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Channeling Shirley MacLaine: stardom, travel, politics, and beyond

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Channeling Shirley MacLaine: stardom, travel, politics, and beyond

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CHANNELING SHIRLEY MACLAINE:

STARDOM, TRAVEL, POLITICS, AND BEYOND

by

Elena Bonomo

A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(CRITICAL STUDIES)

December 2014

Copyright 2014 Elena Bonomo
ii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The task of channeling Shirley MacLaine has required numerous intellectual, emotional,
and spiritual guides, to whom I will be eternally grateful. I would first like to thank my
dissertation committee. Professor Richard Jewell, my dissertation advisor and guru, has enabled
me to discover myself as a researcher. Without his patience, generosity, and encouragement, this
dissertation would have looked very different and have been much less inspiring to me. I have
been extremely fortunate to learn from him both in and outside of the classroom. Professors Tara
McPherson and Laura Isabel Serna have also graciously led me through this dissertation process.
I am truly appreciative for the feedback and support they have given me. I would also like to
thank Professors David James, Anikó Imre, and Philip Ethington for their help in the earliest
stages of this project.
Numerous institutions have generously granted me access to the films, television
episodes, newspaper and magazine articles, and videos from which this dissertation has emerged.
I would like to thank the staff of the Margaret Herrick Library at the Academy of Motion Picture
Arts and Sciences, Ned Comstock and the staff of the Cinematic Arts Library at USC, Dino
Everett of the Hugh M. Hefner Moving Image Archive at USC, and Ryan Pettigrew and the staff
of the Richard Nixon Presidential Library and Museum.
The Division of Critical Studies at USC has offered an invaluable setting for my
academic growth. The financial support of the Provost’s PhD Fellowship, the Gene Autry
Scholarship, the Burton Lewis Scholarship, and the Frank Volpe Scholarship has enabled me to
prioritize my studies. I am sincerely grateful for the untiring aid of Linda Overholt, Kim Greene,
Jade Agua, Christine Acham, William Whittington, and Alicia White. As a Teaching Assistant, I
have had the opportunity to build relationships with scholars I truly admire. I am especially
iii
thankful for my experiences working with Professors Drew Casper, Ella Taylor, and Benjamin
Wright. My peers have provided much needed criticism and camaraderie. I would like to thank
Kwynn Perry, Katie Madden, Ken Provencher, Gloria Shin, Tom Fisher, Stephanie Hoover
Yeung, Leah Aldridge, Courtney White, Kate Fortmueller, Brett Service, Shawna Kidman, Feng-
Mei Heberer, James Crawford, Eric Hoyt, David Lerner, Nadine Chan, Lara Bradshaw, Luci
Marzola, Alison Kozberg, Roxanne Samer, Samantha Carrick, Kevin Driscoll, Umayyah Cable,
and Kate Page-Lippsmeyer.
I would not have been able to complete this dissertation without the encouragement of
my friends. I would like to thank especially Molly Lam, Brigid Wilson, Mine Çetinkaya-Rundel,
and Thea Sircar. My undergraduate mentor and friend Professor Deborah Laycock continues to
inspire me to think critically and creatively. I will forever be indebted to the generosity and
support of Monica Champagne, who taught me how to make a schedule and stick to it.
I am extremely lucky to have such an amazing family. When the solitude of dissertating
became almost unbearable, watching videos of my brothers John and Michael and their beautiful
families brought me endless joy. My sister Christine has been my most trusted editor, my
favorite study buddy, and my best friend. She has been a constant source of motivation during
this process. The biggest stars in my life are my parents. Their affection, optimism, and support
have never wavered. Whenever I thought I could not do it, they assured me I could. They have
been my models of hard work, intelligence, and love. I only wish to be more like them.
Finally, I would like to thank Richard Hicks. I suspect he never would have guessed that
getting to know me would also mean getting to know Shirley MacLaine. Day after day, his
patience, honesty, humor, and love encouraged me to overcome the many challenges of writing a
dissertation. I cannot imagine this project without him.
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements ii

Abstract v

Introduction The Transformations of Shirley MacLaine 1

Chapter 1 “Kind of a Kook, But Very Warm”: 15
A New Model of Female Stardom

Chapter 2 From Pixie to Peripatetic: 77
Shirley MacLaine, Travel, and Authority

Chapter 3 Citizen MacLaine: 149
A Star Activist of the Sixties

Chapter 4 Old Age/New Age MacLaine: 224
Aging Productively in Hollywood and Beyond

Conclusion Past Life Recall and Projecting the Future 294

Appendix A Major Films and Television Programs Featuring Shirley MacLaine 305

Appendix B Major Publications by Shirley MacLaine 311

Bibliography 312

v
ABSTRACT

This dissertation, “Channeling Shirley MacLaine: Stardom, Travel, Politics, and
Beyond,” examines the multiple transformations of Shirley MacLaine’s persona between 1954
and 2014. Building upon the intersections between star studies, gender studies, theories of travel
and travel writing, political history and theory, religious studies, and age studies, I argue that
MacLaine’s transformations as a kook, a traveler, a political activist, and a New Age believer
have continuously challenged industrial and cultural definitions of femininity and have enabled
her prolonged success both in an outside of the Hollywood film industry.
Each chapter interrogates the various media—films, videos, television programs, books,
newspaper and magazine articles, and websites—that have constructed the image of MacLaine
over the past sixty years. Chapter 1 considers how MacLaine’s unruly childlike image, as neither
an object of male desire nor wholesome and domestic, destabilized the discourse of glamour
which had dominated representations of female stardom during the Classical Period in
Hollywood. Chapter 2 examines how the discourse of travel transformed MacLaine’s image in
the 1960s. Representations of MacLaine as a female global traveler and travel writer empowered
MacLaine as a knowing subject in the public sphere. Chapter 3 explores MacLaine’s second
transformation as a political activist in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Through her efforts to
effect political and social change, MacLaine exposed and underscored the inconsistences and
contradictions of dominant ideology. Lastly, Chapter 4 proposes that, since turning forty years
old, MacLaine has performed aging as a narrative of progress. In her third transformation, as a
proponent and producer of New Age spirituality, MacLaine has created numerous New Age
products and services and thus subverted the relationship between stardom and the youthful
female body. Through each of these phases, MacLaine has tested the limits of female stardom,

vi
venturing her way outside the realm of entertainment in order to discover new avenues of
productivity and cultural relevance. At eighty years old, Shirley MacLaine shows no signs of
stopping.

1
INTRODUCTION

THE TRANSFORMATIONS OF SHIRLEY MACLAINE

“If and when I’m a star, I don’t want to be a fad. I want to be
someone who will last.”
1
– Shirley MacLaine (1957)

When seventy-eight-year-old Shirley MacLaine made her much-anticipated appearance
as the American grandmother Martha Levinson in the third season of PBS’s Downton Abbey
(2010– ), she had certainly exceeded her 1957 goal—a goal likely shared by most young
actresses with just three films to their name—of having a long career. Cast as a foil to the acerbic
but lovable Maggie Smith as Dowager Countess Violet Crawley, MacLaine relishes her role as a
fiery, aging actress: the first encounter between MacLaine and Smith features the two storied
stars spitting jabs at each other’s aged appearance. The two grandmothers may be equals in terms
of wit, but a discussion of their granddaughter’s imminent wedding reveals their markedly
different perspectives. Whereas Smith’s character—donning a stuffy, Victorian-era gown—
represents the deteriorating traditions of England, MacLaine’s character—wearing a lavish
dropped-waist flapper dress—symbolizes the promising iconoclasm of America. In Downton
Abbey, the ability to buck tradition and embrace change, though undervalued by many of the
titular estate’s inhabitants, proves key to survival. The character of Martha Levinson thus serves
as an apt corollary to MacLaine’s sixty years of stardom. MacLaine’s ability to undergo
numerous transformations while continuously challenging industrial and cultural definitions of
femininity has facilitated her enduring success in and outside of Hollywood.
This dissertation explores the multiple and heterogeneous permutations of MacLaine’s
star persona both on- and offscreen from her “discovery” in 1954 to her eightieth birthday on
April 24, 2014. The longevity of MacLaine’s career, a career that has only been addressed
tangentially in academic study thus far, offers a productive lens through which to understand not

2
only how stars represent, challenge, and/or reimagine cultural ideals but also how those ideals
change over time. Accordingly, expanding upon a notion of stardom/celebrity articulated by
Richard Dyer, Richard deCordova, P. David Marshall, and other scholars, I interrogate
MacLaine’s image as a kook, a traveler, a political activist, and a spiritual leader to emphasize
the importance of transformations to prolonging fame.
Understanding Stardom
As I consider the diverse ways in which MacLaine’s image has transformed since the
1950s, I build upon two fundamental concepts in star studies: how the star both embodies and
challenges the notion of the individual, and how the star functions ideologically.
2
In Heavenly
Bodies: Film Stars and Society, Dyer claims that “the star system is about the promotion of the
individual.”
3
According to Dyer, the star, as an individual, is distinct from the society he or she
inhabits and presents a unique, coherent, and consistent notion of the self. Within a capitalist
culture, as Marshall explains, the star “[demonstrates] and [reinforces] the ideology of potential
[…] to supersede the constraints and institutions for the true expression of personal freedom.”
4

The star represents the promises of capitalism arguably available to, though not necessarily
achieved by, all individuals. Therefore, the star is an extraordinary individual.
However, Dyer acknowledges that this conception of individuality is a “necessary
fiction.”
5
Various theories—e.g., Marxism, psychoanalysis, behaviorism, and linguistics—
conceive of the self as fragmentary and/or as defined by external forces (society, economics,
nature, language, and so on). Moreover, articulating a “star system” further puts the star’s
individuality into question both in terms of its determinants and its coherence. First, as
deCordova proposes, “The individual who is the star may indeed have private, ‘individual’
thoughts and feelings, but these only enter the public sphere as they are channeled through the

3
star system and subjected to its requirements.”
6
Thus, the star’s individuality is a “fiction” of
industrial determinations, which are constantly evolving. Second, the intertextuality of stardom
challenges the coherence of the star’s individuality. The star’s identity, “an identity that does not
exist within the individual star,”
7
emerges from the piecing together of multiple texts—not only
numerous films but also other extra-cinematic discourses, including the press, published
biographies, and television appearances. Accordingly, the star is fragmentary, contradictory, and
incomplete. The shifting permutations of MacLaine’s image through the course of her career
make visible the fractured and interminable nature of stardom. MacLaine’s persona emerges
from multiple and sometimes divergent media representations that are the product of an ever-
changing star system in Hollywood. And MacLaine’s explorations through various social spheres
outside of entertainment have continuously expanded and redefined her persona, revealing a self
always in the process of realization.
Despite these various oppositions to the notion of the coherent individual, or perhaps
because of them, the star system cultivates a desire to know the individual. As Marshall claims,
“the filmic text establishes a distance from the audience;”
8
extra-cinematic texts strive to
minimize that distance. According to deCordova, “A kind of hermeneutic structure [subtends]
the reception of film, one that [leads] the spectator from an illusion presented in film through a
series of questions to a ‘reality’ behind it. The spectators’ sense that they [are] uncovering secrets
with every answer gleaned from the films and fan magazines [piques] their will to knowledge
and [affords] a bonus of pleasure with every ‘discovery.’”
9
The star system facilitates a search,
albeit an unending one, for authenticity. This search occurs within and beyond the filmgoing
experience. As Dyer similarly proposes,
Key moments in films are close-ups, separated out from the action
and interaction of a scene, and not seen by other characters but

4
only by us [the viewers], thus disclosing the star’s face, the
intimate, transparent window to the soul. Star biographies are
devoted to the notion of showing us the star as he or she really is.
Blurbs, introductions, every page reassures us that we are being
taken “behind the scenes,” “beneath the surface,” “beyond the
image,” there where the truth resides.
10

Thus, the search for authenticity is inevitably a deconstructive process. Yet, as both deCordova
and Dyer contend, the star’s private life is a mystery never to be fully resolved.
In the following analysis of MacLaine, I consider how both films and extra-filmic texts—
the popular press (ranging from fan and women’s magazines to local and national newspapers),
books, television shows, videos, websites—have presented the “truth” of MacLaine’s image, a
truth that is always out of reach. Without having access to her private reflections, I focus
primarily on public discourses, produced by both MacLaine herself and others. I am less
concerned with whether or not these representations of MacLaine as an actress, a traveler, an
activist, and a New Age believer are “correct.” While I regularly cite quotations by MacLaine in
interviews and from MacLaine’s own writing, I recognize that these quotations are still
constructions that do not necessarily reveal MacLaine’s “true” identity. I also acknowledge that
my analysis by no means covers every aspect of her image. (For example, I only briefly refer to
her stage shows, in which MacLaine continues to perform.) Accordingly, my goals are neither
wholly biographical nor comprehensive. Instead, I consider how these dominant images of
MacLaine have emerged and how her stardom has consequently represented, challenged, and
reimagined notions of femininity from the postwar period to the present day.
In doing so, I demonstrate how the star serves an ideological purpose. In his seminal
work Stars, Dyer proposes, “Star images function crucially in relation to contradictions within
and between ideologies, which they seek variously to ‘manage’ or resolve. In exceptional cases,
[…] certain stars […] either expose them or embody an alternative or oppositional ideological

5
position (itself usually contradictory) to dominant ideology.”
11
In other words, star images either
affirm or subvert dominant—in this case, white, patriarchal, and capitalist—ideology.
Accordingly, Dyer, circumspectly using the terminology of O. E. Klapp, groups stars by
nonrestrictive types: heroes (e.g., the “good Joe,” the “tough guy,” the “pin-up”) that manage
contradictions within and between ideologies; and “rebels” and “independent women” that
expose those contradictions.
12
As those exceptional “rebels” or “independent women” show the
weaknesses in the dominant ideology, they ultimately reveal potential opportunities for political
and cultural transformation.
Building upon Dyer’s understanding of stars as ideologically significant, the following
chapters illustrate how MacLaine’s image has consistently destabilized conservative
constructions of femininity. Throughout the course of her career, MacLaine could not be
relegated to the private sphere nor easily objectified; she has not been immobile or unknowing;
she has not been distant, trivial, or ineffective; and she has not relied on youth to maintain her
appeal. As a kook, a traveler, an activist, and a spiritual believer, MacLaine’s image has exposed
contradictions in dominant ideology, while proposing avenues for change.
Star Transformations
The multiple transformations of MacLaine’s persona over the past sixty years suggest
that the star must continuously offer new approaches to challenging ideology. Thus, these
changes beg further consideration. In star studies, transformations have been primarily
conceptualized in terms of the star’s offscreen image informing and altering the star’s initial
onscreen image. Interrogating the star system between 1907 and the early 1920s, deCordova
traces four phases in the development of film stardom: (1) the film actor, or the player as a
professional; (2) the picture personality, or the player as indistinct from his/her roles across

6
numerous films; (3) the star, or the player as distinct from his/her roles and as the embodiment of
conventional family values; (4) the star scandal, or the player as the embodiment of “moral
transgression and social unconventionality.”
13
In delineating these phases, deCordova not only
reiterates Dyer’s ideological understanding of stars—they can either embody or challenge
conventional family values—but also emphasizes how change is fundamental to stardom: the
image of the actor must progress beyond the onscreen image for stardom to be established.
Building upon deCordova, Marshall describes how stars wield “autonomous subjectivity”
through transformation, which he describes as “a kind of transgression.”
14
This transgression
takes place when the star’s “public persona begins to be distinct from his [or her] screen
persona,” while the ability to make such a distinction presumes that the star’s screen image is
already “firmly in place.”
15
Marshall thus similarly envisions transformation as crucial in
articulating the star’s power as an individual.
Yet, neither deCordova’s nor Marshall’s understanding of star transformations adequately
accounts for the types of transformations in MacLaine’s extensive career. For MacLaine, change
has not just been about acting “against type” nor distinguishing her offscreen image from her
onscreen image, but about continuously reinventing her offscreen image in industrially and
culturally subversive yet still productive ways. Whereas numerous stars might be remembered
for the consistency or stasis of their images, MacLaine’s image has been most predominantly
associated with variation, expansion, and mobility. Her star image has developed along with and
against the society she has inhabited and represented such that her stardom has exposed diverse,
historically specific ideological tensions and inconsistencies. MacLaine’s multivalent persona
underscores the ways in which stardom is a notion that has been continuously contested and

7
redefined. Therefore, these transformations not only grant MacLaine’s image power, they also
illustrate how the society that MacLaine arguably represents is equally open to change.
Ultimately, MacLaine, like all stars, operates within a capitalist film and media industry.
While that industry has changed significantly since her discovery, it has nevertheless consistently
profited from her image as a commodity. As Marshall contends, the celebrity “participates
openly as a marketable commodity” and therefore “serves as a powerful legitimation of the
political economic model of exchange and value—the basis of capitalism—and extends that
model to include the individual.”
16
For all the instabilities of dominant culture that MacLaine’s
image has exposed, she still epitomizes the persistence of capitalist ideology. In each of her
reinventions, MacLaine ventured outside of the realm of entertainment. Still, she continued to
create an abundance of media—memoirs, documentaries, campaign materials, home videos, and
websites—in addition to maintaining a successful film and television career. Her continued
relevance depends on her ability to sell these consumer goods. In the four chapters of this
dissertation, I delineate the multiple, innovative ways MacLaine’s image has encouraged
consumption during the past sixty years.
Chapter Overview
Each chapter of this dissertation, echoing similar comparisons in the popular press,
equates the diverse phases of MacLaine’s stardom to particular life stages—childhood, youth,
adulthood, and middle and old age—that are not chronologically discrete and that do not
necessarily align with MacLaine’s biological age. I evoke “childhood” to emphasize the buoyant
unruliness of her initial kooky image; “youth” to mark the educational and transformational
effects of travel on her persona; “adulthood” to demonstrate how activism enabled MacLaine to
assert her power in the public sphere; and “old age” to illustrate how spirituality allowed

8
MacLaine to subvert the common association between aging actresses and professional decline.
Accordingly, while I chart MacLaine’s transformations between these stages, I do not necessarily
reaffirm the various implications of power that are typically associated with them. In popular
discourse, adulthood may be constructed as a more fruitful stage than childhood, youth, and old
age; however, in my analysis of MacLaine, I demonstrate how each of these life stages can be
understood as productive and powerful.
Chapter 1, “‘Kind of a Kook, But Very Warm’: Shirley MacLaine’s New Model of
Female Stardom,” explores the “childhood” of MacLaine’s career, between 1954 and 1964,
when her stardom was established. In 1954, independent producer Hal Wallis discovered
MacLaine while she was filling in for Carol Haney, who had injured her ankle, in the original
production of The Pajama Game. After Wallis signed MacLaine to a five-year contract, she
appeared in her first film, Alfred Hitchcock’s The Trouble with Harry (1955). Her seventh film
performance, as Ginny Moorehead in Vincente Minnelli’s Some Came Running (1958),
showcased her talent as an actress: she garnered widespread critical acclaim and her first
Academy Award nomination. The role of Ginny also initiated the association between
MacLaine’s image and “hookers-with-hearts-of-gold” characters, which MacLaine would play
throughout the 1960s. MacLaine continued to impress critics, audiences, and the industry with
her work in The Apartment (Billy Wilder, 1960), The Children’s Hour (William Wyler, 1961),
and Irma La Douce (Billy Wilder, 1963), among other films. Following her performance in Irma
La Douce, the Motion Picture Herald listed MacLaine as the seventh top-selling box-office star
of 1964.
As I interrogate MacLaine’s offscreen image during this period, I argue that MacLaine
destabilized the discourse of glamour that had persisted in star discourse of the Classical Period.

9
Just as MacLaine’s messy hair and disinterest in fashion did not conform to contemporary
standards of beauty, her domestic and social life did not align her image with conventional
family values either. Her husband, producer Steve Parker, lived and worked in Tokyo, and her
parenting of daughter Sachi was bizarre, to say the least. Meanwhile, her friendships with Frank
Sinatra and members of the Rat Pack reinforced MacLaine’s perceived nonconformity. Still, the
childlike aspects of her persona—her spontaneity, exuberance, and optimism—sustained her
appeal during the period. I conclude the chapter by considering MacLaine’s performances in
Some Came Running and Ask Any Girl (Charles Walters, 1959). Borrowing from Kathleen
Rowe’s conceptualization of the “unruly woman,”
17
I illustrate how MacLaine’s unruly childlike
image blurs the distinction between two stereotypes of femininity, the prostitute and the virgin,
to manage tensions between social conformity and individuality in the postwar period.
In Chapter 2, “From Pixie to Peripatetic: Shirley MacLaine, Travel, and Authority,” I
consider MacLaine’s first “transgression,” to use Marshall’s terminology. As international
travels distinguished MacLaine’s offscreen image from her onscreen image, MacLaine
figuratively transformed from child to adult. Thus, I delineate this transitional phase as
MacLaine’s “youth.” MacLaine embarked upon her first intercontinental trip to Japan in 1955,
for the filming of Around the World in Eighty Days (Michael Anderson, 1956). Because her
husband Steve Parker lived in Tokyo, she continued to travel there throughout the first decade of
her career. However, between 1962 and 1963, MacLaine’s penchant for travel became more
pronounced. She ventured beyond Europe and her second home in Tokyo to the Soviet Union,
Kenya, India, Bhutan, and numerous other locales during the 1960s. MacLaine took most of
these trips between or sometimes in conjunction with film productions, many of which failed to
live up to the caliber of her early films. The big-budget, box office failure Sweet Charity (Bob

10
Fosse, 1969), in which MacLaine played the title dance hall hostess, and Two Mules for Sister
Sara (Don Siegel, 1970), in which MacLaine played a prostitute masquerading as a nun,
underscored the persistence of her “hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold” screen image.
As I trace Shirley MacLaine’s various movements throughout the 1960s and early 1970s,
I argue that travel—as represented in the popular press, the film My Geisha (Jack Cardiff, 1962),
and her first memoir/travelogue Don’t Fall Off the Mountain (1970), among other texts—
empowered MacLaine within the public sphere. In distancing herself from her childlike image
and presenting herself as a travel expert, MacLaine demonstrated her “authority,” which Amelie
Hastie defines as “power over the origination of not just texts but also information or
knowledge.”
18
Accordingly, I relate MacLaine’s travels to Frances Bartkowski’s notion of travel
as “seeing as a child.”
19
While MacLaine began her travels seeing as a child, she ultimately, in
the words of Bartkowski, “[came] to terms with relations of authority and identity”
20
; she
became an adult. Still, like other white female travelers, MacLaine had to negotiate the unequal
power dynamics of global relations.
Chapter 3, “Citizen MacLaine: A Star Activist of the Sixties,” interrogates MacLaine’s
second transformation—how she exercised the power accrued through her travels as a political
activist. In this incarnation, MacLaine asserted her “adulthood.” MacLaine demonstrated her
budding interest in the political sphere in 1960, when she endorsed John F. Kennedy’s
presidential bid and protested the execution of Caryl Chessman. As a delegate supporting Robert
F. Kennedy in the presidential election of 1968, she met Kennedy’s replacement candidate,
South Dakotan Senator George McGovern. In 1972, MacLaine turned down several film roles to
campaign for McGovern full time. Following his nomination at the Democratic National
Convention, where MacLaine again served as a delegate, McGovern named MacLaine the co-

11
chair of his National Women’s Advisory Council. After McGovern lost the election, MacLaine
reflected on her political experiences in her second memoir You Can Get There from Here,
published in 1975. Although she did not perform in another film for several years, MacLaine
became increasingly vocal about the lack of quality roles for mature women in Hollywood.
MacLaine finally returned to the silver screen in The Turning Point (Herbert Ross, 1977), a film
that dramatized the tensions between domesticity and female labor that fueled much of the
women’s liberation movement.
In order to understand the significance of MacLaine’s activism, I delineate how scholars
of stardom and celebrity have distinguished between the celebrity and the politician. I also
outline the historical and industrial changes that encouraged and enabled numerous stars to
become politically active during the 1960s. Considering how MacLaine’s image was repeatedly
distinguished from Jane Fonda’s, I demonstrate how the press framed MacLaine’s activism as
part of her maturation, evidenced in concurrent changes in her appearance, her romantic life, and
her family life. Bridging star discourse and political discourse, MacLaine and her politically
active peers challenged the dominant ideological system from which they benefitted as stars.
Whether advocating for the underrepresented or merely defending their right to speak politically,
stars emphasized the instability—as they represent the dominant culture while appeasing
subordinate cultures—of their stardom and thus underscored the possibilities for social and
political change.
Finally, in Chapter 4, “Old Age/New Age Shirley MacLaine: Aging Productively in
Hollywood and Beyond,” I consider MacLaine’s latest incarnation as an “old age” proponent of
the New Age movement. In the late 1970s, MacLaine began to explore various aspects of New
Age spirituality, including meditation, reincarnation, mediums, channeling, psychics, and

12
extraterrestrials. After speaking publicly about her new interests in the early 1980s, she wrote an
account of her spiritual awakening in her third memoir, Out on a Limb, published in 1983.
During the same year, she played Aurora Greenway in James L. Brooks’s Terms of Endearment.
Her performance won MacLaine her first Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role.
Although MacLaine did not appear in another major film role until 1988, she continued to
produce New Age products and services. After publishing her fourth memoir, she wrote and
starred in a mini-series adaptation of Out on a Limb, which aired on ABC in January of 1987.
That same month, she began a New Age seminar series that traveled to numerous cities across
the United States through August of 1987. Two years later, MacLaine released a home video,
Shirley MacLaine’s Inner Workout. She continued to write spiritual memoirs throughout the
1990s and launched her website, ShirleyMacLaine.com, in May of 2000. Her thirteenth memoir,
What If…, was published in November of 2013. While producing these varied New Age
products, MacLaine has continued to star in films and earn artistic accolades, including the Cecil
B. DeMille Golden Globe Award in 1998, the American Film Institute Lifetime Achievement
Award in 2012, and a Kennedy Center Honor in 2013.
As I outline MacLaine’s various achievements since she turned forty years old in 1974, I
demonstrate how MacLaine’s continued fame challenges the historied notion that female
stardom is predicated upon the youthful physical body. Building on Sarah Banet-Weiser’s
interrogation of “branded” religions,
21
I situate MacLaine as producer of branded New Age
spirituality in a variety of media outlets. Accordingly, I demonstrate MacLaine’s authority in yet
another field outside of—albeit, overlapping with—entertainment. Similar to her previous
transformations, representations of MacLaine as an aging New Ager informed depictions of her
romantic life, her role as a mother, and her associations with other stars. While MacLaine’s

13
spiritual works have inspired diverse reactions, she has been equally involved in producing texts
that poke fun at her beliefs. Through her heightened self-awareness, MacLaine has created an
image that potentially appeals to both believers and nonbelievers alike.
Ultimately, MacLaine’s multiple transformations echo Gaylyn Studlar’s description of
stars during the Classical Period: “They were envied and imitated, idealized and occasionally
condemned. What they could not be was ignored. To be ignored meant that you were not a
star.”
22
MacLaine’s stardom has peaked and waned at various moments over the past sixty years.
Yet, at eighty years old, Shirley MacLaine has yet to be ignored. This dissertation explores how
repeated transformations have enabled MacLaine to be a star that lasts.

NOTES

1
Quoted in “Shirley MacLaine: Mama Is a Madcap,” Look, December 10, 1957.

2
I understand the terms “star” and “celebrity”—despite, as Sean Redmond and Su Holmes note,
the “hierarchy” between them—as equally appropriate signifiers for MacLaine throughout her
career. While, in popular discourse, a “star” typically refers to a well-known film actor, a
“celebrity” alternatively denotes a well-known figure from a variety of spheres (film, television,
music, sports, fashion, etc.) whose lifestyle, more than her career, draws the attention of the
public. MacLaine is most predominantly a film star; however, as she has expressed her views on
travel, politics, and spirituality in various media forms, her controversial lifestyle—her celebrity
status—has contended with her film career as the dominant mode through which the public has
understood her image. For a discussion of the “hierarchy” between the terms “star” and
“celebrity,” see Sean Redmond and Su Holmes, “Introduction: What’s in a Reader?” in Stardom
and Celebrity: A Reader, eds. Sean Redmond and Su Holmes (Los Angeles: Sage Publications,
2007), 8; and Christine Geraghty “Re-examining Stardom: Questions of Texts, Bodies and
Performance,” in Stardom and Celebrity: A Reader, eds. Sean Redmond and Su Holmes (Los
Angeles: Sage Publications, 2007), 98-110.

3
Richard Dyer, Heavenly Bodies: Film Stars and Society (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1986),
7.

4
P. David Marshall, Celebrity and Power: Fame in Contemporary Culture (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1997), 83.

5
Dyer, Heavenly Bodies, 8-10.

14

6
Richard deCordova, Picture Personalities: The Emergence of the Star System in America
(Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1990), 10.

7
Ibid., 12.

8
Marshall, Celebrity and Power, 117.

9
deCordova, Picture Personalities, 84.

10
Dyer, Heavenly Bodies, 11.

11
Ibid., 34.

12
Ibid., 47-59.

13
deCordova, Picture Personalities, 117.

14
Marshall, Celebrity and Power, 106.

15
Ibid., 110, 111.

16
Ibid., x.

17
Kathleen Rowe, The Unruly Woman: Gender and Genres of Laughter (Austin: University of
Texas Press, 1995), 10-11.

18
Amelie Hastie, Cupboards of Curiosity: Women, Recollection, and Film History (Durham:
Duke University Press, 2008), 11.

19
Frances Bartkowski, Travelers, Immigrants, Inmates: Essays in Estrangement (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1995), xxii.

20
Ibid., xix, xxii.

21
Sarah Banet-Weiser, Authentic™: The Politics of Ambivalence in a Brand Culture (New York:
New York University Press, 2012), 166.

22
Gaylyn Studlar, Precocious Charms: Stars Performing Girlhood in Classical Hollywood
Cinema (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2013), 4.

15
CHAPTER 1

“KIND OF A KOOK, BUT VERY WARM”: A NEW MODEL OF FEMALE STARDOM

In August of 1955, Hollywood columnist Joe Hyams introduced his readers to twenty-
year-old actress/dancer Shirley MacLaine. A former Broadway chorus girl who had made four
television appearances since February, MacLaine was awaiting the release of her first feature
film, Alfred Hitchcock’s The Trouble with Harry, scheduled to premiere later that year.
Although MacLaine was still new to Hollywood, according to Hyams, she had already
distinguished herself from both established stars and other newcomers. As Hyams wrote, “Movie
publicity people who want to interest newsmen in their stars inevitably describe them with
flattering adjectives. We passed by all the stars in the Paramount lot until the publicists [sic] told
us about Shirley MacLaine, whom he described as ‘an odd ball, a pixie, a nut and a brooder.’”
1

In comparing MacLaine’s description to the “flattering adjectives” with which publicists
“inevitably” describe stars, Hyams underscored that MacLaine was not merely an “odd ball,” but
rather her oddball antics exposed and challenged the process by which stars were typically
publicized. Accordingly, Hyams explicitly situated MacLaine as working in opposition to the
studio manufactured star system.
As MacLaine became a more widely recognized actress, the press continued to
emphasize how she could not be easily placed within traditional definitions of stardom at the
time. In her article “Shirley’s ‘Off-Beat’ Career,” Dorothy Manners claimed that MacLaine did
not “fit into any established groove.”
2
According to Hedda Hopper, MacLaine’s uniqueness
caused problems for reporters attempting to profile the star: “Writers, who compared [MacLaine]
to such different types as Audrey Hepburn, Claudette Colbert and Diana Lynn, often ended up by
admitting in complete frustration that she wasn’t like any of them.”
3
Hopper’s article, likewise,

16
offered no equivalent to MacLaine in the industry. Even MacLaine herself told Newsweek in
1958 that she did not “know where [she] fit in Hollywood.”
4
Four years later, Hopper was still
baffled by MacLaine’s eccentricity: “Some months back, I observed that Natalie Wood could fit
the public conception of a movie star in every glamorous detail. Today, I give you the amazingly
popular Shirley MacLaine, who, of all the thousands of performers I have met, is most UNLIKE
that public image.”
5
In garnering fame while also embodying the antithesis of glamour,
MacLaine effectively forged a new construction of female stardom.
In this chapter, I illustrate how Shirley MacLaine challenged industrial and cultural
standards of femininity during the phase I describe as her “childhood.” Through examining her
image in the popular press, I consider how MacLaine’s pixie appearance and kooky personality
subverted the discourse of glamour that had dominated descriptions of stardom since the
emergence of the studio system. Moreover, accounts of MacLaine’s personal life—specifically,
her role as an atypical wife and mother and her unusual social circle—likewise destabilized
conservative notions of female domesticity produced during the postwar period. Still, despite the
subversive aspects of her persona, MacLaine evoked a childlike essence, as spontaneous,
exuberant, and ultimately optimistic, that maintained her widespread appeal. Appropriately,
MacLaine’s onscreen performances interrogate the cultural significance of her youthful persona.
Through analyzing Some Came Running (Vincente Minnelli, 1958) and Ask Any Girl (Charles
Walters, 1959), I demonstrate how MacLaine’s childlike and unruly demeanor allowed her to
embody, and thus blur the distinction between, two stereotypes of femininity: the prostitute and
the virgin. Ultimately, as a female outsider both off and on the screen, MacLaine’s image
negotiated contemporaneous anxieties about social conformity and the authenticity of the
individual.

17
Accordingly, this chapter complicates the relatively scant scholarship on MacLaine’s
early career. In her seminal work From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in the
Movies, Molly Haskell only passingly refers to MacLaine in her analysis of the representation of
women during the 1950s. Haskell equates MacLaine’s onscreen persona with the personae of
Debbie Reynolds and Doris Day: “Theirs are the happy, freckled faces of childhood—still happy
and freckled into maturity; simple, uncomplicated, all-American flowers, beaming daisies rather
than furled roses or decadent orchids.”
6
While Haskell aptly recognizes MacLaine’s
youthfulness, she arguably oversimplifies this characteristic: as illustrated below, MacLaine’s
image could hardly be described as “simple, uncomplicated [or] all-American.” Distinguishing
MacLaine from Reynolds and Day, Haskell does acknowledge that MacLaine was “less of a
mythic figure than the other two.”
7
As Haskell explains, despite MacLaine’s tough exterior, she
was decidedly weaker, “more battered, and more of a doormat,” than the “naturalness and ‘girl
next door’ personalities” of Reynolds and Day.
8
Although weakness indeed complicates
MacLaine’s persona, Haskell does not further elaborate on the implications of this weakness or
the other nuances of MacLaine’s stardom.
Patricia Erens builds upon Haskell’s analysis in her 1978 work The Films of Shirley
MacLaine. Rather than compare MacLaine to similar contemporaries, Erens differentiates
MacLaine from her opposites: “In contrast to the dominant images of the fifties, MacLaine
possessed neither the sensuous softness of Marilyn Monroe, nor the sultry sophistication of
Elizabeth Taylor. Neither did she demonstrate the cool aristocratic bearing of a Grace Kelly or an
Audrey Hepburn.”
9
Erens implicitly establishes MacLaine’s childlikeness by differentiating her
from the other stars’ embodiments of the “adult” characteristics of sexuality, elegance, and
esteem. Still, Erens resolves that MacLaine was a “real woman, one whose responses were more

18
in touch with the millions of moviegoers.”
10
However, this conclusion likewise underestimates
the complexity of MacLaine’s persona at the time. Even as MacLaine questioned established
models of female stardom, she was no less extraordinary than other stars; “kooky,” “zany,” and
“offbeat,” as MacLaine was frequently described, are unlikely adjectives for “millions of
moviegoers” in an era that lauded conformity. Instead, I argue, her stardom indicates shifting
notions of extraordinariness in the midst of a rapidly evolving star system in Hollywood.
In this chapter, I focus on the period, roughly between 1954 and 1964, during which
MacLaine transformed from a Broadway understudy into the second highest-grossing female star
in Hollywood. Although MacLaine’s contract with independent producer Hal Wallis limited her
personal financial earnings,
11
various artistic achievements determined her growing popularity
and critical acclaim as a star. During this period, MacLaine earned three Academy Award
nominations for Best Actress in a Leading Role: her first nomination was for her performance as
Ginny Moorehead in Some Came Running in 1958; she received her second for her depiction of
Fran Kubelik in Billy Wilder’s The Apartment in 1960; and she garnered her third for her
portrayal of the title character in Billy Wilder’s Irma La Douce in 1963.
12
MacLaine also won
her first two Golden Globes for Best Actress in a Musical or Comedy for her performances in the
two Wilder films, while Irma La Douce merited MacLaine the title of Best Actress in Film
Daily’s yearly poll of film critics.
13
By 1964, after having just missed the top ten for 1963,
14

MacLaine was counted as the seventh top box-office star (the second top female star, behind
Doris Day) by the Motion Picture Herald.
15
Although 1964 marked the peak of her box-office
earnings as a star,
16
she remained one of the highest paid female stars in Hollywood, earning
close to $1 million per picture, throughout the rest of the 1960s.
17
Thus, the period between 1954
and 1964 was one in which MacLaine established herself as a formidable talent in Hollywood.

19
MacLaine and a Transforming Star System
Shirley MacLaine’s film career fortuitously began in 1954. The twenty-year-old actress,
born in Richmond, Virginia, had been pursuing a stage career in New York since her graduation
from high school nearly two years earlier.
18
After performing in the chorus of Richard Rodgers
and Oscar Hammerstein II’s Me and Juliet, MacLaine was cast as a chorus member and
understudy to Carol Haney in the original Broadway production of The Pajama Game. Haney’s
well-known work ethic—she rarely missed performances—seemingly offered little chance for
MacLaine to demonstrate her talent as an understudy.
19
Nevertheless, an ankle injury prevented
Haney from performing only a month after the production opened, and consequently MacLaine
had the opportunity to fill in as the production’s sharp and sexy secretary Gladys Hotchkiss.
20

During one of MacLaine’s performances, Hollywood producer Hal Wallis happened to be in the
audience.
21
On June 21, 1954, Wallis signed the young actress to a five-year contract, for which
she would earn $6,000 for each film in the first year and up to $20,000 for each film by the fifth
year.
22
Before Wallis was able to cast MacLaine in any films, MacLaine once again filled in for
Haney, who was at that time sick with laryngitis.
23
During this performance, Herbie Colman, an
associate producer working for Alfred Hitchcock, was in the audience and also spotted talent in
MacLaine. Coleman encouraged Hitchcock to borrow MacLaine from Wallis for the quirky
female lead in his upcoming film The Trouble With Harry.
24
By September, MacLaine was
acting in her first major motion picture, which was shooting on location in Vermont.
At the time of MacLaine’s “discovery” in 1954, the structure of the Hollywood studio
system was undergoing significant changes. During the Classical Period, from the late 1920s
through the mid-1940s, the most profitable Hollywood studios—the “Big Five” (Paramount,
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Fox, Warner Bros., and RKO) and the “Little Three” (Universal,

20
Columbia, and United Artists)—functioned as an oligopoly, amassing 95 percent of United
States film rentals. The Big Five maintained their financial stronghold by practicing vertical
integration, controlling film production, distribution, and exhibition. In order to film high-quality
products as quickly and cheaply as possible, the studios kept the majority of their creative and
technical personnel on salary; actors and actresses, in particular, were typically contracted to a
single studio for five to seven years, unless the studio chose not to exercise the option.
25

In addition to their creative contribution to film production, stars served a crucial
economic role during this period. As Richard B. Jewell contends, “the star was also the most
important element in each studio’s marketing efforts. ‘A’ pictures were sold to exhibitors and
ultimately to the public based primarily on ‘star power.’”
26
As a star functioned as a “business
commodity,” the studios devoted considerable time and effort to shaping and exploiting the star’s
on- and offscreen persona. The studios strategically chose roles for the star, crafting a specific
image from one picture to the next. Off the set, stars received lessons and training in a variety of
applicable skills, from acting and elocution to personal grooming and physical fitness. The
studios also coached new stars on how to interact with both their fans and the press in order to
preserve the image carefully crafted by the studios’ publicity departments.
27
As Mary Desjardins
maintains, fan magazine discourse concerning stars’ private lives functioned to increase not only
the economic power of the studios but other consumer industries as well, including the
automobile, tobacco, household appliance, cosmetic, and fashion industries.
28
Thus, stars had an
important economic function both on- and offscreen. Nevertheless, this vigilantly controlled
method of star development was not foolproof: stars were regularly miscast and/or underutilized,
and studio publicists frequently had to work to reduce the appearance of missteps taken by stars.

