fred Astaire, a close friend of the couple, had a guest room essentially to himself. Other recurring guests included Howard Hughes, Noel Coward, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., and Moss Hart. Richard Gully, the “aide-de-camp” to Warner Bros exec Jack Warner, told Vanity Fair in 2001 that he was invited up to the home, where Grant expressed a “fleeting crush” on him. The noted fashion writer Richard Blackwell said he spent months with Scott and Grant, identifying them as a couple and finding them to be “deeply, madly in love.” He described romantic experiences with both in his memoir. “I envied what they felt for one another. But they knew as well as I did that this sort of relationship between two men was considered absolutely unspeakable,” he wrote. “Even in a crowded room, they saw no one else.”

Another guest, Scotty Bowers, was known as a pimp for the closeted in Hollywood (as explored in Matt Tyrnauer’s 2017 documentary Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood). He took a relatively graphic route in recounting his own sexual encounters with Grant and Scott: “The three of us got into a lot of sexual mischief together. Aside from the usual sucking—neither of them were into fucking, at least not fucking guys, or at least not me—what I remember most about that first encounter was that Scott really liked to cuddle, and talk, and was very gentle.”

On-screen, amid all this, Grant came into his own. He was a tease—endlessly seduced by his fictional pursuers, toying with his perceived unavailability to heighten his mystique. He found manic symmetry and met his physical match in Hepburn in their late ’30s classics, Bringing Up Baby and Holiday. He made for the most lovable fool in The Awful Truth and chewed on punchlines with delight in His Girl Friday. He always looked incredible—presenting characters who’d cultivated the finer things, who knew clothes and parties and food, not unlike his Santa Monica life that appeared fit for a king. He came off as infectiously happy in these movies, his boisterous smile all but ripped straight from Screenland’s pages. He upended romantic tropes, establishing a heroic archetype that skewered hetero conventions while remaining alluring. He could be, not himself exactly, but the myth he’d spent years building up off camera: Cary Grant. “The greatest movie stars have not been highborn; they have been strong-willed (often deprived) kids who came to embody their own dreams, and the public’s,” Kael wrote.

Scott’s career remained stable for a few more years, but never hit such an upswing. The honeymoon period between him and Grant could not last forever, and accounts diverge on how things fell apart toward the end of the ’30s. Eliot alleges they simply broke up as Grant soared and Scott flatlined—they reduced the frequency of time spent together, fought over the house, and drifted apart. But they faced a greater hurdle before going their separate ways: For all that Grant and Scott normalized their life together, the reality of the times remained unavoidable. “Whenever they were in public, they couldn’t even touch, and could hardly walk together or even speak to each other without being watched for the slightest sign of their feelings,” Blackwell said.

The likeliest explanation is that the romance, if it was that, ran its course because it could never fully progress. The biographer Donald Spoto wrote in his book Blue Angel about Marlene Dietrich, that RKO gave Grant an ultimatum: Stay with Scott, or renew his contract. He chose the latter option.

Severing ties is hardly ever so neat. Bookending their relationship, Grant and Scott starred together in RKO’s 1940 commercial hit My Favorite Wife, with Irene Dunne portraying the woman caught between them. Kael observed that Grant seemed distracted by Scott’s presence, uncharacteristically unable to provide “an underlayer of conviction” in his pursuit of Dunne. One scene finds Grant in a kind of confused stupor at Scott’s physique, watching him in a bathing suit by the pool. They filmed at the Huntington Hotel in Pasadena. “Cary and Randy Scott arrived as a pair and, to the total astonishment of myself, the director, and the ultra-macho crew, instead of taking separate suites [they] moved into the same room together,” Bert Granet, the script supervisor, once said, according to biographer Charles Higham. “Everyone looked at everyone else. It seemed hardly believable.”

Around the time of the breakup, Grant earned his first Oscar nomination for, naturally, a breakup movie. In 1941’s Penny Serenade, he reunited with Irene Dunne in a melodramatic take on a couple in crisis, whose mounting problems lead to a custody battle over their child, and send Grant’s Roger into a deep depression. Grant’s searing performance marked the beginning of a new era, both personally and professionally. If the ’30s saw him radiating joy on-screen and in print, the next decade saw the actor tapping into a darker side. He’d explore this intensity most intriguingly in Hitchcock thrillers such as the 1946 noir Notorious, opposite Ingrid Bergman, operating in a ravishing erotic haze and at his most sexually explosive when projecting a curious distance.

At a certain point around this time, Grant and Scott lost touch. In a 1941 profile for Motion Picture, Scott wistfully implied they might live together again one day, but only after the reporter forcefully addressed the persistent rumors around the pair as “the kind that you don’t talk to your mother about.” Anyone who believed the whispers was considered “garbage-minded folk,” the article scolded.

