He was a staple in films from the late 30s to the late 50s.
He was one of the first of the character actors turned leading man. He was big. He was brassy. He could sing, dance and act. If the guy pictured above reminds you of a velvet-tongued used-car salesman, you have hit upon Jack Carson’s professional appeal as an actor.
Who can forget his amiably sleazy businessman turn as “Wally Fay” — his finest role — in the 1945 version of Mildred Pierce.
That classic showcased Carson as a star going toe-to-toe with Joan Crawford. Savor the movie’s early scenes in which Crawford as Mildred plays on the libidinous designs of Carson as Fay to set him up for the murder of of her husband.
A mixture of breezy self-regard, delusion, naivete, gullibility and an almost comic sense of danger, Carson is nothing short of delightful. Then why isn’t he remembered more often as the superb talent that he was? We have some theories.
— For one thing, he didn’t live long. His movie career began as an extra at RKO in 1937 when Carson was in his late Twenties. At the age of 52, some 120 mostly undistinguished movie and tv roles later, the once hard drinking, six-feet-two-inch actor died of stomach cancer.
— Carson did not present himself as strictly a dramatic actor. He was a proud song-and-dance man, who once toured the vaudeville circuit with his first wife, Betty Alice Lindy, a dancer. And much of his best movie work can be found in comedies, a genre that somehow continues to be largely ignored by oh-so-serious critics and scholars.
— Carson would do kooky things from a strictly professional standpoint. He used to disappear from Hollywood for weeks on end, with strict instructions to his wife NOT to disclose his whereabouts. Turns out he was touring incognito as a clown in a traveling circus.
— Of his many movie titles, only a few stand out. There’s Mildred Pierce, of course. He puts in a solid dramatic turn as a super nasty press agent in George Cukor’s A Star Is Born (above) with Judy Garland. Ditto in 1958’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Paul Newman. Then there is Frank Capra’s Arsenic and Old Lace with Cary Grant. He also worked with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby.
— In some respects, Carson is best recalled today for his many tv and radio appearances. His Everybody Loves Jack series on radio was a hit. On the tube, he appeared in a host of specials and series from Bonanza through the U.S. Steel Hour to Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color. Stars aren’t suppose to be quite that commercially versatile.
We don’t think Carson has ever received his due from classic movie scholars. No big biographies, no earnest reference write-ups.
But we remember and honor his work.
I agree. Somewhat overlooked.
I would add to the movies you mentioned “Roughly Speaking,” “Princess O’Rourke,” and “Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” in which he held his own in support of Rosalind Russell, Olivia de Havilland, and Carole Lombard. He seemed born to play in the glossy musicals at Warner’s with Doris Day in the late 40s.
Every time you see him he’s such such a normal, average, modern looking guy that he stands out. Always fun to watch.
Best liked him in the unsympathetic/sympathetic role as Gooper in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. He played the forgotten son who Big Daddy ignored at best. I always kind of liked the character maybe because Jack was such a likable man or maybe because Brick got way too much attention and Gooper deserved better from Big Daddy. And he finally told his annoying wife to just shut up! ( played annoyingly by Madeleine Sherwood)
Douglas–
Good points. Yes, all Gooper wanted (besides the 20,000 acres or whatever) was a thimble of affection from Big Daddy. Tennessee Williams wasn’t very subtle about parental figures.
Carson managed to squeeze a tiny amount of sympathy for Gooper in the end, with the well-earned
“Shut up!” directed at the execrable Mae. Poor Madeleine Sherwood! Douglas’ description of her character as “annoying” just begins to cover it. Did not know Ms. Sherwood was blacklisted…