21
Ultimately, the studios sought to produce a “multiplicity” of star personae that, grouped together,
would not alienate any potential paying filmgoers.
29

These studio practices deliberately constructed representations of stars’ private lives as
much as stars’ onscreen performances. Although the various stars could not be generalized by
one type, according to Desjardins, a distinct glamour discourse—“a knowledge regulating the
star-fan relationship by appealing to the distance (in terms of economics, physical beauty, talent,
lifestyle, etc.) between star and fan”
30
—predominated fan magazines and gossip columns
throughout the period. In contrast to the decadent and sometimes depraved glamour discourse of
late-nineteenth-century stardom, as Desjardins explains, the era of the studio system was marked
by a “discourse which glamourized the seemingly wholesome lifestyles and comings and goings
of the stars, with an emphasis on their leisure and consumption habits.”
31
Thus, the glamour
discourse of Classical Hollywood reinforced the dominant—white, patriarchal, capitalist—
ideology of the studios. This ideology offered limited roles for female stars and their female fans.
As Desjardins elsewhere elaborates, the economic imperative of female stars’ private lives
purported either “that women be responsible for the private sphere (the home and its goods) or
make themselves into objects for male desire and possession (through dress and cosmetics).”
32

The studios therefore held a financial stake in the subjugation of women.
Of course, exceptions to this dominant discourse of glamour existed during the Classical
Period. As Andrew Britton argues, “Katharine Hepburn is the only star of the classical cinema
who embodies contradictions (about the nature and status of women) in a way that not only
resists their satisfactory resolution in a stable, affirmable ideological coherence, but which also
continually threatens to produce an oppositional coherence which is registered by the films as a
serious ideological threat.”
33
Hepburn’s exceptionalism confirms the otherwise pervasive nature

22
of glamour discourse during the period. Yet, as Adrienne L. McLean acknowledges, “even so
apparently victimized and powerless a woman as Rita Hayworth,” revealed cracks in dominant
ideology through various performances of labor and thus “participated in the struggles that
helped to produce the very feminist advances that allow [McLean], now, to write about her.”
34

Although the star system worked to glamorize a wholesome lifestyle of consumption, the
inconsistencies and incoherence of that ideology—as embodied in stars ranging from Hepburn to
Hayworth—ultimately intimated its instability.
When the major studios were forced to divest themselves of their theater chains—a
decision ruled by the Supreme Court in May of 1948 but not acted upon by all of the studios
until 1956—the entire structure of the studio system, including the star system, transformed. No
longer able to guarantee the exhibition of their films, the studios offset the risk by releasing
many of their production employees, among them stars, from their long-term contracts. In place
of the vertically-integrated business model of the Classical Period, the major studios adopted the
business model practiced by United Artists, whereby independent producers—primarily talent
agents and their clients—became the driving creative force in Hollywood and the studios
functioned mainly as distributors. As a result, stars became more autonomous, both financially
and creatively. Acting as independent producers, stars could secure a portion of a film’s profits
and avoid the high tax rates on personal income by claiming the corporate tax rate. In addition,
independent stars now had the power to choose their own projects, and their private lives were
no longer under the watchful eyes of the studios.
35

As MacLaine worked for Hal Wallis, an independent producer whose films were
distributed by Paramount at the time,
36
her early career evidenced these structural changes at
work in Hollywood. Yet, because she was still committed to a long-term contract until 1963,
37

23
her creative and financial independence remained relatively limited, especially compared to the
other established actors who had become independent producers. Nevertheless, despite these
limitations, MacLaine’s image, as represented in gossip columns and popular magazines,
contributed to the destabilization of the glamour discourse that had previously prevailed in
Hollywood. Constructed as neither an “object of male desire” nor “responsible for the private
sphere,” MacLaine challenged the symbiotic relationship between star discourse and
consumerism, while shaping a new model for the extraordinariness of stardom.
MacLaine as Undesirable and Irresponsible
Most noticeably, MacLaine’s physical appearance flouted the contemporary standards of
beauty that were highly valued in female stars. Indeed, MacLaine’s tall, slim figure, freckles,
blue eyes, and cropped red hair—for which she was teasingly awarded the “Silver Cup for
Looking Least Like a Movie Star” by Jon Whitcomb in Cosmopolitan
38
—were markedly
different from most other famous women. Most notably, she was neither blonde nor did her
figure showcase her breasts: she was not like Marilyn Monroe.
39
In his analysis of Monroe,
Richard Dyer maintains that postwar conceptions of beauty and desirability were influenced by
the popularization of Playboy, first published in 1953, and personified in Monroe’s image: “The
typical playmate is white, and most often blonde; and, of course, so is Monroe. Monroe could
have been some sort of star had she been dark, but not the ultimate embodiment of the desirable
woman.”
40
Dyer thus proposes that Monroe’s whiteness—her blonde hair and pale skin—secured
her success during this period. The numerous other “blonde bombshells” or “Marilyn clones”—
including Jayne Mansfield, Kim Novak, Mamie Van Doren, and others—exemplify the studios’
pronounced efforts to capitalize on the allure of this image during the 1950s.
41

24
The studios conspicuously manufactured the Monroe image of desirability, as the ability
to have “clones” indicates. Creating a “blonde bombshell” entailed dying the star’s hair not just
blonde but the even more unnatural shade of platinum blonde. This act epitomizes a process of
“beautification,” as identified by Gloria Shin as “a set of labors with explicit ideological
underpinnings that use feminine bodily discipline to specific cultural ends.”
42
Shin maintains that
all stars go through at least some form of beautification before appearing in films and in publicity
and promotional materials. During the postwar period, in particular, the process of beautification
meant “the undertaking of various corporeal disciplines to ‘anglicize’ the body.”
43
Interestingly,
these physical alterations were not necessarily concealed from the public. As Adrienne L.
McLean illustrates, Rita Hayworth’s extensive corporeal transformation—which included dying
her hair from dark brown to red, a regimented exercise routine, and electrolysis on her forehead
to raise her low hairline—was repeatedly commented upon in the popular press.
44
Hayworth’s
widely recognized physical makeover emphasized not only the labor of her stardom but also
“how women in American culture are consistently rewarded for undergoing extreme physical
and psychic duress in an attempt to attain an impossible, but desirable, physical or moral ideal.”
45

Accordingly, Lois Banner explains how embarking on this process might be appealing for rising
stars. For instance, Monroe originally resisted dying her hair platinum blonde; however,
“realizing the importance of sex to her career, she embraced the pinup personification.”
46
A
constructed image therefore seemingly equated financial rewards and public recognition.
Yet, by the late 1950s, MacLaine’s popularity challenged this dominant image of beauty.
A profile in Close-Up magazine explicitly compared MacLaine with Monroe and her imitators:
“[MacLaine] is the living lesson that the public is way ahead of all the producers who continue to
cast their leading ladies in the Marilyn Monroe image.”
47
Although MacLaine did not necessarily

25
subvert American interest in whiteness, her unconventional looks did question the
constructedness of 1950s standards of beauty. Just as blonde hair fascinated postwar Americans,
MacLaine’s hairdo—or lack thereof—generated ample amounts of newspaper and magazine
copy. Descriptions of MacLaine’s hair were hardly positive, ranging from tousled, boyish, and
unusual, to “Mixmaster,” reminiscent of a sheepdog, “like she goes to the Caltech wind tunnel to
have her hair mussed,” and “a chicken-in-the-rough hairdo.”
48
As MacLaine explained, her hair
achieved its signature length when she was rehearsing for the Broadway production of Me and
Juliet.
49
Composer Richard Rodgers allegedly insisted that she cut her long locks because her
ponytail continually hit her in the face when she danced. Her hairstyle thus served a practical, not
aesthetic function. Since then, she reportedly combed her hair with an eggbeater and cut her hair
herself without a mirror (only when the length prevented her from seeing her daughter).
50
While
MacLaine occasionally donned different hairstyles both on- and offscreen during this period,
these descriptions persisted in the press. In an article entitled “Shirley MacLaine Won’t Give Up
Good-Luck Tousled Hair,” MacLaine claimed: “It just wouldn’t be me in any other hair style.”
51

In its unconventionality, MacLaine’s hair positioned her image in opposition to the processes of
beautification. Furthermore, the purported absurdity of her hair care methods also maintained her
extraordinariness. Frequently labeled as a “pixie,”
52
a descriptor that connoted not only her youth
but also her otherworldliness, MacLaine was still different from many of the “real” women who
may have identified with her.
Both the press and MacLaine explicitly acknowledged that her appearance was not the
most attractive and, accordingly, that it subverted the beautification process. John L. Scott
described MacLaine’s face as “not beautiful in the usual Hollywood mold.”
53
Likewise, in an
interview with Cue magazine, MacLaine admitted, “I’m not beautiful. […] Some girls are

26
beautiful; I look at them and begin to feel like Rin-Tin-Tin.”
54
Yet, MacLaine was by no means
ugly, as she lightheartedly recognized in another interview, “I guess you could say they wouldn’t
make me a freak in a circus sideshow.”
55
Despite her efforts to underplay her “natural” beauty,
MacLaine also relished in the uniqueness of her look. In an interview with beauty columnist
Lydia Lane in 1957, entitled “Shirley MacLaine Prefers Her Individuality to Film Glamour,”
MacLaine recalled attempts by the studio makeup department to give her a makeover: “They
wanted to curl my hair, enlarge my mouth…they even tried false eye lashes. […] But I felt the
things they were trying to do would completely change me and I wouldn’t let them.”
56
She
related a similar story to Pete Martin of the Saturday Evening Post: “Some of the studios I’ve
worked for have tried to friz [sic] my hair. Some of them have even talked up a storm about
changing the shape of my mouth, or hanging false eyelashes on me. But as for the rest of me,
they hired me this way, and I figure they must have known what they were doing.”
57
However
unattractive she may have thought herself to be, MacLaine refused to undergo “physical or
psychic duress” to attain an “impossible, but desirable, physical” ideal; she was seemingly aware
that her charismatic appeal depended upon her unusual appearance. Whether the decision to keep
her “natural” appearance was hers or not, her unique look and her explicit denial of the
beautification process—and the process’s implicit association with being, as Shin notes,
“deceptive, false, and limited”
58
—reinforced how her image destabilized the glamour discourse
of the studio system era.
As MacLaine resisted the studios’ attempts to mold her bodily appearance, she also
subverted the studios’ use of stars’ private lives to encourage consumption. This subversion was
evident in descriptions of her choices in fashion as well as her disregard for home decoration. In
a 1955 interview with Lydia Lane, MacLaine admitted, “I don’t follow fashion; I don’t wear

27
what is new. I prefer a style which is simple and gives me freedom of movement.”
59
MacLaine
not only emphasized her need for practical clothes to match her practical hairstyle but also how
this practicality facilitated a sense of agency. Two years later, a TV Guide article described how
MacLaine arrived at interviews in mismatched outfits and wrinkled slacks.
60
Even MacLaine
acknowledged that her friends referred to her as “just plain sloppy.”
61
In 1960, her sloppiness
grabbed the attention of the American Guild of Creative Fashion Designers, who compiled a
yearly “worst-dressed” list.
62
When MacLaine discovered she earned a spot on the list, the
Boston Globe reported, “The list of actresses who would go into a blue funk if they were to be
selected as one of the 10 worst-dressed women in Hollywood does not include Shirley
MacLaine.”
63
MacLaine’s disinterest in her appearance was certainly unusual amongst her peers.
According to the Boston Globe, MacLaine had subsequently sent a telegram to the Guild,
claiming, “So this time I only placed fourth on your lousy list. Next year I hope to win the
title.”
64
MacLaine’s playful attitude towards fashion underscored not only the absurdity of such
rankings but also her underlying desire not for glamour—or the ostentatious display of wealth
and taste through purchasing clothing—but for an exceptional level of nonconformity.
MacLaine’s views on homemaking further undermined the discourse of glamour that had
previously dominated fan magazines. In her article, “Shirley MacLaine: Free Spirit,” in Look
magazine, Eleanor Harris explained MacLaine’s “casual attitude” to homemaking: “[MacLaine]
has been in Hollywood nearly five years now, but only recently bought her own house. Before
that, she had moved into a rented, unfurnished house. She never did get around to putting up
curtains or fitting the living room with more than two pieces of furniture.”
65
Material goods
seemed to have little value to the emerging star. Two years later, in his Redbook profile on
MacLaine, Rowland Barber similarly described MacLaine as “generally bored with status

28
symbols”; he continued, “Such ‘junk’ as mirrors, dressing tables, vanity cases and jewelry cases
she can—and mostly does—live without. She can’t remember the last time she bought anything
for herself that she couldn’t eat or read, or that would look out of place in a girls’ dormitory. She
shops only when she absolutely has to, and she seldom buys unless she can find a bargain.”
66

According to Barber’s description, functionality determined MacLaine’s purchases, which
indicated the simplicity of a young girl (emphasized through the analogy to a girls’ dormitory),
not a star. MacLaine explicitly positioned her habits as opposing notions of stardom in an
interview with Lloyd Shearer in 1963: “They say I’ve become a movie star […] but I sure don’t
live like one. You know where I live, over the hill in the valley, not a particularly fashionable
part of town. I’ve got a small house. I drive a Buick. I buy store clothes or borrow whatever I can
from wardrobe.”
67
In contrast to the representation of stars during the height of the studio
system, MacLaine’s private life did not encourage spending, but rather evidenced her
inattentiveness to material goods. On the one hand, MacLaine’s purchases highlighted her
everydayness; on the other hand, the pervasiveness of her indifference to consumer goods
marked her as exceptional as well. Thus, in reconfiguring representations of beauty and
consumption in Hollywood, MacLaine began to shape an alternate definition of female stardom.
Marriage Undermined
As MacLaine’s image and personality challenged notions of female stardom, MacLaine’s
private life—specifically, her role as a wife, a mother, and a friend—likewise bucked larger
cultural expectations about femininity in the postwar period. Initially, MacLaine’s marriage to
husband Steve Parker seemed to conform to the widespread enthusiasm for the institution at the
time. Between 1940 and 1960, as historian Elaine Tyler May describes, American men and
women of all ethnicities, races, classes, and religions were marrying in higher numbers and at a

29
lower age than ever before in the twentieth century.
68
MacLaine and Parker counted themselves
among these numerous young newlyweds. The two met in a bar in New York in 1952, when
MacLaine was eighteen and Parker was thirty.
69
After two years of dating, MacLaine and Parker
married on September 17, 1954, just days before MacLaine began work on The Trouble with
Harry.
70
Still, as a working actress, MacLaine necessarily defied the contemporary domestic
ideal that the woman’s place was in the home.
71
As Adrienne L. McLean maintains, star
discourse typically underplayed the female star’s potential fulfillment as a laborer: “one of the
best known tropes of women’s stardom, [was] that all women stars want to have children, are
seeking domestic happiness, and would gladly give up their careers if the ‘right man came
along.’”
72
Accordingly, MacLaine initially presented a fairly conventional stance towards
marriage. In a 1955 interview with Louella O. Parsons, MacLaine did not “understand why
people in Hollywood have to break up”; she confessed, “I couldn’t imagine living without Steve.
[…] Our two years together have made me realize that [marriage] is necessary to my happiness,
my career and my very life.”
73
MacLaine seemed to prioritize her marriage over other aspects of
her life.
However, living in Hollywood, Parker reportedly recognized that he could not embody
the postwar masculine ideal of being able to support one’s wife. Shortly after MacLaine and
Parker relocated from New York to a small beach house in Malibu, Parker decided to pursue his
career as a film producer in Japan, where he had spent considerable time as a child and later as a
soldier during World War II.
74
Numerous articles described this decision as his effort to avoid
being known as “Mr. Shirley MacLaine”:
75
the press framed Parker’s move as an attempt to
maintain his masculinity. Yet, faced with this decision, MacLaine appeared to long for a
traditional home life. Following Parker’s first trip to Japan, MacLaine publicly expressed her

30
dissatisfaction with the arrangement in an interview with Dorothy Manners; MacLaine assured,
“Believe me, we’ll never be separated like that again—it’s too nice having a man around the
house.”
76
As Manners represented MacLaine, the star seemingly held traditional desires and
expectations about married life. Manners added, “While Parker was gone, Shirley took up
cooking, home management and child care, and in every way behaved as though Steve was
coming home to dinner every night!”
77
Despite MacLaine’s unusual domestic situation, Manners
still tried to situate MacLaine within the cultural ideals of female domesticity at the time.
Interestingly, MacLaine rarely claimed to enjoy doing household duties, while she frequently
discussed her lack of interest in cooking and other chores.
78
As she explained, “I always figured
that when I got married and loved somebody, I’d do those things. So I got married and loved
somebody and I still don’t.”
79
Even though MacLaine was married, her irresponsibility within
the domestic sphere continued to challenge traditional ideas about the institution.
With Parker’s prolonged absence, MacLaine’s publicized opinions about marriage
transformed. In 1958, MacLaine shared a more moderate view of marriage, family, and working
women in Cue magazine. MacLaine described both women “who give up everything for a
career” and women “who throw away their careers for domesticity” as “wrong,” while she
advocated a “middle way.”
80
She continued, “Of course, if it comes to a showdown for one
reason or another, and a girl has to make a choice—I guess there’s only one thing she can do. A
career is fun and excitement and fulfillment—but are you going to compare it to husband, home,
children?”
81
Although MacLaine implied that family is more important than a career (she never
explicitly answered the question she posed), she also acknowledged that most women could find
happiness in some sort of balance between the two. Yet, the press was apparently unwilling to
believe that a woman separated from her husband could be content with her relationship.

31
Reporters repeatedly asked MacLaine how she coped without Parker, while gossip columnists
constantly predicted her imminent divorce.
82
By sharing stories of spending large sums of money
on telephone bills and intercontinental flights, MacLaine tried to dissuade the naysayers.
83
She
also modified her earlier pronouncements about marriage: “I knew exactly what would happen
when I married Steve five years ago. He was then spending much time in Japan, and I couldn’t
and wouldn’t want him to give up his career. I want a husband I can respect.”
84
Whereas
MacLaine had previously suggested that Parker’s presence was necessary for her success and
personal happiness, the star then resolutely claimed that their marital arrangement had always
been part of her life plan and Parker’s appeal. Furthermore, while Parker’s profession—allotting
him with “respect”—became an indicator of his strength and masculinity, MacLaine’s apparent
acceptance of his absence demonstrated her willingness to subvert and rethink gender roles.
Accordingly, MacLaine’s contradictory image supports Joanne Meyerowitz’s claim that
“popular literature [between 1946 and 1958] […] did not simply glorify domesticity or demand
that women return to or stay at home,” but rather “advocated both the domestic and nondomestic,
sometimes in the same sentence.”
85
Although various media attempted to produce a model of
femininity that encouraged domesticity, fissures in that model surfaced in images such as
MacLaine’s. Moreover, even if MacLaine’s subversion may have been atypical amongst
constructions of “real” women, it made her worthy of stardom. As McLean argues, “Marriage is
what makes American adults normal (as now), but it is also what makes them the less interesting
norm, such that stardom is always also performing its own rhetorical difference from that norm
(everyone can be married, but not everyone can be a star).”
86
MacLaine and Parker’s marriage
therefore signified MacLaine’s extraordinariness as a star: MacLaine and Parker distinguished

32
themselves from the “norm” not only in their unorthodox, nondomestic arrangement but also in
the ample amounts of time and money necessary to maintain their intercontinental union.
Still, even amongst other stars, MacLaine’s love life was constructed as unusual. Lloyd
Shearer, a correspondent for Parade magazine, wrote two telling articles juxtaposing
MacLaine’s situation with other Hollywood marriages at the time. In his 1960 article “Shirley
MacLaine: Her Strange Marriage,” Shearer described MacLaine and Parker’s union as the
“strangest and most perplexing (at least to the observers if not participants)” in Hollywood.
87
He
then articulated the precarious situation of a “Hollywood husband”:
A Hollywood husband figuratively speaking, is an unfortunate
male whose identity is submerged by an aggressive, more
successful actress-wife. Over a period of years, such men are
psychologically whiplashed by their wives to a point where they
lose their self-respect and in some cases denigrate into little more
than sycophantic luggage-carriers. Usually they turn upon their
wives when these actresses reach 40 or 45 and are no longer in
demand. They punish the women who have supported and
subjugated them by indulging in promiscuous attachments. Such
men are notoriously weak. But such husbands do exist; and to
make them feel more masculine their wives appoint them as
business managers, corporation presidents, personal managers.

Shearer underscored the inherently problematic nature of female stardom to domestic bliss. A
female star’s success, according to Shearer, necessarily depends on her “aggressive”—or, one
could read, “unfeminine”—nature, while her male partner, in comparison, can be nothing more
than lacking in self-respect, sycophantic, and weak—in other words, not “masculine.”
Supporting this definition, Shearer cited two of Elizabeth Taylor’s marital arrangements:
Taylor’s former husband, British star Michael Wilding, was signed to a contract at MGM largely
“to keep Miss Taylor in good spirits”; and Taylor’s then spouse, Eddie Fisher, was earning
$100,000 for a minor role alongside Taylor in BUtterfield 8 (Daniel Mann, 1960). In contrast to
other “Hollywood husbands,” Parker had a career completely independent of his wife’s. Shearer

33
adds, “And the truth is that Steve didn’t have to leave the movie colony. Shirley MacLaine is a
big enough star to demand that her husband be employed on any and all of her productions.”
MacLaine and Parker’s decision to avoid such a dynamic, in Shearer’s logic, not only reaffirmed
both MacLaine’s femininity (she is not aggressive enough to make demands like Taylor) and
Parker’s masculinity (he has enough self-respect to pursue his own ambitions) but also allowed
for mutual satisfaction within their marriage. Thus, although MacLaine’s marriage illustrated a
rift in the dominant ideology of domesticity, Shearer’s explanation worked to mend that rift.
Almost exactly a year later, Shearer declared the beginning of a “New Show-Biz Era:
Husband-Wife Teams.”
88
Under a photo of MacLaine looking coyly at the camera as she rests
her head on Parker’s shoulder, Shearer listed twenty examples of Hollywood couples, including
Parker and MacLaine, Taylor and Fisher, Doris Day and Marty Melcher, Jayne Mansfield and
Mickey Hargitay, Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman, and Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis,
among others. The recent trend, according to Shearer, had two causes: first, these couples, who
share similar interests, also spend a considerable amount of time together on set; and, second,
“non-show business bachelors are too intelligent to marry actresses who want to continue their
careers, so the girls have little choice but to marry one of their own occupational kind.”
89
Shearer
thus reiterated his view of female stars as insufficient wives, specifically because of their interest
in professional pursuits.
Nevertheless, Shearer interviewed MacLaine and Parker to explore how these husband-
wife teams made their marriages successful. Again, Parker claimed that his independence was
key to their happiness: “In this racket [show business], if a fellow marries an actress, he’s got to
make it on his own. He can’t be dependent on her for a livelihood and still have a happy
marriage.”
90
At the time of the article’s publication, Parker was producing the film My Geisha, of

34
which MacLaine was the star. However, Parker insisted, “I decided to cast her because she
happened to fit the part. […] But don’t get the idea that my stock in trade is Shirley MacLaine.
She just happens to be my wife. My stock in trade is myself and whatever producing talent I
have.” Although the idea that MacLaine just “happened to fit the part” is fairly unbelievable,
Parker adamantly asserted his financial and creative independence, and therefore his masculinity,
in his working relationship with his wife. Still, in their alleged mutual exclusivity, MacLaine and
Parker’s images remained distinct from other Hollywood couples. Whereas both Woodward and
Newman and Mansfield and Hargitay professed enjoying spending time together during filming,
Parker claimed that a man who can repeatedly spend twenty-four hours a day with his wife
deserves a “Congressional Medal of Honor.” For Parker and MacLaine, the film studio did not
replace the home as the site of marital bliss. Even when MacLaine worked with her husband, her
image did not conform to that of the traditional doting wife. Parker may have been independent,
but MacLaine was not subservient in her relationship with him. Thus, as her image challenged
dominant constructions of marriage and femininity, the press underscored MacLaine’s
exceptionalism in Hollywood.
“Madcap” Motherhood
As might be expected when considering her unusual marriage, representations of
MacLaine as a mother further situated MacLaine in opposition to conservative notions of
femininity and female stardom. Typically, a star’s family life functioned to emphasize her
ordinariness. As Mary Beth Haralovich maintains, referring to the work of Richard deCordova,
“family provided evidence of [the star’s] normal life”; moreover, “publicity about stars
established a relationship between family and work in which being a film performer did not
interfere with family life.”
91
According to Elaine Tyler May, female stars of the 1940s offered a

35
“new maternal model for identification and emulation.”
92
In contrast to images of stars during
the 1930s, stars like Lana Turner, Joan Crawford, Rosalind Russell, Dorothy Lamour, and
Loretta Young celebrated motherhood as they appeared in the popular press in domestic settings
alongside their children.
93
Yet, these positive images of motherhood occasionally masked
dysfunctional family settings, both real and imagined. Haralovich cites, for example, the
representation of Joan Crawford’s “normal family existence” in the 1940s—despite Crawford’s
acclaimed portrayal of the titular deficient mother in Mildred Pierce (Michael Curtiz, 1945) and
despite the subsequent exposure of Crawford as an abusive parent in her daughter’s 1978
autobiography Mommie Dearest.
94
The discrepancy between the image of Crawford in 1945 and
1978 illustrates how the studio system effectively suppressed implications of stardom as
detrimental to motherhood.
By the late 1950s, however, MacLaine’s performance as a mother intimated that female
stardom did not necessarily require normalcy within the home. MacLaine gave birth to her first
(and only) child, Stephanie Sachiko (“Sachi”) Parker, on Saturday, September 1, 1956.
95
At the
time, Elaine Tyler May contends, idealized representations of motherhood equated the role not
only with versatility, efficiency, and professionalization but also with personal fulfillment: “The
1950s version of the ‘superwoman’ was the wife and mother who could fulfill a wide range of
occupational roles—early childhood educator, counselor, cook, nurse, housekeeper, manager,
chauffeur—all within the home.”
96
Yet, MacLaine consistently shirked the responsibilities and
rewards associated with this notion of motherhood. In her announcement of the new addition to
the Parker-MacLaine family, Hedda Hopper informed her readers that MacLaine had signed a
contract with Paramount to star in The Matchmaker (Joseph Anthony, 1958) on the Monday after
she delivered.
97
MacLaine’s continued representation as a working actress implied that

36
motherhood, even within the first week of Sachi’s birth, was not wholly satisfying for MacLaine.
Acting indeed interfered with her family life. And the press aligned her nondomestic labor as an
actress with her oddball behavior. In the Photoplay article “The MacLaine Method* of Child
Care,” the writer elaborated on MacLaine’s “active motherhood”: “Her approach included
sleeping in the snow during pregnancy, driving herself to the hospital for delivery and asking her
agent for a job five minutes after her baby was born.”
98
While Photoplay reassured readers that
MacLaine would “rather (1) be a good wife and mother and (2) clown and make jokes, than do
anything else,” MacLaine’s definition of “good” clearly differed from the conservative ideals to
which mothers aspired at the time.
Accordingly, most articles featuring MacLaine as a mother downplayed her role as a
woman of authority within the home. Instead, the press focused on the superficial similarities
between MacLaine and her daughter. Between 1957 and 1962, at least five different photo
spreads showcased MacLaine and Sachi dressing and posing in the same manner.
99
For example,
in the Look article “Shirley MacLaine: Mama Is a Madcap,” the photos reveal MacLaine holding
Sachi, as the two make the same faces: in one photo, the mother and daughter both stick out their
tongues; in another photo, the two distort the shape of their mouths with their fingers. While a
caption claimed that Sachi learns by imitating her mother, MacLaine clearly had no qualms
about contorting her face to mimic a one-year-old.
100
Similar photos of MacLaine and Sachi
appear on the cover of Life (entitled “The Fun of Being Look-Alikes”) and accompanying
articles in This Week, Los Angeles Examiner Pictorial Living (entitled “Like Mother, Like
Child”), and Show Business Illustrated. As these pictures captured MacLaine’s youthful
appearance and personality, she explicitly aligned herself with her daughter. In a 1958 interview
with Dorothy Manners, MacLaine explained, “[Sachi and I] are very good friends and see eye to

37
eye on most things.”
101
MacLaine claimed to have the perspective of a two-year-old. She
repeated this sentiment when articulating her disciplinary policy: “A little kid hates to be
confused, same as a big kid like me.”
102
MacLaine maintained her eccentricity by freely
associating herself with her child and, in turn, reconfiguring the power dynamics between parent
and child that were produced and idealized in other images of the popular press at the time.
Over the next few years, the press continued to emphasize MacLaine’s carefree approach
to parenting. As Sachi grew older, several articles related how Sachi frequently flew from Los
Angeles to Tokyo by herself from the age of two.
103
Although MacLaine at first boasted that
Sachi “[behaved] herself beautifully—the pilots and stewardesses all [said] so,”
104
MacLaine
later had to defend her choice to let such a young child fly alone. In a Redbook article, entitled
“Hollywood’s Most Unconventional Mother,” MacLaine reassured readers that she and Parker
only allowed Sachi to travel on planes with crews they knew—which was supposedly better than
having Sachi travel with either their non-English-speaking Columbian maid or a stranger.
105

Another rumor about MacLaine’s parenting skills was perhaps harder to defend. Occasionally,
once Sachi had fallen asleep, MacLaine would bring her daughter along to parties in a wicker
basket. After stowing the basket in a quiet closet, MacLaine would sometimes relocate to another
party or nightclub. When asked about the unusual alternative to hiring a babysitter, MacLaine
replied, “What’s so terrible about that? […] I would never leave Steffie [Sachi] alone anywhere
until she was fast asleep.”
106
Whether or not such explanations justified her behavior to
contemporary readers, these unusual anecdotes illustrate that the star system of the 1950s did not
uniformly suppress representations of unruly motherhood. Unlike Crawford’s image roughly ten
years earlier, MacLaine’s image included overt references to what was arguably deemed

38
“abnormal” parenting. Accordingly, MacLaine’s controversial family life signaled the waning
control of the studio system over the private lives of stars.
Socializing with Sinatra and Friends
Although the press distinguished MacLaine from many of her peers, she was an active
participant in at least one subset of the Hollywood community: Frank Sinatra’s “Clan.”
Accordingly, like her appearance and her family, MacLaine’s social life drew a lot of attention
for its nonconformity. Following her performance in Some Came Running, co-starring Frank
Sinatra and Dean Martin, reporters began to associate MacLaine with Sinatra’s newly formed
group of friends, known by members as the “Clan” or by the misinformed as the “Rat Pack.”
107

The Clan was in fact a derivative of the Rat Pack—the name Lauren Bacall gave to Humphrey
Bogart and his associates around 1955—of which Sinatra was a “cub” member.
108
Led by
Bogart, the Rat Pack lived a carefree lifestyle. Their excessive partying, practical jokes, and
binge drinking combined iconoclasm with an air of sophistication. When the Rat Pack largely
disbanded after Bogart’s death in January of 1957, Sinatra missed the friendship it had provided.
As scholar Chris Rojek explains, “[Sinatra] was also intent on demonstrating that control of the
anti-establishment tradition had passed to a new generation, 10 to 15 years younger than the
original Holmby Hills Rat Pack.”
109
On the set of Some Came Running, Sinatra found the
companionship for which he longed in Dean Martin. Soon after, entertainer Sammy Davis Jr.,
British actor and John F. Kennedy’s brother-in-law Peter Lawford, and comedian Joey Bishop
also counted themselves as Sinatra’s close friends who enjoyed performing and partying in the
nightclubs of Las Vegas. The key group members (Martin and Bishop were largely exempt) and
their occasional associates all accepted Sinatra as their unequivocal leader. In assuming the
moniker “The Clan,” Sinatra presumably hoped to distinguish himself from Bogart’s

39
influence.
110
Yet, similar to the Rat Pack, the Clan, as described by Paul O’Neil in a 1958 issue
of Life, exemplified that “nonconformity” was “the key to social importance.”
111

Sinatra reportedly “discovered” MacLaine while watching one of her guest appearances
on The Dinah Shore Show (NBC, 1951-1956).
112
Shortly after, Sinatra offered MacLaine the role
of Ginny in Some Came Running, and she purportedly accepted his offer the day after the
television program aired. During filming, Sinatra and MacLaine enjoyed long intelligent
conversations; as Sinatra later recalled, “It turns out that the egg-beater hairdo is the front for a
well-oiled thinking mechanism.”
113
Sinatra used a reference to MacLaine’s signature hair, a
superficial trait that served as a synecdoche for her childlike essence, to invert her image; he
portrayed MacLaine instead as an intellectual. Meanwhile, MacLaine’s friendship with Martin—
whom she had met during the filming of Artists and Models (Frank Tashlin, 1955), but had not
spent considerable time with until Some Came Running—reinforced the zany aspects of her
persona. As Jon Whitcomb described their friendship in a 1959 Cosmopolitan article, “Shirley
considers Dean Martin the world’s funniest man, and he regards her as the perfect audience.
They keep each other in stitches.”
114
MacLaine’s friendship with the two stars continued to
develop as she appeared alongside Sinatra in the musical Can-Can (Walter Lang, 1960), with
Martin in Career (Joseph Anthony, 1959), All in a Night’s Work (Joseph Anthony, 1961), and
What a Way to Go! (J. Lee Thompson, 1964), and with both in an uncredited cameo as the
“Tipsy Girl” in Ocean’s Eleven (Lewis Milestone, 1960).
MacLaine reinforced her eccentricity through her relationship with Sinatra and his
friends. Yet, even as these friends collectively bucked conventions, the press discussed
MacLaine as exceptional amongst them. As one of the few women appreciated by the mostly
male group of friends, MacLaine became the group’s unofficial “mascot” and, as Time magazine

40
dubbed her, “The Ring-a-Ding Girl”—“a Clan word that stands for anything puzzling, hard to
define, but generally wonderful.”
115
Although she confessed to feeling shy and self-conscious
around them, she asserted, “I wouldn’t presume to try to be anything but myself with them.”
116

Phoniness was not an option in the company of nonconformists. Consequently, MacLaine earned
her reputation as a “kook,” a term which needed defining in the late in 1950s but would stick
with her throughout her career. Time offered the following explanation: “meaning, roughly,
screwball. Pronounced to rhyme not with book but with fluke.”
117
In February of 1960, Sinatra
(or perhaps his publicist) wrote a profile on MacLaine for This Week magazine. He expressed
frustration in his attempts to describe MacLaine accurately: “Trying to get the quality of this kid
down on paper is like trying to catch an eagle on a thimble—it can’t be done.”
118
In addition to
affectionately referring to MacLaine as a “kid,” Sinatra reiterated the notion that MacLaine was
unlike anyone or anything else, even amongst Sinatra’s group of nonconformists.
MacLaine’s Authenticity and the Structuring Approach of Childhood
As MacLaine looked, dressed, and lived differently from the other female stars in
Hollywood, articles about MacLaine repeatedly deliberated the authenticity of her individuality.
Authenticity, articulated by Abigail Cheever in reference to cultural works of the postwar era, is
“that which separates the individual from the social world, as what might be uniquely one’s own
rather than a consequence of social influence.”
119
In debating MacLaine’s authenticity, the
popular press therefore attempted to identify what was “uniquely” MacLaine. Appropriately, in
the article “Shirley MacLaine Stresses Importance of Individuality,” MacLaine positioned
herself as unaffected by social influence: “I am not comfortable with anything artificial. I like
honesty more than any other quality and I think I dislike phoniness the most.”
120
In various other
articles, she attributed a wide range of choices—from running around set barefoot (“I’m more

41
comfortable this way”),
121
to selecting Parker as her husband (“That is one of the things I love so
much about my husband […]. He lets me be what I am.”)
122
—to her desire to maintain a sense of
self that was distinct. This desire extended to her artistic choices as well; MacLaine explained, “I
don’t go along with The Method, because they all come out stereotyped, and that is exactly the
thing they are supposed to be getting away from. Acting is about bringing your own individuality
to your role.”
123
Dismissing the popular performance style, MacLaine even considered her
characters to be iterations of her “authentic” self. By 1961, Redbook writer Rowland Barber
claimed that one of the three most common questions asked of MacLaine was: “Is she really a
‘natural’ or is her seemingly unspoiled attitude toward life a calculated pose?”
124
Although
Barber implied that “naturalness” could be, somewhat paradoxically, performed—especially by a
famed actress—he reassured his readers: “If a ‘natural’ is somebody who is fiercely honest and
largely self-taught, who relies more on intuition than intellect and who seldom hesitates because
of ‘what people might think,’ then Shirley MacLaine is, by her own actions, a natural.”
125
Barber
resolved that MacLaine’s “naturalness,” her “unspoiled” individuality, was authentic.
As reporters sought to determine if MacLaine was a “natural,” they engaged in the search
for authenticity that the star system encourages, as discussed in the introduction to this
dissertation. However, because MacLaine’s image subverted glamour discourse—representations
of idealized consumer and leisure pursuits that create distance between star and fan—MacLaine
resituated the star/fan relationship without erasing the distance between stars and fans. The press
rooted MacLaine’s exceptionality in her “unspoiled” individuality; although her fans would
never fully know where, borrowing Dyer’s language, “the truth resides,”
126
MacLaine seemingly
cared little about other peoples’ ideas about beauty, marriage, parenting, or friendship.
MacLaine’s repeated construction as childlike—from her messy hair and untidy house, to her

42
irresponsible parenting, to being referred to as a “kid” by Sinatra—reiterated society’s lack of
influence upon her. Even though she was not glamorous, MacLaine was not like her fans; she
was like no one.
Accordingly, MacLaine’s image as a “natural” blurred the distinction between her
physical and attitudinal age. She performed childhood as a “cultural type” similar to Abigail
Cheever’s conceptualization of the teenager as “not just a developmental stage” but “an approach
that structures and defines all later stages.”
127
Other stars have embodied the complexities of
childhood as a structuring approach; Mary Pickford and Audrey Hepburn are two notable
examples identified by Gaylyn Studlar. Both Pickford’s and Hepburn’s girlish images
respectively reinforced the “long-standing association of girls and girlhood with sexual
innocence and moral purity” despite their eroticization.
128
However, MacLaine’s image was not
predicated on sexual innocence: her infidelities were widely publicized,
129
and, in her most
famous onscreen roles, MacLaine played several variations of a “hooker with a heart of gold.”
Instead, MacLaine conveyed a childlike essence through her spontaneity and optimism. Images
of MacLaine laughing frequently decorated the pages of newspapers and magazines.
130
Thus,
MacLaine distinguished herself from the 1950s figure of the teenager, which, according to
Cheever, had “disdain for aspects of [his/her] cultural milieu.”
131
Alternatively, masked by her
sunny disposition, many of her subversive actions—her disinterest in both beautification and
homemaking—anticipated the goals of feminist movement of the late 1960s and 1970s without
alienating her fans in the 1950s. In the words of Frank Sinatra, she was a “kook, but very
warm.”
132

43
Childlike and Unruly: Onscreen Images of MacLaine
MacLaine’s unconventional image offscreen can be seen as an important determinant of
the fictional roles she performed onscreen. Rather than survey all of her films during this period,
I concentrate on two films, the family melodrama Some Came Running and the sex comedy Ask
Any Girl. These two films held considerable personal significance for MacLaine at the time: as
stated above, her performance as Ginny Moorehead in Some Came Running earned MacLaine
her first Academy Award nomination, and MacLaine considered her portrayal of Meg Wheeler
in Ask Any Girl to be the first test of her box-office appeal.
133
Together, these films also illustrate
MacLaine’s ability not only to work in a range of genres but also to portray noticeably disparate
roles, specifically a prostitute in Some Came Running and a virgin in Ask Any Girl. Her
subsequent memorable performances recall her work in these two seminal films of her early
career; she played predominantly promiscuous characters (in The Apartment, Irma La Douce,
and Sweet Charity [Bob Fosse, 1969], among many other films) and another chaste character (in
All in a Night’s Work) throughout the 1960s. Despite the differences between Ginny and Meg,
MacLaine closely identified with both roles. In her first autobiography, MacLaine reflected,
“Ginny seemed part of my own character.”
134
Similarly, shortly after filming Ask Any Girl,
MacLaine told an interviewer, “[Meg Wheeler] was so close to me too.”
135
The unifying
characteristic between Ginny and Meg—which enables MacLaine to blur the distinctions
between two opposing stereotypes of femininity both within and between films—is MacLaine’s
childlike unruliness. Although in both films MacLaine’s characters long for domestic happiness
in the form of marriage, neither film posits that conventional signifiers of maturation are viable
options for MacLaine’s character.

44
Some Came Running
Some Came Running is an adaptation of the 1957 novel of the same name by James
Jones, author of From Here to Eternity. When MGM purchased the rights to Jones’s novel eight
months before its publication,
136
the family melodrama was arguably the most popular film genre
at the time.
137
Although numerous reviewers noted similarities between the plot of Minnelli’s
film and Mark Robson’s Peyton Place (1957),
138
most critics were impressed by Some Came
Running’s performances, specifically MacLaine’s.
139
Accordingly, the film earned three
Academy Award nominations for acting: in addition to MacLaine’s nomination, the Academy
recognized Arthur Kennedy and Martha Hyer for their respective supporting performances.
Walter Plunkett’s costumes and Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn’s song, “To Love and Be
Loved,” also garnered nominations. Variety estimated that the film made $4.2 million in
domestic rentals by January of 1960, placing it within the top fifteen films of that year.
140

In the film, Dave Hirsh (Frank Sinatra), a World War II veteran and novelist, returns to
Parkman, Indiana, after a sixteen-year absence. Ginny Moorehead, a nightclub hostess from
Chicago, has followed him to the small town. Although he tells her to go back to Chicago, she
decides to remain in Parkman. Dave then rekindles his volatile relationship with his family—
brother Frank (Arthur Kennedy), sister-in-law Agnes (Leora Dana), and niece Dawn (Betty Lou
Keim)—who introduces him to Gwen French (Martha Hyer), a schoolteacher and admirer of
Dave’s novels. At first, Dave insists he has given up writing; however, Gwen later helps him to
revise and publish a manuscript. When Dave attempts to seduce Gwen, she repeatedly refuses his
advances; she claims to be interested only in his mind. Dejected, Dave finds solace at the local
bar, Smitty’s, where he plays poker with ne’er-do-well Bama Dillert (Dean Martin) and
entertains himself with Ginny, who has gotten a job at the local brassiere factory. Eventually,

45
Dave’s seedy lifestyle, especially his relationship with Ginny, causes Gwen to dissociate from
Dave completely. Consequently, Dave resolves to marry Ginny in hopes of alleviating his
loneliness. On Dave and Ginny’s wedding night, Ginny’s brute ex-boyfriend Raymond (Steve
Peck) attempts to shoot Dave. However, when Ginny jumps in front of Dave, Raymond kills
Ginny instead. In the final scene, the people of Parkman, including Gwen, mourn Ginny at her
funeral.
In her feminist analysis of Some Came Running, which focuses largely on the class
commentary of the film, Jackie Byars argues that “Ginny and Gwen can be seen as two sides of
woman. […] [N]either is entirely ‘whole.’ Gwen is mind to Ginny’s body.”
141
While the film
certainly positions Ginny and Gwen as foils to one another, as will be discussed further below,
Byars’s claim oversimplifies their respective roles in the film. Ginny is indeed less intelligent
than Gwen, yet Gwen’s body is also represented as more desirable throughout the film. As
detailed above, MacLaine’s unconventional appearance was a significant aspect of her persona,
and, according to MacLaine, it determined her suitability for the role. MacLaine told Joseph
Roddy of Look magazine, “In this part, they couldn’t have a girl who looks like a hooker who
enjoys her work. That’s why the standard Hollywood sex symbol in the role would be disastrous.
This girl has to be a naïve, wide-eyed, innocent-looking young thing. Like I am.”
142
Thus, Ginny,
as performed by MacLaine, is not a “stereotypical prostitute,” as Byars calls her. Instead, as
Patricia Erens claims, “unlike the tarts and hussies that have graced the screen in the past,
however, MacLaine women-of-the-streets were not especially sexy. […] [They] were more
childlike than churlish.”
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Accordingly, Ginny’s body does not solely determine her function in
the narrative.

46
Ginny’s introduction in the film exemplifies her role as an atypical hooker. The film
opens with a shot of the back of Dave’s head, as he sleeps on a bus traveling through rolling
Midwestern hills. When the bus arrives in Parkman, the driver shouts to awaken Dave. A
reverse-shot reveals not only Dave’s face but also the first appearance of Ginny, slumped over in
the seat behind Dave and resting her head on her suitcase; not only is she literally and
figuratively beneath Dave, but also, sleeping, she has no control over her body. Despite her use
of a fiery red jacket as a blanket and the sparkly ribbons in her hair—both of which seem to be
screaming for attention—Dave takes no notice of her as he exits the bus. Ginny’s failure to be
looked at, especially by Dave, emphasizes her inability to inhabit fully the role of sex object.
Dave’s exit from the bus awakens Ginny from her slumber. Confused, she adjusts her eyes to the
morning light, repositions the bow on her head, and assesses her surroundings. A look of panic
strikes her face when she realizes that Dave is no longer on the bus. A cut to a medium shot of
the bus’s exterior reveals Dave and the bus driver conversing in the foreground with Ginny, still
on the bus and visible in silhouette, looking around frantically in the background. She resembles
a small child who has lost her parents.
Yet, the subsequent interaction between Ginny and Dave illustrates that Ginny is equally
unable to embody the role of a virgin. When Ginny identifies Dave on the street, she haphazardly
grabs her things and exits the bus as she calls out to him. While she begins speaking with the
ease of familiarity, he looks at her with absolutely no sense of recognition. As Ginny approaches,
Dave awkwardly mumbles, “Look, uh, baby, it’s a little early for uh…” He immediately
presumes she is propositioning him with sex. However, looking slightly offended, Ginny refutes,
“What am I? A tramp or something?” Unaware of his discomfort at being seen with her, she
loquaciously explains how they met—Dave drunkenly punched her vulgar escort Raymond the

47
previous evening. As she speaks, she fixes her makeup in the compact mirror attached to her
stuffed animal purse. While her accessories, as Erens has acknowledged, underscore her
youthfulness,
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her attempt to appear respectable borders on the absurd. Although Molly Haskell
describes MacLaine’s face as “of the Midwest,” Ginny’s gaudy makeup and form-fitting dress
certainly look out of place on the small-town Indiana street.
Despite Dave’s efforts to interject, Ginny briskly discusses her plans for the day, which
include meeting his family—“the highest compliment a fella can pay his girl.” She clearly
imagines herself as a girl suitable for marriage. However, Dave’s reactions make clear that he
has no intentions of paying her this compliment. Finally, she stops talking, and Dave awkwardly
apologizes, explaining “this is no town for a girl like [Ginny].” He takes out his wallet to
compensate her for her time; Ginny’s body has not successfully enticed Dave, but he still treats it
as a commodity. Although she tries to refuse, she ultimately accepts the money: she can be
bought. As Dave leaves her alone on the street, Ginny appears both confused and dejected. She
seems completely unaware of what went wrong. Despite her desire to meet a soldier’s family,
she fails to convince Dave of her respectability. Thus, from the first scene, the film positions
Ginny’s sexuality as “unruly,” in the words of Kathleen Rowe, “neither evil nor uncontrollable
like that of the femme fatale, nor sanctified and denied like that of the virgin/madonna.”
145

Ginny’s childlike nature blurs the boundaries between these conventional images of women.
Throughout the film, Minnelli continues to emphasize Ginny’s liminal status through the
temporal and spatial settings she inhabits and her placement within the frame as well. Whereas
Dave primarily meets and converses with the other women of Parkman during the day or early
evening and within private spaces—either the home or the country club, an institution which
decidedly excludes those not worthy of entry—he entertains himself with Ginny almost

48
exclusively at night and in public spaces—including, at the local bar Smitty’s, during a midnight
trip to a nightclub in the nearby town of Terra Haute, Indiana, at an afterhours courthouse
session, and finally the late-night centennial festival. When Ginny seeks out Dave during the
day, as in the first scene described above, or later when she arrives at his residence after
deliberately “forgetting” an item there, he quickly dismisses her; as Dave’s friend Bama
explains, “I don’t know what it is about them pigs, but they always look better at night.” As a
promiscuous character, Ginny can only find her place alongside Dave in the dark recesses of
Parkman.
However, Minnelli’s repeated use of deep focus long shots and multiple planes position
Ginny, although visible to the viewer, frequently out of Dave’s line of vision. For example, when
Dave walks into Smitty’s on his first night in Parkman, Ginny is sitting at the counter, painting
her fingernails a bright red shade. Despite her revealing dress and the gigantic red carnation
decorating her hair, Dave walks behind Ginny without noticing her. She has to yell out to him to
grab his attention, which she holds only briefly until he joins Bama to play poker. Later that
evening, when Dave finishes gambling, he and Bama scope out the bevy of brassiere factory
employees who frequent Smitty’s after work. By positioning the camera behind Dave and Bama,
Minnelli shows the entirety of the bar. As the two friends survey their options, neither takes
notice of Ginny, sitting in a booth on the left side of the frame and fiddling with her purse as a
waitress delivers her food. Dave only joins Ginny after dismissing the other “pigs” in the place.
Minnelli composes a similar shot within the nightclub in Terra Haute. Although Dave is initially
sitting with Ginny, he rises and walks across the club when he notices his niece Dawn—clearly
out of place—enter with a much older man. As Dave and Dawn converse in the foreground on
the right side of the frame, Ginny awkwardly sips her drink and peers over at them from her table

49
in the background on the left side of the frame. Dave only summons Ginny over to his table
when he needs her help in sobering up Dawn. Finally, after Dave argues with both Ginny and
Bama, respectively, a long shot frames Dave as he gulps down a drink inside Bama’s house.
Through the window in the background, Ginny can be seen still sitting on the porch. Again,
Dave only allows her into the same plane as him to ask her to clean the house. Dave’s persistent
failure to see Ginny—except in instances of boredom or necessity—reiterates the impotency of
her sexuality. Ginny is not a femme fatale because she does not effectively pique the
protagonist’s interest. Still, the viewer’s simultaneous knowledge of her whereabouts
underscores her significance to the narrative, if not to Dave.
Appropriately, while Ginny often remains unseen, at least by Dave, she rarely goes
unheard. Indeed, she at first attracts Dave’s attention at Smitty’s by yelling at him. When she
speaks, her voice is nasal and her accent exposes a Midwestern twang. The way in which she
lengthens and exaggerates her words—e.g., “puh-leeeze” instead of “please”—starkly contrasts
the refined, deliberate, and unaffected elocution of Gwen and the other women of Parkman.
When Ginny is not speaking, the large jewelry she wears clanks with every one of her erratic
movements. Ginny is perhaps at her loudest at the Terra Haute nightclub. After expressing her
love for a song—prefaced with an earsplitting “Oh!”—she joins the nightclub singers in a off-
key wail until Dave gladly collects her at the club owners’ insistence. In her uncontrollable
loudness, Ginny not only emphasizes her childlike disregard for social conventions, but also
again recalls Rowe’s conception of the “unruly woman.” Ginny threatens beliefs about
femininity through her use of the “female mouth and its dangerous emanations—laughter and
speech.”
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Ginny’s ability to upset gender norms—conceptions of both the stereotypical

50
prostitute and the stereotypical virgin—through the use of her mouth emphasizes the tenuous
construction of those norms and the importance of her own desires.
Although Dave repeatedly overlooks Ginny, her noisiness does occasionally attract his
attention. In these moments, Minnelli’s use of close-up shots further indicates how Ginny avoids
assuming the role of the stereotypical prostitute, despite other characters’ descriptions of her as a
“tart” or a “floozy.” When Ginny sees Dave at Smitty’s, Minnelli cuts to a soft-focus close-up of
Ginny as she confesses, “I can go out with anybody I want to.” On the one hand, the close-up
indicates the sincerity of her affection for Dave; on the other hand, the cinematic technique—
typically used to emphasize a leading lady’s beauty—instead makes Ginny appear almost
clownish. Her red lipstick extends over the edges of her lips, and she has clearly applied too
much blush to her cheeks; she looks like a child playing “dress up.” Despite her attempt to
suggest her sexual availability, her undesirability prevails. Later, when Dave joins Ginny after
gambling with Bama, Minnelli cuts to another close-up of Ginny as she admits that she could fall
for a guy like Dave. Again, the close-up suggests that her statement is heartfelt. However, her
face shares the frame with the hamburger she is aggressively eating with her mouth open.
Although she longs to woo Dave with genuine presentations of herself, her unrefined and base
urges—again, the unruliness of her mouth—prevent Ginny from effectively becoming a passive
object of male interest.
Nevertheless, despite Dave’s disregard for her feelings, Ginny attempts to represent
herself as mature in order to charm him. At first, Ginny proudly informs Dave that she got a job
at the brassiere factory in Parkman. The position is not only a step up from her previous
employment in Chicago—as a “sort of hostess”—but also suggests the permanency of her
residency in Parkman and therefore her commitment to pursuing him. Yet, Dave dismisses the

51
announcement by facetiously wishing her luck in her “career” and then swiftly asking her to
leave. Unable to impress Dave through her accomplishments in the public sphere, she also
repeatedly tries to illustrate her capability in the domestic sphere: she helps him pack for their
trip to Terra Haute, she acts as a caring mother figure toward Dawn at the nightclub, and later
she even cleans Dave and Bama’s house. Yet, none of these acts garner much respect from Dave.
When Ginny proudly buys every available copy of the magazine that published Dave’s story,
Dave angrily reminds Ginny, “You are not my girlfriend. […] You haven’t got the brains or the
willpower to sit down and read this story.” Despite all her effort to appear mature, Ginny cannot
overcome her childlike intelligence. Although Ginny defends herself—she asserts, “You’ve got
no right to talk to me the way you did, Dave. I’m a human being and I’ve got as many rights and
feelings as anybody else”—Dave continues to treat her as less than human. Yet, she never
wavers in her determination to capture his affections. Her naiveté cannot be subdued.
The juxtaposition of Ginny with Dave’s love interest and Ginny’s “rival,” Gwen French,
underscores the value of Ginny’s unruly emotions. Unlike Ginny, Gwen’s body immediately
attracts Dave’s gaze. When Frank and Agnes introduce Gwen to Dave, Gwen’s appearance
silences Dave as he takes in her beauty. Her muted blonde hair is tightly pulled back into a
conservative twist, a string of pearls are draped across her milky white skin, and her sparkling
blue eyes fixate Dave’s attention. Yet, Gwen demurely looks away; she evidently does not
appreciate her conventional beauty. In fact, she prefers to stifle her sexuality. When Dave and
Gwen dance at the country club in Parkman, Gwen continually pushes Dave away as he holds
her increasingly close; she would rather discuss his writing than be seduced by him. Later, after
Dave compliments her eyes, her hair, and her perfume, Gwen claims that her eyes are “not
fascinating,” she has chosen her hairstyle because it pleases the school board, and her perfume is

52
a “bug repellant.” She insists her “one good feature” is her mind. Although Gwen denies her
attractiveness, Dave’s repeated advances suggest that she cannot be reduced to her intelligence
alone. Even Ginny later marvels, “Gee, you [Gwen] don’t look like a school teacher.” Gwen’s
conventional beauty is at odds with Ginny’s lack thereof.
In addition to Ginny and Gwen’s differences in physical appearance, the two characters
vary in terms of their representation of age. Whereas Ginny’s naïveté and undying optimism
connote youthfulness, Gwen’s prudery is associated with maturity. Before Dave meets Gwen,
Frank and Agnes boast that she is from an “old family” that is “well worth meeting.” The age of
Gwen’s family determines her value in Parkman. Although Gwen appears to be in her late
twenties or early thirties, her only companion is her elderly father, Professor Robert Haven
French (Larry Gates). Despite their differences in age and gender, Gwen equates herself with
him. For instance, she asks Dave why he can maintain a platonic friendship with her father and
not with her. After Gwen admits to Dave that she rarely dates, Dave asks, “How old are you,
Gwen?” His question and her failure to respond imply not only that she is acting older than she
is, but also that she may not have much time left to act her age, or, in other words, find a
husband. Nevertheless, as Dave’s desire for Gwen escalates, she repeatedly makes reference to
her age in her refusals of him. When Dave asks her to “park,” she rebukes, “Do I look like a
delinquent teenager?” Later, after Dave professes his love for her, she reminds him, “I’m not a
school girl, I’m a school teacher.” As Gwen equates passion with youth, she reiterates both her
own adulthood and her lack of sexual desire, in spite of her own desirability. Thus, the
differences between Gwen and Ginny cannot be simplified to the dualism between mind and
body; both characters effectively complicate each of these aspects of femininity.