By the mid-40s, the story of Grant and Scott was effectively over—at least in the public record. They left behind a surprisingly, thoroughly documented timeline of their years together that’s since been too simply cast aside as a studio effort to promote two single, at times struggling actors under contract. The depth and breadth of the coverage indicate a more complex negotiation. Two decades later, a Photoplay article about Rock Hudson and his lover framed their dynamic as “two hunks living together to save a buck.” Sound familiar?

No matter the cynical motivations of the studios or the squeaky-clean packaging of the actors, the journalists behind these stories still believed in their work’s veracity and interpreted what they saw. Fan magazines were intrinsic to the Hollywood of their era, and cannot be dismissed on grounds of inaccuracy. “The real Gary Cooper or the real Alice Faye might not be quite as ‘real’ as the fan magazine writers claimed,” scholar Anthony Slide said, “but there was more than an element of truth in what they wrote.”

And who was Cary Grant, in and out of those pages, but a magnificent mask, anyway? Truth and fiction blended through his entire being, as did pain and joy. While Scott’s 1944 marriage to Patricia Stillman lasted until his death in 1987, Grant married twice more during the ’40s alone, and five times over his life. (His only child, Jennifer, was born in 1966 and doesn’t believe Grant was gay but in her memoir has acknowledged the possibility that he “experiment[ed] sexually.”) Sodomy remained a felony in every US state until 1961, and Grant’s separation from Scott closely preceded the Lavender Scare, a harrowing collective anti-gay panic borne out of the Cold War. The gossip lingered: In the late ’50s, Hedda Hopper wrote that Grant “started with the boys and now he has gone back to them.” In the ’70s, his girlfriend confronted him about the rumors and demanded an answer for why all of his secretaries were gay men. In 1980, Chevy Chase called Grant a “homo” on Tom Snyder’s talk show Tomorrow, retracting his words only after Grant responded with a slander lawsuit against Chase for $10 million. (They reportedly settled out of court for $1 million.)

For decades, Cary Grant sculpted the image of a Hollywood leading man with performances that both subverted gender roles and winked at the rumors surrounding him. Today, there’s still little acceptance of the possibility that his stardom—and, in turn, our collective understanding of stardom—was shaped by queerness. Consider the continued, utter absence of LGBTQ+ male A-listers a century later. Consider that only one openly gay man has ever been nominated for a best actor Oscar. Consider that, just as it would have for Grant and Scott, a public figure coming out today would see their image changed instantly—and permanently.

A few years after Chase’s on-air slur, the British journalist Maureen Donaldson published a book looking back at her romance with Grant in the late ’70s. The memoir was cowritten by Bill Royce, a close friend of hers (and later, Grant’s) and a writer who’d previously worked for a fan magazine. As recounted in his own 2006 book (published 20 years after Grant’s death), Royce ran into Scott one day in 1976 and then told Grant about the encounter. Grant reacted with a kind of melancholy wistfulness. By this point, he was in his early 70s and retired from acting. He decided to finally reveal the truth of what Scott meant to him. (Notably, none of this was included in Donaldson’s book.)

Grant set aside several hours to admit to Royce that he’d been in love with Scott from his earliest days in Hollywood. “Have you ever heard of gravity collapse? Some people call it love at first sight,” he said, according to Royce. “This was the first time I’d felt it for anyone.” Grant told Royce that he and Scott weren’t gay or straight but somewhere in between; that women as well as men slept over at their beach house; and that Scott never wanted Grant in the same way that Grant wanted Scott. They explored this attraction imbalance. Grant said that they did have sex, often awkwardly, and that they connected romantically. “There was no way Randy would have experimented with me…if he didn’t truly love me on some profound level,” he said.

He went on to remember Scott’s love for sweets and hatred for curse words, the way he cared more about golf and money than anything else on planet Earth, how he tended to cover his hot dogs in every condiment available at baseball games—mustard and ketchup and relish and onions. (“If they had petunias, he’d put them on there, too!”) Most poignantly, Grant confessed to the pain of saying goodbye to the love of his life, all those years ago: “It was dreadful having to let go of him in my heart.”

But as Royce remembered Grant in that moment, the man was ultimately at peace. “Our souls did touch,” Grant said. “What more could I ask?”

With research by Benjamin Murphey.

Grant and Scott were lovers. End of story. Dyan and Jennifer are a couple of dumb delusional bigoted cunts in denial.

Jerome Zerbe

[quote]Grant and Scott were lovers. End of story. Dyan and Jennifer are a couple of dumb delusional bigoted cunts in denial.

[quote](His only child, Jennifer, was born in 1966 and doesn’t believe Grant was gay but in her memoir has acknowledged the possibility that he “experiment[ed] sexually.”)

Oh! She's come closer than I had thought! Mmph... she's coming around

R88- Even better examples are Christopher Reeve and Matt Bomer-both good looking but ZERO sex appeal.

So when did they start to hang out together as old men holding hands?

Cary Grant (January 18, 1904 – November 29, 1986), born Archibald Leach, is consistently at the top of lists of the greatest movies stars of all time. (P: RKO publicity still from Suspicion, 1941 (©17))

Grant was bisexual, and was married five times, but he was regarded as a gay man by Hollywood insiders throughout his career.

