Current Love: Jennifer Jones

'Tis a rare thing in classic film, a movie star is so believable as a celebrated historical or iconic figure as to transcend the studio system that redoubtably landed him or her the role in the first place - but I must admit that it does happen. Henry Fonda, for instance, was as complete an embodiment of Young Mr. Lincoln as anyone could dare to conjure; Gary Cooper suffered and stayed stoic just as we imagine Lou Gehrig did in his decline. But Jennifer Jones, that sweet wide-eyed thing I knew only from a handful of good forties films, trumps them all. She is - and I will swear to this, honest, I will - Jennifer Jones is Bernadette Soubirous.

How did the eminent awesome escape me until now?

Last week's impromptu viewing of the awe-inspiring Song of Bernadette moved me profoundly. The appeal of the film is in the sincerity of its story and the myriad levels on which it can be meaningful, but its beauty is that even a superficial appraisal cannot find fault with the performance, the presence, of Miss Jones, nor can it contest the clarity with which she channels the trusting piety of the young, uneducated peasant girl in rural nineteenth-century France. Void of any of the telltale mannerisms of then-contemporary studio actresses that threaten to date a decades-old drama or hinder its impact, Jones so convincingly becomes 14-year-old Bernadette that it is just that, a becoming. To see Jennifer accepting her Best Actress Academy Award for the role in 1944 - on the eve of her 25th birthday, no less - is to be stunned that any aspect of her could be removed from the humble and unassuming, unlearned and makeup-less teenager she so artfully revived, and immortalized, on the silver screen.

Henry as The Great Emancipator, Gary as Gehrig, and a young Oklahoman actress with limited stage experience and only 3 bit parts in films on her resume playing, being, the loved and lauded French peasant who became a saint? Only in Hollywood, mes chers. Only in Hollywood.

Current Love: Marge & Gower Champion

Catching my fancy for some time now have been delightful dancing marrieds Marge and Gower Champion, the sometime-screen couple who lit up film with their inventive, acrobatic, and highly animated style of dance performance in the 1950s, while making their biggest impact on Broadway theatre in that decade and the years that followed.

Perhaps best known for his contributions as director and choreographer of such Broadway smashes as Hello, Dolly! and Lend an Ear, Gower met Marjorie Belcher, who performed under the name of Marjorie Bell, when the two were teens, and they maintained a platonic correspondence while they each pursued their respective romances and careers: Gower toured America with dance partner Jeanne Tyler, while Marge married Disney film animator Art Babbitt in 1937 (she was the live-action model for that year's animated version of Snow White). But upon reuniting years later, the two - newly-divorced Marge and solo act Gower - forged a deeper and more lasting cooperation when they wed in the fall of 1947, after devising various dance routines as a newly-founded partnership. The Champions' involvement in everything from Broadway shows to live television performances and film appearances (1951's Show Boat is among the best known of their films) garnered them a growing popularity as entertainers, and they kept just as stringent a schedule after son Gregg was born in 1957.

The couple continued their involvement in the world of dance even as the receding era of lavish musicals rendered them a less desirable film property: Gower funneled his creativity into Broadway, while Marge opted to scale back her contributions to raise their young son. (Gower eventually garnered 8 Tony Awards, the most ever won by a single recipient.) He died in 1980 on the opening night of his later-acclaimed 42nd Street; Marge, still active as she approaches 90, is a choreographer and dance instructor in New York City.

If you're unfamiliar with Marge & Gower and their dynamic screen presence, I highly recommend 1955's Three For The Show, an overlooked, under-appreciated gem of a film also starring Betty Grable and Jack Lemmon.