53
Gwen and Ginny’s one direct interaction in the film further emphasizes the disparities
between them. As if respecting her elder, Ginny seeks out Gwen, whom she calls “Miss French,”
for permission to pursue Dave. As Byars acknowledges, “The class and educational differences
between Gwen and Ginny make the confrontation excruciating.”
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Although Ginny attempts to
be respectful, she cannot mask her poor grasp of grammar and syntax. And Gwen’s rigid posture
evinces her awkwardness in the company of Ginny. Appropriately, the lighting reflects the
worlds between them: the darkness of a blackboard frames Ginny, while a window flooded with
daylight frames Gwen. Moreover, the staging, placing Ginny in a student’s desk and Gwen at her
teacher’s desk, underscores the differences in their attitudinal ages. When Ginny begins her
characteristic babbling, she unthinkingly reveals that she accompanied Dave to Terra Haute.
Gwen shows an inkling of jealousy—she gasps, “You were on that trip?!”—but Ginny sadly
admits that Dave does not love her. Nevertheless, Gwen coldly reassures Ginny, “There’s
absolutely nothing between Mr. Hirsh and myself. […] Consequently, I’m not your rival.” Thus,
in bringing these two female characters together, this scene illustrates not only the differences in
appearance and attitude between them, but also the consequences of Ginny’s incessant blather.
Although Ginny is unable to entice Dave herself, her unruly mouth is powerful.
In the end, Ginny’s symbolic transformation into adulthood through marriage is both
unconvincing and fleeting. Dave, painfully lonely after being rejected by Gwen, impetuously
decides to marry Ginny at a courthouse ceremony on the night of Parkman’s centennial
celebration. Despite the jovial carnival music in the background, their wedding is a sullen affair.
They have no friends or family as witnesses; Bama has refused to be Dave’s best man, claiming
he has “no use for anybody [specifically, Dave] that stupid [enough to marry Ginny, a ‘pig’].”
And when Ginny attempts to kiss Dave after the ceremony, he glares at her before turning away.

54
Ginny still fails to arouse him sexually. Nevertheless, Ginny promises, “I’m gonna make you a
good wife, Dave, a really good wife. You’re not going to be sorry.” Ginny subsequently makes
various gestures to prove her suitability as Dave’s mate: she brags about borrowing a grammar
book from the library (she will become smarter); she kisses one of the children at the carnival
(she will be an affectionate mother); and she stretches her neck above the crowds to glimpse at a
cooking demonstration (and she will take an interest in cooking). Each of these gestures
anticipates her transition into adulthood, yet Dave remains unimpressed.
Nevertheless, Ginny does not have an opportunity to fulfill these expectations. Moments
later, Ginny’s ex-boyfriend Raymond, attempting to kill Dave, tracks down the newlyweds and
maniacally shoots at them. When Dave gets shot in the shoulder and falls to the ground, Ginny
impulsively leaps on top of his body. In doing so, she blocks the next bullet, which immediately
kills her. Her self-sacrifice is the definitive display of her uncontrollable, childlike emotions.
Only when Dave looks at his bloodstained hands does he finally appreciate Ginny’s body.
Meanwhile, the townspeople, including Frank, Agnes, and Dawn, gather around to witness the
tragedy; at last, in her death, Ginny is the center of attention in Parkman. Even Gwen and her
father attend Ginny’s funeral in the concluding scene. Thus, this recognition suggests that
Ginny’s death is not punishment for her immorality but instead a noble act. As such, Some Came
Running serves as a commentary on the value of authenticity in the postwar period. Unlike
Gwen, Ginny does not suppress her genuine feelings. She is, like MacLaine, a “natural” and thus
worthy of respect.
Ask Any Girl
In February of 1959, Variety listed Ask Any Girl, based on the 1958 novel of the same
name by Winifred Wolfe, among the upcoming releases that predicted the comedy genre’s

55
“comeback.”
148
Indeed, following the release of Otto Preminger’s notoriously racy The Moon Is
Blue (1953), a new cycle of romantic comedies with “more ‘adult’ themes”—retroactively
dubbed “sex comedies”—had captivated American audiences.
149
While Doris Day and Rock
Hudson (whose Pillow Talk [Michael Gordon, 1959] was released four months after Ask Any
Girl) would become the stars most closely associated with the cycle,
150
Shirley MacLaine and
her co-stars David Niven and Gig Young were commended for their comic performances, despite
the somewhat simplistic plot, in Ask Any Girl.
151
As the reviewer in Variety wrote, “The pert and
effervescent [MacLaine], who gains increased stature with each new outing, comes through with
a performance that is sheer delight, even topping her Academy Award nomination stint in ‘Some
Came Running.’”
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This reviewer’s assessment may have been somewhat hyperbolic;
MacLaine’s performance in Ask Any Girl did not receive nearly as much acclaim as did her
performance in Some Came Running. Nevertheless, MGM boasted that, according to Film
Research Surveys Inc., Ask Any Girl received a 99.4 rating at its preview in New York, with
MacLaine earning the “TOP ALL-TIME FEMALE STAR RATING!”
153
MacLaine’s
performance at least appealed to audiences in the late 1950s.
Like many of the films in the sex comedy cycle, Ask Any Girl explores the relationship
between “sexual desire and consumerism,” while making use of “consumer industries and
products as plot material.”
154
Accordingly, twenty-one-year-old Meg Wheeler arrives in New
York City with the intention of finding “a career…or a husband…preferably both.” Soon
enough, Meg lands a job at a sweater manufacturer, where she meets Ross Taford (Rod Taylor).
After the two go on several seemingly promising dates, Meg discovers that Ross is only
interested in sex, and she ends the relationship. When Meg’s boss, Mr. Maxwell (Jim Backus),
tries to seduce her, Meg resolves to quit her job as well. Meg’s friend Jeannie Boyden (Elisabeth

56
Fraser) then alerts Meg to an open position at Doughton & Doughton, a market research firm
headed by brothers Miles (David Niven) and Evan (Gig Young). Although Meg makes an
unfavorable impression on fastidious Miles, philanderer Evan subsequently offers her the job.
After several unsuccessful attempts at wooing Evan, Meg enlists Miles’s help to convince Evan
to marry her using the “basic principle of motivation research.” Miles “studies”—goes on dates
with—all of the women in Evan’s address book to create a list of aspects Evan prefers (from hair
color to perfume to dancing posture), and Meg then incorporates his findings into her courtship
of Evan. The plan works, and Evan asks Meg to marry him. Yet, by that point, Meg has fallen in
love with Miles. After various mishaps, Meg and Miles unite at the end of the film.
The opening sequence of Ask Any Girl parallels and inverts the beginning of Some Came
Running. Both films are set in motion with the arrival of MacLaine’s character in an unfamiliar
place. However, whereas Ginny’s connection with Chicago suggests her moral depravity, Meg’s
hometown in rural Pennsylvania implies her unsophisticated innocence. Although Meg’s attire—
a conservative gray suit, a cap, and a red high-neck sweater—reveals a concerted effort to appear
independent and mature, her actions undermine that effort. As numerous commuters hurry past,
MacLaine walks slowly, confusedly assessing her surroundings and bumping into people in the
process. When Meg happens on the train station information booth, she places her bags on the
ground and retrieves a slip of paper from her purse. In voiceover, she explains, “According to
statistics, 226 girls arrive every day in New York City in search of a career…or a
husband…preferably both.” Meanwhile, a young man, also standing at the booth, lasciviously
eyes Meg up and down as he moves toward her. Unlike Ginny, Meg’s body attracts attention.
Yet, Meg remains completely unaware of her desirability. She politely nods at the gawker
and continues her conversation with the gentleman behind the desk. Meg’s voiceover, on the

57
other hand, is unquestionably more prescient; her narration continues, “They come from all over
the country, wide eyed with wonder, in a state of complete innocence.” On the word
“innocence,” onscreen Meg takes a second, more suspicious look at the lascivious man. Like
many sex comedies, according to Glitre, Ask Any Girl considers “the fragility of respectability
for women.”
155
As the voiceover explains, “A lot of them remain…in New York, that is…” Meg
reaches down to grab her suitcases only to realize that they have been stolen. And the voiceover
resolves, “I was innocent all right. Two minutes in town, and I was practically naked!” Utterly
shocked, Meg crawls on the ground in search of her belongings; she is a baby surrounded by
adults. This image persists when, returning to a standing position, she then clutches her coat to
her chest as if it was a baby’s blanket. Thus, although this first scene positions Meg “in a
complete state of innocence,” her body—as reference to her theoretical nakedness implies—
consistently puts her wholesomeness at risk.
Accordingly, Meg repeatedly must defend herself from numerous gazes throughout the
film. For example, despite her poor performance on a typing test, Mr. Maxwell explicitly gives
Meg the position as his secretary because she “[looks] good in a sweater.” Upon hearing his
reasoning, Meg bolts upright and begins to button her jacket, hiding her body. Yet, Mr. Maxwell
reassures her that the comment meant “nothing personal” and that she will be “a walking
breathing ad” for the company’s sweaters. Although his explanation only reiterates her
objectification, she accepts the position. Later, when Mr. Maxwell incorrectly presumes that Meg
and her boyfriend Ross have slept together, his typically sleepy eyes widen with intrigue and
longing. In voiceover, Meg recalls, “From then on Mr. Maxwell looked at me with new interest.”
The next scene shows Mr. Maxwell peering at Meg through stacks of boxes. When Meg notices
his intense stare, she remarks, “Mr. Maxwell, you look so funny.” He then begins to chase her

58
around the boxes. Meg pleads, “Think of your home! Your wife!” But Mr. Maxwell cannot be
deterred, and she ultimately resigns from her job. Meg cannot effectively suppress the appeal of
her body.
Despite her professed wholesomeness, she accepts her second job for the same reason as
the first. Meg makes a terrible impression on Miles when inquiring about the position of Field
Research Worker at Doughton & Doughton. However, while exiting the office, she bumps into
Evan and drops a carton of cigarettes on the floor. Although her voiceover admits, “I don’t know
why I kept staring at him,” the camera assumes Evan’s gaze at her legs as he picks up the
dropped carton. A brief conversation between the two then results in Meg securing the open
position. Later, when Miles furiously asks what qualifications she has, Evan curtly explains:
“Well, number 1, she’s a girl, that’s not bad for openers. And, besides, she has very good legs.”
Again, Meg’s body becomes the source of her income.
Consequently, other characters continue to question her chasteness. Miles calls Meg into
his office to make sure, “purely for business reasons,” that she is not sleeping with Evan.
Insulted, Meg then adamantly insists that her “morals are above reproach!” Ironically, as her
voiceover admits, “That afternoon, [she] was arrested…on a moral’s charge.” The next scene
shows the police pushing Meg into a van with a bevy of prostitutes and their madam. Meg tries
to explain that she was merely fulfilling her duties as a Field Research Worker: she pleads, “I
was just giving away samples.” However, the officer misinterprets her words as those of a
prostitute, as he pushes her into the van and states, “That’s what we figured.” As Meg accepts
employment for her physical assets, others accordingly construe her sexuality as a commodity.
Although Miles later clears Meg’s name with the police, Miss Stoner (Helen Wallace), the
manager of Meg’s building—The Albemarle Hotel, which the tenants call “The Nunnery”—sees

59
the newspaper report of the incident and kicks Meg out of the building. Meg implores Ms. Stoner
to change her mind: “Can’t you see it was a mistake? Can’t you read? It says, ‘Margaret Wheeler
cleared of all charges.’” Yet, Ms. Stoner apparently cannot see past the article’s headline, “Office
Worker in Morals Raid.” As Miss Stoner explains, “[The Albemarle Hotel] cannot afford to get
the reputation of harboring ‘you know whats.’” When Meg asks if Ms. Stoner is accusing her of
being a “you know what,” Miss Stoner replies, “I’m only accusing you of having your picture
taken with ‘you know whats.’” Miss Stoner’s response thus underscores how Meg’s image,
despite her intentions, is easily associated with dangerous promiscuity. Moreover, the viewer’s
potential knowledge of MacLaine’s most famous role up to that point—as “you know what”
Ginny—further reiterates the “fragility” of her respectability.
Nevertheless, Meg neither possesses Hélène Cixous’s notion of “divine composure”—in
the words of Rowe, as “silent, static, invisible”
156
—nor is she purely an object of male desire.
Meg’s initial interactions with Miles highlight this liminal essence of her character. Meg first
meets Miles while participating in a survey about a new brand of flavored cigarettes. As Miles
asks her simple questions about her name, age, and family, she repeatedly qualifies her answers
with unnecessary or slightly altering information, causing Miles not only to erase and modify his
transcriptions but also to become visibly irritated. Eventually, he abandons asking the questions
on the form and tells her to sample the cigarettes. Upon taking a puff of the first spearmint-
flavored cigarette, Meg bursts into a loud, uncontrollable cough, her eyes cross and her entire
body convulses. When she tries the second cigarette, her coughs and gasps for air become even
louder and more uncontrollable. Before Miles can excuse her from his office, Meg fiddles with
her pen until it eventually squirts black ink directly onto Miles’s white tie. The scene concludes
with Meg yelling about the meaninglessness of Miles’s survey and slamming the door. When

60
Jeannie asks her if she made a good impression, Meg replies, “I left a mark on him he’ll never
forget.” Later in the film—when Meg’s duties have been limited to office work following the
brothel incident—Meg assures Miles that she can take dictation. She practically dances into his
office, as the voiceover explains, “This was [her] first chance to make good [since her encounter
with the police].” However, as soon as Meg begins transcribing, her pencil breaks. Unable to
stop Miles’s dictation, she grabs a second pencil and attempts to catch up. Yet, this pencil breaks
as well, causing her to give up altogether. The following scene shows her once again making
house calls. Like Ginny’s, Meg’s “speech is excessive” and “she is unable […] to confine herself
to her proper place”
157
; she is unruly.
In addition to characterizing Meg as an ineffective employee, Meg’s unruliness affects
her romantic relationships with men as well. Whereas Ginny would practically do anything for
Dave’s affections, Meg is more discerning with men in the film. Initially, Meg is ecstatic when
her boyfriend Ross invites her to his aunt and uncle’s house in Connecticut—she thinks he is
planning to propose marriage. However, as she learns Ross’s intentions are solely physical in
nature, Meg’s enthusiasm for the weekend getaway wanes. Despite several protests from Meg,
Ross roguishly puts his arms around her body. In response, Meg gently removes his arms,
politely stands up, and then punches Ross in the face. As she collects her things to leave, she
gives him one more kick in the shin to escape the house. Cold and wet at the train station, Meg
explains, in voiceover, “I was a good girl that night. […] Mother would have been proud of me.”
Later in the film, Meg again acts worthy of her mother’s approval when she slugs a male
partygoer—a friend of her promiscuous roommate Lisa (Claire Kelly)—who has overtaken her
bedroom. Thus, although Meg’s sexuality remains “sanctified and denied”
158
and conforms to

61
her mother’s expectations, Meg’s efforts to contain her sexuality are not silent, static, or
invisible.
Accordingly, when Meg does attempt to express her desires, her unruliness prevents her
from doing so effectively. For example, Meg’s initial relationship with Evan is marred by her
inability to conform to contemporary dating etiquette. When Evan calls Meg to ask her for a date
that evening, she at first comments on the lateness of the call and then implies she has other
plans. By playing “hard to get,” Meg tries to reprimand him for his rudeness. Although we
cannot hear his responses, her reactions suggest that he has accepted her excuse. However, she
quickly demurs, explaining that she can surely break her other date. When he seemingly rejects
her offer, her voices intensifies until she is almost screaming as she repeatedly says that she does
not mind breaking the date. When Meg finally convinces Evan to pick her up, she concludes the
conversation by warning him, “Don’t forget.” After she hangs up, Lisa smugly remarks, “Boy,
you sure blew that one.” As Meg’s date with Evan—during which he falls asleep while
“parking”—illustrates, Meg’s excessive speech constructs Meg as an insufficient object of male
affection.
Meg’s twinned goals in the film, to find a career and a husband, evidence her desire for
maturity. Yet, the film seemingly situates Meg’s childishness as the cause of her professional and
romantic woes. Before Meg flees from Ross’s family home in Connecticut, she repeatedly yelps,
huffs, and slams her arms against her body. Her tantrum inspires Ross to ask her if she is a child.
Although she responds in the negative, her high-pitched and whiny delivery suggests otherwise.
Ironically, Ross declares he is “too young to get married” after she confesses that she expected a
marriage proposal. From Ross’s perspective, male and female youth have different connotations.
Nevertheless, when Meg again refuses his advances, Ross resolves, “You see, you are a child.

62
That’s the trouble with girls nowadays, they’re immature. That’s why nobody wants to marry
them. Wheeler, you want to be immature all your life? […] You see, Wheeler, in a kind of way,
I’m doing you a favor. I want to develop you, emotionally.” Ross equates Meg’s respectability—
her lack of sexual experiences—with her immaturity. Although Meg disagrees with Ross, she
loses her prospects for both a husband and a career (Mr. Maxwell’s “new interest” in Meg begins
on the train home) following that weekend trip. Meg seems destined to be an unemployed
spinster.
Still, after Ms. Stoner kicks her out of The Nunnery, Meg proposes an alternative
definition of adulthood. When sexpot Lisa offers to find an apartment with Meg, Jeannie warns
Meg to think twice. Yet, Meg dismisses the warning, claiming, “I’m twenty-one years old. I’m
adult, and I know how to take care of myself. Besides, this is the first time in my life I’ve been
free! Free! Free! Free!” As she repeats the word “free,” her voice becomes high-pitched and she
pounds the newspaper in her hand against the desk. Whereas Meg previously deemed
employment and marriage as signifiers of adulthood, she now proposes that unrestrained
independence indicates maturity. Still, Meg’s transition into adulthood—through the act of living
alone—does not in fact grant her the freedom she so desires. In the next scene, Meg, exhausted,
ascends the staircase of her new apartment complex. Meg reflects, in voiceover, “Living with
Lisa had all the disadvantages of marriage with none of the advantages. I did the cleaning, the
cooking, and the shopping, and Lisa had the ball.” Unable to be as free as she wanted, Meg’s
alternative definition of adulthood proves to be an illusion; she still longs for the traditional
marriage unit. Later, when Lisa locks Meg out of the apartment and refuses to return her clothes,
Meg is again left “practically naked.” In her symbolic return to the first scene, the film
emphasizes Meg’s persistent immaturity.

63
Although Meg’s childlike nature prevents her from attracting a husband, her attempt at
transforming herself—while successful in inspiring a proposal—is inauthentic and unachievable.
Just as MacLaine’s performance of Meg subverts the “divine composure,” as identified by
Dennis Bingham, of Doris Day’s characters,
159
Ask Any Girl inverts the narrative arc of Day’s
sex comedies. Bingham acknowledges:
No fewer than five of Day’s films released between 1958 and 1964
offer a man pretending to be somebody else in order to trick her.
The comedy stems from the audience’s knowledge of the ruse and
the suspense of waiting to see what Day will do when she finds
out, as she inevitably and dramatically does each time. In all cases,
a devious predator, sometimes a competitor Day’s own age,
sometimes a disapproving older man who wants to show up an
upstart young woman, masquerades as a naïf, a sweet, sensitive
“virgin”—whether sexually or not—who allows Day to think she’s
taken him under her wing. Day falls in love with, and is willing to
give herself sexually to, the “sensitive man,” the disguise. The joke
on women—or is it on men?—is that the kind of man a “nice girl”
goes for doesn’t exist.

In Ask Any Girl, however, Meg performs the masquerade: in order to win Evan’s affections, she
transforms herself into an amalgamation of Evan’s favorite qualities in women. In doing so, she
not only attempts to suppress her unruliness, but she also ultimately positions the ideal object of
male desire to be just as much of a fallacy as Doris Day’s “sensitive” men.
Meg employs Miles’s assistance as a means to perform her ruse. Inspired by Jeannie’s
theory of relationships—“[Women] are just pieces of merchandise on a shelf. Men come in, take
a look, [and] if [women] have something they want, they take [them] home”—Meg asks Miles to
consider her as “a piece of merchandise” so that she can “sell” herself as a wife. Miles is amused
by the idea but still reluctant to help. Thus, she continues to persuade him, “I know I can be a
perfectly good wife to him. […] Because I’m good-natured. I’m fairly intelligent. I can cook,
sew, I do housework. I’m very affectionate. And I’m healthy. […] And my statistics are 34-24-

64
34.” In her self-assessment, Meg echoes Ginny’s sentiments in Some Came Running; she
considers her physical attributes and domestic abilities worthy of marriage. Yet, Meg, like
Ginny, is incapable of cultivating male desire on her own. Meg’s immaturity prevents her from
being consumed by men, specifically Evan.
After Miles agrees to help Meg, the film situates her “growth” and her seduction of Evan
as a self-reflexive commentary on the illusions of romantic comedies. After Lisa locks Meg out
of their apartment and refuses to return Meg’s clothes, Miles and Meg consider her potential
options while walking down a New York street. Miles asks, “How would you look in a pair of
men’s pajamas, Miss Wheeler? […] I was thinking of the movies. Every time the heroine spends
the night in the hero’s apartment, she invariably climbs into a pair of his pajamas, thereby
becoming very cute and appealing. Do you think you could become cute and appealing for Evan
this evening?” Miles proposes that Meg might embody the desirability of female stars by
mimicking their actions. In the next scene, Meg descends the staircase in Miles’s apartment
wearing a pair of Evan’s pajamas. The oversized shirt and the long pants are hardly appealing on
Meg, and her slouched shoulders and disgruntled face subvert the common romantic comedy
trope. As she appropriately admits, “I just feel silly.” Although Miles does not contradict her, he
suggests that Evan will judge whether her performance is convincing or not. Miles then
continues to act as director of Meg’s seduction scene when he suggests where in the apartment
she should sit so that “the stage will be set, so to speak.” However, despite their efforts to
recreate the romantic comedy scene, Evan does not return to the apartment that evening. Meg
and Miles are foiled by the conventions of the genre they are trying to imitate.
As Miles constructs Meg’s seduction of Evan as a romantic comedy, her subsequent
transformation likewise critiques the beautification process required of female stars and women

65
in general. In Evan’s absence, the scheming pair use Evan’s address book to compile a list of the
“outstanding qualities” Evan prefers in women. Miles then conducts a “competition survey”—he
dates each of the women in the address book—to collect additional information. Following his
extensive “research,” Miles shares his findings, all of which fit neatly into a shoebox, with Meg.
He gives Meg a pair of dangling earrings, a particular shade of nail polish (worn by Miss
Thurgood), a specific length of false eyelashes (worn by Miss O’Toole), a type of perfume, and
list of records that Evan finds romantically inspiring. At first, Meg has difficulty embodying the
“outstanding qualities” of these other women. When she tries on the false eyelashes, they do not
quite fit on her eyelids. She blinks rapidly, as she questions, “How does Miss O’Toole see?” The
comment underscores how beautification creates women to be looked at, not to look themselves.
Later, when Miles advises Meg to “laugh like Mary Louise,” Meg delivers a practice cackle,
which is more disturbing than attractive. Meg’s initial failures emphasize not only her essential
unruliness but also the absurdity of conforming to these paragons of beauty.
Nevertheless, with some practice, Meg successfully composes herself and piques Evan’s
interest. As Meg dances with Evan in the style of Miss Juliet Adams—“just a kiss apart”—Evan
teasingly asks Meg what her name is. Meg, whose unruliness has been tamed, is almost
unrecognizable. When he admits that he has “never seen [her] like this before,” she responds,
“You’ve never looked before.” Meg underscores the extent of her objectification. Moreover,
Meg’s transformation is explicitly linked to her coming of age. In one of her final lessons, Miles
asks Meg, who has recently dyed her hair, how Evan is reacting to their scheme. Meg responds,
“Let’s just say, he doesn’t think of me as a kid any longer.” Through becoming an object of
Evan’s desire, Meg has seemingly become an adult. Still, she asks Miles what he thinks of “the
new Meg Wheeler,” as she suspects he does not like the “late model.” While Miles does not deny

66
her suspicion, he admits his own blame if he does not like her because he designed her. Although
Miles intimates his preference for the childlike Meg, he also stresses how Meg’s transformation
denies her of subjectivity—she has been fabricated by a man to be consumed by a man.
As is characteristic of sex comedies, the ruse is eventually exposed before the
relationship can be consummated. By the time Evan proposes to Meg, Meg’s attraction to him
has completely dissipated; while she has not yet admitted her affections to herself or anyone else,
she clearly loves Miles instead. However, Evan discovers that Miles and Meg have been
conspiring before Meg can call off the engagement. Upset, Evan demands an explanation.
Finally, Meg confesses, “I dressed up in all [your girlfriends’] best qualities. If you liked
redheads, I was Bonny. If you liked to dance, I was Mary Louise. And, just for laughs, I was
Juliet. I was nobody. I don’t know who I am anymore.” Meg’s performance as the feminine ideal
has obscured her sense of self. Thus, like MacLaine’s offscreen image, Meg constructs the
beautification process as “deceptive, false, and limited.”
160
(Meg’s confusion of the ladies’
names perhaps further underscores their limitations.) Following various misunderstandings and
mishaps, the last scene shows Meg (wearing her original hair color) with Miles on their
honeymoon. Although Meg, in voiceover, finally refers to herself as a “woman,” her union with
Miles—who preferred Meg’s original “model”—assures the preservation of her childlike
essence. Thus, like Some Came Running, Ask Any Girl exalts the authentic representation of the
female self.
Conclusion
From exposing publicists’ methods of selling stars, to destabilizing the relationship
between the soft-focus close-up and female beauty, to demystifying conventions of the romantic
comedy, the image of Shirley MacLaine inspired a self-reflexive consideration of the

67
construction of female stars both on- and offscreen. Accordingly, MacLaine’s childlike persona
subverted the dominant images of women in films and in the popular press. She was more than
merely an object of male desire or a homemaker; she was a kook—someone who values personal
authenticity over conforming to societal expectations. Thus, during her early career, MacLaine
established a new model of female stardom, and MacLaine’s popularity suggests that this model
resonated with diverse audiences at the time.
However, in order for MacLaine to maintain her stardom, her persona would have to
transform along with American culture. By January of 1966, New York Times critic Bosley
Crowther dubbed Shirley MacLaine a “calculated nitwit, doomed to eternal immaturity.”
161
At
least according to Crowther, the image that boosted MacLaine to stardom no longer assured
American audiences’ identification with her. Yet, MacLaine’s image was not static during the
1960s. In the following chapter, I demonstrate how, as the discourse of travel became a dominant
aspect of her persona, MacLaine proved that she was neither a nitwit nor immature.

NOTES

1
Joe Hyams, “Publicist Describes Shirley MacLaine as ‘An Odd Ball, Pixie, Nut, Brooder,’”
Boston Globe, August 26, 1955.

2
Dorothy Manners, “Shirley’s ‘Off-Beat’ Career,” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, August 25,
1957.

3
Hedda Hopper, “MacLaine Potential Unlimited,” Los Angeles Times, May 4, 1958.

4
Quoted in “Talk with a Star,” Newsweek, August 18, 1958.

5
Hedda Hopper, “It’s Shirley’s Cue to Shoot,” Chicago Daily Tribune, April 8, 1962.

6
Molly Haskell, From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in the Movies (New York:
Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1974), 261-62.

7
Ibid, 262.

68

8
Ibid.

9
Patricia Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine (New York: A. S. Barnes and Company, 1978),
13.

10
Ibid.

11
Sheilah Graham, “Career Zooms Ahead for One Hesitant Actress,” Boston Globe, November
20, 1960.

12
Philip K. Scheuer, “Nominees Picked for Film Oscars,” Los Angeles Times, February 24,
1959; “Academy Award Nominees for 1960 Films Announced,” Los Angeles Times, February
28, 1961; “Nominations Made for Academy Awards,” Los Angeles Times, February 25, 1964.

13
Philip K. Scheuer, “Lancaster, Garson Win New Awards,” Los Angeles Times, March 17,
1961; Margaret Harford, “Golden Globe Honors Voted to ‘Tom Jones,’” Los Angeles Times,
March 11, 1964; “Film Daily Poll Won by Newman: Shirley MacLaine Is Named Best Actress
of 1963,” New York Times, January 11, 1964.

14
Richard L. Coe, “Doris Day Heads Top 10,” On the Aisle, Washington Post, Times Herald,
January 14, 1964.

15
“Burton Edges Out His Wife,” Boston Globe, January 4, 1965.

16
MacLaine fell to fifteenth place on the list the following year. See Vernon Scott, “Connery,
Wayne, Day Tops,” Boston Globe, January 9, 1966.

17
“Joe Levine, Shirley MacLaine Sound Call for U.S. Film Subsidy,” Variety, June 30, 1967;
Wayne Warga, “The Decline and Fall of the Hollywood Star,” Los Angeles Times, November 16,
1969; Lloyd Shearer, “The Decline and Fall of Hollywood,” Boston Globe, May 10, 1970.

18
Shirley MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain (New York: Bantam Books, 1970), 7, 16.

19
Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine, 26.

20
Bernard F. Dick, Hal Wallis: Producer to the Stars (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press,
2004), 136.

21
Pete Martin, “I Call on Shirley MacLaine,” Saturday Evening Post, April 22, 1961; Erens, The
Films of Shirley MacLaine, 26.

22
Martin, “I Call on Shirley MacLaine”; Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine, 26; “Shirley
MacLaine Asks Court Void Wallis Pact, Claims It Violates State Labor Code,” Variety,
December 5, 1962.

69

23
Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine, 26.

24
Liza Wilson, “The Luck of Shirley MacLaine,” American Weekly, April 10, 1955.

25
Richard B. Jewell, The Golden Age of Cinema: Hollywood, 1929-1945 (Malden, MA:
Blackwell Publishing, 2007), 51-52, 255.

26
Ibid., 251.

27
Ibid., 258-260.

28
Mary Desjardins, “Not of Hollywood: Ruth Chatterton, Ann Harding, Constance Bennett, Kay
Francis, and Nancy Carroll,” in Glamour in the Golden Age: Movie Stars of the 1930s, ed.
Adrienne McLean (Piscataway, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2010), 25.

29
Jewell, The Golden Age of Cinema, 258, 260.

30
Mary Desjardins, “‘Marion Never Looked Lovelier’: Hedda Hopper’s Hollywood and the
Negotiation of Glamour in Post-war Hollywood,” Quarterly Review of Film and Video 16, nos.
3-4 (January 1997): 424.

31
Ibid.

32
Mary Desjardin, “Not of Hollywood,” 25.

33
Andrew Britton, Katharine Hepburn: Star as Feminist (New York: Columbia University
Press, 2003), 8.

34
Adrienne L. McLean, Being Rita Hayworth: Labor, Identity, and Hollywood Stardom (New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2004), 11.

35
Douglas Gomery, The Hollywood Studio System: A History (London: British Film Institute,
2005), 79, 198-99; Peter Lev, The Fifties: Transforming the Screen, 1950-1959 (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2006), 10, 24-32; Jewell, The Golden Age of Cinema, 300-01.

36
Dick, Hal Wallis, 83.

37
“MacLaine Will Do One for Wallis-Hazen Subject to Her Approval of Script,” Variety, July
17, 1963;“MacLaine, Wallis Settle Differences,” Hollywood Reporter, July 16, 1963.

38
Jon Whitcomb, “Shirley MacLaine: Sassy and Off-Beat,” Cosmopolitan, September 1959.

39
For reference to the 1950s fixation on breasts, see Drew Casper, Postwar Hollywood: 1946-
1962 (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2007), 19.

70

40
Richard Dyer, Heavenly Bodies: Film Stars and Society (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1986),
42.

41
Lois W. Banner, “The Creature From the Black Lagoon: Marilyn Monroe and Whiteness,”
Cinema Journal 47, no. 4 (Summer 2008): 21.

42
Gloria Shin, “White Diamond: Elizabeth Taylor’s Adventures in American Empire and the
Ecstasy of Postcolonial Whiteness” (PhD dissertation, University of Southern California, 2012),
22, Proquest (UMI 3542476).

43
Ibid.

44
McLean, Being Rita Hayworth, 33.

45
Ibid.

46
Banner, “The Creature From the Black Lagoon,” 8-9.

47
“Shirley MacLaine: She Has Style,” Close-Up, January 29, 1959.

48
John L. Scott, “Peanut Butter Paved Her Path to Pictures: A Sprained Ankle Was Shirley's
Start,” Los Angeles Times, March 27, 1955; Jesse Zunser, “The 3 Faces of Shirley,” Cue, April
26, 1958; “Shirley MacLaine: Mama Is a Madcap,” Look, December 10, 1957; Arlene Dahl,
“Having Baby Aids Beauty, Actress Says,” Chicago Daily Tribune, January 7, 1957; Erskine
Johnson, “The Girl from Left Field,” Mirror News, March 5, 1959; Martin, “I Call on Shirley
MacLaine.”

49
Walter Ames, “Shirley MacLaine Won’t Give Up Good-Luck Tousled Hair,” Los Angeles
Times, June 2, 1957; Johnson, “The Girl from Left Field.”

50
Dahl, “Having Baby Aids Beauty”; Zunser, “The 3 Faces of Shirley”; John L. Scott, “Takes
Switches in Her Stride,” Los Angeles Times, February 15, 1959.

51
Quoted in Ames, “Shirley MacLaine Won’t Give Up Good-Luck Tousled Hair.”

52
Examples of references to MacLaine as a “pixie” can be found in Louella O. Parsons, “Shirley
MacLaine’s Success Story: Broadway to Malibu,” Los Angeles Examiner Pictorial Living,
December 4, 1955; Scott, “Peanut Butter Paved”; Hopper, “Hedda Hopper Predicts”; and “Real
Pixie: Shirley MacLaine Specializes in a Small-Girl-Type Charm,” TV Guide, July 27, 1957.

53
Scott, “Peanut Butter Paved.”

54
Quoted in Zunser, “The 3 Faces of Shirley.”

55
Quoted in “Shirley MacLaine: She Has Style,” Close-Up, January 29, 1959.

71

56
Quoted in Lydia Lane, “Shirley MacLaine Prefers Her Individuality to Film Glamour,” Los
Angeles Times, November 10, 1957.

57
Quoted in Martin, “I Call on Shirley MacLaine.”

58
Shin, “White Diamond,” 22.

59
Quoted in Lydia Lane, “Shirley MacLaine Stresses Importance of Individuality,” Los Angeles
Times, December 4, 1955.

60
“Real Pixie: Shirley MacLaine Specializes in a Small-Girl-Type Charm,” TV Guide, July 27,
1957.

61
Quoted in Philip Minoff, TV Personality, Everywoman’s Family Circle, October 1958.

62
“Shirley Is Voted Worst-Dressed,” Boston Globe, June 19, 1960.

63
Ibid.

64
Quoted in ibid.

65
Eleanor Harris, “Shirley MacLaine: Free Spirit,” Look, September 15, 1959.

66
Rowland Barber, “Hollywood’s Most Unconventional Mother,” Redbook, July 1961.

67
Quoted in Lloyd Shearer, “Shirley MacLaine: More Serious Than She Looks,” Boston Globe,
November 17, 1963.

68
Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New York:
Basic Books, 1988), 3-4.

69
MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, 24.

70
Ibid., 48.

71
For a discussion women’s roles during the postwar period, see May, Homeward Bound.

72
McLean, Being Rita Hayworth, 64.

73
Quoted in Parsons, “Shirley MacLaine’s Success Story.”

74
MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, 26-27, 58. Sachi Parker claims these facts about
Steve Parker were fabricated in Sachi Parker and Frederick Stroppel, Lucky Me: My Life with—
and without—My Mom, Shirley MacLaine (New York: Gotham Books, 2013).

72

75
James Bacon, “Popular Shirley MacLaine Has a ‘Husband Problem,’” Hartford Courant,
August 3, 1958; Harrison Carroll, “Shirley Jets on Geneva,” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner,
February 24, 1964; Lloyd Shearer, “New Show-Biz Era: Husband-Wife Teams,” Boston Globe,
May 21, 1961.

76
Quoted in Manners, “Shirley’s ‘Off-Beat’ Career.”

77
Ibid.

78
“Shirley MacLaine: Lucky Understudy,” Look, April 19, 1955; Barber, “Hollywood’s Most
Unconventional Mother”; Harris, “Shirley MacLaine: Free Spirit.”

79
Quoted in Harris, “Shirley MacLaine: Free Spirit.”

80
Quoted in Zunser, “The 3 Faces of Shirley.”

81
Ibid.

82
Johnson, “The Girl from Left Field.”

83
Rick Du Brow, “It’s That Time Again! Hollywood Stars Resolve,” Chicago Daily Tribune,
December 27, 1959; Shirley MacLaine, “Nobody Really Knows Me—Except ME,” Family
Weekly, January 29, 1961; Martin, “I Call on Shirley MacLaine.”

84
Quoted in Louella Parsons, “Shirley’s Happy Mother for Her ‘Happy Child,’” Washington
Post and Times Herald, May 10, 1959.

85
Joanne Meyerowitz, “Beyond the Feminine Mystique: A Reassessment of Postwar Mass
Culture, 1946-1958,” in Not June Cleaver: Women and Gender in Postwar America, 1945-1960,
ed. Joanne Meyerowitz (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1994), 231.

86
McLean, Being Rita Hayworth, 77 [italics in original].

87
Lloyd Shearer, “Shirley MacLaine: Her Strange Marriage,” Boston Globe, May 22, 1960.

88
Lloyd Shearer, “New Show-Biz Era: Husband-Wife Teams,” Boston Globe, May 21, 1961.

89
Ibid.

90
Quoted in ibid.

91
Mary Beth Haralovich, “Too Much Guilt Is Never Enough for Working Mothers: Joan
Crawford, Mildred Pierce, and Mommie Dearest,” Velvet Light Trap, no. 29 (Spring 1992): 43.

92
May, Homeward Bound, 140.

73

93
Ibid.

94
Haralovich, “Too Much Guilt,” 43, 48.

95
Hedda Hopper, “Milland and Borgnine Team as Brave Men,” Los Angeles Times, September
7, 1956.

96
May, Homeward Bound, 185.

97
Hedda Hopper, “Milland and Borgnine.”

98
“The MacLaine Method* of Child Care,” Photoplay, c. October 1957.

99
“Shirley MacLaine: Mama Is a Madcap,” Look, December 10, 1957; “The Fun of Being Look-
Alikes,” Life, February 9, 1959; Louella Parsons, “Like Mother, Like Child,” Los Angeles
Examiner Pictorial Living, May 10, 1959; Roberta Ashley, “Shades of Shirley!” This Week,
December 24, 1961; “Geisha,” Show Business Illustrated, January 2, 1962.

100
“Shirley MacLaine: Mama Is a Madcap,” Look, December 10, 1957.

101
Quoted in Dorothy Manners, “Shirley MacLaine on Top of the World,” Los Angeles
Examiner, December 28, 1958.

102
Quoted in Barber, “Hollywood’s Most Unconventional Mother.”

103
Ashley, “Shades of Shirley!”; Louella O. Parsons, “She’s a Star in Pixie Guise,” Los Angeles
Herald-Examiner, February 12, 1961; Barber, “Hollywood’s Most Unconventional Mother.”

104
Quoted in Parsons, “She’s a Star in Pixie Guise.”

105
Barber, “Hollywood’s Most Unconventional Mother.”

106
Quoted in ibid.

107
Philip K. Scheuer, “‘Some Came Running’ Gets Glitter Premiere,” review of Some Came
Running, directed by Vincente Minnelli, Los Angeles Times, December 18, 1958; Paul O’Neil,
“The ‘Clan’ Is the Most,” Life, December 22, 1958.

108
In addition to Bogart, the original Rat Pack included David Niven and his wife, Judy Garland
and her husband, John Houston, restaurateur Mike Romanoff and his wife, the agent Swifty
Lazar, and songwriter Jimmy Van Heusen. See Chris Rojek, Frank Sinatra (Malden, MA: Polity
Press, 2004), 121.

109
Rojek, Frank Sinatra, 124.

74

110
Rojek, Frank Sinatra, 124-127.

111
O’Neil, “The ‘Clan’ Is the Most.”

112
Frank Sinatra, “Shirley Is the Greatest!” This Week, February 21, 1960.

113
Ibid.

114
Whitcomb, “Shirley MacLaine: Sassy and Off-Beat.”

115
“The Ring-a-Ding Girl,” Time, June 22, 1959.