He and actor Randolph SCOTT lived as a gay couple in Hollywood for many years. Their relationship scandalized Hollywood in the 1930s, and it continued through several of their marriages to women. In his book, Cary Grant: Grant's Secret Sixth Marriage (2004), Marc Eliot claims Grant had a sexual relationship with Scott after they met on the set of Hot Saturday (1932). A series of publicity photographs taken in 1933 of the two actors in their home and on the beach fanned the rumors, along with Scott's decision to continue living with Grant, even after Grant's bride, actress Virginia Cherrill, moved in with them. In Hollywood Gays (1996), Boze Hadleigh cites homosexual director George Cukor who said about the homosexual relationship between the two: "Oh, Cary won't talk about it. At most, he'll say they did some wonderful pictures together. But Randolph will admit it – to a friend." According to William J. Mann's book, Behind the Screen: How Gays and Lesbians Shaped Hollywood, 1910–1969, photographer Jerome Zerbe spent "three gay months" in the movie colony taking many photographs of Grant and Scott, "attesting to their involvement in the gay scene." In 1944 Scott and Grant stopped living together but remained close friends throughout their lives.

In his even wilder days as a new arrival from England, Grant had shared a Manhattan apartment with Aussie designer ORRY-KELLY. Their parties were notorious among gay society at the time.

Grant also had a sexual liaison with then-twenty-nine-year-old Howard HUGHES. Grant and Hughes remained close for many years, even as Hughes drifted into insanity and became a recluse.

Grant was the first actor to use the word “gay” to refer to homosexuality in a Hollywood film (Bringing Up Baby in 1938)—while in drag, no less.

Grant’s longtime personal secretary, Frank Horn, was rumored to possess Hollywood’s largest collection of gay erotica.

Howard Hughes was so disgusting looking. He allegedly bedded down the heterosexual Doug Fairbanks, Jr. But I can't see that...I don't want to.

R117 I think Matt Bomer is super sexy. Wasn't he the fanchoice for Christian Grey

It’s not just Dyan and Jennifer, his widow has a lot to do with the whitewashing of his sex life as well.

Isn't Dyan his widow?

No Barbara Harris was his last wife.

Thanks, I didn't realize that.

In 1961, Dyan Cannon began dating actor Cary Grant, who was 33 years her senior. They married on July 22, 1965, and had one daughter, Jennifer. Cannon filed for divorce in September 1967, and it was finalized on March 21, 1968.

On April 11, 1981, Grant married Barbara Harris, a British hotel public relations agent 47 years his junior.

Cary, Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire all married much younger wives who are the keepers of their respective brands. They are like pit bulls.

R128, So did Tony Curtis, Milton Berle, Henry Fonda and Laurence Olivier.

[quote]Cary, Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire all married much younger wives who are the keepers of their respective brands. They are like pit bulls.

Well, it's their "bread & butter".

Ahem...

But doesn't the following answer this question finally?

[quote]“This was the first time I’d felt it for anyone.” Grant told Royce that he and Scott weren’t gay or straight but somewhere in between; that women as well as men slept over at their beach house; and that Scott never wanted Grant in the same way that Grant wanted Scott. They explored this attraction imbalance. Grant said that they did have sex, often awkwardly, and that they connected romantically. “There was no way Randy would have experimented with me…if he didn’t truly love me on some profound level,” he said.

So, they "knew" of each other

[quote]Scott never wanted Grant in the same way that Grant wanted Scott.

So, Randy was a total top. I thought that R59 image was sending a message...

[quote]Scotty Bowers, was known as a pimp for the closeted in Hollywood (as explored in Matt Tyrnauer’s 2017 documentary Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood). He took a relatively graphic route in recounting his own sexual encounters with Grant and Scott: “The three of us got into a lot of sexual mischief together. Aside from the usual sucking—neither of them were into fucking, at least not fucking guys, or at least not me—what I remember most about that first encounter was that Scott really liked to cuddle, and talk, and was very gentle.”

Hmm... interesting...

In profile, Scott looked like Christopher Plummer. So handsome.

[quote] "Cary Grant Revisionism"

Not going to work. I do like some of Grant's films, but I find Randolph Scott far more attractive and interesting. I am Caryed out. And I even managed to avoid that recent film.

I love Grant in NORTH BY NORTHWEST and CHARADE, in his befuddled, still sexy DILF mode. Honorable mention to NOTORIOUS.

I love this scene from THE NANNY where Fran is shocked that the cute, young doctor doesn't know who Barbra Streisand is. 😂

Ugh. Wrong thread. Sorry.

ya know he won the civil war

Cary Grant (born Archibald Alec Leach)

Jan 18, 1904 – Nov 29, 1986

English-American actor.

It's rather irritating that he stayed handsome almost his entire life. When I view his films, I'm always drawn to his eyes, which seemed to me to proclaim that he was incredibly lonely, but hiding it or trying to put a good face on it.