The United States Supreme Court rules unanimously that anti-miscegenation laws are unconstitutional, 1967. The landmark case, called Loving v. Virginia, was decided during post-production of a movie about interracial marriage―the Stanley Kramer-directed Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? (1967) starring Katharine Houghton and Sidney Poitier (above) as the couple and the venerable pairing of Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy in their last film together. Even with the court’s new ruling, Kramer decided to leave in a line where one character says to the pair, “In 16 or 17 states you'll be breaking the law. You'll be criminals.” In his review for the Chicago Sun-Times, Roger Ebert praised the film as entertainment in spite his observation that “Kramer has taken a controversial subject…and insulated it with every trick in the Hollywood bag…glamorous star performances…shameless schmaltz…[and] minor roles are filled with crashing stereotypes.”
Entries in sidney poitier (3)
A film like The Defiant Ones was merely an inadequate attempt by a white filmmaker to deal with a contemporary problem. James Baldwin has been very critical of me, and though it hurt, what he said is true. He said I captured all the intellectual and moral viewpoints of my age but didn’t capture the soul of the black man. Well, who the hell does he think I am? I’m not black. The fact is that I am a white man who made films about human beings who happened to be black. I understood the problems of black men and women morally, socially and intellectually, but the damn soul kept slipping between my fingers. It had to be spoon-fed to me secondhand because I didn’t feel it or know it enough.
There are so many areas into which I’ve stepped under the umbrella of what is sometimes amusingly called the Establishment, Hollywood style. The reason I’m defensive about my films is that sometimes—just to get the job done—not enough of the artist and too much of the political tactician and social worker prevailed. That’s where my area of sensitivity is. It’s just like undressing in front of you and saying, “Well, look, this is where I’m vulnerable. Stab me there.”
I’ve always been what is laughingly called an independent. I say “laughingly” because latitude is comparative. I have usually had some latitude when casting, something I enjoy doing, but sometimes the distributor screams that you have to do something. The Defiant Ones was written for Brando and Poitier. But Brando got tied up in Mutiny on the Bounty. I wanted to go with Poitier and a new actor, but United Artists said, “You’re chaining two guys together and one of them is black. You’ve got to give us some stars.”
At the time I approached Lancaster, Douglas, Mitchum. You know, I went down a lot of the guys. It needed to be a pretty big guy opposite Poitier. Time went by and we just couldn’t wait, so I ended up with Tony Curtis. Now, that didn’t seem to be a particularly brilliant piece of casting to anyone, including me, but I couldn’t get anybody else to play the role. I cut Tony’s hair, we straightened his nose. I think he did very well with the role, but it certainly wasn’t written for him.
Dorothy Dandridge dies of a barbiturate overdose in West Hollywood, 1965.
One of the first parts to come her way in a rather uneven, 25-year screen career was a small singing role in the Marx Brothers comedy A Day at the Races (1937). She then graced the screen in a handful of minor films and performed a few nightclub gigs, which she hated. Acting and singing came easily to Dandridge; finding work in movies did not.
Then Carmen Jones (1954) came her way. “[It] was the best break I ever had,” the actress once said of the Otto Preminger film. For playing the title role, she became the first African-American woman to be nominated for a Best Actress Oscar. (Nineteen-year-old Marilyn Horne tackled the singing demands of the character.) After that, Dandridge was considered for Tuptim in The King and I (1956), ultimately dissuaded by Preminger to accept any film in which she was not the star. She made Island in the Sun (1957) with her Carmen Jones co-star Harry Belafonte and Porgy and Bess (1959) with Sidney Poitier. Malaga (1960) marked the last time she would appear on the big screen.
Financial problems and substance abuse plagued her in later years. She was 42 when she died.