116
Quoted in ibid.

117
Ibid.

118
Sinatra, “Shirley Is the Greatest!”

119
Abigail Cheever, Real Phonies: Cultures of Authenticity in Post-World War II America,
(Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 2010), 3.

120
Quoted in Lane, “Shirley MacLaine Stresses.”

121
Quoted in “Real Pixie: Shirley MacLaine Specializes in a Small-Girl-Type Charm,” TV
Guide, July 27, 1957.

122
Quoted in Lane, “Shirley MacLaine Prefers.”

123
Quoted in “Shirley MacLaine: She Has Style,” Close-Up, January 29, 1959.

124
Barber, “Hollywood’s Most Unconventional Mother.”

125
Ibid.

126
Dyer, Heavenly Bodies, 11.

127
Ibid., 24.

128
Gaylyn Studlar, Precocious Charms: Stars Performing Girlhood in Classical Hollywood
Cinema (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2013), 13.

129
Alex Freeman, “Mitchum-MacLaine Affair Baffler,” Hartford Courant, October 2, 1963;
Alex Freeman, “Mitchum-MacLaine Fling Is Over,” Hartford Courant, November 26, 1963;
Hedda Hopper, Looking at Hollywood, Chicago Tribune, January 16, 1964; Hedda Hopper,
Looking at Hollywood, Chicago Tribune, February 1, 1964; Walter Scott, Personality Parade,

75

Boston Globe, March 8, 1964; Walter Scott, Personality Parade, Boston Globe, October 18,
1964; Walter Scott, Personality Parade, Boston Globe, June 6, 1965.

130
See, for example, Louis Berg, “The Trouble with Shirley,” This Week, October 23, 1955;
“The Ring-a-Ding Girl,” Time, June 22, 1959; and Martin, “I Call on Shirley MacLaine.”

131
Cheever, Real Phonies, 24.

132
Quoted in “The Ring-a-Ding Girl,” Time, June 22, 1959.

133
Harvey Pack, “Popular Shirley MacLaine Too Busy for Television,” Hartford Courant, June
14, 1959.

134
MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, 103.

135
Quoted in Albert Johnson, “Conversation with Shirley MacLaine,” Dance Magazine,
September 1960; cited by Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine, 73.

136
American Film Institute Catalog, s.v. “Some Came Running,” accessed September 28, 2013,
http://gateway.proquest.com.libproxy.usc.edu/openurl?ctx_ver=Z39.88-
2003&xri:pqil:res_ver=0.2&res_id=xri:afi-us&rft_id=xri:afi:film:52739.

137
Casper, Postwar Hollywood, 213.

138
Scheuer, “‘Some Came Running’”; Nora E. Taylor, “Frank Sinatra Heads Cast in Role of
Confused Writer,” review of Some Came Running, directed by Vincente Minnelli, Christian
Science Monitor, January 2, 1959.

139
Scheuer, “‘Some Came Running’”; Review of Some Came Running, directed by Vincente
Minnelli, Variety, December 24, 1958; Marjory Adams, “Sinatra, Martin Stars: ‘Some Came
Running’ Vital,” review of Some Came Running, directed by Vincente Minnelli, Boston Globe,
January 1, 1959.

140
“1959: Probable Domestic Take,” Variety, January 6, 1960.

141
Jackie Byars, All That Heaven Allows: Re-Reading Gender in 1950s Melodrama (Chapel Hill:
University of North Carolina Press, 1991), 224-25.

142
Quoted in Joseph Roddy, “Shirley MacLaine: New-Style Star Tries a Rough Role,” Look,
January 29, 1963.

143
Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine, 14.

144
Ibid.

76

145
Kathleen Rowe, The Unruly Woman: Gender and Genres of Laughter (Austin: University of
Texas Press, 1995), 10-11.

146
Ibid., 42.

147
Byars, All That Heaven Allows, 225.

148
“Bold Themes Slow; Comedy Films Back,” Variety, February 25, 1959.

149
Kathrina Glitre, Hollywood Romantic Comedy: States of the Union, 1934-65 (New York:
Manchester University Press, 2006), 33.

150
Ibid., 34.

151
Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine, 73.

152
Review of Ask Any Girl, directed by Charles Walters, Variety, May 13, 1959.

153
“Highest Rating in 20 Years,” advertisement for Ask Any Girl, Variety, May 6, 1959.

154
Glitre, Hollywood Romantic Comedy, 34.

155
Ibid., 149.

156
Hélène Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” in New French Feminisms, trans. Keith Cohen
and Paula Cohen, eds. Elaine Marks and Isabelle de Courtivron (Brighton, United Kingdom:
Harvester, 1980), 246; Rowe, The Unruly Woman, 31.

157
Rowe, The Unruly Woman, 31.

158
Ibid., 10-11.

159
Dennis Bingham, “‘Before She Was a Virgin…’: Doris Day and the Decline of Female Film
Comedy in the 1950s and 1960s,” Cinema Journal 45, no. 3 (Spring 2006): 9.

160
Shin, “White Diamond,” 22.

161
Bosley Crowther, “Where Are the Women?” New York Times, January 23, 1966.

77
CHAPTER 2

FROM PIXIE TO PERIPATETIC: SHIRLEY MACLAINE, TRAVEL, AND AUTHORITY

In his 1963 article “Shirley MacLaine: More Serious than She Looks,” Lloyd Shearer
emphasized the growing divergence between the twenty-nine-year-old star’s film roles and her
personal life: in the terminology of P. David Marshall, Shearer marked a “transgression” in
MacLaine’s persona. As Shearer described her onscreen image, “Shirley MacLaine appears the
smiling, simple cherubic, nonintellectual, the girl who has never looked into her own psyche.”
1

While Shearer certainly overlooked the nuances of many of MacLaine’s contemplative
characters—from the suicidal Fran Kubelik in The Apartment (Billy Wilder, 1960) to the
repressed lesbian Martha Dobie in The Children’s Hour (William Wyler, 1961), among others—
he recognized the dominant image of MacLaine as a childlike kook, an image which had
persisted, as shown in the last chapter, in discourses about her offscreen life, as well. However,
as Shearer’s interview with MacLaine demonstrated, this naïve construction of MacLaine no
longer aligned with her life outside of film; he acknowledged, “But off-screen she is an
intellectual in search of truth.” As evidence of this cerebral pursuit, Shearer cited MacLaine’s
penchant for travel. And MacLaine elaborated upon her offscreen interests in the article: “I
couldn’t care less about Hollywood […] or the money or the people or their way of life. That’s
not for me. As soon as I finish a picture I get out of here. I go to Japan […] or to Russia or
Europe. […] The reason I travel […] is because I want to stay in touch with reality.” Thus, for
MacLaine, travel both reiterated and complicated her image: as a traveler, she continued to
rethink expectations of female stardom, but she also moved, literally and figuratively, beyond her
childlike essence.

78
In this chapter, I trace Shirley MacLaine’s various movements during the 1960s and early
1970s, a transitional phase I describe as her “youth.” Examining the representation of her travels
in the popular press, the film My Geisha (Jack Cardiff, 1962), her first memoir/travelogue Don’t
Fall Off the Mountain (1970), her short-lived television series Shirley’s World (ABC, 1971-
1972), and her documentary The Other Half of the Sky: A China Memoir (Shirley MacLaine and
Claudia Weill, 1975), I explore not only how her image nonlinearly traveled between media—
films, newspapers and magazines, books, and television—but also how her travels initiated a
transformation of her persona from childlike to mature. This transformation was neither seamless
nor absolute. Despite MacLaine’s professed efforts “to stay in touch with reality,” the press
continued to frame her journeys as kooky, frivolous, and/or faddish. Meanwhile, her film
performances repeatedly recycled the “hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold” character that had made
MacLaine a star. Nevertheless, although her filmic stardom was arguably waning, her travels
across the world and through these media evidence her growing “authority”—as defined by
Amelie Hastie, “power over the origination of not just texts but also information or
knowledge”
2
—within and outside the sphere of entertainment.
Theorizing Female Star Travelers
Accordingly, this chapter brings together a number of theoretical and historical models—
most notably, star/celebrity studies and theories of travel and travel writing—that coalesce within
the figure of MacLaine during this period. As Marshall acknowledges, the celebrity possesses
privileged access to geographical space: “[Celebrities] are allowed to move on the public stage
while the rest of us watch.”
3
The ability to move in this way is one of the many attributes that
Marshall identifies as granting the celebrity power. Yet, the overt relationship between travel and
celebrity culture has only recently been addressed. In his effort to unite these two fields, Robert

79
Clarke claims, “Modern Western travel culture, like celebrity, it could be said, has played a
dubious role in the development of capitalist democratic cultures, as a force and symbol of
enfranchisement and liberation, on the one hand, and equally of containment and exploitation, on
the other.”
4
As the celebrity travels, she therefore reiterates her potential as an individual,
especially in relation to those who do not have access to the means to travel.
Yet, this relationship between travel and celebrity culture becomes more complex when
considering female celebrity travelers in particular. As discussed in the previous chapter,
although female stars worked in the public sphere, star discourse during the era of the studio
system characteristically—MacLaine is a notable exception—focused on their affinity for and
abilities within the private sphere.
5
The connection between the female star and the home thus
aligns with broader conceptions about women and travel. As Susan L. Roberson recognizes,
“Historically women have been more associated with sessility than with mobility, with fixity
than with motility or physical movement, with home rather than the road.”
6
Sidonie Smith,
expanding upon the ideas of Judith Butler and Karen R. Lawrence, elaborates on the implication
of women as sessile: “Whatever particular women may be doing in their everyday lives, the idea
of woman as ‘earth, shelter, enclosure,’ as ‘home,’ persists, anchoring femininity, weighing it
down, fixing it as a compass point. Moreover, the ‘home’ that is identified as feminine,
feminized, and equated with woman becomes that which must be left behind in the pursuit of
agency.”
7
Accordingly, as female stars are associated with the home, their agency as stars in the
public sphere is undermined.
Still, despite the persistence of these generalizations, women indeed travel and write
about their travels. Building upon Smith’s work, my interrogation of MacLaine’s adventures and
subsequent memoirs likewise asks: “If traveling, being on the road, makes a man a man—and

80
makes masculinity and its power visible—what does it make of a woman, who is at once a
subject as home and a subject at home? What does it mean for a particular woman to gain access
to this defining arena of agency in the West?”
8
As these questions intimate, travel and travel
writing makes female agency visible, supporting Kathleen Rowe’s claim that “visual power
flows in multiple directions and that the position of spectacle isn’t necessarily one of
weakness.”
9
At the same time, travel constructs the woman—and, more specifically, the female
star—as not merely an object “to be looked at” but also as a gazing subject. This ability to look
and to know further disrupts conservative stereotypes about femininity, as identified by Mary
Louise Pratt, “[a woman] is not to see but be seen, or at least she is not to be seen seeing.”
10
Yet,
as Frances Bartkowski recognizes, “The specularity of travel narrative—what I saw there—is
one of its foremost tropisms.”
11
In telling tales of her journey, the female traveler not only
actively places herself in the public sphere, but also situates herself as someone who has seen.
A number of scholars interpreting the meaning of female star travelers have focused on
the recent travels and travel writing of Angelina Jolie, who was appointed Goodwill Ambassador
for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) in 2001 and published her
diaries, Notes from My Travels, in 2003.
12
In her analysis of Jolie’s philanthropic efforts, Alison
Trope emphasizes that the visibility of Jolie’s movements around the globe—the visibility of her
agency—is the source of Jolie’s effectiveness in the public sphere. Trope describes Jolie’s
philanthropy as “action giving”—“she is there, in the trenches, making site visits, talking to
refugees” and “she is photographed doing all of this and publicly discusses her personal
impressions and experiences

.”
13
In contrast to philanthropic stars of the Classical Period, as
Trope argues, Jolie harnesses the power of travel spectacles. Despite the altruistic nature of these
movements, as Lee Barron illustrates, this visibility does not necessarily address the inequalities

81
that produce injustice. Barron situates Jolie’s works within a centuries-old tradition of female
travel writers who “communicated social conditions and raised awareness of the ‘state of things’
in the ‘Third World’ nations.”
14
However, Barron maintains that, through “cultural
condemnation or uncritical aesthetic perceptions” in her travel writing, Jolie also reinforces the
unequal power dynamics—in terms of race, economics, and culture—between “Western
chroniclers and Southern or Third World peoples.”
15
Accordingly, the following analysis of
MacLaine’s travels illustrates how MacLaine attempted to assert her agency while also
negotiating—both successfully and unsuccessfully—the problematic “ideology of difference”
that has persisted in discourses concerning global relations.
16

Still, in terms of motivation, MacLaine’s movement in the 1960s pointedly differs from
Jolie’s contemporary work for UNHCR and from Jolie’s oft-cited predecessor Audrey Hepburn
(who served as the Goodwill Ambassador for United Nations International Children’s
Emergency Fund [UNICEF] from 1988 to her death in 1993).
17
Whereas selflessness, a concern
for others’ wellbeing, underlies, at least to some extent, both Jolie’s and Hepburn’s respective
travels, MacLaine’s desire to go abroad was framed by the press as a considerably more personal
endeavor. As will be shown below, MacLaine cited artistic, economic, and intellectual reasons
for embarking on her trips to a variety of foreign locales throughout the 1960s; her movements
were part of a larger search for enlightenment. These professed motivations have significant
implications for the representation of MacLaine’s movement on the public stage in comparison
to Jolie’s. As Trope argues, Jolie’s action in the public sphere supports traditional notions of
gender roles: “Historically, the ideals and everyday work of philanthropy neatly have adhered to
the prescribed domestic and nurturing roles historically assigned to white women.”
18
Images of
Jolie aiding child refugees, Trope maintains, “not only document her maternal leanings, thereby

82
highlighting her gender; they further situate Jolie as a specifically white figure of salvation.”
19

Despite her travels throughout Africa, Jolie remains associated with the home and, at the same
time, reinforces the power of the white capitalist democracy that has placed her in the domestic
sphere. Alternatively, MacLaine—constructed as an “unconventional” mother at home and
abroad—continued to destabilize gender norms and in so doing, at least in part, challenged those
capitalist power structures as she moved around the world.
20
Yet, MacLaine also struggled with
the implications of her power as a privileged symbol of the Western world.
In analyzing MacLaine as a traveler, I borrow Frances Bartkowski’s notion of travel as
“seeing as a child.”
21
Bartkowski underscores the similarities between the traveler and the child.
As unfamiliar environments, languages, and cultures bewilder and beguile the traveler, she
assumes a childlike perspective, “a position of dependence and vulnerability.”
22
Yet, this
perspective is often intended to be only temporary; as Bartkowski explains, “the urge to set out
(and […] the urge to narrate) is rooted in the imaginary, that is to say, pushed by the pleasure
principle to go beyond.”
23
Accordingly, the desire to travel is a desire to make the unknown
known. Although not all journeys end in “jubilation”—as Bartkowski recognizes, the alternative
potential for humiliation, fear, disavowal, and abyss accompany all travels—the successful
traveler necessarily evolves in acquiring new knowledge.
24
The traveler thus “comes to terms,”
“[goes] beyond” the childlike state and, as Bartkowski claims, “come[s] to discern something of
who [he/she] may be, if only in the mirror of the other’s gaze”; she “come[s] to terms with
relations of authority and identity.”
25
Thus, considering MacLaine’s construction as childlike in
her early career, Bartkowski’s assessment of travel is a particularly useful way of understanding
MacLaine’s star development. To paraphrase Bartkowski, as we see MacLaine seeing and come

83
to know her knowing, we also understand how she goes beyond the childlike essence that made
her a star.
26

In order to establish MacLaine as a traveler, I recount a number of events that coincide
with those discussed in the previous and following chapters. I would argue that MacLaine’s
travels began to dominate her offscreen image between 1962 and 1963—as articles focused on
her movement as much as her movies, e.g., “Shirley MacLaine’s Tour,” “Kook’s Tour with
Shirley MacLaine,” “Suitcase, Credit Card, and Shirley,” “‘I’m Homesick for Every Place’:
Footloose Shirley MacLaine Says She Works so She Can Buy Her Next Plane Ticket,” “Shirley
on Go Just to ‘Get.’”
27
However, she took her first intercontinental trip to Japan in 1955 and
frequently discussed her emerging philosophies on travel in the press throughout her early career.
These philosophies inform her adventures throughout Asia, Europe, and Africa in the 1960s.
Moreover, as I interrogate Don’t Fall Off the Mountain as both a memoir and a travelogue, I
follow MacLaine from 1970, the year of the book’s publication, into her past—I travel in time
with her—and thus avoid a strict chronological retelling of her journeys. Although MacLaine
continues to travel and to write to this day, I conclude this chapter with brief descriptions of
Shirley’s World and The Other Half of the Sky: A China Memoir, as these works exemplify how
her image as a traveler moves through various forms of media.
The Postwar Travel Boom and Integrating with Japan
MacLaine’s interest in travel developed as the popularity of travel as a leisure activity
was increasing in the United States. World War II brought about an “infatuation with foreign
lands”: between 1947 and 1963, the number of American travelers more than quadrupled, from
435,000 to 1,999,000.
28
Simultaneous advancements in passenger planes facilitated the travel
boom.
29
While most of these tourists explored Europe—only 2 percent of tourists visited Asia in

84
1959—interest in Asia as a travel destination blossomed, as well.
30
As Christina Klein maintains,
“In spite of these relatively small numbers, Asia figured prominently in postwar travel discourse
as an exciting new destination, a formerly remote area that had suddenly become accessible.”
31

Both in response to and generating this interest in foreign locales, travel writing also proliferated:
newspapers and magazines devoted exclusive sections to travel, while new magazines, such as
Holiday, and numerous best-selling publications introduced readers to unfamiliar territories and
customs.
32

The growing popularity of travel is also evident in the contemporaneous increase in
location shooting in Hollywood, exploited through the use of innovative widescreen, stereo
sound, and color technologies.
33
Around the World in Eighty Days (Michael Anderson, 1956), in
which MacLaine plays the Indian Princess Aouda, is a primary example of this trend: the big-
budget spectacular showcases over fifty different shooting locations.
34
A survey of MacLaine’s
subsequent films throughout 1960s further exemplifies Hollywood’s attempt to cater to
American interest in foreign subject matters (if not actual locations): Can-Can (Walter Lang,
1960) is set in Paris, France (filmed in studio and with stock footage); Two Loves (Charles
Walters, 1961) ventures to New Zealand (filmed in studio); My Geisha takes places in Japan
(filmed on location); Irma La Douce (Billy Wilder, 1963) features the streets of Paris, France
(filmed in studio); portions of What a Way to Go! (J. Lee Thompson, 1964) also take place in
Paris, France (filmed in studio); The Yellow Rolls-Royce (Anthony Asquith, 1964) moves from
England to various locations in Italy (filmed on location and in studio in England, Italy, and
Austria); John Goldfarb, Please Come Home (J. Lee Thompson, 1965) travels to the fictional
Middle Eastern country of Fawzia (filmed in studio and various locations in California); Gambit
(Ronald Neame, 1966) begins in Hong Kong and then moves to Damuz, another fictional Middle

85
Eastern country (filmed in studio and various locations in California); the seven episodes of
Woman Times Seven (Vittorio De Sica, 1967) are set variously in France, Italy, and England
(filmed on location and in studio in France); The Bliss of Mrs. Blossom (Joseph McGrath, 1968)
features MacLaine as an American living in England (filmed on location and in studio in
England); and, finally, Two Mules for Sister Sara (Don Siegel, 1970) traverses Mexico (filmed
on location in Mexico and in studio).
35
This list not only illustrates how prevalent foreign locales
were in Hollywood films but also how the career of a leading actress might require numerous
journeys at the time.
Accordingly, the production requirements of Around the World in Eighty Days, combined
with her husband Steve Parker’s recent move there, inspired MacLaine to travel abroad for the
first time to Japan at the end of 1955.
36
In the mid-1950s, the United States’ relationship with
Japan was drastically different from their relationship during World War II. During the war, as
John W. Dower illustrates, American popular media primarily dehumanized the Japanese enemy
as either subhuman—in the form of animals, children, primitive people, and/or madmen—or
superhuman.
37
However, upon the war’s conclusion, the American government occupied Japan
between 1945 and 1952, facilitating its reconstruction and rehabilitation as a democratic,
industrialized, and capitalist nation.
38
As the American government feared “‘losing’ Asia,
especially of losing economic access to its markets and resources,” during the Cold War,
American popular media worked to reimagine the relationship between the United States and
Japan throughout the 1950s.
39
Consequently, a “global imaginary of integration,” as identified by
Klein, emerged in various political, academic, and cultural discourses.
40
In contrast to the global
imaginary of containment, which “mapped the world [specifically, the Soviet Union] in terms of
Otherness and difference,” the global imaginary of integration

86
imagined the world in terms of open doors that superseded barriers
and created pathways between nations. It constructed a world in
which differences could be bridged and transcended. In the
political rhetoric of integration, relationships of “cooperation”
replaced those of conflict, “mutuality” replaced enmity, and
“collective security,” “common bonds,” and “community” became
the preferred terms for representing the relationship between the
United States and the noncommunist world.
41

Thus, images of subhuman Japanese people were largely replaced with those which celebrated
the potential similarities between the former political enemies. Hollywood was particularly
invested in this integrative project. Jeanette Roan identifies four films—The Teahouse of the
August Moon (Daniel Mann, 1956), Sayonara (Joshua Logan, 1957), Tokyo File 212 (Dorrell
McGowan and Stuart McGowan, 1951), and My Geisha—that “demonstrate a new U.S. attitude
toward Japan,” an attitude that emphasized the United States as leaders in a world of racial
equality.
42
Thus, MacLaine’s reflections on Japanese culture in the press must be read as, if not
the product of, at least in dialogue with American international interests at the time.
MacLaine’s affinity for Japanese culture repeatedly arose in her star profiles. In
November of 1957, MacLaine “praised” Japanese people in an interview with syndicated beauty
columnist Lydia Lane: “They have a philosophy of politeness and practice it. […] I hated to see
how impolite many of our American tourists were. They don’t improve our relations with other
countries by such bad manners. I think all of us should give more thought to practicing basic
consideration for others—at home and abroad.”
43
She reiterated this opinion in the April of 1958
issue of Cue magazine—“I love the country and its people. They have such a simple, wonderful
philosophy of life.”
44
In September of 1959, MacLaine also told Jon Whitcomb of Cosmopolitan,
“You’d like Japan. […] Just go there once, and you’ll never want to leave.”
45
In addition to these
verbal exaltations of Japan, MacLaine incorporated aspects of Japanese culture into her everyday
life. MacLaine enrolled in a Japanese language class at the University of California, Los

87
Angeles, as Hedda Hopper reported in February of 1958.
46
According to Everywoman’s Family
Circle, she and Parker also decorated their California home “with all the Japanese souvenirs the
Parkers have been collecting”; the accompanying photo shows MacLaine, Parker, and Sachi,
wearing kimonos, sitting around a Japanese-style table, and using chopsticks to consume their
presumably Japanese food.
47
Japanese culture had thus become a visible part of MacLaine’s life
and contributed to her portrayal as an eccentric Hollywood actress. Although MacLaine
simplified cultural differences between American and Japanese citizens, she likewise created a
sense of community with noncommunist Japan. As she distinguished herself from impolite
American tourists and praised politeness, she participated in the larger integrative agenda of
American capitalism at the time.
Fittingly, MacLaine and the press explicitly articulated how her travels benefitted her
career, her husband’s career, and the film industry at large. As a profile on MacLaine in Look
described, “[MacLaine’s] approach to her career is as unique as her talent. She proposes to study
languages, travel extensively and attempt to understand others. For her, every experience is grist
to her acting mill. ‘If it’s I…I…I…all the time […] you don’t stand a chance of becoming a good
actress.’”
48
In her opinion, while travel allowed MacLaine to look beyond her existence in
Hollywood, it simultaneously enhanced her work as performer—work that had significant
financial gains. MacLaine explained the economic advantages of her husband’s stake in Japanese
production to Philip Minoff of Everywoman’s Family Circle: “There’s a practical reason for this
setup [her unusual living arrangement]. […] [MacLaine and Steve Parker] both feel that any big
surge of business in films will be between the Orient and the West; and Steve could well wind up
as the chief movie figure in that enterprise operation.”
49
MacLaine appreciated the importance of
foreign markets to Hollywood production and specifically to her husband. Appropriately, she

88
again hinted at Parker’s financial interest in Japan in an interview with Louella Parsons in 1959:
“Some day many pictures will be made [in Japan].”
50
MacLaine envisioned a globally integrated
economic future, and MacLaine’s and Parker’s experiences in Japan were evidently preparing
them for such a worldwide transformation.
In an effort to cultivate American interest in Japanese culture, Steve Parker produced a
one-hour variety show featuring thirteen famed Japanese performers to air on NBC on February
1, 1959. With MacLaine as host and Louis Jordan as special guest, the program replaced
regularly scheduled Dinah Shore (who had the day off) on The Chevy Show. The Los Angeles
Times featured the television spectacular on the cover of its “TV Times” section.
51
In the
accompanying article, Parker described the show, featuring top recording artists and comedy
troupes, to reporter Jean McMurphy: “The show […] will be a blend of classical and modern, of
East and West.”
52
Accordingly, the show created a microcosm of the “humanistic
universalism”—as Klein describes, “yet another way of imagining the world as a diverse yet
interconnected whole”
53
—that middlebrow intellectuals promoted during the postwar period.
McMurphy also detailed MacLaine’s suitability as host: “For Shirley, […] the show has special
meaning. Not only does Shirley know many of the performers personally, having traveled
extensively in Japan and watched many of the troupe perform, but, most important, her husband,
Steve Parker, supplied the idea for the show. It’s his baby, his brainchild.”
54
As both a
knowledgeable host and mother to Parker’s metaphorical (and real) baby, MacLaine assumed a
nurturing role to Parker’s efforts to integrate Japanese and American entertainment.
The program received generally positive reviews. Television critic Cecil Smith described
the show as “charming” and “expertly done.”
55
In intentionally flowery language, Smith also
distinguished the variety program from other television fare: “This [show] is like a fresh spring

89
breeze blowing through the miasmal smog of television.”
56
The cultural exchange enacted
through the show evidently afforded prestige. Syndicated columnist John Crosby agreed with
Smith’s assessment; Crosby “heartily approve[d] [of] this sort of international cross-pollination,”
and encouraged more television shows with international appeal.
57
Although one viewer believed
that the show was executed “in incredibly poor taste” and that the portrayal of Japanese art had
been “vulgarized,” critic Donald Kirkley dismissed the viewer’s critique and expressed that he
“enjoyed [the show] very much indeed.”
58
While the authenticity of MacLaine and Parker’s
display of Japanese culture remained in question, the positive critical reception of the show
reiterated the allure of representations of global communities.
Following the success of the television show, MacLaine continued to assist Parker’s
productions geared toward Americans. (By 1963, Parker’s production company targeted
audiences in Japan, Hong Kong, South Korea, and America, as well.
59
) The day after the NBC
spectacular aired, Hedda Hopper reported that Parker was putting together a show of Japanese
artists to perform in Las Vegas.
60
Five months later, as reported by Philip K. Scheuer, MacLaine
introduced the live stage show, entitled Holiday in Japan, and “coaxed (practically effortlessly)
the local columnists and critics to the premiere” on July 16, 1959, at the New Frontier Hotel.
61

MacLaine’s stardom thus served as a conduit between Japanese cultural products and American
consumers.
Although MacLaine’s efforts typically appeared well meaning, they did not always rise
above constructing Asia in distancing terms. After a typhoon devastated Nagoya, Japan,
MacLaine returned to the New Frontier Hotel in Las Vegas to hold a benefit for the victims on
November 14, 1959.
62
Life magazine included a photo spread, entitled “Shirley’s Spoof Party:
Actress and Friends Do Parody for Charity,” of the benefit, which featured Lucille Ball, Debbie

90
Reynolds, Burl Ives, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Bob Hope, Sammy Davis Jr., and others.
63
The pictures and
the description of the “parody” evince the stars’ demeaning view of Japanese culture. In addition
to many of the stars appearing in “yellowface,” Lucille Ball, for example, wore absurdly
oversized clogs, mocking traditional Japanese attire; and Burl Ives derided Japanese accents in
singing “Brue Tailed Fry,” a rendition of his most famous song “Blue Tail Fly.” Ball, Ives, and
the other performers thus exemplified how, as Karla Rae Fuller argues, “a racialized clown
figure mitigates pervasive societal fears by comedically attempting to contain a threat to the
social and racial hierarchy.”
64
Although MacLaine’s benefit ultimately raised $30,000 for its
cause,
65
it evoked a persistent “dogma” of “Orientalism,” or, as identified by Edward Said, the
construction of the “West” as “rational, developed, humane, superior,” and the “East” as
“aberrant, undeveloped, inferior.”
66
While MacLaine’s visible knowledge of Japanese culture
and current events affirmed her power as a female traveler and as a star, she also reasserted
notions of Western dominance over the East.
Whose Geisha?: The Power of Travel in My Geisha
MacLaine’s appearance in the self-reflexive, semi-autobiographical film My Geisha,
produced by Parker and released in 1962, reiterated the ambiguity of her role as a traveler. In the
film, MacLaine plays the famed Hollywood actress Lucy Dell, who is married to film director
Paul Robaix (Yves Montand). Paul, like Parker, travels to Japan to distinguish himself from his
wife’s talent, and Paul hopes to do so by adapting Giacomo Puccini’s opera Madame Butterfly—
the tragic tale of a love affair between a geisha, Cio-Cio San, and a naval officer, Captain
Pinkerton—to film. Lucy, known for her comic performances, longs to play the dramatic lead to
prove her acting range, but Paul refuses to cast her. When Lucy later follows Paul to Japan, she
dresses in traditional geisha attire and effectively tricks Paul into thinking she is a Japanese

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woman named Yoko Mori. Enamored with Yoko Mori’s “authenticity,” especially compared to
the other Western-influenced Japanese actresses, Paul casts Yoko Mori as the lead in his film.
When Paul finally realizes his mistake, he feels betrayed by his wife, whose brilliant
performance, he thinks, will surely steal the spotlight from him once again. However, in the end,
Lucy does not reveal her ruse to the public; she, as Jeanette Roan maintains, “incorporate[s]
aspects of an idealized Japanese femininity into her personality, exemplified in the proverb, ‘No
one before you, my husband, not even I,’ to become a better wife and to save her marriage.”
67

Although an in-depth analysis of this film is beyond the scope of this chapter, My Geisha
provides a fruitful example through which to interrogate the complexities of the representation of
MacLaine as a traveler within and outside of the film text. Gina Marchetti, Karla Rae Fuller, and
Jeanette Roan respectively propose compelling interpretations of the meaning of the racial
impersonation—or, in Fuller’s terminology, the “Oriental guise”—and the representation of
gender in My Geisha. Their insights, many of which are cited here, have informed and inspired
my own interpretation of the film. As Marchetti recognizes, on the one hand, the “geisha
masquerade” exposes the constructedness of racial differences: “As a consequence, [My Geisha]
implicitly critique[s] the racial hierarchy of mainstream American culture, since [it] feature[s]
the conscious and deliberate impersonation of another race, putting aside a supposedly racial
superiority so as to become part of a supposedly inferior culture.”
68
Fuller likewise illustrates
how the film “calls into question the use of Caucasian actors in Asian roles”: in My Geisha, “the
Oriental guise operates almost completely as a spectacle of artificiality and theatricality.”
69
Still,
as both Marchetti and Fuller contend, this representation of race serves to reconcile the narrative
conflict between the male and female protagonists
70
; thus, the maintaining of Western cultural

92
values—the heterosexual coupling of a white man and a white woman—remains the dominant
focus of the film.
The ideological implications of My Geisha become more complicated when one
considers the representation of gender in the film and, more specifically, the significance of
Lucy’s (and MacLaine’s) travels. Both Marchetti and Fuller acknowledge that, in the beginning
of the film, the relationship between Lucy and Paul subverts traditional gender roles.
71
When
Lucy embarks on her journey to Japan and then subsequently tricks her husband—and, in turn,
belittles his artistic integrity and his authority in the relationship—she further establishes her
unconventional agency within the film. By assuming the stereotypical physical and cultural
attributes of a geisha—“as docile, eager to please, malleable, childlike, and vulnerable”
72
—Lucy
simultaneously denaturalizes these attributes, foregrounding the performativity of gender roles,
while also affirming the desirability of these attributes to conservative notions of postwar
masculinity. According to Marchetti, Fuller, and Roan, when Lucy does not reveal her hoax to
the public at the end of the film, she, in words of Fuller, “internalize[s] her geisha
masquerade.”
73
The ending accordingly proposes, as Marchetti claims, that “white American
women should put aside their own interests to return to the prewar male-dominated order that
their geisha sisters gladly accept as the ‘natural’ way of the world.”
74
In the end, Lucy contains
the visibility and, in turn, the power of her travels.
Still, this interpretation perhaps gives too much credit to the audience of Madame
Butterfly within My Geisha. Even though the audience within the film recognizes Paul’s—not
Lucy’s—artistic achievement, Lucy is still the dominant partner in their marriage. Her decision
to allow the public to believe Paul discovered the unknown and “authentic” actress Yoko Mori
merely demonstrates his lack of control; he depends on her for his success. Roan argues that “the

93
film suggests that Paul’s vision of a traditional Japanese woman is incorrect, outdated, or
both.”
75
Accordingly, the film underscores the fallibility of what Marchetti calls “prewar male-
dominated order.” Moreover, as Fuller acknowledges, the successful reception of My Geisha
depended on the viewers outside the film being “in on the joke.”
76
Fuller cites a review published
in Motion Picture Daily at the time of the film’s release: “Deceptivity as a stellar skein in a plot-
pattern is always intriguing if the viewer is let in on it, as you are in this one. . . . Miss MacLaine
giving the geisha character such physical and facial believability that it was easy to accept her in
the role knowing all the time who she was while Montand was laboring under the belief that he
had the real thing.’”
77
In this way, the film not only draws the viewer’s attention to the
proficiency of MacLaine’s performance of Lucy and Yoki Mori as two distinct characters, but
also situates the viewers outside the film as more knowledgeable than the viewers within the
film. This knowledge consequently problematizes the believability of Lucy’s submissiveness at
the end—the viewers outside the film are notably witness to Lucy’s authority over Paul’s
success.
The promotion and reception of My Geisha additionally questions the notion of female
passivity presented at the end of the film. As Roan demonstrates, Paramount marketed My
Geisha to audiences by underscoring both Parker’s and MacLaine’s intimate knowledge of
Japan.
78
My Geisha thus makes visible MacLaine as an experienced and knowledgeable traveler,
albeit alongside her husband. While the performing of Yoko Mori and Cio-Cio San by Lucy
reveals the depth of Lucy’s acting range, MacLaine similarly showcases her “versatility,” as
described by Motion Picture Daily, in playing these multiple roles.
79
This travel narrative
enabled MacLaine to extend beyond her childlike persona, as numerous promotional materials
noted. For example, Life magazine featured two images of MacLaine, captioned “Dual Role for

94
Shirley,” on the cover of the February 17, 1961 issue.
80
The cover is split into two equal halves,
and the images of MacLaine mirror each other horizontally. The upper photo shows MacLaine
revealing a toothy grin and dressed in a kimono but without the wig, makeup, or contact lenses
she donned in the film; the lower photo features MacLaine, upside down and with a somber
expression, in full “Oriental guise.” The cover visually illustrates the transformation—in both
appearance and personality—that MacLaine enacts in the film. In the accompanying article, the
reporter wrote: “[Acting as a geisha] will not be easy, for the American [doing so] is
Hollywood’s Shirley MacLaine, a rowdy comic whose pealing laugh can set temple bells a-
ringing, while geishas are subdued little ladies who hide their mouths behind cupped hands when
amused and softly giggle. But Shirley has tried for a long time to make East meet West.”
81

Although MacLaine’s performance as a geisha contained her unruly behavior, it also both
foregrounded the work of acting and her agency as a traveler. MacLaine continued to challenge
conservative notions of femininity as she matured.
Moreover, as the narrative of My Geisha consistently reminds the audience of the
resonances between Parker/Paul and MacLaine/Lucy, the argument for Lucy’s submission at the
end of the film remains unconvincing. Whereas the audience of Madame Butterfly appreciates
the film without knowledge of Lucy’s role in its production, the audience of My Geisha is fully
aware of MacLaine’s stardom. One might suppose that, without MacLaine, Parker’s production
of My Geisha would not have the same backing from Paramount. In fact, Paramount altered their
marketing materials for My Geisha to emphasize MacLaine’s role in the film.

As Variety
reported in the article “Sell Shirley as She Is,” the original promotional campaign used images of
MacLaine dressed as Yoko Mori. However, after Paramount noticed “some public indifference
to Miss MacLaine in Oriental dress,” they circulated advertisements of MacLaine in Western

95
clothing.
82
On the one hand, Paramount’s decision to revamp My Geisha’s ad campaign exposes
the studio’s anxieties over the representation of race in the film; on the other hand, the decision
also illustrates the importance of MacLaine’s stardom to the marketing of the film. Although
Paul avoids becoming “Mr. Dell” at the end of My Geisha, Parker still remains “Mr. MacLaine.”
MacLaine’s commercial and artistic influence, as revealed within the film and in its marketing,
ultimately underscore the instability of a “male-dominated order.”
“I’m Homesick for Every Place”
83
: Constructing MacLaine as a Global Traveler
While Parker may have inspired MacLaine’s first trip abroad, MacLaine’s appetite for
travel could not be satiated by trips to Japan alone. In a 1960 interview with Sheilah Graham,
entitled “Career Zooms Ahead for One Hesitant Actress,” MacLaine admitted that she would like
to make fewer movies each year in order to have more time to do “what [she loved] to do best,”
to travel.
84
Subsequent accounts of her adventures outside of Hollywood repeatedly constructed
MacLaine’s passion for the activity as unruly, specifically in terms of the multitude of
destinations she visited, the spontaneity of her trips, and the repeated analogies of her enthusiasm
to a disease. As MacLaine’s travels were both frequent and diverse, listing all of her journeys in
the 1960s is difficult; however, recounting those most reported upon by the press illuminates the
magnitude of her fervor for the pursuit. In the above interview, Sheilah Graham noted MacLaine
toured Europe and Mexico before filming Two Loves in 1960.
85
By April of 1962, Hedda Hopper
related that MacLaine had returned to continental Europe and also ventured to Scandinavia,
Morocco, and other locales in Africa between filming My Geisha and Two for the Seesaw
(Robert Wise, 1962).
86
In June of 1962, numerous newspapers reported on MacLaine’s trip to the
Soviet Union.
87
She also returned to Africa, exploring Kenya, Tunisia, and Tanganyika, in 1964,
as she explained to Vernon Scott while filming John Goldfarb, Please Come Home.
88
Later that

96
year, MacLaine extended her trip to India to visit Bhutan.
89
By April of 1966, MacLaine told
Jerry Hulse of the Los Angeles Times: “I think I’ve visited about every place you can name but
Antarctica, China and the interior of South America. I’m dying to visit China! Wait a minute—
add Afghanistan. I haven’t been there either.”
90
Even when MacLaine admitted the extent of her
wanderings, she thought of other places she would like to visit.
Accordingly, when detailing these trips, the press repeatedly underscored MacLaine’s
impulsive nature. For example, MacLaine told Hedda Hopper, “Every time I drive toward the
ocean I have to be careful not to turn in the direction of the airport.”
91
MacLaine seemed ready to
travel on a whim. The following year, Dorothy Manners’s description of MacLaine likewise
purported, “She speaks what she thinks, thinks for herself, acts as she is moved, and moves
wherever the spirit leads her at the moment.”
92
The stream-of-consciousness style of Manners’s
sentence further emphasized the spontaneity of MacLaine’s excursions. According to
MacLaine’s friends, as Manners reported, MacLaine had the tendency to spend one evening in
Beverly Hills and then the next evening unexpectedly to relocate to “Bangkok, Hong Kong, New
Delhi—or more likely, Tokyo, where she’s flown out to be with husband Steve Parker and their
daughter Sachie.”
93
These last minute journeys had become so regular by 1963, John L. Scott, in
his article “Shirley on Go Just to ‘Get,” wrote: “It’s practically certain that within 35 hours after
she completes a picture, Shirley’s off to some way-out place in the world.”
94
MacLaine’s
unpredictability had become predictable by the early 1960s.
As MacLaine erratically embarked on these numerous journeys, both she and the press
described her eagerness to travel as an ailment that implicitly needed to be cured—typically,
through more travel. Accordingly, MacLaine explained to Hopper in 1962 that she was trying to
get the “travel bug” out of her system.
95
In an interview with Dorothy Manners, MacLaine

97
elaborated upon her compulsion: “If I’m one place too long at a time I get all tied up. A passport
and air travel card are my escape valves from the complexities of life.”
96
Yet, as MacLaine
continued to travel, she only desired to travel more often; as she told Vernon Scott in 1964, “The
more I travel, the more I want to travel. It’s like taking dope.”
97
According to Los Angeles Times
writer Jerry Hulse, this addiction distinguished MacLaine from other travelers: “In this day of the
fast jet nearly everyone likes to travel. But with this wide-eyed girl it’s a disease.”
98
Thus, the
representation of MacLaine as a spontaneous and fanatical traveler to numerous locales outside
Hollywood marked her mobility as both uncontrollable and unconventional: her childlike
kookiness persisted.
Nevertheless, MacLaine’s comments on travel also reflect the transformation of her
persona. Like other travelers, MacLaine’s experiences in foreign countries afforded her
knowledge of events outside of the private sphere. In a profile promoting her performance in
What a Way to Go! MacLaine explained her motivation to travel:
I dislike the blah-blah conversation which revolves around movies.
Everyone talks about himself and never to anyone else. When I
return from some place—Hong Kong, for instance—nobody ever
asks me about the political situation, how the people live, what
they think about America, or how can we improve the economic
plight of poverty-stricken individuals. All they want to know is
how cheap you can buy jade. That’s why I get away.
99

In this explanation, MacLaine not only distinguished herself from the superficial and self-
centered people in Hollywood by referencing her understanding of political and economic
situations abroad, but she also acknowledged the challenge of asserting the significance of her
travels. Despite her interests, her peers in Hollywood purportedly viewed travel as a means of
consumption. In the Saturday Evening Post, Muriel Davidson described MacLaine’s “attitude
toward the usual Hollywood social whirl” as “heretic.”
100
As MacLaine elaborated, “I’d prefer to

98
just go away between every picture […]. My vista is not bound by a sound stage at Twentieth
Century-Fox. Nothing pleases me so much as learning.”
101
Again, MacLaine’s interest in the
educational benefits of travel differentiated her from other actors and actresses. In an article
entitled “Wanderlust Spirit: Shirley MacLaine ‘Can’t Settle Down,’” MacLaine delivered more
“heretic” views about life in Hollywood; she claimed, “The only reason I work in pictures is to
pay for plane tickets to the places I want to visit. I don’t have any money it all goes for traveling.
[…] The more you learn, the more you realize how little you really know. That’s why I have this
wonderful wanderlust.”
102
Although MacLaine confessed her preference for travel over acting in
films, she also recognized the impact of her newfound maturity on her artistry and her private
life. When MacLaine was filming Gambit, she admitted in Charles Champlin’s article, “Shirley
Travels to Get Star Out of Her System”: “But to look at them [the sun, the grass, the trees, and
the moon] from a different place, that’s the thing. I like to look at others. It’s changed my
approach to my work, to living, to my acting, to my life. It gives you time for contemplation.”
103

Travel allowed MacLaine to see the world and to know it, transforming her public image and her
method of acting, as well.
Accordingly, MacLaine also began to explicitly challenge her construction as a “kook.”
MacLaine’s exasperation with the word became evident in the interview with Muriel Davidson
in the Saturday Evening Post. MacLaine proposed, “So, because I am not trivial-minded and
because I go to places where the world’s problems are actually happening, I’m labeled a
kook.”
104
As she intimated, the “serious” nature of her interests may have been unusual but were
hardly “kooky.” Suitably, MacLaine not only began to disassociate herself from the adjective
Frank Sinatra used to describe her, but she also started to distance herself from Sinatra and the
Clan. She told Davidson:

99
Organizations of any kind bore me. They tie me down and make
me feel earthbound. Imagine anyone calling me the mascot of the
clan, which the newspapers did! I adore Frank Sinatra and Dean
Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. We have a wonderful rapport. I
understand their humor and they dig mine. But I go away for
months and never see them. They aren’t my blood brothers.

MacLaine thus twice alluded to how travel detached her from the Clan: first, the organizational
aspect of it made her feel “[tied] down” and “earthbound”—in other words, immobile; and,
secondly, because she went “away for months”—because she was mobile—she had little time to
spend with the group of iconoclastic men. Steve Parker confirmed that travel separated
MacLaine from her former friends in an interview with Frank Rasky of Star Weekly; he
explained, “Shirl hasn’t seen Sinatra in years. […] She hasn’t time for that kooky stuff. If she
had her way she’d be spending every day traveling around the world and sounding off on
international affairs.”
105
According to Parker, MacLaine was not interested in social groups but
in public matters. In the same interview, MacLaine also added her opinion about the use of the
word “kook”: “That cliché gives me a pain in the behind. […] Well, in real life, I’m just an
individualist, that’s all. I’m neither fey, gamin, zany nor kooky. Jeez, I don’t even know what
that word kooky means.”

