Friday, March 15, 2013

Davis, Depicted.


Crystal blue eyes,
alabaster elegance,
queen of all she conquered,
Davis reigned supreme.

Big screen adaptation
or small comedic turn,
actress and chameleon,
sudden heat or slow burn.

Characters unvarnished,
filmed in black and white,
played with vivid voracity,
the beauty and the beast.

Scorned then disgraced,
Jezebel's soft smile.
concealed a strong resolve,
and unrequited love.

Stagecraft plus sarcasm,
broadway's Margo Channing,
shone like vintage wine,
aged to ripened perfection.

Baby Jane in doll's dress,
greasepaint monster,
grown and grotesque,
reveled in cruel control.

Davis chewed the scenery,
spit on type cast characters,
quipped cutting edge dialogue,
snapped at the status quo.

Pushed the sealed envelope,
demanded artistic leave,
challenged studio bosses,
fought until the final wrap.

Larger than all life,
with a fierce will to win
tough as a tiger,
tactful as a spitting cat.

Never the coy starlet,
she strived to hone her craft,
substance over sentiment,
grit over glamour.

A mere five foot three,
the girlish gilded goddess,
intimidated directors,
fit her moods to fit a frame.

Davis could do it all,
and did it the hard way.
absolutely unrivaled,
to the battled scarred bitter end.

"Fasten your seat belts.
It's going to be a bumpy night."
With Bette at the wheel,
the ride was always riveting.