wehadfacesthen:

Robert Montgomery taking a break on the set of The Divorcee, 1930


viviensleigh:

Ray Milland in The Uninvited (1944)


fuckyeahfredandginger:

astairical:

Fred Astaire breaks character to mouth “you’re sexy” to Ginger Rogers in Top Hat (1935). After Fred mouths those words to her, Ginger laughs and mouths back, “thanks”. It must also be noted that Fred had control over which take of the dance made it into the final film, and he chose this take on purpose.

Freddie says “you’re so sexy” to her in this dance, yes he does. This gif is just before/as he says it. It’s awesome.


They’ll kill me! They’ll kill me! I didn’t mean to squeal! I didn’t mean to! They made me do it! They made me!

The Big House (1930)



Born Yesterday (1950)


marilynlouis:

William and Brenda Holden on vacation in Canada by Allan Grant, 1949

 


izziesworldofizzie:

stagecoachjessi:

Classic Hollywood Bloopers

And the greatest Hollywood blooper of all time:


ohrobbybaby:

Happy 102nd Birthday Gene Kelly! (Aug 23, 1912 - Feb 2, 1996)

"You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams. And I know if I can make you smile by jumping over a couple of couches or running through a rainstorm, then I’ll be very glad to be a song and dance man." — Gene Kelly


How old was i when mama died? (To kill a mockingbird, 1962)


lars134:

William Holden, 1956


ohrobbybaby:

Fred Astaire, early 1920s


I wish Frank Sinatra would just shut up and sing.

— Lauren Bacall (via lostsplendor)

tracylord:

Lauren Bacall, Hollywood’s Icon of Cool, Dies at 89

Lauren Bacall, the willowy actress whose husky voice, sultry beauty and all-too-short May-December romance with Humphrey Bogart made her an everlasting icon of Hollywood, has died, The Hollywood Reporter has confirmed. She was 89. [x]

The world has lost one of its last and most iconic legends, we will never forget you. This is a darker place without you - Rest in Peace Betty Joan Perske


dianapowell:

Happy Birthday William Horatio Powell | July 29th, 1892 March 5th, 1984

His careful attention to the neceties of grooming; his perfectly tailored suits, spotless cuffs, and collars; his orotund voice curled around well-turned phrases; the deferential way he bowed his head slightly when being introduced all would have helped him gain entry at any elite, leather-chair-and-brandy-snifter men’s club.

I’m not a ladies’ man. I haven’t the physical characteristics for one thing. Not handsome. Someone like Valentino should have played this part. Not Bill Powell.
Unfortunately, or perhaps it is fortunate that I have always been forced to stand on my acting ability. I haven’t a personality such as Jack Gilbert`s, for instance, that attracts women and makes them like me for myself. When I am on the screen I must make them forget me entirely and think only of my acting”

Powell is to dialogue as Fred Astaire is to dance. His delivery is so droll and insinuating, so knowing and innocent at the same time, that it hardly matters what he’s saying.