As travel became a more pronounced part of her persona, MacLaine
attempted to disassociate herself from the childlike caricature of her image.
MacLaine even denied being kooky in her early career. MacLaine’s unusual appearance
and Hollywood home, once evidence of her kookiness, were now, according to MacLaine, the
product of her life as a traveler. As MacLaine explained, “We don’t even have a decent set of
silver or complete set of towels in the house. I’m never home long enough to worry about those
things. I never want to be. Material possessions just hold you down.”
106
Likewise, Vernon Scott
also attributed her appearance and fashion choices to her worldly voyages: “She wears her hair
short and straight because beauty parlors are not handy in remote areas. Even her personal

100
wardrobe is dictated by what can be packed in a suitcase.”
107
As MacLaine explained to Charles
Champlin, “I’m me, but not the kooky kid the press made me. I never really was.”
108
Likewise,
Sheilah Graham described MacLaine as “dismissing her past” when MacLaine claimed, “I was
never kooky. […] I have always tried to find answers to the problems, the meaning of our
lives.”
109
MacLaine explicitly negated the storied image that had made her a star. In essence, she
made claim to her maturity.
Containing the Kookiness: MacLaine Travels to the USSR, Bhutan, and India
As illustrated in these interviews and profiles, the discourse of travel revealed the
tensions between the serious and seemingly superficial elements of MacLaine’s persona in the
mid-1960s. The press’s representation of three of MacLaine’s journeys—to the Soviet Union in
1962, to Bhutan in 1964, and to India in 1967—further exemplify the challenges her movements
posed to conservative notions of femininity at the time. In June of 1962, MacLaine embarked on
a ten-day Inturist tour of the Soviet Union, as she later explained, “[b]ecause it was there.”
110
On
June 20, 1962, an Associated Press article—entitled “Unique Event” in the Chicago Daily
Tribune—reported that her excursion, particularly a “bull session” with Russian and American
students at Leningrad University, “was the first time any Hollywood personality ever did such a
thing and as far as anyone can remember the first time since the war that any westerner did.”
111

Considering the relatively recent end of the industry-mandated blacklist in Hollywood and
looming Cold War anxieties in America, the trip certainly underscored MacLaine’s eccentricity.
Yet, as with her comments about travel in general, the Soviet trip also allowed MacLaine to
articulate her interest in acquiring knowledge: “The high point of my trip was the all night bull
session […]. We just sat around smoking and talking politics and philosophy and asking and
answering questions from 11 p.m. to 7 in the morning.”
112
In this initial account, MacLaine’s

101
journey, although framed as unusual, also supported a more “serious” construction of her
persona.
However, conflicting reports the following day juxtaposed the silly and cerebral aspects
of her image. The Chicago Daily Tribune printed another Associated Press article entitled “Red
Travel a Nightmare to Cancan Star” on June 21, 1962.
113
In this expanded account of the night of
the “bull session,” MacLaine’s bags (including her plane tickets) were stolen and she missed her
train from Leningrad to Moscow. Because the hotel where she was staying no longer had any
available rooms, MacLaine spent the night in the hotel lobby. Whereas the report the previous
day was relatively positive, in this article, the Associated Press announced, “Shirley MacLaine is
so frustrated by 10 days in the Soviet Union that she said tonight she would like to come back
and ‘dance the cancan naked in Red square [sic] every May day [sic].’”
114
(MacLaine previously
performed the title dance from the film Can-Can for Premier Nikita Khrushchev when he visited
the Twentieth Century Fox lot in 1959. He later called it “immoral.”
115
) The playful and
sexually-charged threat certainly evoked her onscreen persona.
Yet, according to the Boston Globe article “Shirley Tells the Naked Truth—Not Planning
Kremlin Can-Can” published the same day, MacLaine never made such a threat. The reporter
explained, “The actress said she was ‘furious’ over reports that she had been locked out of her
room and some of her luggage stolen.”
116
In August, upon her return to the United States after a
trip to Europe, MacLaine held a press conference to promote My Geisha. As recounted by Vance
King of the Hollywood Reporter, despite MacLaine’s upcoming film, the press in attendance was
fixated on MacLaine’s experiences in the Soviet Union.
117
King, who made no mention of the
naked dancing comment, was impressed with MacLaine’s responses: “Her answers, which she
prefaced with statements that she was only in the Soviet Union for a short time and on her own

102
as a tourist and not as a personage given the usual ‘A’ treatment at the Kremlin studio, were
well-thought-out, knowing and intelligent. Some of the questions weren’t.” King recognized the
often-overlooked aspects of MacLaine’s persona, particularly her ability, in contrast to the
entertainment reporters, to speak intelligibly about world events. However, King ultimately
resolved, “A pundit on world affairs and in particular on the Soviet, Miss MacLaine is not. An
actress and personality, she is, in spades.” As these various interpretations of MacLaine’s trip to
the Soviet Union illustrate, travel brought her into contact with political matters—with which
few other Americans had the opportunity to engage; yet, her status as an actress and her kooky
persona were regularly evoked to delegitimize her authority to speak on such matters.
MacLaine’s trip to Bhutan two years later similarly illustrates the influence of the press in
constructing the meaning of MacLaine as a celebrity traveler. According to Hollywood
columnist Abe Greenberg, in an article entitled “Shirley MacLaine’s on Top of the World,”
MacLaine’s trip to find new talent for one of her husband’s Las Vegas shows had transformed
into a “continuation of her personal world-wide travels as a one-woman ambassador of goodwill
to further a sort of people-to-people program.”
118
By this time, MacLaine’s solo excursions had
become a regular part of her persona. As Greenberg reported, while MacLaine was visiting India,
the Premier of the Republic of Bhutan invited the star to visit his homeland. Greenberg’s report
focused on the rarity of such an experience for any American:
No visas are issued for the trip inasmuch as there is no American
consular office in that country…and aliens are not permitted to
enter except by official invitation from the government of
Bhutan…Miss MacLaine will then become one of the few
Americans, reported to be fewer than a handful, ever to be allowed
entry into that exotic land, a place which has been compared by
some explorers to the fabled Shangri-la.

103
For MacLaine, stardom afforded her the ability to move not only on the public stage but also
across previously uncrossed borders. Yet, despite MacLaine’s power, Greenberg concluded,
“Queried about the unusual trek and its dangers, [her husband Steve] Parker could only
comment: ‘Who can tell what volatile, impetuous and inquisitive Shirley will do next?’ This is
one instance where nobody’d blame Steve if he’d paraphrase the title of his picture [John
Goldfarb, Please Come Home] and send out a call like ‘Shirley MacLaine, Please Come
Home’!” Although Greenberg recognized MacLaine’s mobility, he also expressed the persistent
desire to place female travelers back into the home.
Still, the significance of MacLaine’s involvement in public affairs could not be denied as
her image moved from the “soft news” of entertainment and gossip columnists and the “hard
news” of national and global politics. Prior to MacLaine’s visit, the Republic of Bhutan was in
the midst of political turmoil in 1964. At the time, the Premier, Jigme P. Dorji, had been in the
process of modernizing the nation and specifically increasing diplomatic relations with
neighboring India. Still, Bhutan also refused American visitors in an attempt to remain at peace
with China. On April 6, 1964, an unknown assassin had killed the Premier, while King
Wangchuk, who had a heart attack in March of 1963, was receiving health treatments in Europe.
Following the Premier’s death, the Indian government, an ally of Bhutan, feared growing
Chinese influence in Bhutan. And on April 13, over forty members of the Bhutanese Army were
arrested as suspects in the assassination, as the government prepared for a potential coup. By the
end of April, the suspected assassin, Bhutanese soldier Jambay Dupka, admitted to conspiring
with Chinese Communist agents. However, Bhutanese officials later claimed an internal “feud”
between the army and the former Premier had incited the assassination. The Bhutanese
government executed Dupka and two other accomplices for treason on May 17. Lhendup Dorji,

104
brother of the deceased, succeeded Jigme Dorji as Premier.
119
However, according to the
Associated Press, “Bhutan’s internal problems [were] far from over.”
120

Bhutan remained largely out of the press until November 28, when the New York Times
announced, “Bhutan’s King Reported Suppressing a Revolt.”
121
A map of the small nation
located Bhutan for unfamiliar readers. According to the article, a rebel group attempted to
dethrone King Wangchuk of Bhutan; Wangchuk then prohibited government officials from
leaving Bhutan. At the time, MacLaine was reportedly “involved in a personal adventure.” Four
days into her journey as a guest of the Premier, MacLaine was advised to leave the politically
unstable nation. However, when MacLaine attempted to depart accompanied by the Premier’s
secretary, her group was detained at the Indian-Bhutan border. As the New York Times
recounted, MacLaine “protested,” claiming to be a guest of the Premier, and her demands were
left unmet; but,“the next day a royal order released the party and Miss MacLaine arrived in
Calcutta.” While the New York Times article included MacLaine’s involvement in the political
turmoil of Bhutan, the tone was decidedly forthright and informative, and the report gave little
attention to MacLaine’s stake as an American film star.
Sterling Seagrave’s Washington Post, Times Herald article, “Reports of Thwarted
Military Coup Filter Out of Kingdom of Bhutan,” assumed a similar tone.
122
Describing
MacLaine as “one American momentarily caught in the upheaval,” Seagrave recounted her
experience as more dangerous, as she was held in “virtual house arrest” and “threatened with
bayonets.” Although MacLaine’s involvement is relegated to two short paragraphs at the end of
the article, a headshot of MacLaine, captioned “Shirley MacLaine…escapes Bhutan,”
accompanied the article. In the photo, MacLaine looks askance into the camera and grins
seemingly hesitantly. Although clearly a publicity photo, the positioning of her head reveals an

105
Indian-style chandelier earring—a visual sign connecting the image to her current location, “safe
in Calcutta.” (Interestingly, the Washington Post used the same image almost two years later, on
September 18, 1966, in Maxine Cheshire’s “Very Interesting People” column. The article
detailed MacLaine’s penchant for collecting “ethnic” jewelry.
123
) The photo thus shifted the
reader’s focus from the political affair to the star’s role in the situation.
Yet, the Associated Press’s version of the attempted coup—published in the Los Angeles
Times (as “Himalaya Caper Makes Shirley MacLaine Gasp: Hollywood Star’s Harrowing Trip
From Bhutan to India Made With Aid of Charm”), the Baltimore Sun (as “Star Tells of Escape:
Shirley MacLaine Caught Up in Attempted Coup”), and the Boston Globe (as “Shirley’s
Caper”)—focused specifically on MacLaine’s role in the events; these articles were the only
ones printed about the coup in each of the respective newspapers.
124
The headlines in Los
Angeles Times and the Boston Globe both framed the coup as a familiar Hollywood genre, the
“caper,” and the accompanying articles emphasized the suspenseful and precarious nature of
MacLaine’s escape from a “web of Oriental intrigue.”
125
As described in the Los Angeles Times,
MacLaine attempted to disguise the Premier’s secretary K. S. Bhalla as her chauffer and also
ineffectively popped her camera’s flashbulbs—somewhat reminiscent of the climactic scene of
Rear Window (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954)—in the guards’ faces. Then, “almost miraculously,”
according to MacLaine, the King granted MacLaine’s entire group leave of the country. While,
on the one hand, the article contained the image of MacLaine within recognizable cinematic
conventions—within the sphere of entertainment; it also, on the other hand, emphasized her role
as the active protagonist of this caper. Still, the deus ex machina—the King’s intervention—
reiterated her futility. As the article concluded by recalling MacLaine’s supposed threat to dance
naked outside the Kremlin, MacLaine’s kookiness persisted. The juxtaposition of these accounts

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of MacLaine’s adventures in Bhutan demonstrates how the representation of her travels produced
multiple meanings.
Finally, MacLaine’s supposed affiliation with spiritual leader Maharishi Mahesh Yogi
further called into question the motivation of her travels. In a press conference in October of
1967, MacLaine reportedly announced that she planned to visit the Yogi in India because “she
was disillusioned with ‘the moral, affluent decay, the perpetual slick discomfort’ of the West.”
126

Numerous reports of the press conference noted other famed devotees of the Yogi, including the
Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Donovan, Mia Farrow, and Frank Sinatra.
127
Joyce Haber’s account
of MacLaine’s potential trip to India intimated the “impressionable” star’s tendency to follow
trends; as Haber wrote, “The day after Mia Farrow announced that she would spend a month of
meditation with bearded savant Maharishi Mahesh, Shirely [sic] told a reporter that she hoped to
do the same.”
128
Although MacLaine had established herself as a regular traveler, Haber still
implied that the faddishness of Indian culture amongst celebrities had inspired MacLaine to
return to India.
MacLaine continued to be referenced as a follower of the Yogi in a number of other
articles throughout the year. On November 2, 1967, a New York Times article entitled “Hinduism
in New York: A Growing Religion” listed MacLaine as one of the stars attending a “two-month
short-cut-to-heaven course” at the guru’s Himalayan Center.
129
The following month, the Los
Angeles Times printed the article “India Mystic Delivers Peace—for a Price.”
130
MacLaine was
again included amongst the stars “keen to come see [the Maharishi].” According to his secretary,
the Maharishi “[had] not personally met these ladies [MacLaine and Farrow], but he [had]
certainly seen them with his inner eyes.” As the article explained, while “American film stars
live hectic lives but seek peace and rest,” peace and rest cost those stars a lofty donation: the

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Maharishi asked for a week’s salary from each of his followers. Two days later, Barney
Lefferts’s article, “Chief Guru of the Western World,” was published in the New York Times.
131

In a subtitle, Lefferts lists MacLaine as one of the Maharishi’s followers, and later he explains,
“A year’s meditation is recommended as preparation for the course but this ruling will be
waived, says one close to the Sage, for ‘certain famous people.’” Included amongst these other
celebrities, MacLaine’s interest in Indian culture appeared superficial, naïve, and trendy.
Despite the widespread circulation of MacLaine’s expressed interest in the Yogi’s
teachings, MacLaine repeatedly denied being affiliated with the fad. In an article entitled
“Shirley Pooh Poohs Meditation Yarn,” MacLaine told Sheilah Graham that the original news
release was “absolutely untrue.”
132
MacLaine continued,
My love and rapport for India is more practical than to meditate at
the foot of a mountain on a crash program. I don’t know why they
(the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Mia Farrow, etc.) are doing it. They’ll
get more confused than ever. Maybe they aren’t confused yet.
Maybe they’re afraid they will be. It’s all a bit adolescent. You
can’t take a crash course in serenity. My drive toward India started
before I went there. It was a drive toward 3,000 years of India’s
contemplation and thought.

In distinguishing herself from other “adolescent” celebrity interests, MacLaine underscored her
serious—in contrast, “mature”—appreciation for Indian culture, which could not be attained
through a “crash program.” On March 3, 1968, MacLaine again insisted, “But I never met this
Maharishi fellow, […] and I don’t expect to. I understand he serves a lot of highly spiced food
and stuff—well, how does that help the meditation bit?”
133
The Los Angeles Times reporter then
added, “The actress said she’s tired of being ‘zonked’ into stories about the Maharishi.”
134
Her
exasperation was also evident in an interview with Dorothy Manners later that month. MacLaine
dissuaded rumors: “I’m going back to India—but, for heavens sake, not to meditate. […] When I
was in India six months ago I ran into George Harrison of the meditating Beatles. I guess he just

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assumed I was there to see the Maharishi. Well, I wasn’t and I won’t be this trip.”
135
As with her
explorations of the Soviet Union and Bhutan, the representation of MacLaine’s trips to India
exemplify the precarious position of a woman outside the home in the mid-1960s. The multiple
interpretations—by the press and by MacLaine herself—of MacLaine’s journeys abroad made
her movements visible but also questioned the authority of her knowledge. Although she
explicitly dismissed her construction as a kook, accounts of possibly dancing naked, thrilling
getaways, and insincere religious movements merely reinforced her zaniness. However, as she
became more involved in her own representation, in written, televisual, and documentary forms,
MacLaine acquired power over texts, information, and knowledge.
136

Authoring MacLaine: “The Pretty American Abroad” and Don’t Fall Off the Mountain
In a 1964 interview with Vernon Scott, MacLaine confessed, “Someday I’m going to put
all my travels in a book. Maybe some of the things I’ve seen and learned will be of interest to
other people. I hope so.”
137
Although Maclaine was uncertain about how her book might be
received, she recognized the potential of writing as a means to construct her image as someone
who has both seen and known; MacLaine appreciated, in Leigh Gilmore’s words, the
“performative agency” of autobiography.
138
As Gilmore maintains, “Indeed, even in the
narrowest and most ambivalent sense, writing an autobiography can be a political act because it
asserts a right to speak rather than to be spoken for.”
139
Thus, in writing, MacLaine established
herself as an active, speaking subject, as “a self, a life worth telling about, and a history, in
general, to be outside the authority of some.”
140
As Amelie Hastie recognizes, in the star
autobiography, “most actresses take a directional path that led them to become stars.”
141
Mary
Desjardins, expanding upon William H. Epstein’s analysis of the biography, similarly proposes
that “this life-course narrative” conjoins the “autobiography with the democratic myth of social

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mobility through self-invention.”
142
Yet, while MacLaine’s writing established her as a star, it
also focused on a different form of mobility: MacLaine’s writing instead proposed a directional
path that led her to become a traveler; her writing performed not only self-invention but also
various transformations of the self through the acquisition of knowledge.
“The Pretty American Abroad”
In her 1964 article, “The Pretty American Abroad,” published in the travel magazine
Carte Blanche, MacLaine “asserts” her “right to speak” as a traveler. The title itself prefigures
the function of the article. As a “pretty” American traveler, MacLaine implicitly distinguishes
herself from the culturally insensitive characters in Eugene Burdick and William Lederer’s 1958
bestselling novel The Ugly American and George Englund’s 1963 film of the same name starring
Marlon Brando. Accordingly, MacLaine situates herself as a model for other potential travelers;
as the subtitle proposes, “A tip from a seasoned traveler: As a tourist, don’t be a bigger sight than
the ones you’ve gone to see.”
143
Thus, the article assumes the unique relationship, as analyzed by
Hastie, between the writer and reader of the advice book: MacLaine’s article “[points] to a time
when [it] will be read, when the performance [she] [describes] (and [has] presumably rendered
already [herself]) will be repeated by the reader and then potentially again.”
144
MacLaine’s
article also “assume[s] an expertise on the part of the writer and an acceptance of that expertise
on the part of the reader as she or he follows the advice the writer has offered.”
145
In the article,
MacLaine establishes her knowledge and also its potential influence on her readers.
MacLaine begins the article by acknowledging the transformative effects of travel on her
own persona. As she explains, “Although I’ve been recently identified with the film ‘Irma La
Douce,’ I really feel like ‘Shirley La Traveler.’”
146
In modifying the name of the character she
most recently portrayed, MacLaine not only differentiates her offscreen life from her onscreen

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persona but also intimates a shift in her maturity: the modifier “La Douce,” or “the sweet,”
emphasizes Irma’s naiveté, while “La Traveler” asserts MacLaine’s knowledge of the public
sphere. Moreover, by maintaining the French article, MacLaine also evokes her affinity for other
cultures. MacLaine then substantiates her new nickname by listing the various places she has
traveled, the exotic foods she has consumed, the number of stamps in her passport, and a log of
the luggage she has expended or lost. As MacLaine catalogues these objective markers of her
travels, her article engages in, as granted by Leigh Gilmore, “autobiography’s task […] to strive
to produce ‘truth.’”
147
MacLaine accordingly rewrites her popular image, from a pixie to a
peripatetic.
Still, MacLaine’s stream-of-consciousness, conversational, and humorous writing style
continues to recall her kooky onscreen personality. In addition to using phrases like “And that
reminds me” and “I must tell you,” MacLaine employs humor to subvert clichés about travel
and travel writing in the first few paragraphs of the article.
148
For example, MacLaine writes,
“I’ve traveled behind the Iron Curtain, on top of the Iron Curtain and in front of the Iron
Curtain.” Despite its levity, the quip is multivalent. While MacLaine pokes fun at the ideological
and cultural misunderstandings between the United States and the Soviet Union, she also
reiterates her ability to challenge conventional boundaries. Later, MacLaine proposes, “I’ve
traveled to so many places, I’ve met myself coming from the other direction. If travel broadens
one’s horizons, then I think by this time I can almost see behind me.” Again, MacLaine’s writing
reflects her absurd disposition; yet, it also enables her to share the breadth of knowledge she has
acquired both about other places and about herself.
After establishing her qualifications as a traveler and travel writer, MacLaine accordingly
critiques her antithesis, the “American Traveler,” whom she describes as, “replete with six

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cameras strapped across his chest and a fancy Cadillac he has to struggle to get through the tiny
village streets. He lives at the fanciest hotel available and communicates only with his fellow
Americans at the most popular bar in town, who are doing the same thing he’s doing, the same
thing they do at home.” She subsequently continues, “Of particular disgust to me are American
women who run around the world wrapped in mink.” Interestingly, MacLaine’s portrait of the
“American Traveler”—in his/her excessive wealth, exclusivity, and visual ostentatiousness—
might also depict the Hollywood star. As one of the most bankable stars in Hollywood at the
time,
149
MacLaine certainly speaks from a privileged perspective equal to that of the “American
Traveler.” Yet, in this article, MacLaine does not acknowledge the role of her own affluence in
enabling her frequent and far-reaching travels. Instead, she emphasizes the accessibility of travel
regardless of one’s economic means; as she later claims, “One of the most important aspects of
our society today is the availability of travel to almost every person in America. If one cannot
afford the full payments, he can go now and pay over a period of time.” Accordingly, MacLaine
underscores the ability—even if only imagined—of any reader to emulate her movements.
Moreover, while averting the inherent similarities between the “American Traveler” and
herself, MacLaine also implicitly suggests that “pretty” traveling is a matter of performance.
MacLaine does not propose that Americans should reject consumerism, but rather promotes
cultivating relationships between cultures—“bring[ing] our country closer to the people of other
nations.” She shares, for example, a story about the female guide who escorted MacLaine and
Jack Lemmon around Hungary. The guide’s “hard-looking” appearance, MacLaine presumes,
“was her way of sneering at the so-called imperialistic nation [MacLaine and Lemmon]
represented.” However, by the end of their trip, the woman “transformed herself into a lovely
looking lady” by wearing makeup, a “better styled” dress, and high-healed shoes. As MacLaine

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explains, the story “exemplifies how Americans can do much to put our ideas across. Not by
hitting other people over the head but through example. […] Soft-sell can do more to solidify the
bonds of human understanding than anything else in the world.” Thus, the subtlety of their
performance as travelers—and therefore as representatives of American culture—more
effectively encouraged capitalist pursuits than the Cadillacs and minks of the showy “American
Traveler”; valuing the performative nature of travel thus breeds cultural exchange.
As MacLaine argues, preparing for such performances should begin in one’s youth. She
cites that her daughter Sachi attends an international school in Tokyo, where the “world comes to
[Sachi].” MacLaine explains: “She is learning appreciation of the customs of other people, as
they are learning the mores of our way of life. This preparation […] will enable her to
communicate to peoples all over the world in a language they will understand.” Although
MacLaine herself did not enjoy such worldly schooling, anecdotes from her travels in East
Africa (where she became a “blood sister” of the Masai tribe) and her home in Japan (where she
“abide[s] by their customs”) reflect how MacLaine implements the lessons she tries to impart on
her daughter. Finally, MacLaine reminds her readers: “What isn’t easy is the responsibility
which one assumes when […] one goes forth to represent America.” Accordingly, MacLaine
implies that she has worked hard to assume this responsibility herself. Thus, MacLaine
authorizes herself through both her travels and her travel writings: as she acquires knowledge,
she also creates knowledge for others.
Anticipating Don’t Fall Off the Mountain
While MacLaine’s article in Carte Blanche may have legitimized her power as a traveler,
its impact on her persona remained limited—few, if any, other sources referred to the
publication. MacLaine’s book, however, began garnering widespread public attention more than

113
five years prior to its release. In July of 1965, several news outlets reported that W. W. Norton &
Co. had plans to publish a book written by MacLaine the following spring.
150
According to
Howard Thompson of the New York Times, the manuscript was extraordinary for multiple
reasons. First, W. W. Norton and Co., as Thompson noted, was one of the “most conservative
publishing houses” and their choice to distribute the “autobiographical musings” of a “leading
movie [queen]” was “a marked departure from tradition.”
151
Secondly, whereas Elizabeth
Taylor’s upcoming work would be compiled from the star’s tape-recorded recollections by a
“professional writer,” MacLaine’s book was, according to a representative of Norton, “the first
writing by a movie person [the publishing house had] ever handled.”
152
Thirdly, as MacLaine
herself explained, “It’s not strictly autobiographical. Rather, I’ll try to show that there’s an
inherent freedom in all of us that can be turned to advantage, circumstances providing. There’ll
only be one chapter on Hollywood and that treated as a kind of mythical kingdom.”
153

Accordingly, the announcement sanctioned MacLaine’s work in her choice of publishing house,
her ability to write, and the instructive subject matter of the book. As the representative of
Norton assured, “Shirley writes well. […] She’s a seeker and a questioner of values, and this
book should prove it.”
154
Like her article, MacLaine’s first book functioned to authorize her
knowledge. As with her ventures abroad, the discourse surrounding the publication of her book
demonstrated the transformation of her persona.
MacLaine’s decision to change the title of her book from “It’s Better with Your Shoes
Off” to Don’t Fall off the Mountain further reiterated this transformation. In reference to the
tentative title, MacLaine told Vernon Scott in February of 1966: “Don’t ask me why I chose that
title. […] It makes me laugh every time I hear it.”
155
MacLaine’s appreciation of the title as a
sexual innuendo certainly recalled the playful promiscuity of her onscreen roles. However, in an

114
interview with Jerry Hulse two months later, MacLaine made no reference to the title’s sexual
connotation. She explained, “When I travel I like to go like other people go […]. The first thing I
do when I get on a plane is kick off my shoes and get comfortable.”
156
In valuing comfort,
MacLaine both subverted glamour discourse while also making claim to her knowledge of and
empathy for other cultures. Still, the suggestive title proposed that the book might be about her
sexual exploits in Hollywood and not her adventures abroad. By November of 1966, Sheilah
Graham reported that MacLaine was reconsidering her title. In the article, entitled “Book Title
Hunted by Shirley,” MacLaine explained:
[My book] was called “It’s Better With Your Shoes Off,” but most
people thought that had a risqué connotation or that it was flip. It
started as a sort of comedy but when I got to the third rewrite,
about my travels and adventures, it was a very serious book, a
search, a questioning, a [sic] being able to bend with life, like a
bamboo in the wind which doesn’t break because it can bend.
157

Thus, MacLaine recognized how the original title ineffectively represented the genre and
ultimately the significance of her work. Her book would be neither trivial nor salacious but
“serious” and analytical—it would substantiate MacLaine as an intellectual. MacLaine
considered other titles that encapsulated her interminable curiosity about the nature of herself
and the world—including, for example, both “Me?” and “Why?”
158
—but she ultimately decided
upon Don’t Fall Off the Mountain by the summer of 1967.
159
A reference to “what [her] husband
tells [her] every time [she] leaves home,”
160
the new title more overtly signaled the importance of
travel to the work. Moreover, once spoken by her husband and now figuratively by MacLaine,
the cautionary title positioned MacLaine as an authority—a learned subject able to impart
knowledge onto her readers.
Accordingly, as MacLaine worked on her book, the “labor of authorship,”
161
as termed by
Amelie Hastie, became a notable aspect of her image in the popular press. In Howard

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Thompson’s initial account of MacLaine’s upcoming book, MacLaine said she had amassed a
600-page draft by writing twelve or more hours per day and typing at sixty words a minute.
162

Yet, according to MacLaine, her creative process had begun long before this rigid writing
regime. As she told Vernon Scott while making Gambit in 1966, she already spent at least five
years “thinking about [the book].”
163
Even when she acted during the day, she continued to write
at night: in order to complete an 800-page draft in February of 1966, she reportedly worked
every evening from 9 p.m. to 1 a.m.
164
As both an actress and a writer, MacLaine evidently had
little time to focus on anything else. When asked which profession she preferred, MacLaine
replied, “[Writing is] a lot tougher than acting. That’s always come easy to me.”
165
According to
MacLaine, writing, like the responsibility of traveling, was not easy, but her ability to produce
reiterated her agency as a female subject in the public sphere.
Although MacLaine did not complete her draft by the spring of 1966, as originally
intended, she frequently attributed this delay to her desire to communicate most effectively with
her readers. In 1967, Charles Champlin discussed MacLaine’s method in an article aptly titled
“Shirley’s Kooky Image Crumbles”:
[MacLaine’s] publisher was happy with the manuscript and eager
to publish it nearly two years ago, but [MacLaine] is not yet
ultimately satisfied with it and is starting once again to revise. (She
has not had even a ghost of a ghostwriter. “Whatever it is, it’s all
me,” she says. “I want to be a writer, but I’m not one in the sense
I’d like to be. But I’d like as many people as possible to understand
what I’m carrying on about.”)
166

Portraying the star as more scrupulous than her publisher, Champlin emphasized the
professionalism of MacLaine’s writing. MacLaine’s expressed desire to make her writing legible
likewise indicated how seriously she approached the task of sharing her knowledge. Still, despite
the visibility of MacLaine’s hard work, the revision process continued for several more years. In

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1968, while promoting her upcoming film Sweet Charity, MacLaine discussed the status of her
manuscript in Look magazine: “I have only one life to talk about, […]. What I’ve seen and
learned are valuable. I want to share it right, even though I have to write it over and over and
over again.’”
167
Again, MacLaine stressed the importance of her knowledge and the hard work
entailed in conveying it. Finally, almost five years after Norton announced the first 600-page
draft, the publishing house released Don’t Fall Off the Mountain to the public in August of 1970.
Don’t Fall Off the Mountain
As MacLaine promised in interviews prior to its publication, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain
departs from the “traditional” structure of the star autobiography. While the first ten chapters of
the book articulate MacLaine’s “directional path” to stardom, the last twelve chapters focus
almost entirely on the “outside world”
168
—from Thailand, to the American South, to Kenya, to
India, and to Bhutan—and only passingly refer to her career in Hollywood and her status as a
female star. As star autobiographies repeatedly function, as Hastie maintains, to “set the record
straight,”
169
the structure of Don’t Fall Off the Mountain thus underscores the significance of
travel to MacLaine’s conceptualization of herself. For the most part, MacLaine recounts her life
in chronological order; however, she rarely identifies specific dates, and thematic ties between
events occasionally guide her recollections. For example, her description of Thailand segues into
her discussion of the Deep South in America “years later,” as both journeys inspire her to reflect
on her evolving interpretations of race (144). Still, the temporal perspective of MacLaine’s voice
differs from the star autobiographers considered by Hastie. Whereas the silent stars of Hastie’s
work “took up writing later in life,” after their peak of their film stardom,
170
MacLaine writes as
she continues to act.
171
The not-so-distant past upon which she reflects in her work therefore
determines not only how her image will be remembered but also how her future productions—

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both on and off the screen—might be interpreted. Thus, as MacLaine presents herself as a
knowing subject in Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, she gives authority to her actions, both past and
future, in the public sphere.
From the first paragraph of her book, MacLaine complicates a teleological narrative of
her rise to fame by recognizing an alternative existence for herself. She admits,
I was born into a cliché-loving family. To be consistent with my
background, I should have married an upstanding member of the
community and had two or three strong-bodied children who ate
Wonder Bread eight ways. I should have settled down on a clean,
tree-lined street in a suburb of Richmond, Virginia, had a maid
once a week, a bridge game every Wednesday, and every three
years or so a temptation—I would feel guilty about it—to have an
affair. (1)

Yet, this unfulfilled future, somewhat paradoxically, emphasizes MacLaine’s inevitable path to
stardom. As MacLaine imagines this possible life in contrast to her present state, she positions
herself as someone who has always been unaffected by her circumstances, as a “natural” since
birth. According to her upbringing, MacLaine should have been a woman who conformed to
gender stereotypes—she should have been a wife, a mother, and a consumer, who suppresses her
desires for the sake of conformity. However, as the reader already knows, MacLaine does not
succumb to the influence of her surroundings. In the second chapter, she explicitly denies any
plausible chance of doing so. Discussing herself and her younger brother Warren Beatty,
MacLaine confesses, “I don’t think either of us seriously considered that we wouldn’t be able to
make something of ourselves. We had to; it was the only way we’d have any respect for
ourselves” (17). Thus, MacLaine interprets her past as a promise of her future.
Accordingly, MacLaine’s insubordinate but seemingly respectful childhood parallels her
eventual redefinition of female stardom from within the studio system. She and Beatty were
“model children”—they did their chores and their homework, and they made their parents

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“proud” (5, 6). Yet, they also “breathed the breath of rebellion into each other. A kind of
conniving rebellion to beat the system” (5). This rebellion existed largely “outside” the home,
where they “really lived” (6). While their disruptive acts ranged from knocking over trashcans to
shoplifting Twinkies, MacLaine recognizes how their shenanigans defied the prevailing
conformity of their suburban neighborhood. As she explains, MacLaine and Beatty drafted a
“plan of action against the establishment. A small plan and a small establishment, but a promise
of things to come” (6). MacLaine thus inscribes her childhood with the subversion that is
characteristic of her adult self.
In addition to portraying herself as a rebellious youth, MacLaine situates herself as
having always been interested in travel and learning. For example, she describes the “symbols of
[…] restlessness” in her childhood bedroom: the maps that decorated her walls, the books about
“other people and other places” that filled her shelves, and the “high-powered telescope [she]
wished would take [her] to the moon” (13-14). Prior to leaving Virginia, MacLaine educated
herself about the world beyond her suburban home. Amidst these symbols, as MacLaine
recounts, she told her mother that she wanted to leave home to pursue a career in New York.
MacLaine remembers the words she spoke to her mother: “But I have to go away from here—
away from the schedule, the rigid discipline, the conformity. Perhaps it’s been good, and useful,
and necessary but there’s so much out there I have to see, and have to do, and have to be a part
of. […] I want to interpret people and what they think and feel. I think I love people, but I don’t
know very much about them” (14-15). In recalling this conversation, MacLaine thus frames her
decision to perform as a reflection of her desire for knowledge—knowledge that could only be
acquired by leaving the home, by being a witness, by taking action.
In Chapter 3, MacLaine also depicts her budding romance with Steve Parker in terms of

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their shared interests in distant places and different peoples. Upon meeting Parker, MacLaine
reflects,
The world came alive. […] We read books together—books I had
never known existed. He had traveled all over the world, and even
though his own wanderlust had been partially satisfied, he
recognized the same relentlessness in me. If I was to know myself,
he said, I must know others. He encouraged me to resurrect my
collection of maps, and we pored over them, claiming the faraway
lands for our own, and vowing to touch the soul of every one of
them. We promised to devote ourselves to trying to understand
people and ideas beyond our local experience.
He seemed to be an extension of what I wanted to be myself,
and the more dependent I became on him, the more independent I
seemed to become in my own life. (25-26)

MacLaine again eased her “restlessness,” if only temporarily, through the reading of books and
the scouring of maps. With Parker, she initiated a life-long desire to discover the unknown
beyond her immediate surroundings. Yet, guided by Parker, MacLaine also began to recognize
how movement around the globe might help her to better understand herself as well. (And she
reiterates this sentiment throughout the book: “I loved trying to understand anything different
because I always found something different in myself in the process” [72]; “I understood more of
me while trying to understand them [the people she met on her travels]. And it made me more
compassionate; not only for others but for myself as well” [139]; “I didn’t want the experience of
having known them [her travel companions in Bhutan] to end. I didn’t want the experience of
having known more of myself to end” [291-92].) Although MacLaine acknowledges her reliance
on Parker at the time, MacLaine also underscores how merely the idea of travel evinces her
growing autonomy.
Even before MacLaine recounts her first trip abroad, she evokes the voice of a travel
writer in her depictions of the American film community. In Chapter 4, MacLaine describes
how, on the set of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Trouble with Harry, she spent her first day “the color

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of a shamrock” (45) or, in the words of Bartkowski, “seeing as a child.”
172
She opens the chapter
by recalling the seemingly foreign language of both the lighting crew and Hitchcock:
The crew was in full cry.
“Tilt the broad down a little.”
“And make her two points hotter.”
“Okay. Now screw her.”
[…]
“Pleasant period following death,” [Hitchcock] said. (45)

The sexual and violent connotations of their dialogue intimate her initial vulnerability. Yet,
MacLaine subsequently deciphers the language for the reader:
When I finally had it all translated, it turned out the lighting crew
had said:
Tilt the big light down a little.
And make it brighter by two points on the light meter.
Okay. Now secure it.
[…]
And then Hitchcock had told me in his own version of cockney
rhyming slang:
Good mourning. (Pleasant period following death.) (45-46)

In providing these translations, MacLaine not only familiarizes the reader with the world of
Hollywood but also demonstrates her mastery of an unfamiliar culture; she asserts herself as a
“citizen” of this “new and curiously mythical kingdom” (46). (Later, MacLaine similarly
demonstrates her mastery of Japanese and Masai cultures by incorporating Japanese and Swahili
words into her descriptions.
173
) Thus, the reader witnesses MacLaine, recalling Bartkowski
again, “[come] to terms” as a traveler.
Still, despite her understanding of the film community, MacLaine continues to construct
herself as an outsider within it. MacLaine remembers her arrival in Los Angeles: “Through
smarting eyes half closed by the smog, we [MacLaine and Parker] saw our first inhabitants of
Hollywood. They were bronzed, had capped teeth, and wore huge dark glasses. They had faces
but were minus eyes. […] [They] moved as if in slow motion” (49-50). In focusing on the

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unusual physical appearance and behavior of the “inhabitants,” MacLaine speaks as an
adventurer happening upon on a previously unknown people. MacLaine then extends this
analogy to her account of moving into a larger home with Parker and their daughter; she
reiterates, “The world of affluence was foreign to us” (82). Even years after moving to Los
Angeles, as MacLaine ruminates, she continued to observe her peers through the eyes of an
outsider. She labels Hollywood dinner parties, “a unique phenomenon of the Western world”
(86). Although MacLaine recognizes that she “became part of the group—the dinner-party
group,” she deems it “empty and hollow” (86, 90). For example, MacLaine illuminates this
“world in itself”: “When a subject other than motion pictures is introduced, the nervous fidgeting
increases. It is impossible to discuss anything else. Change the subject quickly. Return to
familiar ground” (89). Whereas MacLaine presents herself as always in search of the unfamiliar,
the Hollywood dinner party group clings to the stable superficiality of their artificial existences.
Consequently, MacLaine looks elsewhere for artistic, intellectual, and spiritual inspiration.
While MacLaine assumes the role of an observer with ease, she has difficulty accepting
her status as an object of attention in Hollywood. After the release of The Trouble with Harry,
MacLaine explains:
I was hailed as a kooky young discovery, a kooky young star, a
kooky comedienne possessed of a kooky ingénue quality, a fresh-
faced kook, a kook from the Broadway stage, a kook from
Arlington who now lives in a kooky shack in Malibu. “Kooky”
was a word I would never escape, and one I seemed to have grown
up with. The closest the dictionary comes to its derivation is:
Kookaburra, Australia. It means laughing jackass.
For the fan magazines and gossip columnists, I was fresh copy.
(54)

Although MacLaine likely misremembers the press about her following The Trouble with
Harry—few, if any, articles use the word “kook” to describe her until 1959—MacLaine’s

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seemingly incessant repetition of the word underscores its dominance in her star discourse
regardless of the date of its first usage. As even MacLaine recognizes, she seemed to have been
associated with the word since her youth. Her frustration with the characterization is perhaps
evident in her admission that it “was a word [she] would never escape.” For all her authoritative
movements and her growing knowledge of the world, MacLaine struggled to disassociate herself
from being anything more than a “laughing jackass.”
Later, when MacLaine reflects on becoming “somebody” in Hollywood (129), she
reiterates her frustration with being scrutinized by others:
The most pleasant strangers provoked my fury because they simply
looked at me, or watched how I picked up a fork, or stared while I
spoke quietly with my daughter, or told me that they had seen the
same facial expression on the screen. I felt that it was not their
right to stare or to be interested in me. I was wrong, but regardless
of how full of admiration their interest might be, I still resented it. I
resented my enforced and constant awareness of self; I didn’t want
to live in a world of only “me.” (130)

The ironies of this passage are multiple. First, as MacLaine acknowledges the insensitivity of her
reaction to her fans, she creates a parallel between her own desire to look—to observe how other
cultures eat, how they interact with their families, and/or how they live up to her expectations of
them—and her fans’ shared passion. Accordingly, she implicitly challenges her own right to
stare and be interested in the inhabitants of Japan, Thailand, or Bhutan, who, unlike MacLaine,
had not chosen a profession that demanded conspicuity. Still, for someone who “didn’t want to
live in a world of only ‘me,’” writing an autobiography is arguably an unusual undertaking.
Nevertheless, the passage resolutely underscores her discomfort with being objectified;
MacLaine clearly considers herself an active pursuer of knowledge: someone who looks, not
merely someone to be looked at. Traveling thus enables MacLaine to accept her fame, as she
states in the following chapter, “I could never be anonymous; I knew I’d be carrying all my

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banners, but I had to go anyway. I had to achieve some sort of balance between myself and
others because I was passionately interested in them as they were in me” (136). She certainly
achieves this balance in her book, as she devotes almost equal parts to recalling her own life and
to narrating the lives of others.
Appropriately, MacLaine conceives of travel as a pursuit intimately tied to the
performative labor of acting. After Mike Todd cast MacLaine in Around the World in Eighty
Days in 1955, MacLaine journeyed to Japan, leaving North America for the first time (59-60). In
recalling her experience abroad, MacLaine details several Japanese customs, behaviors, and
philosophies. Following her observations, she writes, “I was beginning to understand why I had
become an actress. To wear and understand the cloak of another person had been a motivating
force in me all my life” (72). As MacLaine learns and, in turn, educates her reader, she positions
acting as an expression of her insights as well; the more she learns, the more effectively she can
perform. Acting, according to MacLaine, thus signifies her authority as well. MacLaine reiterates
this idea in Chapter 9. MacLaine explains, “One of the joys of being a successful actress was that
I had the excuse and opportunity to explore so many levels of life. It seemed to me, sometimes,
that I enjoyed the exploration more than the acting. I entered into the private lives of all kinds of
people—and was welcomed because they wanted to be portrayed accurately” (114). For
example, MacLaine recalls how films have taken her on literal and figurative journeys: Two for
the Seesaw introduced MacLaine to a Jewish dancer in Greenwich Village, New York; for My
Geisha, MacLaine lived at a geisha training school in Japan; and MacLaine consulted doctors
about latent homosexuality in women during her preparations for The Children’s Hour. Again,
MacLaine underscores the exploratory intellectual work required of acting. Moreover, her desire
and ability to portray others “accurately”—to perform her intelligence—consequently gives her

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access to spaces that might otherwise be denied of her. Thus, MacLaine’s memoir illustrates the
interconnectedness between movement, knowledge, performance, and power. Her travels enable
her to learn, her performances communicate her intellect, and that intellect authorizes further
movements.
Still, as MacLaine presents herself as a master of such movement, she subverts traditional
notions of femininity: she makes visible her knowledge, her labor, and her place in the public
sphere. MacLaine’s preparatory work for Irma La Douce, the most detailed account of her
“explorations” as an actress, exemplifies how her travels and her writing enable her to challenge
conservatively constructed gender roles. To create the character of Irma—a “blatant hooker with
a heart of gold,” as MacLaine describes her—MacLaine traveled to Paris; she explains, “I had to
find a girl, a real-life hooker, to match Irma and then get to know her” (115). The trip
accordingly allows MacLaine to demonstrate how she prepares for a film and also to relate her
knowledge of a Parisian subculture. MacLaine vibrantly recreates Les Halles, a red-light district
and former wholesale market, for her reader, and she meticulously outlines the posture, fashion,
and routine of a prostitute, Danielle. Although her prose is methodical and not lascivious in tone,
MacLaine assumes a conventionally masculine gaze in watching the prostitute. As MacLaine
describes how she came to understand the character of Irma, the parallels between MacLaine and
the prostitute’s male clients become more evident. MacLaine remembers,
When it was time for Danielle’s break, she motioned us [MacLaine
and her companion Christian] to follow her into the building.
“Now you will see where our business is conducted,” she
explained as she led us up four flights of winding stairs.
[…]
“Always lead the way up the stairs,” she explained to me. “If a
man panics or decides to change his mind, this will put him back
on the track.” She patted her fanny and swayed back and forth
from side to side as she continued to climb. (119)

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Although Danielle instructed MacLaine on how to perform as a prostitute, as MacLaine followed
Danielle up the stairs and gazed upon Danielle’s behind, MacLaine adopted the client’s
perspective instead. At the top of the stairs, MacLaine notes, “A tiny hole in the door
accommodates those who like to watch from the outside” (120). Later, this hole also
accommodated MacLaine, when Danielle insisted that MacLaine watch Danielle work to obtain
a “better understanding” (122). Once more, MacLaine adopted a typically male vantage point to
complete her exploration. MacLaine underscores the transgressive nature of her gaze as a female
traveler. At the end of the chapter, she recalls her acceptance speech when she received a Golden
Globe Award for her performance in Irma La Douce: “In fact, I said I enjoyed the research so
much I nearly gave up acting. Before I knew it the network had cut my sound off the air and
there I was moving my lips with nothing coming out. I wish they had let me finish. I wish they
had let me tell it all” (128). The network’s silencing of MacLaine only amplifies the power of
MacLaine’s unruly voice in this narration. Although MacLaine regrets not being able to finish
her story on television, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain enables MacLaine to voice the pleasures of
travel, to “tell it all.”
Throughout the book, MacLaine explicitly acknowledges that her choice to navigate
through the public sphere—through both working as an actress and traveling around the world—
upset cultural expectations about marriage and motherhood. After several years of “mediocre”
acting, MacLaine recalls, “I was cut up into too many little pieces—actress, wife, mother. One
would have to go. I rushed into the dark house, my decision clear. To hell with my fond dream of
‘being somebody.’ It was far more important to be with somebody” (98). At the time, MacLaine
appeared to long for her place within the private sphere. However, when she moved to Tokyo to
be with Parker and her daughter Sachi, MacLaine soon discovered that, for her, marriage and

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motherhood “wasn’t enough”: “My dilemma seemed such a cliché; frustrated young housewife
who has more to give than lovingly washing dishes, lovingly raising a family, and lovingly
loving her husband. It was like a true confessions letter to Ladies’ Home Journal” (100). Yet,
MacLaine could not be placated by Dear Abby’s insistence that “nothing was more important for
a woman than her family” (100-01). She considers how her frustration set a bad example for her
daughter: “And if I desired freedom and independence for [Sachi] as a growing person, why
shouldn’t I desire the same thing for myself? How could I expect her to develop everything she
could be as a person, if I didn’t?” (101). If MacLaine had indeed been “cut up into too many
little pieces,” acting was not the “one [that] would have to go,” and neither was travel. While
detailing her adventures in Bhutan, MacLaine ponders, “Was I being selfish in living my life the
way that made me happiest? Would it be better to restrict my longings and my spirit—better for
everyone including myself? Freedom seemed so lonely so much of the time anyway. Yet when I
thought of Sachie I wished freedom for her. […] I hoped she would feel that life is important
enough to be lived fully” (252-53). Again, MacLaine recognizes the challenges and sacrifices
required of her decisions; however, her progressive notion of motherhood—to guide one’s child
not through proximity but through example—apparently motivated her to continue pursuing her
interests in the public sphere. In these introspective moments of doubt, MacLaine thus frames her
choices as ultimately both deliberate and powerful; she envisions herself as a model for future
generations.
Accordingly, as MacLaine asserts her authority as a woman, she negotiates a complex
power dynamic between herself and the people (Japanese, French, Thai, African American,
Masai, Indian, Bhutanese) from whom she learns. Similar to other female travel writers,
MacLaine’s writing operates within a “dynamic of seduction,” as defined by Bartkowski, one

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“that is never quite resolved into secured forms of domination, even though it may be grounded
in a discourse of mastery.”
174
As stated above, MacLaine considers travel as a means to
understand—to master—a variety of cultures and herself, as well. Accordingly, she acts as a
“[subject]-in-process,” a subject that “vacillate[s] between power and powerlessness.”
175

Although MacLaine does not aim to “conquer” other cultures, ultimately, she, like the travel
writers Bartkowski analyzes, “must regard [them] as other” in order to come to an understanding
of them.
176
MacLaine laments the inevitability of this outcome: “As though by becoming
someone else for a time I would understand something of how they lived, ate, thought and died,
[…] but I was still me when it was all over. And they were they. And it bothered me that we
were still separate” (185). Despite all her efforts, MacLaine cannot simultaneously narrate and
erase difference. Throughout her text, the people to whom MacLaine travels remain cast as
others.
For the most part, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain reiterates MacLaine’s laudatory view of
non-Western cultures. Although MacLaine repeatedly describes these cultures as “traditional,”
“primitive,” and/or “natural”—implicitly marking their inferiority in contrast to the modern,
civilized, and/or developed West—she also celebrates these cultural differences. MacLaine’s
deliberations on the concept of time throughout the book exemplify, in the words of Klein, a
“nostalgic search for the premodern and the authentic that has characterized so much Western
travel writing about the non-West.”
177
In Hollywood, as MacLaine explains, “there was no time
for reflection. There was only time to mold and produce an engaging, attractive commodity and
show up” (55). MacLaine attributes her commodification and objectification as a star—i.e., her
powerlessness—to the pronounced lack of time in Western capitalist culture. Appropriately,
during nearly all of her travels, in which MacLaine asserts her power as a mobile subject,

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MacLaine appreciates alternative notions of time. For example, in Chapter 5, MacLaine writes,
“Japan is a land where time has no urgency” (70); in Chapter 13, she remembers, “Time became
irrelevant to me as it was to the Masai” (172); in Chapter 14, she maintains, “Time doesn’t seem
to exist in India” (194); and in Chapter 15, she recalls her experience with a yoga instructor:
The instructor continually admonished me for what he called my
“Western speed.” I never took time for anything. I was too eager to
get on with the “next experience,” or to continue on the “treadmill
of learning things.”
“Patience,” he quoted an old Arab proverb, “is the key to joy.
Haste is the key to sorrow.”
“Humans say that time passes,” he quoted a Himalayan
proverb. “Time says that humans pass.” (205)

Throughout her adventures, MacLaine idealizes the presumed simplicity of foreign peoples.
Whereas the West, for MacLaine, is preoccupied with wealth and progress, the East values
impulse and nonmaterial forms of enlightenment. Thus, as MacLaine uses Orientalist language,
she also romanticizes difference.
Accordingly, MacLaine portrays cross-cultural exchanges with ambivalence. On one
hand, MacLaine applauds her ability, as well as her family’s, to adopt non-Western customs and
values. Sachi, called by her Japanese middle name, wore kimonos and obeyed the Japanese
custom of removing her shoes before entering a room (99, 102). While staying with the Masai,
MacLaine (somewhat hesitantly) drank a concoction of cow’s blood, milk, and urine (165). She
recalls, “I lived as they did, by impulse and governed by only by the needs of their cattle” (172).
As stated above, MacLaine learned to practice yoga and meditate in both India and Bhutan (205).
One of her conversations with the Premier of Bhutan, Llendhup “Lenny” Dorji, epitomizes her
philosophy of travel:
“Could you accept an industrially backward society with all its
discomforts and still see the beauty in its simplicity?” [Dorji
asked.]

