No Excuses

Hollywood has been an escape for my family and me for generations. My mother was raised on a steady diet of MGM musicals and repeat viewings of Gone With The Wind, reading movie magazines as soon as they were delivered to her parents' drug store in Granby, Colorado. I grew up standing in line for the latest big release from Tinsel Town and those continued showings of Gone With The Wind. I maintain a subscription to Entertainment Weekly to stay ahead of the breaking news and upcoming blockbusters.
Reflecting on the past year's discussion about Civil War monuments, I feel as though my need to see the romanticized version of the antebellum south and its descent into that unfortunate conflict may have dropped off to zero. All those backstage stories about how Clark Gable used to chase Vivien Leigh around with his false teeth and how they burned down the sets from King Kong to recreate the burning of Atlanta are now stacked on a pile of useless memories like the routines of Bill Cosby. Forced perspective. My world view has changed via my life experience. It's a learning curve.
Like when we learned about Harvey Weinstein and his ugly behavior. His excuse? "I came of age in the 60’s and 70’s, when all the rules about behavior and workplaces were different. That was the culture then." Hard to imagine there was a time when sexual assault was part of "the culture." But this is one of those nasty reminders of a society that used to treat "the casting couch" as a quaint feature of a young actress's story on their rise to fame. Producers being "handsy" was part of becoming a star. First, you had to become an object. Then you got to be lit like one.
I have said before in this space that the more I know about the magic of Hollywood, the less inclined I am to consider it a magical place: a dream factory. Instead, I am reminded that King Kong was less than two feet tall. That cute little story about false teeth and the stars of Gone With The Wind is really one of sexual harassment. It was at least a hostile work environment for all of those afraid of Mister Gable's legendary halitosis.
It's not okay. Hollywood needs to check itself. The reality of sixties and seventies was that women were no less obligated to be subjected to the abuse they were back then, even if we looked on it as part of our culture. Fifty years later it is just as revolting. No excuses.