129
[…]
“Lenny,” I answered, “I’m not a tourist; I’m a traveler.” (213)

MacLaine takes pride in her ability—unlike pleasure-seeking tourists—to acclimate herself to
any environment, to shed her Western skin.
Yet, on the other hand, MacLaine somewhat wistfully describes Western influence upon
the East. In Chapter 5, she depicts a hypothetical “traditional” Japanese man “in silent confusion,
unable to cope with the transition. [...] Too fast, he seemed to be thinking. It was all too fast, this
meeting of the West, this swift leap into another culture’s idea of modernity” (62-63). MacLaine
seems to empathize with this man’s desire to preserve “premodern” Japan. And MacLaine’s own
searches are guided by her yearning to see the “authentic.” Reflecting on her decision to travel to
Bhutan, MacLaine recalls her travel companions’ advice: “If you want to go to the top, go to the
roof of India, to the Himalayas. Not to Kashmir, Nepal, or Sikkim. Too many others have
contaminated those places. Go to Bhutan. Hardly any Westerner has ever been there, only three
Americans” (206). MacLaine then conveys her excitement about the possibility of exploring the
unknown: “The mountains were one thing; even the Himalayas were difficult for me to imagine
seeing. But Bhutan!! People spoke of Bhutan with awe” (207). MacLaine’s evident passion for
the “uncontaminated” propels her journeys. MacLaine reiterates this sentiment when she
subsequently describes the “new and wonderful land” of Bhutan: “If it was raw nature I was
after, unspoiled and undeveloped by man, I was certainly going to get it” (230). In celebrating
the “uncontaminated” and “unspoiled” aspects of Bhutan, MacLaine echoes the “paradox of U.S.
orientalism,” as articulated by Jeannette Roan. MacLaine’s desire to observe the “authentic”—
and thus “fix” non-Western territories as “separate entities, with essential qualities and
traits”
178
—only demonstrates the impossibility of distinguishing the cultures as separate. Within
difference, MacLaine “[finds] […] the rationale for further border crossings.”
179
Thus,

130
MacLaine, sometimes without recognition, contributes to the loss of traditions for which she so
passionately longs to see.
However, MacLaine is not completely naïve to her influence upon the people and places
of her explorations. While MacLaine reflects upon her time in Kenya, she is acutely aware of the
impact of disease on the Masai people; she explains how syphilis still threatens to drive the
Masai tribe out of existence, as the Masai refuse to adopt Western medicine (161). MacLaine
admits, despite her initial desire to perform all Masai customs, she soon recognized the
impossibility of doing so. MacLaine recalls how she helped to deliver a baby—named “Shuri,” a
mispronunciation of “Shirley,” in her honor—and confesses,
I no longer wanted to melt into the milieu of what was primitive
and basic or simple. I didn’t want to be a missionary, but this new
child needed medical help and care. I didn’t want to change
anyone’s mind or belief or codes of behavior. I only wanted to help
sustain something that lived and breathed. […]
[…] If they considered this vulgar interference, I would have to
take the chance. The sensitive, polite, social observances of ritual
were over, and I became angry; angry at filth, at tradition, at dung
huts, at the cows carrying syphilis, and at ignorance. (177-78)

MacLaine could not absolutely deny her feelings of cultural superiority. Although she was
reluctant to interfere, she undeniably felt compelled to change their minds, their beliefs, and their
codes of behavior for the sake of a child’s life. In the end, she came to despise the difference that
had previously fascinated her. After much persuading, she eventually convinced the chief to
permit Shuri to receive penicillin at a nearby hospital and urged him to allow others to receive
treatment as well. Yet, she doubts her lasting influence, admitting “the arrogance of the Masai
was uncompromising” (182). MacLaine thus positions herself, like Alison Trope’s analysis of
Angelina Jolie, as a “white figure of salvation.”
180
Despite her efforts to subvert racial

131
stereotypes by appropriating cultural customs and beliefs, she ultimately reasserts the superiority
of Western medicine, constructing the Masai as dependent on her aid.
Nevertheless, MacLaine does not wholeheartedly support institutional forms of
knowledge. In Chapter 11, she explains, “I began to learn that truth is relative. I had always
believed that what was right was right, period. That what I had been taught was wrong was
simply wrong. That the truth was tidy and indeed easy to understand once you’d been taught to
understand what the truth was. But that, alas, is not what I found. […] There are so many
truths—one just as valid as another” (138). As MacLaine acknowledges that no truth is absolute,
she likewise recognizes her own fallibility as an author; her reflections on the foreign are thus
implicitly in dialogue with a myriad of other perspectives. Although MacLaine ultimately
resolved to submit to the “truths” of Western medicine when in Kenya, her anxiety about
“interfering” with Masai beliefs demonstrates at least her theoretical understanding of the
multiplicity of truths between and within cultures. In Africa, MacLaine ultimately asserts her
authority, but elsewhere she makes an attempt, if not entirely successfully, to grant other
authorities as well. For example, she witnessed a baby drown right before his parents’ eyes in
Thailand and, though admittedly “stunned,” she accepts that “many Buddhists will not interfere
with what they believe is preordained fate. […] To a Buddhist, death is only another form of
life” (144). Whether or not MacLaine agrees with this philosophy remains unclear, but her
experience still challenged her to rethink her preconceptions about Thailand: “I remembered how
often I had heard that life was cheap in Asia. But that wasn’t really it” (140). MacLaine
accordingly emphasizes the unconventional process by which she comes to understand. Her
ability to see for herself enables her to know the world differently.

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Ultimately, throughout the course of Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, MacLaine constructs
herself as a traveler—distinct from her peers in Hollywood, from her image in the press, from
conservative notions of femininity, and from the people she encounters. In doing so, she makes
herself visible as a powerful subject in the public sphere; yet she also recognizes the problematic
implications of her power, as she cannot fully deny the privileged perspective through which she
views the world. Moreover, MacLaine appreciates the impossibility of truly mastering the
unknown. In the final chapter, MacLaine depicts her surroundings in India: “The wind swirls and
moves and caresses all things and when it moves on it never turns back—there is so much out
there ahead of it” (292). Clearly, MacLaine’s characterization of the wind symbolizes her own
expansive and unpredictable movements; MacLaine suggests in this way that her education will
never be fully complete, as “there is so much out there ahead of [her].” Fittingly, she concludes
her work: “The wind roared on ahead of us [MacLaine and her Bhutanese travel companions]
and I wondered if I’d ever catch up” (292). The openness of this final sentence not only
anticipates her future movements but also intimates an acceptance of her limitations: she is still
wondering—in the end, there are no certainties.
Critical Reception of Don’t Fall Off the Mountain
Considering the authority MacLaine asserts for herself in Don’t Fall Off the Mountain,
the press’s repeated need to remind readers that she wrote the work herself is perhaps
unsurprising. These assertions exemplify and extend Leigh Gilmore’s claim that “women
autobiographers are frequently assumed to have ‘made it up.’”
181
For MacLaine, the veracity of
the book’s content was not in question, but her authorship was. Thus, reviewers and MacLaine
herself consistently reiterated her labor as an author. On October 26, 1970, the “Newsmakers”
section of the Los Angeles Times featured the headline “Wrote It and She’s Glad, Shirley

133
Says.”
182
As MacLaine explained in the news brief, “My father asked me, ‘Who really wrote it
for you?’ But I really wrote it all by myself; every word of it. Don’t you see? That’s what the
whole book is about; my father never believed I could do anything.”
183
Despite the common
conception that stars usually employ ghostwriters, MacLaine situated her work as the product of
her ability to “do” something, to be active, and thus subvert her father’s limited expectations.
Although critics in the New York Times, Time, and Newsweek remained divided on her talent as a
writer, they all commented upon her choice not to use a ghostwriter. John Leonard, writing in the
New York Times, maintained, “Miss MacLaine has not employed, and does not need, a ghost.
She writes with grace and wit.”
184
Alternatively, the review in Time proposed, “What makes
‘Don’t Fall Off the Mountain’ different from the usual drivel is that Shirley wrote it herself—no
ghost, no collaborator, no pix and, alas, no visible editor.”
185
In Newsweek, Alex Keneas
emphasized this distinction: “Lacking the time or talent to write, celebrities often enlist help in
putting their ideas into publishable prose. Shirley MacLaine has now joined the ranks of writing
personalities and apparently has done the job on her own.”
186
Although these three critics did not
agree on the artistic quality of MacLaine’s book, they together illustrated that an actress’s
writing—unlike the undeniable visibility of her film performances—is a feat that must be
repeatedly verified (and can never fully be proven).
Critics also frequently noted the unusual subject matter of Don’t Fall Off the Mountain.
Rex Reed described MacLaine’s memoir: “It is not the gossipy, personal-revelation kind of book
in which you find out juicy things about people.”
187
Likewise, James Bacon called Don’t Fall Off
the Mountain a “different movie star story”; he contended, “[it] is not a Hollywood memoir full
of racy tidbits and behind the scenes gossip of movieland.”
188
Alex Keneas reiterated, “You
don’t hear the whine of melodrama in Miss MacLaine’s account of her professional struggles and

134
success; and there are no gossipy, exploitative attempts to tell all.”
189
As these critics
differentiated MacLaine’s work from adjectives—e.g., “juicy,” “tell-all,” “racy,” “gossipy” and
“melodramatic”—typically used to describe both star autobiographies and also the content of fan
magazines, a genre typically associated with women, these critics firmly placed the
representation of MacLaine’s life within the public sphere; they afforded the book credibility, if
not artistic integrity.
Appropriately, in addition to making this distinction, the reviewers pointed to the
development of MacLaine’s persona. Rex Reed explicitly assessed MacLaine’s work in terms of
maturation: “Shirley’s triumph as a writer is the way she captures the curious, energetic soul and
restless passion of a rebellious girl and builds her into the portrait of a woman composed of
blood and guts and human dignity instead of disposable celluloid.”
190
Reed not only emphasized
MacLaine’s development but also disassociated MacLaine from the superficiality of the film
world. Furthermore, Reed underscored the impact of her self-representation: “It occurred to me
that if Shirley MacLaine, a representative of the most affluent group, can jeopardize her career to
speak out the way she does, there must be hope for the rest of us who have nothing to lose.”
191

According to Reed, MacLaine’s stardom held significant power: as not only a star but also a
traveler and a writer, MacLaine inspired social change. In a similar vein, Bacon challenged
MacLaine’s designation as a “star”: “Shirley is not a movie star in the traditional sense. In fact, I
would say that movies to Shirley are a sideline. Her real vocation encompasses a sincere
compassion for the poor and suffering whether they be in Mississippi or Thailand.”
192
As Bacon
recognized, MacLaine’s writing not only established MacLaine as active and knowing star but
also suggested her overtly political potential.

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Conclusion: Catching Up with the Wind
After the publication of Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, MacLaine continued to produce
works in the early 1970s that explored her role as a female traveler and continuously redefined
her persona. Despite MacLaine’s claim in 1963 that she “wouldn’t do TV in a million years,”
193

she starred in the semi-autobiographical television series entitled Shirley’s World, which aired as
seventeen episodes between September 15, 1971, and January 5, 1972. Filmed on location in
England, Scotland, Japan, and Hong Kong, the series features MacLaine as a photojournalist
named Shirley Logan, who travels the world both instigating and resolving problems big and
small—from infiltrating a men’s club for an interview in London, to settling marital disputes in
Tokyo, to inciting a revolution on a remote island of Scotland. In doing so, Logan repeatedly
defies the instructions and expectations of her editor Dennis Croft (John Gregson), with whom
she also flirts but never consummates a romantic relationship. Although the format of the
program recalled the numerous and popular “workplace” comedies of the period
194
—most
notably, The Mary Tyler Moore Show (CBS, 1970-1977)—the trite plots and underdeveloped
characters of Shirley’s World failed to attract viewers. By October 10, 1971, Variety reported
rumors of the series’ termination,
195
and a month later ABC officially cancelled Shirley’s
World.
196

Two years later, MacLaine’s offscreen travels again became the inspiration of
nonfictional works demonstrating MacLaine’s understanding of the world. In April of 1973,
several news outlets reported that MacLaine, invited by officials of the Chinese government, was
leading a delegation of “regular” American women
197
—of a variety of ages, races, and political
beliefs—to “evaluate, look at and I imagine applaud,” as MacLaine explained, the treatment of
women in China.
198
The delegation departed on April 16, 1973, and the trip lasted four weeks.

136
Filmmakers Claudia Weill, Joan Weidman, Cabell Glickler, and Nancy Shreiber assisted
MacLaine in collecting film footage of the women’s journey. After stopping in Hong Kong, the
delegation traveled to Guangzhou (Canton), Shanghai, Beijing (Peking), and the Great Wall of
China; MacLaine, separate from the group, ventured to the Western provinces of China to
explore in Xi’an (Sian) and Yan’an (Yenan).
199
This trip to China, as reporter Stanley Karnow
reported, reflected the “expanding” cultural exchange between the two nations at the time.
200

MacLaine depicted the delegation’s experiences in the documentary The Other Half of
the Sky: A China Memoir (1975), which she co-directed with Weill, and a second memoir, You
Can Get There from Here, published in 1975. In both works, MacLaine comes to terms with
China: she eats new foods; she meets schoolchildren who value friendship over competition; she
witnesses a cesarean section performed with acupuncture as the only anesthetic; she converses
with women about valuing their own knowledge and the knowledge of their partners over love;
and she ponders the lack of artistic freedom in China. Although some critics labeled MacLaine’s
positive portrayal of the communist nation as “propaganda” and/or “one-sided,”
201
The Other
Half of the Sky garnered an Academy Award nomination for Best Documentary Feature.
202
You
Can Get There From Here also earned a place on the New York Times’ Best Seller List of
1975.
203

Ultimately, by the mid-1970s, MacLaine’s image had certainly progressed beyond the
“calculated nitwit, doomed to eternal immaturity,” as Bosley Crowther had described MacLaine
in 1966. While MacLaine moved around the globe, her image moved between media—from
narrative films, to newspapers and magazines, to books, to television, to documentary films, and
so on. As Hollis Alpert described MacLaine in the Saturday Review, “While not precisely a
conglomerate, Shirley MacLaine is indeed diversified.”
204
In these various formats, as a female

137
traveler, actress, writer, and director, MacLaine demonstrated her knowledge and asserted her
authority not only in the sphere of entertainment but in global affairs as well: she became an
adult. The evolution of her persona, as Rex Reed and James Bacon suggested in their reviews of
Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, held significant political potential. MacLaine herself reflected in
1969: “I think […] that all this travel finally forced me to speak out. You can’t see and smell the
poverty of India without realizing that something has to be done for humanity.”
205
In the next
chapter, I consider how MacLaine, as a political activist, further redefined the meaning of
stardom and pointed to the ways in which the dominant culture—that creates stars and from
which they benefit—is unstable and potentially open to change.

NOTES

1
This and the following two quotations are from Lloyd Shearer, “Shirley MacLaine: More
Serious Than She Looks,” Boston Globe, November 17, 1963.

2
Amelie Hastie, Cupboards of Curiosity: Women, Recollection, and Film History (Durham:
Duke University Press, 2008), 11.

3
P. David Marshall, Celebrity and Power: Fame in Contemporary Culture (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1997), ix.

4
Robert Clarke, “Travel and Celebrity Culture: An Introduction,” Postcolonial Studies 12, no. 2
(2009): 145.

5
Adrienne L. McLean, Being Rita Hayworth: Labor, Identity, and Hollywood Stardom (New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2004), 64.

6
Susan L. Roberson, “American Women and Travel Writing,” in The Cambridge Companion to
American Travel Writing, eds. Alfred Bendixen and Judith Hamera (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2009), 217.

7
Sidonie Smith, Moving Lives: Twentieth-Century Women’s Travel Writing (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 2001), x.

8
Ibid.

138

9
Kathleen Rowe, The Unruly Woman: Gender and Genres of Laughter (Austin: University of
Texas Press, 1995), 11.

10
Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation (New York:
Routledge, 2003), 102.

11
Frances Bartkowski, Travelers, Immigrants, Inmates: Essays in Estrangement (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1995), 20.

12
Lee Barron, “An Actress Compelled to Act: Angelina Jolie’s Notes from My Travels as
Celebrity Activist/Travel Narrative,” Postcolonial Studies 12, no. 2 (2009): 212.

13
Alison Trope, “Mother Angelina: Hollywood Philanthropy Personified,” in Commodity
Activism: Cultural Resistance in Neoliberal Times, eds. Roopali Mukherjee and Sarah Banet-
Weiser (New York: New York University Press, 2012), 159.

14
Barron, “An Actress Compelled to Act,” 212.

15
Barron, “An Actress Compelled to Act,” 212. Jo Littler reiterates a similar argument in “‘I
Feel Your Pain’: Cosmopolitan Charity and the Public Fashioning of the Celebrity Soul,” Social
Semiotics 18, no. 2 (June 2008): 246.

16
Christina Klein uses this phrase in her recapitulation of Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New
York: Vintage Books, 1994); Christina Klein, Cold War Orientalism: Asia in the Middlebrow
Imagination, 1945-1961 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), 11.

17
See, for example, Gerrie Lim, Idol to Icon: The Creation of Celebrity Brands (London: Cyan
Books, 2005), 21; Jo Littler, “‘I Feel Your Pain,’” 240; Andrew F. Cooper, Celebrity Diplomacy
(Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers, 2008), 15-35; Barron, “An Actress Compelled to Act,” 216;
Trope, “Mother Angelina,”164.

18
Trope, “Mother Angelina,” 163.

19
Ibid., 164.

20
MacLaine did have philanthropic ties to other nations. She supported orphanages in Japan and
India, as cited in “Will Shirley Try to Oust Murphy?” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, September
24, 1968. However, these actions did not dominate the representation of her travels at the time.

21
Bartkowski, Travelers, Immigrants, Inmates, xxii.

22
Ibid., xix.

23
Ibid., 23.

139

24
Ibid., xix, xx.

25
Ibid., xix, xxii.

26
Ibid., 47.

27
“Shirley MacLaine’s Tour,” Variety, January 17, 1962; Hedda Hopper, “Kook’s Tour with
Shirley MacLaine,” Los Angeles Times, April 8, 1962; Jerry Hulse, “Suitcase, Credit Card and
Shirley,” Traveline, Los Angeles Times, November 25, 1962; Wade H. Mosby, “‘I’m Homesick
for Every Place,’” Milwaukee Journal, February 24, 1963; John L. Scott, “Shirley on Go Just to
‘Get,’” Los Angeles Times, November 10, 1963.

28
Drew Casper, Postwar Hollywood: 1946-1962 (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2007), 34.

29
Ibid.

30
Klein, Cold War Orientalism, 104.

31
Ibid.

32
Ibid., 101.

33
Casper, Postwar Hollywood, 50.

34
Klein, Cold War Orientalism, 102.

35
Shooting location information compiled from Patricia Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine
(New York: A. S. Barnes and Company, 1978); and through “Filming Locations” listed under
individual film entries in IMDb.com, accessed August 6, 2013, http://www.imdb.com.

36
Shirley MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain (New York: Bantam Books, 1970), 60.

37
John W. Dower, War without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacific War (New York:
Pantheon Books, 1986) 77-200.

38
Klein, Cold War Orientalism, 26.

39
Ibid., 103.

40
According to Klein, a “global imaginary” is a discursive construct that “articulates the ways in
which people imagine and live [global] relations,” and “creates an imaginary coherence out of
the contradictions and disjunctures of real relations, […] thereby [providing] a stable sense of
individual and national identity […] [creating] a common sense about how the world functions as
a system and [offering] implicit instruction in how to maneuver within that system.” Klein, Cold
War Orientalism, 23.

140

41
Klein, Cold War Orientalism, 34, 58.

42
Jeanette Roan, Envisioning Asia: On Location, Travel, and the Cinematic Geography of U.S.
Orientalism (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2010), 161-62.

43
Quoted in Lydia Lane. “Shirley MacLaine Prefers Her Individuality to Film Glamour,” Los
Angeles Times, November 10, 1957.

44
Quoted in Jesse Zunser, “The 3 Faces of Shirley,” Cue, April 26, 1958.

45
Quoted in Jon Whitcomb, “Shirley MacLaine: Sassy and Off-Beat,” Cosmopolitan, September
1959.

46
Hedda Hopper, “Quinn and Basehart Would Film ‘Jest,’” Los Angeles Times, February 18,
1958.

47
Philip Minoff, TV Personality, Everywoman’s Family Circle, October 1958.

48
Quoted in “Shirley MacLaine: Mama Is a Madcap,” Look, December 10, 1957.

49
Quoted in Minoff, TV Personality.

50
Quoted in Louella Parsons, “Like Mother, Like Child,” Los Angeles Examiner Pictorial
Living, May 10, 1959.

51
Jean McMurphy, “Japanese TV, Stage and Recording Stars on Hour-Long Show Tonight,” Los
Angeles Times, Feburary 1, 1959.

52
Quoted in Ibid.

53
Klein, Cold War Orientalism, 80.

54
McMurphy, “Japanese TV.”

55
Cecil Smith, “Japanese Bill Fresh as Breeze,” Los Angeles Times, February 4, 1959.

56
Ibid.

57
John Crosby, “‘Disney Presents’ Show Sparked with Music,” Television and Radio, Hartford
Courant, February 4, 1959.

58
Donald Kirkley, Look and Listen with Donald Kirkley, Sun (Baltimore, MD), February 5,
1959.

59
Roan, Envisioning Asia, 193.

141

60
Hedda Hopper, “Remick, Varsi and Lange Will Co-star,” Los Angeles Times, February 2,
1959.

61
Philip K. Scheuer, “Stars to Surround Debbie in ‘Jumbo,’” Los Angeles Times, July 20, 1959.

62
Hedda Hopper, “Borge Will Make, Star in Own Film,” Los Angeles Times, October 30, 1959.

63
“Shirley’s Spoof Party: Actress and Friends Do Parody for Charity,” Life, December 7, 1959.

64
Karla Rae Fuller, Hollywood Goes Oriental: CaucAsian Performance in American Film
(Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2010), 6.

65
“Shirley’s Spoof Party,” Life, December 7, 1959.

66
Said, Orientalism, 300.

67
Roan, Envisioning Asia, 192.

68
Gina Marchetti, Romance and the “Yellow Peril”: Race, Sex, and Discursive Strategies in
Hollywood Fiction (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 176.

69
Fuller, Hollywood Goes Oriental, 219, 228.

70
Marchetti, Romance and the “Yellow Peril,” 177; Fuller, Hollywood Goes Oriental, 228.

71
Marchetti, Romance and the “Yellow Peril,” 188; Fuller, Hollywood Goes Oriental, 222.

72
Marchetti, Romance and the “Yellow Peril,” 179.

73
Fuller, Hollywood Goes Oriental, 225.

74
Marchetti, Romance and the “Yellow Peril,” 179.

75
Roan, Envisioning Asia, 197.

76
Fuller, Hollywood Goes Oriental, 225.

77
Quoted in Fuller, Hollywood Goes Oriental, 225.

78
Roan, Envisioning Asia, 194-95.

79
Quoted in Fuller, Hollywood Goes Oriental, 225.

80
“Dual Role for Shirley,” Life, February 17, 1961.

142

81
“East-West Twain Find a Meeting in MacLaine,” Life, February 17, 1961.

82
“Sell Shirley as Is,” Variety, June 20, 1962.

83
Mosby, “‘I’m Homesick for Every Place.’”

84
Quoted in Sheilah Graham, “Career Zooms Ahead for One Hesitant Actress,” Boston Globe,
November 20, 1960.

85
Ibid.

86
Hedda Hopper, “It’s Shirley’s Cue to Shoot,” Chicago Daily Tribune, April 8, 1962.

87
“Unique Event,” Chicago Daily Tribune, June 20, 1962; “Red Travel a Nightmare to Cancan
Star,” Chicago Daily Tribune, June 21, 1962.

88
Vernon Scott, “Wanderlust Spirit: Shirley MacLaine ‘Can’t Settle Down,’” Citizen-News, May
5, 1964.

89
Abe Greenberg, “Shirley MacLaine’s On Top of World,” Citizen-News, November 19, 1964.

90
Quoted in Jerry Hulse, “On Traveling Alone with Shirley MacLaine,” Los Angeles Times,
April 17, 1966.

91
Quoted in Hopper, “It’s Shirley’s Cue to Shoot.”

92
Dorothy Manners, “Shirley Speaks Out,” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, June 30, 1963.

93
Manners, “Shirley Speaks Out”; “Shirley Tells the Naked Truth—Not Planning Kremlin Can-
Can,” Boston Globe, June 21, 1962.

94
Scott, “Shirley on Go Just to ‘Get.’”

95
Quoted in Hopper, “It’s Shirley’s Cue to Shoot.”

96
Quoted in Manners, “Shirley Speaks Out.”

97
Quoted in Scott, “Wanderlust Spirit.”

98
Hulse, “On Traveling Alone.”

99
Quoted in Scott, “Shirley on Go Just to ‘Get.’”

100
Muriel Davidson, “Shirley MacLaine Sounds Off,” Saturday Evening Post, November 30,
1963.

143

101
Quoted in ibid.

102
Quoted in Vernon Scott, “Wanderlust Spirit.”

103
Quoted in Charles Champlin, “Shirley Travels to Get Star Out of Her System,” Los Angeles
Times, January 30, 1966.

104
Quoted in Davidson, “Shirley MacLaine Sounds Off.”

105
Quoted in Frank Rasky, “Shirley MacLaine,” Star Weekly, September 26, 1964.

106
Quoted in Scott, “Wanderlust Spirit.”

107
Scott, “Wanderlust Spirit.”

108
Quoted in Champlin, “Shirley Travels to Get Star Out of Her System.”

109
Quoted in Sheilah Graham, “Book Title Hunted by Shirley,” Citizen News, November 7,
1966.

110
Quoted in Vance King, “MacLaine Stars in Press Parley But is No Pundit,” Hollywood
Reporter, August 23, 1962.

111
“Unique Event,” Chicago Daily Tribune, June 20, 1962.

112
Quoted in ibid.

113
“Red Travel a Nightmare to Cancan Star,” Chicago Daily Tribune, June 21, 1962.

114
Ibid.

115
Quoted in Walter Ames, “Khrushchev Blast at ‘Can-Can’ as ‘Immoral’ Elates Press Agent,”
Los Angeles Times, September 22, 1959.

116
“Shirley Tells the Naked Truth—Not Planning Kremlin Can-Can,” Boston Globe, June 21,
1962.

117
Vance King, “MacLaine Stars in Press Parley But is No Pundit,” Hollywood Reporter, August
23, 1962.

118
Abe Greenberg, “Shirley MacLaine’s On Top of World,” Citizen-News, November 19, 1964.

119
Historical information about Bhutan’s government in 1964 compiled from “Premier of
Bhutan Killed by Assassin,” New York Times, April 6, 1964; Selig S. Harrison, “India Fears
Rising Chinese Influence in Bhutan,” Washington Post, Times Herald, April 7, 1964; “Bhutan

144

Power Struggle Follows Assassination,” Washington Post, Times Herald, April 15, 1964; “India
Links Chinese to a Plot in Bhutan,” New York Times, April 16, 1964; “Bhutan Assassin Links
Red Chinese to Plot,” Los Angeles Times, April 28, 1964; “Three Executed in Bhutan for
Assassination of Premier,” New York Times, May 18, 1964; “Premier Strives for New Bhutan,”
New York Times, June 14, 1964.

120
“Efforts of Bhutan Watched,” Christian Science Monitor, June 9, 1964.

121
“Bhutan’s King Reported Suppressing a Revolt,” New York Times, November 28, 1964.

122
Sterling Seagrave, “Reports of Thwarted Military Coup Filter Out of Kingdom of Bhutan,”
Washington Post, Times Herald, November 28, 1964.

123
Maxine Cheshire, Very Interesting People, Washington Post, Times Herald, September 18,
1966.

124
“Himalaya Caper Makes Shirley MacLaine Gasp: Hollywood Star’s Harrowing Trip from
Bhutan to India Made with Aid of Charm,” Los Angeles Times, November 28, 1964; “Star Tells
of Escape: Shirley MacLaine Caught Up in Attempted Coup,” Sun (Baltimore, MD), November
28, 1964; “Shirley’s Caper,” Boston Globe, November 28, 1964.

125
“Himalaya Caper,” Los Angeles Times, November 28, 1964.

126
“Disillusioned Shirley Needs Maharishi,” Washington Post, Times Herald, October 8, 1967.

127
“Disillusioned Shirley Needs Maharishi,” Washington Post, Times Herald, October 8, 1967;
News Briefs, Chicago Tribune, October 8, 1967; Names & Faces in the News, Boston Globe,
October 8, 1967.

128
Joyce Haber, “Cindy: She Came to Work, Not Play,” Los Angeles Times, October 12, 1967.

129
“Hinduism in New York: A Growing Religion,” New York Times, November 2, 1967.

130
“India Mystic Delivers Peace—for a Price,” Los Angeles Times, December 15, 1967.

131
Barney Lefferts, “Chief Guru of the Western World,” New York Times, December 17, 1967.

132
Quoted in Sheilah Graham, “Shirley Pooh Poohs Meditation Yarn,” Citizen News, October
25, 1967.

133
Quoted in “Study with Guru? Haven’t Met Him, Shirley Grumbles,” Los Angeles Times,
March 3, 1968.

134
Ibid.

145

135
Quoted in Dorothy Manners, “Shirley, Daughter Crossing Continents,” Los Angeles Herald-
Examiner March 21, 1968.

136
Here, I again paraphrase Hastie’s definition of “authority.” See Hastie, Cupboards of
Curiosity, 11.

137
Quoted in Scott, “Wanderlust Spirit.”

138
Leigh Gilmore, Autobiographics: A Feminist Theory of Women’s Self-Representation (Ithaca,
NY: Cornell University Press, 1994), 25.

139
Ibid., 40.

140
Ibid., xiii.

141
Hastie, Cupboards of Curiosity, 73.

142
Mary Desjardins, “Loving Lucy, Performing Biography,” Book review of Ball of Fire: The
Tumultuous Life and Comic Art of Lucille Ball, by Stefan Kanfer, Laughing with Lucy: My Life
with American’s Leading Lady of Comedy, by Madelyn Pugh Davis, and I Had a Ball: My
Friendship with Lucille Ball, by Michael Z. Stern, Cinema Journal 51, no. 3 (Spring 2012): 159.

143
Shirley MacLaine, “The Pretty American Abroad,” Carte Blanche, Holiday Issue, 1964.

144
Hastie, Cupboards of Curiosity, 156.

145
Ibid.

146
MacLaine, “Pretty American Abroad.”

147
Gilmore, Autobiographics, 19.

148
Unless otherwise noted, the following quotations in this section are from MacLaine, “Pretty
American Abroad.”

149
“Burton Edges Out His Wife,” Boston Globe, January 4, 1965.

150
Howard Thompson, “Harper and Norton Are Adding Movie Queens to Authors’ Lists,” New
York Times, July 2, 1965; “MacLaine Finishes Book,” Hollywood Reporter, July 1, 1965; “Script
Girl,” Newsweek, July 12, 1965.

151
Thompson, “Harper and Norton.”

152
Quoted in ibid.

146

153
Quoted in ibid.

154
Quoted in ibid.

155
Quoted in Vernon Scott, “Shirley Ends Year Leave from Films,” Chicago Tribune, February
10, 1966.

156
Quoted in Hulse, “On Traveling Alone.”

157
Quoted in Graham, “Book Title Hunted by Shirley.”.

158
Ibid.

159
Leonard Lyons, Notes from the Lyons Den, Sun (Baltimore, MD), July 19, 1967.

160
Quoted in ibid.

161
Hastie, Cupboards of Curiosity, 11.

162
Thompson, “Harper and Norton.”

163
Quoted in Scott, “Shirley Ends Year Leave.”

164
Ibid.

165
Quoted in Hugh A. Mulligan, “Shirley, an Author, Takes on Literatti,” Sun (Baltimore, MD),
February 13, 1966.

166
Charles Champlin, “Shirley’s Kooky Image Crumbles,” Los Angeles Times, June 5, 1967.

167
Quoted in Jack Hamilton, “Shirley MacLaine as Sweet Charity,” Look, July 9, 1968.

168
MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, 136. The page numbers of the following references
to Don’t Fall Off the Mountain are cited within the text.

169
Hastie, Cupboards of Curiosity, 72.

170
Ibid., 6.

171
For example, Two Mules for Sister Sara was released the same year as Don’t Fall Off the
Mountain.

172
Bartkowski, Travelers, Immigrants, Inmates, xxii.

173
For numerous examples, see MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, 61-77, 161-184.

147

174
Bartkowski, Travelers, Immigrants, Inmates, 3, 36.

175
Ibid., 3.

176
Ibid., 46.

177
Klein, Cold War Orientalism, 103.

178
Roan, Envisioning Asia, 200.

179
Ibid.

180
Trope, “Mother Angelina,” 163, 164.

181
Gilmore, Autobiographics, 8.

182
“Wrote It and She’s Glad, Shirley Says,” Newsmakers, Los Angeles Times, October 26, 1970.

183
Quoted in ibid.

184
John Leonard, “Adam Takes a Ribbing; It Hurts,” review of Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, by
Shirley MacLaine, New York Times, October 29, 1970.

185
Review of Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, by Shirley MacLaine, Time, December 28, 1970.

186
Alex Keneas, “Adventures of Shuri,” review of Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, by Shirley
MacLaine, Newsweek, January 11, 1971.

187
Rex Reed, “A Clown-Faced Scarecrow with a Head on Her Shoulders,” Chicago Tribune,
October 25, 1970.

188
James Bacon, “Movie Star’s Book Tells Different Story,” review of Don’t Fall Off the
Mountain, by Shirley MacLaine, Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, October 26, 1970.

189
Keneas, “Adventures of Shuri.”

190
Reed, “Clown-Faced Scarecrow.”

191
Ibid.

192
Bacon, “Movie Star’s Book.”

193
Quoted in Mosby, “‘I’m Homesick for Every Place.’”

148

194
For further elaboration on the “workplace” series, see Ella Taylor, Prime Time Families:
Television Culture in Postwar America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), 110-49.
Taylor also cites M*A*S*H (CBS, 1972-1983), Lou Grant (CBS, 1977-1982), Taxi (NBC, 1978-
1983), Barney Miller (ABC, 1975-1982), and The Bob Newhart Show (CBS, 1972-1978) as
examples.

195
“ABC Poises Axe on Shirley MacLaine,” Variety, October 20, 1971.

196
Cecil Smith, “Midseason Shuffle on ABC, CBS,” Los Angeles Times, November 18, 1971.

197
“11 ‘Regular’ U.S. Women Leave for China,” Notes on People, New York Times, April 17,
1973.

198
Quoted in Celeste Durant, “Shirley MacLaine, 11 Others to Tour China,” Los Angeles Times,
April 18, 1973. See also: “Shirley MacLaine, Delegation on Way for Peking Tour,” Hollywood
Reporter, April 17, 1973; James F. Clarity, “Actress to Lead Female Group,” Hartford Courant,
April 17, 1973.

199
“Shirley MacLaine and 11 Others to Tour China,” Los Angeles, April 17, 1973; “MacLaine,
Weill Shoot in China,” Variety, April 18, 1973; Diana Loercher, “Shirley MacLaine Leads China
Delegation,” Christian Science Monitor, April 30, 1973; Shirley MacLaine, You Can Get There
from Here (New York: Bantam Book, 1975), 92-200, 209, 212.

200
Stanley Karnow, “Very Flexible, These Chinese: A Unique Mission to Peking,” Los Angeles
Times, June 10, 1973.

201
Walter Goodman quoted in Shirley MacLaine, “‘Propaganda’ Is What You Don’t Agree
With,” Backtalk, New York Times, April 6, 1975; A. H. Weiler, “MacLaine in China,” review of
The Other Half of the Sky: A China Memoir, directed by Shirley MacLaine and Claudia Weill,
New York Times, March 13, 1975.

202
“Documentary Oscars Announced,” Los Angeles Times, February 12, 1976.

203
“The Best Sellers of 1975,” New York Times, December 7, 1975.

204
Hollis Alpert, “The Diversification of Shirley MacLaine,” Saturday Review, February 27,
1971.

205
Quoted in Roy Newquist, “The Voice of Shirley MacLaine,” Chicago Tribune, July 20, 1969.

149
CHAPTER 3

CITIZEN MACLAINE: A STAR ACTIVIST OF THE SIXTIES

In March of 1975, forty-year-old Shirley MacLaine had not starred in a narrative feature
film in almost three years, nor would she do so for another two-and-a-half years. The impetus for
this hiatus was not due to a lack of offers: she turned down roles in Pete ’n’ Tillie (Martin Ritt,
1972), 40 Carats (Milton Katselas, 1973), and reportedly three other unnamed films.
1
Expanding
upon an interest in the political sphere that she had developed in the early 1960s, MacLaine had
ceased making films in order to work full time for the presidential campaign of Senator George
McGovern in early 1972.
2
Now, three years later, she reflected on this decision in an interview
with Martha Weinman Lear in the Ladies’ Home Journal: “I went into politics because I felt I
had to, not because I wanted to. Because there was a war goin’ on, and terrible divisiveness here
at home, and Hollywood was ignorin’ all that. And it bugged me. Was I supposed to just keep on
playin’ hookers?”
3
Although MacLaine’s dominant onscreen persona, as discussed in Chapter 1,
and her travels, as discussed in Chapter 2, challenged conservative notions of femininity,
MacLaine felt compelled to engage in the public sphere through more direct and measurable
means. Empowered by her travels within and outside of the United States, she sought to
transform the laws and institutions that determined the power structures of the nation.
4
In doing
so, she too transformed. She explained, “I’m feeling the different threads in my life all come
together […]. I can be a performer and I can be a thinker and I can be a writer and I can be a
protestor. I can even be wrong, and that would be okay.”
5
MacLaine had come into her own. If
travel positioned MacLaine as no longer a child, political activism asserted her maturity.
In this chapter, I interrogate the construction of MacLaine as a star activist from the
1960s to the mid-1970s, a phase I describe as her “adulthood.” In order to understand the

150
meaning MacLaine’s activism produced, I first consider how scholars of stardom have attended
to the distinctions between the star and the politician. In doing so, I establish how political
activism destabilizes the notion of women and film stars as passive, trivial, distant, and with little
recourse to institutional power. I also recognize that the representation of MacLaine as an activist
cannot be considered in isolation from her peers in Hollywood. Following numerous changes
within and outside the industry, this period witnessed an onslaught of politically engaged
performers, with whom MacLaine was regularly compared and contrasted.
Although scholars of female star activism during this period have predominantly focused
on the work and meaning of Jane Fonda,
6
MacLaine’s contributions to the political sphere were
neither less prevalent nor less ardent than those of her notorious peer. After historicizing
MacLaine’s various interrelated political acts—from endorsing presidential candidates, to
supporting liberal causes, to protesting conservative legislation—I illustrate how the press
regularly contrasted MacLaine’s image as an activist with Fonda’s. In exploring the juxtaposition
of these two stars, I consider how activism might also be constructed as productive in developing
a female star’s onscreen career. Accordingly, activism ushered MacLaine into a new stage of
life, which correlated with transformations in representations of her appearance, her love life,
and her role as a mother. These personal changes, although perhaps tangential to the causes for
which she was fighting, worked to legitimate her actions in the political sphere. Ultimately, as
MacLaine and her peers defended their right to speak about matters relating to the political
sphere, they effectively altered the nature of star discourse yet again. By juxtaposing the
commercial imperatives of the film industry—which stars primarily functioned to achieve—with
the inequalities produced by a capitalist democracy, stars not only demonstrated the instabilities

151
of their own stardom but also the possibilities for change within that dominant ideological
system.
Theorizing Star Activism
As a star activist, MacLaine blurred the distinctions between the star/celebrity and the
politician. The task of articulating these distinctions has preoccupied numerous scholars, from
Leo Lowenthal, Daniel J. Boorstin, and Francesco Alberoni to Richard Dyer and P. David
Marshall. Building upon the work of these scholars, I demonstrate how stars, like MacLaine,
might be understood as distinctly powerful individuals with varying degrees of political efficacy.
Differentiating between Celebrities and Politicians
Lowenthal, Boorstin, and Alberoni respectively describe the star/celebrity—or, in the
words of Lowenthal, the “idol of consumption”—as trivial and passive.
7
In the “Triumph of
Mass Idols,” Lowenthal distinguishes between “idols of production”—“serious” people,
“[stemming] from the productive life, from industry, business, and natural sciences”—and “idols
of consumption”—those “not so serious” people from entertainment or sports, “directly, or
indirectly, related to the sphere of leisure time.”
8
According to Lowenthal, the idol of
consumption has little value aside from the pacifying pleasure he/she produces for consumers. In
The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-Events in America, Boorstin similarly proposes that the celebrity
is a vacuous figure: a celebrity is “a person who is known for his well-knownness,” unlike a
“hero,” or someone “admired for his courage, nobility, or exploits.”
9
As Boorstin contends, the
celebrity is without identifiable contributions to society. And Alberoni, in “The Powerless
‘Elite’: Theory and Sociological Research on the Phenomenon of the Stars,” likewise argues that
stars are those persons “whose institutional power is very limited or non-existent, but whose
doings and way of life arouse a considerable and sometimes even maximum degree of interest.”
10

152
Alberoni maintains that stars, as an “elite” class, are distinct specifically because of their
inability to influence political institutions. In positioning the celebrity and politician as
antithetical, these three scholars respectively overlook the potentially productive and powerful
impact of the celebrity within society. Still, their mutual understanding of the celebrity persists
amongst many contemporary critics of celebrity activism.
The Expressive Role of Stars
Expanding upon Lowenthal, Boorstin, Alberoni, and others, Dyer also uses the politician
as a foil to the star. However, Dyer does not consider the star to be wholly insignificant; he looks
to the work of Barry King to “allow one to see the political or ideological significance of
expressive roles as well as of instrumental ones.”
11
In other words, while stars may have little
direct influence on the political process, they do have power in terms of representation. For
example, Dyer considers the respective careers of John Wayne and Jane Fonda: “It may be true
that Wayne or Fonda are politically irrelevant in terms of converting the ‘issues’ of
conventionally conceived right or left politics respectively, but precisely because they are
experiential, individual living embodiments of those politics they may convey the implications of
those politics in terms of, for example, sex roles, everyday life, etc.”
12
This expressive form of
political power repeatedly goes unrecognized; as Dyer notes, “expressive roles are not believed
to be politically significant.”
13
However, in using the examples of Wayne and Fonda, Dyer
rightly refutes this popular belief, establishing that “sex roles” and “everyday life,” or issues of
the private sphere, are fundamental to the construction of dominant ideological systems and the
political institutions that maintain them; and, therefore, the positive or negative representation of
those roles is, necessarily, a “political” statement.

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Dyer subsequently expounds upon his understanding of the institutional efficacy of stars
by considering Jane Fonda’s radicalism in more detail.
14
During the late 1960s and the 1970s,
Fonda supported Native Americans and the Black Panthers, she protested against the Vietnam
War, and she promoted feminist causes. Yet, despite all of Fonda’s involvement in political
issues, Dyer explicitly denies Fonda’s ability to effect social change:
What the star does can only be posed in terms of the star doing it,
the extraordinariness or difficulty of his/her doing it, rather than in
terms of the ostensible political issues involved. Thus [Fonda’s]
visit to Alcatraz did not primarily give publicity to the situation of
the Native Americans but rather posed the issue of what a woman
like this was doing going to such a place. In other words, it posed
the issue of white radicalism. Fonda-as-star-as-revolutionary
dramatizes the problem of what role privileged white people can
have in the struggles of under-privileged non-whites.
15

In this assessment, Dyer emphasizes how stardom, itself, overpowers the political activism of
Fonda and the other activists working with her. If this conclusion is true, then Fonda, as a star,
was far more powerful than Dyer gives her credit for, as she effectively negated any issues she
sought to address. However, Dyer is perhaps too quick to dismiss the publicity Fonda brings to
political issues. While Fonda’s actions certainly did pose the question of how the privileged
speak on behalf of the underprivileged, Fonda also ostensibly spoke to audiences that otherwise
might not have been aware of or concerned with the plight of Native Americans. Still, what is
ultimately at stake here is Fonda’s ability to act as a citizen—or, as Liesbet van Zoonen explains
T. H. Marshall’s theories of political citizenship, to exercise her right and duty to “participate in
the formation and decisions of government.”
16
By dismissing Fonda’s actions as politically
unproductive, Dyer effectively reinforces, as media outlets had done at the time, the problems of
inequality Fonda protested—that not all citizens have a political voice. While quantifying the
instrumental power of Fonda, MacLaine, and other celebrity activists is beyond the scope of this

154
study,
17
accepting that power as a possibility is fundamental to understanding the significance of
celebrity activism.
Illuminating the Instabilities of the Celebrity
Departing from the work of Dyer, Boorstin, Lowenthal, and others, P. David Marshall
avoids defining the celebrity and politician in opposition to one another. Accordingly, Marshall
is not as dismissive of the celebrity’s potential institutional power. Marshall admits that
celebrities are not inherently “powerful in any overt political sense”; however, he accepts that
“some may possess political influence, whereas others exercise their power in less politically
defined ways.”
18
Marshall’s inclusion of both the celebrity’s “political influence,” what Dyer
calls an instrumental role, and the celebrity’s “power in less politically defined ways,” what Dyer
calls an expressive role, positions both the public and the private spheres as equally valid arenas
for effecting political transformation. Moreover, just as celebrities are not limited to exerting
power in expressive ways, nor are politicians, in Marshall’s analysis, limited to bringing about
change through strictly instrumental means: affective power, “the realm of feeling and
sentiment,” is equally important to political figures.
19
For example, Marshall illustrates how
George H. W. Bush manipulated the media industries—film, television, and music—to address
his constituents. Thus, analyzing the celebrity across multiple social spheres—in business,
artistic communities, and even politics—Marshall envisions the celebrity as a “system for
valorizing meaning and communication.”
20
As a symbol of success in a particular field, the
celebrity exploits the affective power of media to address others within and beyond that field: the
celebrity, according to Marshall, is thus both extraordinary and relatable to the masses.
Marshall therefore reasons that the celebrity reaffirms dominant culture while
simultaneously appeasing subordinate classes. He argues that the celebrity serves a dual function

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for the dominant culture: as “a clear embodiment of cultural power,” the celebrity “rationalizes”
both production and the dominant culture’s understanding of its audience. Alternatively, “for
members of the subordinate classes,” the celebrity “rationalizes their comprehension of general
culture by providing a bridge of meaning between the powerless and the powerful.”
21
Housing
competing rationalizations between dominant and subordinate cultures, the celebrity, as Marshall
acknowledges, is therefore “inherently unstable.”
22
While an in-depth discussion of celebrity
activism is beyond the scope of Marshall’s work, I build upon Marshall’s understanding of the
celebrity to propose that the celebrity activist emphasizes that inherent instability. As the
celebrity uses her image to draw the attention of the public—like MacLaine did for McGovern’s
campaign and other liberal causes—she recognizes her agency in dominant culture. However, at
the same time, the celebrity’s political work explicitly exposes that, if the contemporary laws and
institutions are not modified, the supposed bridge between the powerless (the underrepresented)
and the powerful (the represented: the celebrity) is ultimately a fallacy. Thus, in so doing, the
celebrity activist imagines a system in which the agency she has accrued from the dominant
culture is no longer a certainty.
Synthesis
In sum, celebrity scholarship has evolved from treating the celebrity and the politician as
distinct opposites to appreciating the commonalities between the two types of charismatic
individuals. As defined by the above scholars, the celebrity evokes varying definitions of power.
While Lowenthal, Boorstin, and Alberoni view the celebrity as a passive and pacifying figure
without any recourse to productivity, Dyer envisions the celebrity as expressively powerful,
especially in terms of representing ideologies, but not necessarily instrumentally powerful.
Marshall, alternatively, accepts the possibility that celebrities might hold institutional power, but

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he also argues that the celebrity is fundamentally powerful in terms of affect. Yet, this affective
power is not antithetical to the power of politicians; Marshall acknowledges that politicians also
employ affective power to address constituents. Accordingly, in the following analysis of
MacLaine, I consider how MacLaine’s image mobilized her affective power as a form a political
representation, which, in turn, influenced her Hollywood career, the star system, and, most
broadly, the nation.
While both Dyer and Marshall consider stardom and the star/celebrity system as
theoretical concepts applicable to a variety of performers from different eras, I borrow from
Richard deCordova’s methodology, which appreciates, through the articulation of its
conventions, how the star system has evolved since its emergence. Accordingly, deCordova
proposes, “What can be said about those who appear in films at a given time fits into identifiable
patterns and falls within specifiable bounds. The regularities and limits of star discourse
constitute a crucial aspect of the star system as such.”
23
In the early twentieth century, as
deCordova demonstrates, an “aspect of the star’s identity, though one not developed very
elaborately, was explicitly political.”
24
Thus, political activism was originally only a minor but
identifiable convention within the bounds of what could be said about stars at the time. However,
by the 1960s, various concurrent industrial, technological, political, and cultural determinants
heightened the visibility of political activism in star discourse. Therefore, I situate my analysis of
MacLaine’s activism within these larger transformations of the studio system and American
culture and politics.
Stars Politicking in the Sixties
The politicization of stars in Hollywood coincided with what Maurice Isserman and
Michael Kazin call the “long sixties,” a period which extends beyond the confines of the decade

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itself—from the late 1950s to the mid-1970s—and in which “intertwined conflicts—over
ideology and race, gender and war, popular culture and faith—[…] transformed the U.S. in
irrevocable ways.”
25
The clashes between revolutionary and reactionary forces defined the
period, inspiring numerous citizens, among them many stars like MacLaine, to participate in
political and social debates. Although significant institutional and legislative gains—including
the election of President John F. Kennedy, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and the Voting Rights
Act of 1965—anticipated the triumph of liberalism, the Left’s escalating radicalism—in response
to both civil rights and the war in Vietnam—ultimately led to the liberal movement’s demise.
Star activism certainly did not subside by the end of the sixties; however, the resignation of
Richard Nixon ushered a shift in “national mood” by the mid-1970s, which, as Philip Jenkins
argues, “[brought] with it a much deeper pessimism about the state of America and its future, and
a growing rejection of recent liberal orthodoxies.”
26
While MacLaine continued to participate in
politically oriented debates following this period, she, like many Americans, would never do so
to the extent of her work in the “long sixties.” Thus, this ideological shift seems an appropriate,
if not absolute, bookend to the period.
The increase in the visibility of the star activist during the 1960s can partially be
attributed to two major changes in the film industry: the transformation of the studio system and
the waning impact of industry-mandated blacklist. During the Classical Period, the structure of
the studio system, as described in Chapter 1, limited star activism. Bound by long-term contracts
and limited by studio-manufactured personae, stars who expressed controversial political
opinions were met with derision by studio bosses. As Steven J. Ross explains, “Studios were
willing to tolerate some partisan activism, but stars who strayed too far from the political
mainstream had their careers cut short, blacklisted or graylisted by fearful industry executives.”
27

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For example, star development at MGM included political education. In “a training ground for
GOP activists,” according to Ross, studio executive Louis B. Mayer arranged luncheons and
lectures for MGM stars to interact with and learn from prominent Republicans.
28
Mayer and Jack
Warner also encouraged star endorsements of Herbert Hoover and Franklin D. Roosevelt,
respectively, in 1932. However, neither executive approved of stars supporting the Democratic
candidate Upton Sinclair’s End Poverty in California (EPIC) campaign, which threatened to raise
taxes on the film industry, in 1934. When Katharine Hepburn protested RKO’s support of
Sinclair’s Republican challenger Frank Merriam, studio executive B. B. Kahane consequently
insisted that she remain silent on the issue or potentially lose her job. Upon hearing about
Hepburn’s experience, the Democratic Party’s lawyer, David Sokol, used Hepburn as an
example when formally asking the district attorney’s office to investigate the studio for
intimidating their employees. Ultimately, Hepburn balked, choosing her career over her ideals:
she avoided speaking with the district attorney’s office and relied on her father’s help to
disassociate herself from radical politics.
29
As this example illustrates, the economic power of
the studio system largely prevented activism from becoming a dominant aspect of any star’s
image.
The aftermath of the anti-trust suits filed by the government against the major studios
dissolved many of these restrictions on star activism. No longer limited by stifling long-term
contracts with a single studio, stars were able, if they so desired, both to craft onscreen personae
that allied with their political beliefs and, off of the studio lot, to engage in public debates about
political and social issues in America largely without studio repercussion. Although these stars
may not have had the same broad appeal as stars contracted to studios, they attracted the
industry’s newly reimagined audience.
30
During the Classical Era, the studios conceived of their

159
viewers as a homogeneous mass of interested patrons. However, with the relocation of families
to suburbia, the baby boom, the introduction of television, and other concurrent shifts in
American culture, the audience for films drastically decreased from 90 million Americans every
week in 1946 to 40 million in 1960. Having lost large portions of their viewers and thus profits,
the studios employed new strategies to stimulate interest in the film-going experience. In
addition to creating big-budget technological spectacles—featuring the picture and sound quality
that television lacked—the studios also began marketing films specifically to adolescents and
young adults, who still frequented movie theaters but were uninterested in the conservative
family fare of Classical Hollywood. This “New Audience” of wealthy, college-educated, liberal-
leaning individuals desired films that portrayed their alternative values and those of other
underrepresented minorities.
31
The industry acquiesced to these demands of the “New Audience”
largely because the resultant low-budget “art” films brought in sizeable profits. Moreover, the
concurrent diminishing impact of the Production Code Administration—Hollywood’s self-
imposed censoring body in place since 1934—allowed filmmakers to pursue these new topics
more easily. Ultimately, as marketing films to a more fragmented audience proved to be
financially viable, the need to manufacture star personas that appealed to the mass audience, and
were thusly whitewashed of any overt political bent, diminished.
Another significant factor determining the increased visibility of star activism in the
1960s was the end of the industry-mandated blacklist that had been in effect since 1947. Since
the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) began charging prominent Hollywood
writers of being members of the Communist Party, the major studios collectively agreed to stifle
government interference in the industry by formally blacklisting all suspected subversives,
around 200 Hollywood personnel. Consequently, even fewer actors and actresses dared to

160
engage in controversial political movements during the 1950s. By the end of the decade, the
government’s pronouncement of “peaceful coexistence” with the Soviet Union and the election
of President John F. Kennedy ushered in a more liberal mood throughout the nation; as Larry
Ceplair and Steven Englund contend, “The blacklisted, in the early sixties, were favored by the
political winds which once blew so ill for them.”
32
As a liberal government would be less
interested in interfering with the studios, the industry had less of a reason to continue the
blacklist. Kirk Douglas’s decision to award screen credit to blacklisted screenwriter Dalton
Trumbo for Spartacus in 1960 served as symbolic end to this period of political restraint.
Although only about ten percent of the blacklisted artists were able to revive their careers in the
1960s, the threat of job loss for political activism subsided: stars could more freely pronounce
their political sympathies.
33

Accordingly, the subject of these newly politicized stars, including MacLaine, became, as
deCordova might term, an “identifiable pattern” of star discourse throughout the 1960s and early
1970s. Articles in the popular press frequently emphasized the number of politically active stars
as both unprecedented and excessive. In April of 1960, Murray Schumach included MacLaine
among the stars—a “roster […] that no movie studio could afford to hire at one time”—who had
declared their allegiance to the Democratic Party in the upcoming election.
34
As described by
Schumach, audiences could see more stars participating in the political sphere than in any single
film. Schumach elaborated on this abundance of activism, citing MacLaine as an example once
again, in his article “‘Thinking’ Actors in Vogue on Coast”: “It is becoming fashionable to be
intellectual in Hollywood. At times it is even permissible to display a social conscience.”
35

Although Schumach facetiously dismissed star activism as merely a fad, he nevertheless
underscored its increasing prevalence within the film industry.

161
Other journalists were likewise attuned to these interrelated changes in the film industry
and American politics. Reporting on the Democratic National Convention in June of 1960, at
which MacLaine was in attendance, John C. Waugh noted: “As far as show business is
concerned there is no convention like the 1960 Democratic convention—nor has there ever
been.”
36
A year later, Roscoe Drummond announced that, after years of living in fear of the
blacklist, “Hollywood Breaks Its Silence”; Drummond listed MacLaine as one of many
politically vocal stars.
37
In 1966, Vernon Scott discussed the persistence of this trend in his
article “More Hollywoodians Are Waiting in Wings for Political Cue.”
38
And after nearly a
decade of increased star activism, the press still focused on its newness. The May 10, 1968 cover
story of Life magazine, “The Star-Spangled Look of the ’68 Campaign,” boasted, “There has
never been anything like it—the number of entertainers who have leaped into the campaign to
support the man they want to be President.”
39
During the same month, Time magazine, in the
article “The Pulchritude-Intellect Input,” also reported, “In no other election have so many
actors, singers, writers, poets, artists, professional athletes and assorted other celebrities signed
up, given out and turned on for the candidates.”
40
Even four years later, Newsweek offered its
take on star activism, in the cover story “Show Biz in Politics,” which MacLaine’s image
decorated: “In 1972, as never before, the stars are mounting the stump. With the fading of the old
McCarthyite terrors and the even older influence of the big studio chiefs, performers of every
stellar rank are leaping onto the political stage as if there would never be another amateur
night.”
41
Ultimately, as these articles repeatedly attended to the newness, extraordinariness, and
profusion of star activism, they shifted the nature of star discourse. Still, while politics had
clearly become an identifiable pattern of star discourse, politics was consistently pushing the

162
discursive “regularities and limits,”
42
compelling journalists to claim “there has never been,”
“nor has there ever been,” “never before” this type of commitment amongst stars.
MacLaine’s Political Acts of the 1960s
MacLaine demonstrated her individual commitment during this period by largely
working, as she and the press described, within “the system.”
43
While she joined a number of
protests and demonstrations—opposing capital punishment and the Vietnam war and advocating
civil rights and women’s rights—she devoted most of her efforts to electoral politics, particularly
the presidential campaigns of Senator Robert F. Kennedy in 1968 and Senator George McGovern
in 1972. In these various acts, MacLaine asserted her instrumental power as an engaged citizen.
MacLaine’s Political Awakening
Although, years later, MacLaine would discuss campaigning for Adlai Stevenson in the
1950s,
44
her endorsement of the Democratic Party in 1960 more prominently announced her
budding interest in politics in her star discourse. In June of that year, MacLaine demonstrated her
enthusiasm for the Democratic Party by joining the Committee for the Arts in welcoming
delegates to the Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles.
45
At the start of the
convention, Democratic National Chairman Paul M. Butler announced each star in attendance,
including Tony Curtis, Sammy Davis, Jr., Anthony Franciosa, Peter Lawford, Janet Leigh,
Edward G. Robinson, Frank Sinatra, and MacLaine, among others.
46
In news footage of the
event, MacLaine certainly did not receive the loudest applause (garnered by Lawford, Robinson,
and Sinatra) nor the most whistles and catcalls (attracted by Leigh); however, as MacLaine stood
in the front row of the glamorous group singing the “Star-Spangled Banner,” her tall frame,
towering over Sammy Davis, Jr., and her messy mop could not be missed.
47
Still, MacLaine’s
affiliation with the Democratic Party at the time did not extend beyond the type of political

163
work—making appearances and entertaining—often allowed and/or encouraged by studio heads
during the Classical Period.
During the same year, MacLaine also tested the limits of what the industry, the press, and
the public would deem acceptable star activism. On May 1, 1960, MacLaine traveled to
Sacramento, California with Marlon Brando, Steve Allen, and two professors from the
University of California, Los Angeles, in an attempt to persuade Governor Edmund Brown to
grant Caryl Chessman a reprieve.
48
Accused of being the infamous “Red Light Bandit,”
Chessman had been convicted of robbery, rape, and kidnapping in July of 1948. As Chessman
had not been charged with murder, his death sentence incited much debate. Aldous Huxley,
Pablo Casals, Ray Bradbury, and Eleanor Roosevelt were among the numerous notable figures
who opposed the execution. Since his conviction, Chessman acted as his own legal counsel to
circumvent eight previously scheduled executions over the course of twelve years. By May of
1960, although Governor Brown was opposed to capital punishment, he refused to concede to the
stars’ final plea, admitting that granting another reprieve for Chessman was outside his executive
powers in the state of California. Consequently, despite the stars’ efforts, Chessman was
executed the following day.
49

While MacLaine and her peers had little impact on the outcome of Chessman’s life, their
actions stirred a scathing reaction from conservative gossip columnist Hedda Hopper. On May 4,
1960, two days after Chessman’s death, Hopper called Brando, Allen, and MacLaine’s protest
“nauseating.”
50
Hopper chided, “It would take a derrick to get Shirley MacLaine, Steve Allen or
Marlon Brando on the road to sell their pictures, yet they took time to go to Sacramento to plead
for Caryl Chessman’s life.” Hopper’s disapproval revealed her narrow understanding of stardom.
While Hopper acknowledged the economic power of stars, she was unwilling to support their

164
performance as citizens. Two weeks later, Hopper reported a rumor that supported her original
conceptualization of the economic function of stars: “Now it comes out. I understand both
Shirley MacLaine and Steve Allen will be in the Chessman picture when and if Marlon Brando
ever makes it. So it was business, not sentiment, after all.”
51
Accordingly, by aligning their
protests with a publicity stunt, Hopper attempted to contain the three performers’ potentially
subversive act. Still, Brando, Allen, and MacLaine never made a film about Chessman.
Throughout the mid-1960s, MacLaine intervened in various liberal causes. At this point,
activism was not a dominant aspect of her image, but MacLaine did confess her desire “to learn
more about politics and world affairs” to Rowland Barber in Redbook in 1961.
52
Perhaps one
way she did so was through joining her peers in numerous peace organizations. In the early
1960s, the press listed her as a member of the Hollywood branch of the Committee for a Sane
Nuclear Policy (also known as SANE, or Stop All Nuclear Testing), co-chaired by Steve Allen
and Robert Ryan.
53
A professedly nonpartisan organization, SANE endeavored to end nuclear
testing and encouraged disarmament through both public education and legislative means.
54

MacLaine also notably advocated the work of Help Establish Lasting Peace (HELP), a group of
performers and writers who organized a rally at the Hollywood Palladium and a 3,000-person
march in support of disarmament in November of 1961.
55

MacLaine’s contributions to the civil rights movement also highlighted her name in the
press throughout the mid-1960s. While filming What a Way to Go! MacLaine helped to organize
the “Stars for Freedom” benefit concert that occurred on November 25, 1963. Conceived by
Sammy Davis, Jr. and featuring performances by Davis, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Count
Basie and His Orchestra, the event hoped to raise $70,000 for the National Association for the
Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), and

165
Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC). As Davis explained, “in the face of police
dogs, hoses, jails and sometimes discouragement, the one kind of support that has real, practical
meaning is money to keep going.”
56
Although MacLaine did not participate in the concert, a
photograph of MacLaine and actress Barbara Walden making plans for the event was featured in
the Los Angeles Sentinel.
57

In October of 1964, MacLaine further demonstrated her opposition to racial injustices by
publicly opposing Proposition 14, a measure that, if ratified, would overturn the newly
established Rumsfeld Act. Passed in 1963, the Rumsfeld Act prohibited realtors from
discriminating against minorities. Proposition 14 was one of the most controversial issues on the
ballot that year, and Steve Allen, Janet Leigh, Nat King Cole, Peter Falk, James Garner, Charlton
Heston, Gene Kelly, Burt Lancaster, Edward G. Robinson, Frank Sinatra, and MacLaine were
among the measure’s notable opponents. Together, in addition to making numerous public
statements, the group of stars published a political advertisement in Variety in the weeks leading
up to the election.
58
However, presumably to the stars’ dismay, Proposition 14 passed by a two-
to-one margin.
59

Still, some of MacLaine’s most substantial contributions to the civil rights movements
remained largely undocumented in the press. In her autobiography Don’t Fall Off the Mountain,
MacLaine recalled traveling to Mississippi sometime in the mid-1960s to better understand
African American experiences there, to assist in voter registration, and to meet with key activists
working for the Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC).
60
Yet, this trip is
noticeably absent from her profiles in newspapers and magazines at the time. Nevertheless,
efforts such as these presumably earned MacLaine a Unity Award, an accolade given to
“Hollywood film personalities and top representatives of TV and radio stations who, in the

166
opinion of the awards committee, have made meritorious contributions to the betterment of
human relations,” in 1966.
61
Bill Cosby, Stanley Kramer, Louis Lomax, Sidney Poitier, and
Joanne Woodward also received Unity Awards that year.
The Presidential Election of 1968
As debates over the civil rights movement and the Vietnam War increasingly polarized
the nation, MacLaine’s contributions to electoral politics became a more pronounced aspect of
her star discourse. At the time, the Democratic Party was in the midst of upheaval. In the fall of
1967, President Lyndon B. Johnson’s progressively unpopular and unsuccessful approach to the
Vietnam War encouraged antiwar Senator Eugene McCarthy to challenge the incumbent in the
upcoming election. Although McCarthy’s chances were initially not very promising, Johnson’s
image was drastically tarnished after Viet Cong forces attacked the American embassy in Saigon
on the Tet holiday on January 31, 1968. With support from both student antiwar activists and
middle-class intellectuals, McCarthy nearly defeated Johnson at the New Hampshire primary on
March 12, 1968. Emboldened by this outcome, Senator Robert F. Kennedy announced his plans
to contend for the presidential seat four days later. Initial polls anticipated his potential to win, as
Kennedy found support from minorities, blue-collar Catholics, and those loyal to his deceased
brother. Ultimately recognizing his widespread unpopularity, Johnson withdrew himself from the
race by the end of March. Shortly thereafter, Vice President Hubert Humphrey initiated a
campaign in his predecessor’s place, attracting the powerful backing of party regulars and
organized labor.
62

Amidst this turmoil within the Democratic Party, prominent Hollywood liberals
proclaimed their diverse allegiances. MacLaine’s endorsement of Kennedy became apparent
only days after he announced his candidacy. On March 22, 1968, a publicized list of California

167
delegates pledged to support Kennedy at the Democratic National Convention included
MacLaine.
63
That same day, MacLaine’s name also appeared among the “Citizens for Kennedy,”
a group of nearly sixty stars who “welcomed” and “supported” Kennedy’s candidacy in a paid
advertisement in Variety.
64
By May of 1968, MacLiane assumed the role of co-chairperson—
assisting chair Andy Williams and co-chairs Rafer Johnson, Ruth Berle, and Gene Kelly—of the
Hollywood for Kennedy Committee.
65
Meanwhile, Paul Newman, Joanne Woodward, Dustin
Hoffman, Robert Ryan, Elaine May, and others remained committed to McCarthy, while
Humphrey’s celebrity endorsements were few and far between.
66

In May of 1968, MacLaine briefly explained her loyalty to Kennedy in Life magazine:
“I’ll be going as a Democratic delegate to Chicago. This world right now is three things:
Washington, American cities, Asia. Having lived in Asia for 12 years I believe that Kennedy is
the man Asians most respect. First of all, you don’t win peace, ever. You negotiate it. You need
to want it.”
67
Although she makes reference to urban plight, her primary concern, like many
Americans, appeared to be the war in Vietnam. Moreover, while hardly the most eloquent
political rhetoric, MacLaine’s comment evinced not only how her international travels informed
her choice in presidential candidate but also how she legitimized her opinions through the
knowledge she acquired from traveling.
Kennedy proved to be a frontrunner in the primaries, winning every battle against
McCarthy except in Oregon. Kennedy’s successes anticipated a significant transformation in the
Democratic Party. Yet, the power of party regulars was strong, as evidenced in Humphrey’s
campaign. Due to his late entrance into the contest, Humphrey did not participate in the
primaries; he instead planned to rely on delegates chosen by caucuses and state conventions—
which, at the time, was enough to secure the nomination. Ultimately, Kennedy’s potential for

168
reform would never be realized. Just after his triumph in the California primary on June 5,
Palestinian nationalist Sirhan Sirhan assassinated the presidential hopeful and thus quelled the
possibility of insurgent politics within the Democratic Party that year.
68

After MacLaine attended Kennedy’s funeral on June 8, 1968,
69
she, like many other
grieving delegates, would have to shift her allegiances. On August 10, George McGovern, a
friend of Kennedy and vocal antiwar Senator from South Dakota, declared his candidacy, and
sometime shortly thereafter MacLaine decided to grant him her support. On the first day of the
Democratic National Convention in Chicago, August 26, 1968, MacLaine held a tea party to
acquaint McGovern with other female delegates at the convention.
70
Although his securing of the
nomination was unlikely, McGovern intrigued numerous California delegates by defeating both
McCarthy and Humphrey in a televised debate at the convention.
71
MacLaine and brother
Warren Beatty were among those impressed, as Michael McGuire reported in the Chicago
Tribune article “Movie Stars Label M’Govern Real Star.” After watching McGovern debate,
MacLaine commented, “He has picked up a lot of support in this delegation this morning […].
The American public demands instant truth and McGovern is the most truthful and specific of
them all.”
72
MacLaine’s remark anticipated numerous statements that she would make about
McGovern’s character over the course of the next four years.
Meanwhile, outside the convention, roughly 10,000 antiwar radicals had gathered to
protest the conventional “Old Guard” liberalism represented by Humphrey and Chicago Mayor
Richard J. Daley. Anticipating the disruption, Daley had summoned almost three times as many
policemen and armed guards to dispel the agitators. And a notoriously violent melee ensued.
73

Inside the amphitheater, MacLaine was physically removed from the chaos. Still, after having
been subject to a prolonged search by security, MacLaine described her experience as “grisly” in

169
Norman C. Miller’s Wall Street Journal article “Celebrity Delegates at Democratic Parley Get
No VIP Handling.”
74
Television interviews with the actress during the convention also included
her comments on the security search; still, as television critic Jack Gould commented, few could
be moved by the incident, especially when comparing it to the concurrent violence outside the
convention.
75

Some television viewers were offended when MacLaine appeared on television
discussing her view on the Vietnam War. In a piece entitled “Using Audiences,” a guest
editorialist wrote, “Shirley MacLaine’s presence before TV cameras at a national Presidential
convention airing her views on foreign policy had about as much business there as Dean Rusk
would have dancing the can-can in a Hollywood musical.”
76
The writer perceived a clear
distinction between the sphere of entertainment and the sphere of politics. This notion did not
preclude celebrities from acting as citizens. The editorialist proposed: “everybody is entitled to
[opinions], but everyone is not entitled to join in campaigning and make use of audiences who
came for another purpose.” Celebrity activism, according to this viewer, evidenced the improper
use of the media. Yet, these types of comments did not deter MacLaine.
When Humphrey secured the nomination that August, MacLaine hesitated, as she later
regretfully admitted, to endorse or assist the campaign of the Democratic candidate.
77
However,
she continued to show support for other “peace candidates” who were vying for congressional
seats in 1968. In October, MacLaine reportedly “spoke like a radical social critic” at a
fundraising rally in Boston, which earned $75,000 for the campaigns of eleven candidates for
seats in the Senate.
78
She also traveled to South Dakota to help Senator McGovern’s reelection
campaign.
79
Finally, in the last week before the election, she did make appearances on behalf of
Humphrey but to no avail.
80

170
Parties and Protests: Anticipating the Presidential Election of 1972
Although MacLaine expressed disillusionment with supporting political candidates after
Richard Nixon’s election in 1968,
81
that disillusionment would be short-lived. Senator George
McGovern unofficially began planning his campaign for the presidency almost immediately
following the 1968 election. Throughout 1969 and 1970, McGovern travelled the country
extensively, meeting with prominent Democrats and denouncing the war in Vietnam on college
campuses.
82
His trip to Southern California in October of 1969 included a private dinner party at
MacLaine’s home, as announced in the Los Angeles Times.
83
McGovern later remembered the
party:
[The guests] were puzzled as to how a guy from a little state like
South Dakota and a freshman senator could seriously think he
could run for president, and yet they were intrigued by it, and
somewhat puzzled as to why Shirley thought it was important to be
doing this in 1969. As always, Shirley was deadly earnest about it,
and probably considerably ahead of where everybody else was in
terms of emotional and political commitment.
84

Accordingly, despite McGovern’s widespread unfamiliarity amongst voters in both Hollywood
and throughout the nation, MacLaine demonstrated her dedication to his campaign from its
earliest stage. The following August, MacLaine held another party at her home to introduce and
acquaint McGovern to more “people of wealth and influence”—including her brother Warren
Beatty, who would also play a fundamental role on McGovern’s staff in the coming years.
85

At the time, star activism became more important than it had been for any previous
presidential campaign. As Steven Ross acknowledges, “dramatic changes in the [Democratic
Party] structure […] opened up new opportunities for movie stars to play an unprecedented role
in political life, especially at the presidential primary level.”
86
Previously, delegates and
presidential nominees were predominantly selected by party leaders in closed sessions, enabling

171
candidates like Humphrey to secure a nomination without participating in a single primary.
However, significant reforms, of which McGovern was instrumental in drafting, helped to make
the Democratic Party more open and participatory.
87
Accordingly, the “ordinary voters” of state
primaries—who were arguably more affected by celebrity endorsements—assumed a greater role
in determining presidential nominees.
88
As an insurgent candidate without the support of the
Democratic establishment, McGovern relied on these ordinary voters to gain prominence within
the Party.
89

While McGovern and his staff prepared to position him as a viable candidate, MacLaine
continued to engage with national protest movements. On October 15, 1969, MacLaine
participated in the Moratorium to End the War in Vietnam, a nationwide protest counting over
two million participants. At a rally in Bryant Park in New York City—where Senator Eugene
McCarthy, New York Mayor John Lindsay, and other politicians and performers spoke out
against Nixon’s war policies—MacLaine roused the crowd of over 50,000 people: “We insist on
being heard. […] We insist on saving lives instead of saving face.”
90
The demonstration
illustrated, as Bruce Miroff maintains, “the spread of antiwar sentiments to a large,
heterogeneous, and nonradical segment of the American people.”
91
The following month, on
November 13, 1969, MacLaine attended the second major peace rally of the Moratorium in
Times Square, and MacLaine, along with Beatty, Elliot Gould, and George Seigel, also later
helped to raise money to cover the Moratorium’s debts in May of 1970.
92

A number of MacLaine’s antiwar acts were affiliated with national women’s groups. In
May of 1970, MacLaine joined the Emergency Committee to Boycott Mother’s Day, a group of
mothers protesting the expansion of the war in Cambodia by refusing Mother’s Day gifts and
marching in Washington, DC
93
As the New York Times reported, “[MacLaine] promised that

172
should she get a gift from her daughter Stephanie, ‘I’m going to send it to the White House.’”
94

In June of 1971, MacLaine supported another female antiwar organization, Living Room
Lobbies for Peace, that similarly “[urged] women not to be consumers [on June 21] but to
engage in constructive antiwar efforts,” as chairwoman of the peace committee Mrs. Edmund
North explained.
95
The sponsoring group, Women For:, also encouraged women to use the time
that they might have spent shopping to write letters to government officials in protest of the war
in Vietnam.
96

Around this time, MacLaine also became an outspoken, if not directly active, proponent
of the growing women’s movement. The expression of female “discontent”—particularly, white
women dissatisfied with the “pervasive ideology of domesticity”—had multiple origins,
including the increase of women’s participation in the labor force, the higher enrollment of
women in college, and the introduction of the birth control pill.
97
However, the women’s
movement did not become an “organized force for social change” until the late 1960s, when
women were inspired by the “climate of protest” throughout the nation.
98
As the women’s
movement organized, it divided into two principal factions: liberal feminists and the more radical
women’s liberationists. As Alice Echols explains, “whereas liberal feminists talked of ending sex
discrimination, women’s liberationists called for nothing less than the destruction of capitalism
and patriarchy.”
99
MacLaine did not directly identify herself with either faction. While she
largely worked within the dominant system to effect change, she used language that reflected a
more radical feminist philosophy.
MacLaine’s affiliation with the feminist movement became apparent in the early 1970s.
In December of 1970, several newspapers listed MacLaine as a supporter of a protest march
demanding free abortions and childcare centers in New York.
100
Other prominent supporters

173
included march leaders Betty Friedan and Kate Millet and Congresswomen Shirley Chisholm
and Bella Abzug. During the following year, MacLaine also made statements about gender that
evinced her radical feminist beliefs. MacLaine explained her view of women in an interview
with newspaper columnist Gwen Morgan about her upcoming television series Shirley’s World:
“The female of the species is the most colonized of all races. It is time we take off the shackles.
What that does to the fellows will be just as interesting to see. If the individual woman doesn’t
make a run for it now, we’ll all be swallowed up forever. When I think what I’ve swallowed
from society, I feel like an idiot.”
101
As Echols explains, women’s liberationists adopted the
“discourse of colonization” to legitimize their experiences in comparison to other social
movements at the time.
102
MacLaine’s use of such terminology not only underscored her feminist
awakening—she had only recently realized what she had been swallowing from society—but
also her efforts to disseminate these beliefs to the consumers of her image.
103
Still, these radical
beliefs, as will be discussed further below, would cause personal difficulties for MacLaine as a
supporter of Senator McGovern.
MacLaine’s feminist thinking likely influenced her perspective on the issue of
overpopulation. Although Ronald Brownstein cites MacLaine’s concern with overpopulation as
evidence of her views “[veering] off in strange directions,”
104
the issue was not only a pressing
concern to many Americans, but the movement to address it also had overlapping interests with
the women’s movement: primarily, the encouragement of women to join the workforce (to free
them from their childbearing responsibilities) and the legalization of abortion.
105
Both John F.
Kennedy’s and Lyndon B. Johnson’s administrations instituted a number of reforms attentive to
the concerns of overpopulation. And the publication of The Population Bomb by Stanford
biology professor Paul R. Ehrlich in 1968—and Ehrlich’s recurring guest appearances on The

174
Tonight Show (NBC, 1954– ) with Johnny Carson in the winter and spring of 1970—gave the
ecological concerns of overpopulation national exposure.
106
Ehrlich’s work invigorated the short-
lived but ardent “zero population growth” movement, which called for government intervention
to “control” population growth. Even Richard M. Nixon initially embraced the movement,
claiming that overpopulation was “one of the most serious challenges to human destiny in the
last third of this century.”
107
As Derrick S. Hoff maintains, “By 1971, 46 percent of Americans
believed that by the year 2000 the nation would have to limit its population to maintain its
current standard of living.”
108
Accordingly, MacLaine’s attention to the problem of
overpopulation in the 1970s was perhaps alarmist but hardly “strange.”
Supporters of the zero population growth movement disagreed on the necessary
legislation required to enforce such control. According to Hoff, “a miniscule minority (but one
well covered in the press) [went] so far as to seek compulsory fertility reduction measures that
would eliminate the right to voluntarily control family size.”
109
Moderates, on the other hand,
sought less “draconian measures,” including “creating tax disincentives for large families and
early marriage, legalizing abortion, dramatically increasing access to family planning, and
reducing immigration.”
110
Although MacLaine never explicitly aligned herself with the zero
population growth movement—she does mention discussing abortion with Ehrlich in a 1972
interview,
111
and she references his follow-up to The Population Bomb, The Population
Explosion (1990), in her work Dance While You Can (1992)
112
—many of her statements reflect
the movement’s influence on her thinking.
At the peak of the nation’s apprehensions about overpopulation, MacLaine visited the
National Democratic Club in New York to deliver a speech on the issue in June of 1971.
113
Her
appearance at the historically all-male club drew comparisons with other legendary feminists; as

175
the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner reported, “She was the first woman to speak at the club since
1834, the year of its founding, when a suffragette barged in and delivered a declaration on
women’s rights.”
114
Still, MacLaine’s proposition was arguably more radical than the
suffragette’s demand for equal rights, as she suggested that male sterilization was a viable
solution to the population problem. According to the Hartford Courant, MacLaine urged
listeners: “The question of the overpopulation issue should not be left to old ladies in sneakers or
seminars in Ivy League schools. It should be included as a plank in a political party platform.”
115

MacLaine thus framed her speech in terms of its instrumental power. Unlike detached
intellectuals and powerless old ladies, MacLaine intended to alter national policy through the
party’s platform. In the New York Times article “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”—a title which
echoed a popular tenant of the zero population growth movement—journalist Judy Klemesrud
claimed MacLaine “made an impressive debut as a communicator. About 20 reporters were
there, along with a staid group of mostly middle-aged Democrats who nevertheless applauded
heartily,” even in response to some of her more controversial statements.
116

MacLaine and McGovern
Although MacLaine occasionally continued to speak out about the problems of
overpopulation,
117
she concentrated her political efforts on McGovern’s campaign, which she
worked for full time, beginning in February of 1972.
118
That month, McGovern also selected
MacLaine as one of the 238 California delegates who pledged to support him at Democratic
National Convention later that year and who together reportedly represented, following the new
delegate selection guidelines, the diverse population of the state.
119
After stomping briefly in
Chicago, MacLaine had her first formative experience working on a campaign trail in New
Hampshire, the location of the first primary that pit McGovern against his rival and the predicted

176
favorite, Senator Edmund Muskie.
120
New Hampshire required ample grassroots organization to
upset expectations.
121
Accordingly, as advised by McGovern’s staff, MacLaine spent her days in
the state meeting with potential voters at their homes.
122
On the day of the primary, McGovern
garnered thirty-seven percent of the votes, compared to Muskie’s forty-six percent. Although he
did not win, McGovern demonstrated the effectiveness of his campaign strategy. As Bruce
Miroff explains, “Muskie was starting to be framed in the media’s narrative as a fading star,
while McGovern enjoyed a boost to both campaign morale and attention from the press.”
123
The
New Hampshire primary therefore proved to be a success.
During the next few months, MacLaine traveled extensively around the country, visiting
Florida, Wisconsin, New Mexico, Utah, South Dakota, Texas, New Jersey, Michigan, Maryland,
Vermont, and Washington, among other states.
124
As she later admitted, her most important
function was fundraising, especially as the campaign was desperately in need of money.
125
And
MacLaine’s moneymaking efforts, including luncheons, dinners, and cocktail partiers, were
repeatedly documented in the press from February to the end of October.
126
Of these lucrative
events, three were particularly innovative: the rock concerts organized by Warren Beatty, the
telethon for the Democratic Party, and the all-female variety show organized by MacLaine
herself. Prior to the California primary, Warren Beatty orchestrated a rock concert—the first of
its kind and featuring performances by James Taylor, Carole King, Barbra Streisand, and a brief
appearance by McGovern—at the Los Angeles Forum.

Held on April 15, 1972, the concert
earned roughly $300,000 for McGovern’s campaign, with the help of MacLaine, Jack Nicholson,
Gene Hackman, Goldie Hawn, Julie Christie, and other stars serving as ushers. The success of
this first rock concert inspired Beatty to organize four more shows throughout the country. On
June 14, MacLaine ushered Beatty’s “Together for McGovern” concert, showcasing the reunions

177
of Simon and Garfunkel, Peter, Paul, and Mary, and Mike Nichols and Elaine May, at Madison
Square Garden. The New York Times reported that the New York concert exceeded $400,000 in
gross earnings.
127

In July, MacLaine participated in another first for the Democratic Party—a national
telethon, described by Broadcasting trade magazine as “one of network television’s biggest
crapshoots.”
128
Airing on ABC on July 8, 1972, the broadcast reportedly cost over $1 million to
produce, and featured musical performances, comedy sketches, and appearances by stars,
including MacLaine. As Bill Greeley of Variety wrote, “In telethon tradition production was
rough and ragged but often the more interesting for unexpected snafus and sundry.”
129
Proceeds
from the event were directed to the Democratic Party’s $9.3 million debt, outstanding since the
1968 presidential campaign. At the conclusion of the 18½-hour broadcast, the Party reportedly
raised $4,461,755.
130

MacLaine showcased her own inventive organizational skills in the final weeks before
the election. With only two weeks to prepare, MacLaine assembled a four-hour variety show
entitled “Star Spangled Women for McGovern” on October 27, 1972. In addition to MacLaine,
the all-female cast included Marlo Thomas, Dionne Warwicke, Tina Turner, Bette Davis, Judy
Collins, Gwen Verdon, Chita Rivera, and Cass Elliott. Both Rose Kennedy, John and Robert’s
mother, and Eleanor McGovern, George’s wife, also appeared before the crowd. Although
MacLaine claimed that the “idea of this show was not to raise money, but to raise hope,”
131

tickets cost as much as $500, and the show was expected to contribute over $100,000 to the
campaign.
132

In conjunction with fundraising, MacLaine made speeches and spoke one-on-one with
voters on behalf of McGovern. Unlike her brother Beatty, MacLaine was a confident orator.
133

178
And her audiences were diverse: she spoke to the press, veterans, students, single parents, mall
shoppers, casino gamblers, and women’s groups, among others.
134
In her public speeches, she
focused on several of the main themes of the McGovern campaign: McGovern’s character, the
antiwar effort, and the everyday frustrations of voters.
135
In his analysis of the McGovern
campaign, Bruce Miroff claims that McGovern’s “personal decency was one of his most winning
qualities.”
136
Accordingly, MacLaine was most frequently quoted in the press praising
McGovern’s integrity. She described him as “the only man who’s telling the truth […] and
displaying any moral courage”; as “someone whose moral fortitude is commensurate with the
office”; and as someone the nation could “like.’”
137
In these assertions about McGovern’s
character, MacLaine not only distinguished her candidate of choice from the corruption
associated with Nixon’s administration, but also spoke to an attribute that she—as an actress and
interpreter of characters—was undeniably qualified to discuss.
Still, audiences had diverse reactions to her talents as an orator. For example, the
graduating senior class at Yale University was unconvinced by her speech in December of 1971.
According to the Hartford Courant, when she encouraged the students to “be free,” she “drew a
mixture of laughter, catcalls and applause.”
138
As one student remarked, “I think [her speech is]
sort of trite. It’s self evident.” Another commented, “Two years ago everybody would have
applauded wildly. It’s just that it’s all been said before.” These young people found MacLaine’s
ideas to be hackneyed and outmoded. Alternatively, Muriel Dobbin, in the article “MacLaine
Hustings Style Is Unique,” critiqued MacLaine’s colloquial language—particularly, her use of
words like “crustacean” (“a voter who ‘hangs in tough and gets answers to questions about what
is wrong with America’”), “mind-blownin’,” and “damn right.”
139
New York Times journalist

179
Christopher Lydon was likewise dubious of MacLaine’s contributions to the McGovern
campaign. In the article “Celebrities Rally Behind McGovern,” Lydon noted:
The McGovern speakers’ bureau evidently encourages spontaneity.
Shirley MacLaine seemed to confuse New Hampshire audiences
with the remark that Senator McGovern ‘has a lot of space
between his thoughts,’ and understands, uniquely among American
politicians ‘the bamboo theory’ about the ‘inherent flexibility of
Asians.’ But Miss MacLaine, who says she never knows what she
will talk about until she starts speaking, was undismayed, and it
never occurred to the McGovern staff to offer her a prepared
speaking text.
140

According to Lydon, MacLaine’s unaffected style of speech indicated not only her political
inexperience but also larger problems with McGovern’s campaign staff. Although MacLaine’s
naturalness may have attracted otherwise uninterested voters, Lydon considered her performance
a detriment to McGovern’s image.
Still, not all of MacLaine’s listeners were turned off by her candor. Terry McGovern,
George’s daughter, commented on MacLaine’s speeches: “She’s always so good. She’s never
wishy-washy.’”
141
Jack Zaiman, a self-professed conservative political columnist, described
MacLaine as “an exceptionally articulate woman,”
142
and Elizabeth Peer, a reporter for
Newsweek, likewise praised one of MacLaine’s campaign speeches as “fiercely eloquent.”
143

Although Newsweek admitted that “MacLaine occasionally stubs her toe, especially with black
groups suspicious of semi-radical millionaire actresses,” the magazine also purported, “But such
flops are infrequent now, and MacLaine has clearly surmounted what may be the highest hurdle
for an actress in politics: to be taken seriously.”
144
As evidence of her seriousness, the article
cited the opinion of Henry Kimelmen, McGovern’s finance chairman: “That she was in the peace
march obviously indicated she was not some frivolous, supercilious actress concerned with what
she was going to wear the next day […]. [W]hen I first heard her talk, I was tremendously

180
pleased and surprised.”
145
Although MacLaine’s contributions to the McGovern campaign were
not universally accepted, she demonstrated her commitment to his cause, repeatedly defying
expectations through these public declarations around the nation.
One of MacLaine’s most publicized and personally challenging roles during McGovern’s
campaign was supporting his view on the issue of abortion and women’s rights. As mentioned
above, MacLaine identified with the women’s liberation movement and publicly supported the
legalization of abortion and a woman’s right to control her body. McGovern, as Bruce Miroff
explains, was “hardly a feminist in 1972,” but “he instinctively sided with the feminists and
made their cause part of his campaign.”
146
Still, McGovern maintained a guarded stance on the
issue of abortion. As MacLaine later reflected, “What bothered me most [about McGovern] was
how uncomfortable he felt with women. And what bothered him most was how women felt about
abortion.”
147
Despite accusations of his radicalism, McGovern professedly believed that
individual states, rather than the federal government, should be responsible for determining their
position on the issue. MacLaine explained to McGovern that this stance disappointed his feminist
supporters, who wanted women’s reproductive rights to be addressed in the Democratic Party’s
platform. Yet, regardless of his personal views, McGovern recognized that the controversial
issue would only hurt his chances of securing the nomination and defeating Richard Nixon. He
asked MacLaine, who apparently was his only staffer apprehensive about the issue, to help him
prevent a statement about abortion from being added to the Democratic Party’s platform.
Although MacLaine later admitted, “[t]o exclude the subject of abortion from the platform
entirely violated [her] own personal beliefs,”
148
she accepted the task, hoping her efforts would
help prohibit Nixon from winning another four years as President.
149

181
Prior to the Democratic Platform Committee meeting, key members of the National
Women’s Political Caucus (NWPC)—a group formed in July of 1971 that included
Congresswoman Bella Abzug, Betty Friedan, and Gloria Steinem—met with McGovern at his
home in Washington, DC, to compel him to support their cause.
150
According to MacLaine,
Steinem suggested the following language for the plank at the meeting: “nongovernmental
interference in the sexual and reproductive freedom of the American citizen.”
151
While
McGovern initially considered the language “interesting,” MacLaine eventually dissuaded him
from accepting the NWPC’s proposal, as she feared that the plank might be misconstrued to
suggest that McGovern condoned perverse sexual acts.
152
After McGovern refused to support the
platform addendum, the NWPC publicly stated their disappointment with him and threatened to
withhold their backing, as reported in the Washington Post article “McGovern Stand Irks
Caucus.”
153

Consequently, tensions between the feminist delegates, McGovern’s staff, and anti-
abortionists escalated in the weeks leading up to and including the Democratic National
Convention, and MacLaine repeatedly found herself in the middle of these opposing forces. On
June 26, 1972, the Democratic Platform Committee—in, for the first time, an open session—met
to discuss the Party’s platform. While the resultant platform pleased some Democrats as
“respectably liberal,” according to Washington Post journalist Richard L. Lyons, both Governor
George Wallace and feminists left the meeting dissatisfied: Wallace mainly opposed the
Committee’s support of busing to integrate schools, and feminists were disappointed with the
omission of a plank on abortion from the platform.
154
During the proceedings, after Virginia
delegate Flora Crater argued for a pro-abortion provision, MacLaine alternatively proposed “that
a women’s reproductive life was a ‘matter between a woman and her doctor’ and anyone else she

182
wished to consult but that the issue should not be subjected to ‘the distortions that would occur in
a Presidential campaign.’”
155
MacLaine’s proposal inspired divergent detractors, both those in
favor of adding an abortion plank, who felt she insufficiently addressed the issue, and those
against adding an abortion plank, who felt that her motion might be interpreted as pro-abortion.
While the Committee ultimately defeated her motion 59-41, MacLaine left the meeting content.
She told reporters, “It worked. We’re not going to say anything to hurt George’s chances.”
156

Yet, the debate was not over, as the Committee still approved introducing a minority report on
the issue of abortion at the Democratic National Convention two weeks later.
157

Although some feminists were disappointed with this outcome, the Democratic Party,
largely due to the efforts of the NWPC, had attended to women’s rights in 1972 more than ever
previously. For the first time in the Party’s history, the platform “included a fifteen-point Rights
of Women plank, everything feminists had requested save a statement on reproductive rights.”
158

Female representation at the convention had also more than doubled: whereas, at the 1968
convention, women amassed only thirteen percent of the delegates, women totaled thirty-nine
percent of the delegates at the 1972 convention.
159
Before the convention commenced, on July 7,
1972, MacLaine and other female Democrats, Anne Martindell, Jean Westwood, and Ann
Wexler, held a press conference, drumming continued female support for McGovern.
160

Despite these advances for women, many feminists remained eager for more progressive
reforms at the Democratic National Convention in Miami Beach. As Miroff maintains,
“McGovernites and feminist activists arrived in Miami Beach with preoccupations and emotions
that clashed more than they overlapped.”
161
And the first clash occurred during a vote concerning
the number of women on South Carolina’s delegation. Although McGovern initially supported
the women’s challenge to the state, his staff feared the outcome of the vote might set an

183
unfavorable precedent about what constituted a majority and, in turn, unseat the contested 271
California delegates who favored McGovern. Consequently, McGovern’s chief floor strategist
Rick Stearns encouraged delegates to vote against the women’s challenge. Although many
feminists felt betrayed by McGovern, MacLaine, one of three female floor managers named by
McGovern’s campaign manager Gary Hart, defended the McGovern campaign’s decision.
162
In
response to Bella Abzug’s angry reaction, MacLaine commented, “I think it’s more important to
get George McGovern nominated than to get those women seated. […] There was a higher
priority involved than South Carolina.”
163
Despite MacLaine’s appreciation for the women’s
cause, her commitment to McGovern was evidently undying.
In the next session of the convention, the McGovernites and the feminist activists
clashed—with MacLaine caught in between—once again. The convention deliberated the
minority plank on abortion in the early morning hours of July 12, 1972, after five delegates—
three in favor and two opposed—delivered speeches on the subject. Before a crowd of weary
listeners, Jennifer Wilke, a delegate from Alaska, read the proposed plank: “In matters relating to
human reproduction, each person’s right to privacy, freedom of choice and individual conscience
should be fully respected, consistent with relevant Supreme Court decisions.”
164
She then
pleaded with delegates to “vote [their] conscience[s],” as she explained a recent Gallop Poll that
indicated a majority of Americans believed “that the decision to have an abortion should be
made solely by a woman and her physician.” Congresswoman Frances Farenthold, a Texan
delegate, and Eleanor Holmes Norton, a delegate from New York, reiterated many of Wilke’s
points, both emphasizing the “fundamental” right to privacy that protected Americans from
governmental intervention into reproductive freedom.

184
Following the speeches in favor of the plank, Eugene Walsh, a Missouri delegate, and
MacLaine spoke in opposition. While Walsh defended the “right to life” of the unborn,
MacLaine stood at the podium with an atypical proposition. She began her speech: “Tonight, I
am speaking to you in what is usually the spot that is reserved for those opposing the matter
before the house. Presumably, in keeping with tradition, I should conclude by asking you to vote
against this proposed minority plank on abortion, but I’m not going to do that.” MacLaine later
recalled that she chose to speak as an opponent of the plank to prevent another “right-to-life”
speech.
165
Instead, MacLaine, speaking “as a woman, as a mother, as a feminist, and as a
delegate,” echoed Wilke’s speech, encouraging the delegates to “vote [their] own conscience[s].”
While she restated her opinion that such a controversial matter should not be “subjected to the
distortions which would surely arise in a presidential campaign,” she also recognized the need to
develop a platform that accurately represented the Democratic Party. Thus, in order to determine
the most accurate representation, she urged her listeners to vote on the subject.
Although MacLaine did not outwardly oppose the abortion plank, her proposal, as it
aligned with McGovern’s campaign strategy, upset many of the prominent feminists, including
Bella Abzug, at the convention.
166
As Ellen Gooding wrote in the Boston Globe, “Her speech
was received as a signal from the McGovern people to sacrifice an abortion vote.”
167
Still,
MacLaine defended the difficult position that she took in an interview with CBS news
correspondent Larry Schorr: although she admitted that she “very strongly” believed that women
have the right to control their own bodies, she still feared the underhanded campaign tactics of
Richard Nixon, who would likely use the abortion issue to smear McGovern’s campaign.
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Ultimately, the majority of the delegation agreed with either MacLaine or anti-abortionists;
during a roll call vote, the minority plank was defeated by roughly 400 votes.
169

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Still, both Abzug and MacLaine similarly agreed that the vote in and of itself advanced
the feminist movement. Following the plank’s official dismissal, Abzug told the Boston Globe:
“The important thing was to make a strong showing and that we did. We wanted to establish
[abortion] as an issue in the country and that we did.”
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Abzug recognized the significance of
such a debate occurring on a national level. MacLaine reiterated this notion in her New York
Times article, “Women, the Convention and Brown Paper Bags,” in which she recapitulated her
role at the 1972 convention. MacLaine wrote, “For the first time in American political history,
the concerns of one-half the population were recognized as real.”
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In her analysis of the
convention, MacLaine appreciated that the need for a vote, despite the plank’s defeat, legitimized
the growing feminist cause. She also respected Steinem’s and Abzug’s perspectives, as journalist
Maurice Carroll quoted MacLaine in the New York Times: “I [spoke against abortion] for
McGovern and also I didn’t want to hurt the abortion issue. It was a purely pragmatic political
move […]. But [Gloria Steinem and Bella Abzug] understand me and I agree with them for
disagreeing with me. They’re right. Theirs is a position I would have taken had I not been so
pragmatic.”
172
Although supporting McGovern required MacLaine to suppress her personal
beliefs, it also demonstrated the astuteness of her political sensibilities. As evident in this issue,
her choices were neither spontaneous nor ridiculous, but reasoned and significant to McGovern’s
cause.
Although the feminist movement and the McGovern campaign would never fully realign,
MacLaine worked to attract women voters and increase voter registration through the fall.
173

After McGovern won the Democratic Party’s nomination, he selected both MacLaine and Abzug
to co-chair his National Women’s Advisory Council.
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Recognizing MacLaine’s significant

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contributions such as these to McGovern’s campaign, Newsweek put her image on the cover of
their “Show Biz in Politics” issue on September 25, 1972.
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In addition to her efforts as co-chair, MacLaine also used her skills as a writer to support
the campaign. For example, she compiled and edited the book McGovern: The Man and His
Beliefs, a 119-page paperback with quotes stating McGovern’s views on ten campaign issues,
ranging from women to the war in Vietnam.
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As MacLaine explained on the back cover, the
purpose of the book, distributed by campaign workers to nearly 100,000 voters, was “to help
save time. When you understand what [McGovern is] saying you realize the need for him to
become President of the United States.”
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MacLaine thus envisioned her work as a conduit
between the impenetrability of political discourse and the ordinary voter. By October, although
numerous celebrities—and Americans, at large—began to lose faith in McGovern, MacLaine’s
dedication persisted.
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She wrote a defense of McGovern’s recent missteps in the article
“McGovern Puts Everything—Good or Bad—in Open,” published in the Boston Globe on
October 1, 1972. MacLaine excused, for example, McGovern’s ill-advised decision to support
running mate Senator Thomas Eagleton, who had a history of mental illness, and then replace
him with Sargent Shriver; as MacLaine argued, mistakes such as these were the consequence of
an “open” and honest campaign, unlike Richard Nixon’s.
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However, by November, these efforts would not prove to be enough to salvage
McGovern’s campaign. Due to MacLaine’s and other activists’ appeals to mass movements,
Bruce Miroff maintains, “The McGovern campaign won some additional votes from women,
gays, and minorities, but its association with their groups was costly among white males.”
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The
largely unfounded image of McGovern as a radical—among other flaws—ultimately caused him
to lose the election with forty-one percent of the popular vote and only one state, Massachusetts,

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in the electoral college.
181
McGovern’s loss thus left MacLaine out of a job in both the political
and entertainment spheres.
Constructing MacLaine as an Activist
As much as the press identified MacLaine as one of many stars taking part in these
movements, they also distinguished MacLaine from other politically active stars in order to
articulate her peculiarities. In the early 1970s, MacLaine’s star discourse predominantly
positioned Jane Fonda and MacLaine as foils to one another. The press articulated their
differences not in terms of their beliefs—although MacLaine repeatedly claimed that she was
“more revolutionary” than Fonda
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—but in terms of the performance of their politics. In several
interviews, MacLaine criticized Fonda’s more militant tactics.
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As MacLaine explained in the
New York Times, “But [using violence is] just not my route. I don’t want to go to jail. I don’t
think that proves anything. The best thing you can do is stay alive on the streets and make a
difference.’”
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Although both stars hoped to achieve the same ends, MacLaine evoked Fonda’s
image to illustrate the ineffectiveness of Fonda’s uncompromising style of politics.
Instead, MacLaine, who June Goodwin described as “a kind of ‘establishment’ Jane
Fonda,”
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demonstrated a more cerebral method of effecting change. Accordingly, columnist
Michael Pearse proposed that MacLaine had “learned something” that Fonda had not; in
MacLaine’s understanding, “expanding [one’s] own consciousness” was the only way to
transform society.
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This intellectual approach was also more beneficial to a star’s onscreen
career, as Martha Weinman Lear of Ladies’ Home Journal explained, “[E]ven when [MacLaine]
was speaking out loudest, at the height of the antiwar fervor, most people didn’t turn her off as
they turned off Jane Fonda.”
187
Although MacLaine insisted that she did not “want to compare
[herself] with Jane,”
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she continuously had to do so. And, in 1976, MacLaine explicitly

188
addressed their differences in terms of performance: “It’s funny, [Fonda’s] have been theatrical
mistakes—the way she presents herself.”
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On one hand, these recurring references to Fonda in
MacLaine’s discourse illustrate the ways in which Fonda’s image shaped the construction of
other female star activists at the time. On the other hand, they also situate MacLaine as a more
productive model for star activism.
As MacLaine became more active in the political sphere in the sixties, representations of
her stardom underwent a significant transformation, especially in terms of her attitudinal age. In
1960 and 1961, respectively, both Murray Schumach and Roscoe Drummund noted a collective
change amongst actors, including MacLaine, who were politically active: while Schumach
proposed that Hollywood actors were “growing up,”
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Drummond likewise suggested that they
had “come of age.”
191
These metaphors of maturation, specifically with regards to activism,
permeated MacLaine’s star discourse in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In 1968, MacLaine told
Kevin Thomas of the Los Angeles Times that “[b]ecoming committed is commensurate with
maturity.”
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A year later, journalist Robert C. Jennings reiterated MacLaine’s self-assessment.
After discussing her role at the 1968 convention, Jennings wrote, “Shirley MacLaine had
changed: somewhere along the way her native animal instincts, always sure on the surface, had
acquired depth, maturity, direction. Child-cum-woman had become woman-cum-child.”
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MacLaine likewise envisioned activism as giving more meaning to her life; she explained to Roy
Newquist of the Chicago Tribune that she had “grow[n] older” and felt herself “broaden out,”
“living near [her] potential and not wasting time and life.”
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MacLaine’s increasing maturity
corresponded with self-fulfillment and becoming more active. Still, in an interview with Judy
Klemesrud of the New York Times, MacLaine recognized that this new stage of life had
particular risks for an actress in a “youth-oriented” society.
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Nevertheless, she declared that she

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had “grown into [herself] as a person” and “made the transition into being over 35.”
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This
transition meant abandoning the “that kooky image that […] [went] so well with chewing gum
and youth,” yet she asserted, “I feel more of myself as a woman than as a performer.”
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Like her
travels, MacLaine’s political work thus created a new sense of identity for the star. While her
former selves had been framed as authentic, her changing image continuously redefined the
meaning of that authenticity.
This new stage of life as an active member of the public sphere also coincided with
transformations in the way that the press described and photographed MacLaine’s appearance. In
the late 1960s, certain journalists continued to discuss MacLaine’s fashion sense in terms
familiar to her star discourse. Columnist Maxine Cheshire called MacLaine the “most
individualistic stylesetter” at the Democratic National Convention in 1968.
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A year later, Rollie
Hochstein’s description of MacLaine in Good Housekeeping recalled the dominant image that
had originated during her early career: “she snips her own red hair when the pixie spikes get
shaggy, dresses indifferently and shuns the glamour manner.”
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After describing MacLaine’s
afternoon preparing for a fundraising dinner, Hochstein noted “she didn’t once consult her
mirror” because “[s]he’s clearly more interested in doing than in being seen; in what she’s
thinking than in how she looks.” The press easily connected MacLaine’s indifference to glamour
to her political objectives.
However, MacLaine’s politicization also inspired journalists to comment upon her
extraordinary beauty, especially compared to other male stars and non-star activists. Hal
Humphrey described MacLaine as “much prettier than the GOP’s John Wayne,”
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and the Los
Angeles Herald-Examiner noted that she was “a much prettier hoofer than [George] Murphy.”
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In the early 1970s, MacLaine began donning a new look: she started to wear her hair long,

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straight, and frequently parted in the center, a style popularized by the counterculture. As
MacLaine told Hollis Alpert of the Saturday Review, she adopted the hairdo while filming
Shirley’s World (ABC, 1971-1972).
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Her versatile long hair, she explained, was meant to
depict her character Shirley Logan as cosmopolitan and sophisticated. Scott MacDonough
described her new hairstyle in Show magazine: “[T]he shaggy, carrot-colored mop is gone […].
Today, in her mid-30’s, that ‘cute kook’ […] has matured into a beautiful woman.”
203
For
MacDonough, MacLaine’s new appearance not only signified adulthood but also enhanced her
beauty. Judy Klemesrud similarly described the “New Shirley” as “stunning”: “Long red hair,
augmented, she admits, by a fall. Wide doe eyes fringed by luxurious fake lashes. A streamlined
shape. An interest in movie star clothes, such as the orange Indian print hostess gown she is
wearing.”
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Although MacLaine had increasingly distanced herself from Hollywood, her
appearance, according to Klemesrud, conformed to the industry’s standards of beauty more than
ever before. Whereas Klemesrud focused on the labor of MacLaine’s appearance—adding a fall,
applying false eyelashes, losing weight, and buying new clothes—Newsweek journalist Elizabeth
Peer, in contrast, remarked upon the naturalness of MacLaine’s image: “In the brutal light of
dawn, Shirley MacLaine looks improbably alert, unfairly pretty […]. Even more unfairly, this
apparition has been produced on four hours of sleep.”
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Peer constructed MacLaine’s
appearance on the campaign trail as effortlessly attractive. Although in the context of the
Hollywood community, MacLaine rarely attracted such praise, the political arena augmented
attention to her exceptional appearance. Her short messy hair had connoted her youthfulness, but
her long hair and recent attention to fashion marked her maturity.
Photographs of MacLaine politicking, with either short or long hair, were also noticeably
different from images of MacLaine during her early career. As mentioned briefly in Chapter 1,

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profiles on MacLaine in the late 1950s and early 1960s frequently showed images of the star
laughing.
206
However, by the late 1960s, the press had replaced that dominant image of the star
with one of MacLaine speaking, leaning forward, and most often standing. For example, the Life
article “The Star-spangled Look of the ’68 Campaign” used this pose to accompany MacLaine’s
endorsement of Robert F. Kennedy.
207
The New York Times highlighted her presence at a Times
Square peace rally in November of 1969 with a photograph of MacLaine speaking before the
crowds.
208
When MacLaine visited the National Democratic Club in June of 1971, an Associated
Press image of MacLaine delivering her speech circulated through various newspapers and
magazines, including the Los Angeles Times, the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, the Hartford
Courant, and Life.
209
The Chicago Tribune captured MacLaine speaking at a press conference
shortly after she started working full time for McGovern’s campaign.
210
Both the New York
Times and the Washington Post visually represented the Democratic Platform Committee
meeting with an Associated Press photo of MacLaine leaning forward and conversing with
Maryland Comptroller Louis Goldstein.
211
And Newsweek’s “Show Biz in Politics” issue
featured four different images of MacLaine as a communicator.
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Although the cover did not
showcase a candid photo of MacLaine, she did pose, with her chin resting on her hand, at a
podium behind several microphones. Photos inside the issue revealed MacLaine leaning forward
and speaking on the telephone at the Democratic National Convention in 1972, and MacLaine
stumping on a stage and later surrounded by people in Cincinnati. Almost always in dialogue,
MacLaine was no longer acquiring information, as she had done during her travels, but sharing
information with the purpose of effecting change. Her frequent headlong posture intimated both
a sense of purpose and movement, while her upright stance afforded her power. Thus, in contrast

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to the earlier photos of MacLaine that conveyed her youthful spontaneity, these recurring images
positioned MacLaine as a serious, active, regular, and significant contributor on the public stage.
In addition to these changes in representations of MacLaine’s appearance, this new phase
of life also affected representations of her private life—particularly, her romantic life and her
role as a mother. As discussed in the first chapter, MacLaine’s marriage to producer Steve Parker
challenged conventional notions about the institution: the two lived in separate homes and had
largely discrete careers. By the mid-1960s, MacLaine’s infidelities became a regular aspect of
her star discourse. In January of 1964, Hedda Hopper reported on MacLaine’s rumored affairs
with producer Kevin McClory.
213
And two months later, Hopper also gossiped that MacLaine
was potentially leaving her husband for Two for the Seesaw and What a Way to Go co-star
Robert Mitchum.
214
While MacLaine’s adulterous behavior certainly defied conservative ideas
about marriage, short-lived romances were common in Hollywood.
215
Both men positioned
MacLaine as part of the interconnected Hollywood social and romantic circles.
However, MacLaine’s endeavors in the political sphere introduced her to new and
different types of people. Following the Democratic National Convention in 1968, Joyce Haber
reported that “[p]eople are talking” about a budding relationship between MacLaine and NBC
news correspondent Sandy Vanocur.
216
Over the next two years, the press documented and
photographed the two attending parties and dining together.
217
In October of 1970, their romance
became the topic of Geoge Carpozi’s Photoplay article, “Shirley MacLaine and Sander Vanocur:
Free to Love or Free Love?” As the title suggests, MacLaine’s adulterous behavior could easily
be situated as part of the contemporary countercultural movement that celebrated sexual
liberation. Yet, Carpozi historicized her progressive views on marriage and domesticity:
“[MacLaine] was practicing liberation long before the rest of us caught on and made it the ‘in’

193
thing.”
218
Still, Vanocur was different from MacLaine’s other Hollywood beaus. According to
Carpozi, MacLaine’s new love interest was “one of TV’s brainiest newsmen.”
219
Carpozi listed
Vanocur’s numerous accomplishments as a newscaster, covering Premier Nikita Khrushchev’s
visit to the United States in 1959, Jacqueline Kennedy’s visit to Pakistan in 1962, and, most
notably, the Democratic National Convention in 1968. MacLaine’s compatibility with such a
figure therefore marked her departure from the stereotypically superficial world of Hollywood.
MacLaine’s subsequent relationship with journalist Pete Hamill similarly affirmed her
serious political interests. MacLaine had met Hamill at the premier of Vittorio de Sica’s Woman
Times Seven in 1967, shortly after Hamill’s return from a stint covering the war in Vietnam.
220

Their mutual antiwar sentiments brought them together at demonstrations over the next few
years, and they began seeing each other sometime between 1970 and 1971.
221
In her 1971 profile
of MacLaine, New York Times journalist Judy Klemesrud proposed that MacLaine’s love life
directly influenced her involvement in politics. As Klemesrud wrote, the interests of “all those
communicators,” including Vanocur and Hamill, were “bound to rub off” on MacLaine.
222

During the “typical” day described by Klemesrud, Hamill arrives at MacLaine’s New York
apartment, and “Shirley greats him with a bear hug and a kiss. They talk politics a while and then
Hamill retires to a bedroom to make some telephone calls.” Accordingly, Klemesrud emphasized
both the physical and the intellectual connection between MacLaine and Hamill. Later in the
article, after Klemesrud asked MacLaine how her husband felt about her affairs, MacLaine
answered, “Oh, [Parker] likes [Vanocur and Hamill] very much. […] But I don’t think [Parker
would] like it if I took up with John Wayne or William Buckley.” MacLaine thus underscored
that her interest in and her husband’s approval of both Vanocur and Hamill was directly related
to their liberal politics. Walter Scott’s “Personality Parade” offered an analogous construction of

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MacLaine’s extramarital affairs. In September of 1971, “T.Y.” of Richmond, Virginia, asked
Scott, “Has Shirley MacLaine dumped Sandy Vanocur of NBC for Pete Hamill of the New York
Post? […] Isn’t she partial to writers?”
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Scott then confirmed the rumors, noting that
“MacLaine does not cultivate her men on the grounds of vocation but rather on the basis of
intellect.” While accounts of MacLaine’s personal affairs may have distracted readers from her
activist agenda, they also underscored the extent to which she had undergone a transformation—
for even her boyfriends were respected, cerebral, and liberal participants in the political sphere.
During this period, references to MacLaine’s role as a mother were predominantly
associated with her radical and/or feminist beliefs. For the most part, the press mentioned her
daughter Sachi only when MacLaine made statements that challenged accepted notions of
motherly love. For example, a report of MacLaine’s participation in the boycott of Mother’s Day
in 1970 somewhat facetiously characterized the star as “Mother MacLaine,” and an article
detailing her pronouncements about overpopulation in 1971 recalled that MacLaine was the
“mother of a 14-year-old daughter.”
224
MacLaine even self-identified “as a mother” during her
speech about abortion at the Democratic National Convention in 1972.
225
Although none of these
descriptions necessarily drew attention to MacLaine’s abilities as a parent, they hinted at the
tensions between MacLaine’s political acts and traditional notions of women as being primarily
defined as doting mothers in want of multiple children. In his lengthily entitled Modern Screen
article, “She Wants to Free Love, Leopards, Women, Hard Hats, and, Most of All, Shirley
MacLaine,” Michael Pearse explicitly highlighted how MacLaine’s understanding and
performance of motherhood related to her political beliefs. While discussing her views on
overpopulation, MacLaine confessed to Pearse, “I didn’t want my child. It was an accident.
Women don’t need children to be fulfilled. […] I don’t think of myself as a mother.”
226
In

195
making this “controversial” statement, MacLaine reiterated how her personal and political lives
corresponded. Moreover, as Newsweek acknowledged, her ability to commit so much time and
effort to the McGovern campaign was largely due to the fact that her “[f]amily ties [were] almost
nil.”
227
MacLaine’s atypical approach to motherhood had long been a regular aspect of her star
discourse; however, this new phase of stardom shifted the reasoning for her parenting habits
from MacLaine being an individualist to MacLaine being part of a larger movement seeking to
effect social and political change. By the end of the decade, the National Organization for
Women (NOW) celebrated MacLaine as “outstanding [example] of liberated motherhood.”
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Bridging Political and Star Discourse
As depictions of MacLaine’s appearance, romances, and family transformed, the press
frequently also noted her propensity to steer the conversation from these mainstays of
Hollywood gossip to the subject of politics. For example, in a 1969 article promoting the Boston
premiere of MacLaine’s new film Sweet Charity, George McKinnon described his conversation
with the star, which “eventually [veered] to politics.”
229
After MacLaine discussed her recent
experiences at the Democratic National Convention and why she identified as a liberal and not a
radical, McKinnon concluded the interview, “[MacLaine] may look like a film star but she
certainly doesn’t talk like one.” In other words, MacLaine’s language challenged the regularities
of star discourse. Joyce Haber similarly described MacLaine’s penchant for political gab in her
gossip column in July of 1971; Haber wrote, “Shirley MacLaine just can’t seem to keep off the
subject of politics.”
230
According to Haber, a press conference at the Berlin Film Festival, where
MacLaine won Best Actress for her performance in Desperate Characters (Frank D. Gilroy,
1971), quickly evolved into a discussion of the Pentagon papers. Thus, even global acclaim was
not enough to detract MacLaine from the upheavals in Washington. Judy Klemesrud had a

196
similar experience with MacLaine during her interview published later that summer. As
Klemesrud explained, “But you try to get her to talk about the show-biz part of her life and she
says, ‘God, George McGovern is such an extraordinary man.’ So you let her talk politics,
because, after all, Political Movie Stars are still a rather new phenomenon.”
231
While Klemesrud
recognized the growing politicization of film stars, MacLaine’s desire to discuss the upcoming
presidential election—still a year away—was a notable departure from stereotypical celebrity
interviews. Thus, MacLaine’s knowledge of and ability to engage in political discourse
consistently subverted audiences’ and journalists’ expectations of MacLaine, specifically, and
stardom, at large.
This shift in her star discourse inspired many Hollywood columnists to suspect that
Democratic Party leaders were positioning MacLaine for a career change. In his 1967 article
entitled “In Today’s World of the TV Image Do Politicians Have to Be Good Looking?,” Lloyd
Shearer informed his readers that MacLaine—like fellow film and television stars Gregory Peck,
Robert Vaughn, and Dan Blocker—was “being urged to run for Congress on the Democratic
ticket.”
232
However, Shearer explained that MacLaine and the other Democratic stars, “in
contrast to their Republican counterparts, […] are reluctant to risk the leap into political seas.”
Still, the idea that MacLaine might attempt a career in politics persisted. In September of 1968,
the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner ran an article entitled “Will Shirley Try to Oust Murphy?,”
which detailed the Democratic Party’s multiple, failed attempts to attract MacLaine to
professional politics.
233
During a promotional interview for Shirley’s World, MacLaine explained
to John Austin of the Citizen News that she “never expect[ed] to run for office,” as she would
feel “stifled.”
234
She also told Hollis Alpert of the Saturday Review that she “couldn’t stand the
compromises that would have to be made.”
235
Nevertheless, the Hollywood Reporter published

197
the article “Shirley MacLaine to Run for Office?” that suggested MacLaine was “seriously
thinking” about contending for a Congressional seat.
236
These numerous claims about
MacLaine’s potential career in politics illustrate how the press and her peers attempted to make
sense of a star’s commitment to political change. While MacLaine insisted that she preferred to
effect political change from outside the profession, the press repeatedly supposed that she would
leave her film career permanently behind. Instead, she demonstrated how to be both a film star
and an active citizen.
MacLaine’s appearance on The Dick Cavett Show (ABC, 1968-1975), which aired on
May 11, 1972, illustrates not only how MacLaine bridged these two seemingly divergent
discourses—entertainment and politics—but also how the medium of television affected her
ability to speak politically.
237
In his introduction, Cavett describes MacLaine as “active and
busy” and enumerates her many recent pursuits, from acting in films and television, to writing
books, to traveling “around the country, lately, taking its pulse, so to speak.” Cavett thus
positions MacLaine as unlike other Hollywood stars, who spend their days, as he says, “sitting
by a swimming pool, soaking up sunlight.” Following Cavett’s introduction, MacLaine brightly
struts onto the studio stage, as the house band plays the hit song “Big Spender” from the musical
Sweet Charity. As was typical of MacLaine, she does not appear overly glamorous but her attire
suits contemporary fashion. Her long auburn hair is pulled into a half-ponytail, and she wears a
chocolate brown vest over a matching collared shirt, paired with orange bell-bottoms. The most
notable feature of her outfit is a collection of pins haphazardly decorating her chest. Although the
camera does not zoom in close enough to make the pins clearly legible, the name “McGovern”
can be deciphered in medium shots of MacLaine. MacLaine thus reveals how her televisual
image can be politically powerful.

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Still, like many interviews in which stars promote upcoming films, Cavett and
MacLaine’s conversation begins with an earnest dialogue about The Possession of Joel Delaney
(Waris Hussein, 1972), in which MacLaine plays a wealthy female New Yorker who has a
frightening experience with the occult.
238
Throughout the discussion, MacLaine speaks very
diplomatically about the film’s somewhat controversial subject matter; she says more than once:
“I have great respect for [the occult], even though I don’t believe in it.” While she avoids
insulting her target audience, MacLaine almost sounds like a political candidate trying not to
offend her constituents while also maintaining her credibility. Accordingly, MacLaine
demonstrates how the work of the star and the politician are similar. She also shows how, despite
the film’s supernatural subject matter, The Possession of Joel Delaney addresses many of the
contemporary struggles in urban America. As MacLaine explains, “[she and the filmmakers]
tried to make a picture that was real.” Accordingly, she describes her character Norah as an
“affluent lady [who is] blind to a lot of the deprivation in the world.” But, when a man who
“hasn’t had the affluence, and the comforts, and the conditions and education that a lot of us
have had” possesses Norah’s brother Joel, the audience witnesses the “disintegration” of Norah’s
sheltered world. Unfortunately, as MacLaine explains, Norah “[wakes] up too late.” MacLaine’s
emphasis on the allegorical implications of the film echoes the message MacLaine had been
sharing while campaigning throughout the country that year. Although she never explicitly
makes the connection between her support of McGovern and the film’s themes, the realism for
which the filmmakers of The Possession of Joel Delaney were striving presumably functions to
“wake up” audiences. Cavett, however, does not ask MacLaine to unpack the symbolism of the
film. Instead, before taking a commercial break, he mentions that MacLaine has been traveling
the country recently. To which she responds, “That’s really interesting.” Similar to other

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interviews, MacLaine shows her preference for discussing matters relating to the state of the
nation.
Yet, federal television regulations make MacLaine’s political efforts quite difficult.
Following the commercial break, Cavett asks MacLaine to elaborate on her travels. He inquires,
“Why aren’t you making a movie instead of [traveling throughout the country]?” Although
Cavett exaggerates his own naivety to add humor to the show, the question reiterates the
common assumption that stars solely function to create and sell films. MacLaine’s response, in
turn, showcases how the medium determines the limits of her power as a star. While she had no
difficulty promoting her film moments earlier, she cannot promote a political candidate in the
same way. She explains, “Well, I’m campaigning for someone I’m not supposed to mention the
name of according to ABC’s rules, so I wore all these [she points to the pins on her chest] so you
know who he is.” Several members of the audience then interject by screaming, “McGovern!”
And Cavett comically responds, “Now we have to get an audience for each candidate.”
Consequently, MacLaine and Cavett continue to discuss and draw attention to the absurdity of
the “equal time” provision of the Federal Communications Act of 1934, which “required any
broadcaster who offered free time to a political candidate to offer ‘free and equal time’ to every
other candidate for the same office.”
239
Although MacLaine explains that she interprets the
measure as only mandating the actions of the candidates, not his or her supporters, she attempts,
relatively unsuccessfully, to refrain from saying McGovern’s name. Nevertheless, in her
appearance on the show as an advocate for a political candidate, MacLaine makes visible the
constraints that dictated the content of the medium and the nature of her political voice.
MacLaine’s political work therefore instigates a self-reflexive dialogue about the various
imperatives—from economic to regulatory—that shape her image as a star.

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Accordingly, throughout her politically active period, MacLaine articulated how various
industrial factors determine star activism both on- and offscreen. In an interview with Kimmis
Hendrick of the Christian Science Monitor, MacLaine described films as “the most effective
means of world communication.”
240
Yet, she claimed that Hollywood had “much” to “learn from
foreign films,” as “Europeans have more respect for American young people than for the older
folks who are running our nation.” MacLaine accordingly proposed that American studios were
failing to cater to their young audiences, who had different expectations about film stars. She
elaborated on this point while also promoting her film Sweet Charity in Look magazine.
MacLaine explained to interviewer Jack Hamilton: “The public now demands to know what their
movie stars really think […]. I’m not afraid of all that junk about alienating part of the public
with my political opinions.”
241
Later that year, she similarly maintained in the Los Angeles
Times, that the American public “won’t accept noncommitment” from stars.
242
In doing so,
MacLaine emphasized how changing audience demographics determined what was acceptable—
and profitable—for her to say and do as a star. Still, the industry’s failure to address and accept
these changes impelled the financial struggles of the industry. As MacLaine explained to Dick
Cavett, “if [the industry] make[s] 135 pictures a year and six or seven are hits, then there’s
something wrong about the truth we’re reflecting of that society. And this isn’t unrelated to
politics.”
243
MacLaine equated audience’s disinterest in Hollywood film with widespread
political discontent; thus she positioned star activism as a solution to the problems not only of the
industry but also of the nation.
Fittingly, MacLaine was critical of her less politically engaged peers. According to
Boston Globe columnist Margo Miller, MacLaine “criticized actors who ‘stop thinking’ when
they reach the top.”
244
In the Washington Post, Times Herald, MacLaine likewise declared, “To

201
make your millions and then do nothing” was a “desecration of fame.”
245
In MacLaine’s
estimation, published in the Los Angeles Times, this apathy was particularly prevalent among
female stars: “Think of a major star—Paul Newman, Marlon Brando, Kirk Douglas, Burt
Lancaster—who hasn’t put himself on the line. That some of the women don’t, sort of bothers
me.”
246
She continued, “If you’re capable of sitting home with your turquoise swimming pool
and three Caddies in the garage that’s OK—if you want to be a vegetable in your own time.”
Through her activism, MacLaine not only challenged conceptions of female stardom as passive,
but she also evidently expected her peers to do the same.
This expectation likely originated from MacLaine’s conceptualization of stars as both
artists and citizens. Her lengthiest and most direct definition of stardom was published in her
May 18, 1972, New York Times article “Politics and Performers.”
247
MacLaine wrote the article
in response to ABC newscaster Harry Reasoner, who had recently claimed that “Presidential
candidates should leave endorsements to makers of false teeth cement.”
248
Reasoner thus
reiterated the widespread belief that stars function predominantly as commodities, and, in turn,
that any acts outside that definition are unwarranted. According to MacLaine, though many
“plain people” had been accepting of her work for McGovern, Reasoner’s opinion was rampant
among “skeptical journalists.” Nevertheless, MacLaine proposed that artists are citizens and that
contemporary events—particularly, the war in Vietnam, poverty, and the ongoing civil rights
movement—demanded citizen engagement “to fulfill the original intentions of participatory
democracy.” Actors were particularly qualified “to search for humane solutions to society’s
problems.” As MacLaine explained, “knowledge of human motivation” was crucial to the work
of both actors and politicians. Without the “insight of art,” MacLaine argued, politics would be
“doomed to sterility and abstractions.” Accordingly, MacLaine underscored how the expressive

202
power of the star—as Dyer argued, the ability to embody the lived implications of politics—was
intimately tied to the star’s instrumental power. In MacLaine’s analysis, stars’ expressive roles
necessitate the acquisition of knowledge about society and its problems, and this acquired
knowledge affords them, at least in part, the wherewithal to address those problems through
instrumental means. Ultimately, MacLaine contended that prohibiting stars from participating
would only further underscore the problem of “the politics of exclusion” plaguing the country.
In her “Politics and Performers” article and the other interviews referenced above,
MacLaine and the press were indeed compelled to discuss the nature of stardom more than the
political issues at hand. However, one cannot dismiss this self-reflexive discussion, as Dyer does
in reference to Jane Fonda in Stars, as merely evidence that “[w]hat the star does can only be
posed in terms of the star doing it.”
249
If star MacLaine provides, in Marshall’s words, “a bridge
of meaning between the powerless and powerful,”
250
activist MacLaine makes explicit the
inequalities between dominant and subordinate cultures. Being “a clear embodiment of cultural
power,”
251
MacLaine had a lot to lose, not necessarily in terms of her fame, but rather in terms of
the dominant culture from which she benefited. Nevertheless, as MacLaine and her peers
presumably concurred, one must first recognize these inequalities in order to overcome them.
Thus, in legitimizing star activism, MacLaine worked to reinforce the possibilities for political
and social transformation.
Conclusions: Anticipating Another (Re)Incarnation of Shirley MacLaine
In March of 1975, MacLaine published her second autobiography, You Can Get There
from Here. The first chapter begins, as she writes, “at the end,” with MacLaine performing her
Las Vegas stage show, If They Could See Me Now, on July 12, 1974.
252
On stage, MacLaine
recalls, “I felt as if I had just begun to live my life again. After a long time away I was back

203
doing what I had been trained to do in the first place. Only now I knew a lot more about who I
was because the road back hasn’t been an easy one” (4). The road back, to which MacLaine
refers, included the three major experiences recounted in the book: her failed television series,
her work for McGovern’s failed presidential campaign, and her trip to China. While these
experiences influenced her self-awareness, she treats them as a detour on a path decidedly
headed toward the realm of entertainment. The portion devoted specifically to her activism is
brief, encompassing only five of the book’s twenty-six chapters. In her description of the familiar
news stories, she discusses the challenges of working on a presidential campaign; she shares
anecdotes about both the McGovern staffers and potential voters; and she reveals some of her
early doubts about McGovern—particularly, his views on abortion—that she did fully not
disclose to the press at the time.
MacLaine concludes the section by recalling a visit to her parent’s house during Richard
Nixon’s inauguration. As she and her parents watched The Apartment on television, MacLaine
contemplated “everything that had happened since then” (85). She explained to her mother, “I
was thinking about how many people in movies weren’t afraid to be political this year. I was
thinking about how it was when a trade paper columnist used to call me a dingbat for speaking
out in public” (85). In this reflection, MacLaine recognizes that, despite McGovern’s loss, she
had accomplished something by speaking out—in some small way, she and her peers had helped
to change the public’s perception of celebrity activism. Still, her father prodded, “Why don’t you
go back to doing what you do best […] and stop all this preachin’ around?” (85). To which she
responded, “I will […]. I’d love to” (85). While MacLaine acknowledges the impact of activism
on her sense of self and the studio system at large, she also treats it as a distinct period that had

204
come to an end. As a different, more knowledgeable and active person, she returned to the world
of entertainment, but not without the intention of continuing to change it.
At the time, the press was equally attuned to MacLaine’s return as a distinct departure
from her recent political past. The titles of the following articles indicate the press’s captivation
with MacLaine’s latest transformation: syndicated columnist Rex Reed announced “Activist
Shirley Reactivates Career” in July of 1974; several months later, Leroy F. Aarons asked
“Shirley MacLaine Is Back, But Playing What Role?” in the Washington Post; on March 7,
1975, fashion editor Marian Christy proclaimed, “Shirley’s Back in Town” in the Boston Globe;
Christian Science Monitor journalist Arthur Unger considered, “Shirley MacLaine: Out of
Politics?” in January of 1976; on April 18, 1976, Julia Cameron revealed “Shirley MacLaine—
Back in Her Dancing Shoes” to readers of the New York Times; and Mary Daniels proclaimed,
“Shirley: Show Biz Dropout Drops Back In,”

on February 18, 1977, in the Chicago Tribune.
253

As these articles announced MacLaine’s return to show business, they likewise emphasized how
her stage show If They Could See Me Now—in which MacLaine performed numbers from and
based on films of her early career—revived her original construction as a kook. Charles
Champlin maintained that the production “celebrates not the political activist or the mountain
climbing autobiographer but the most familiar MacLaine characterization, the born yesterday
redhead.”
254
Similarly, Rex Reed contended, “Shirley takes a nostalgic look back at her career in
this act, turning into the affable clown the world grew to love before she discovered politics and
politics discovered her.”
255
Through their respective analyses of MacLaine’s stage show, both
Champlin and Reed attempted to contain the ways in which MacLaine, as a traveler and an
activist, overtly subverted traditional notions of female stardom.

205
Nevertheless, as represented in the press, MacLaine approached her return to the film
screen informed by her travels and her political awakening. In numerous interviews, MacLaine
lamented the lack of “good projects for women.”
256
After dismissing the idea that “there’s no
profit in women’s movies,” MacLaine told Julia Cameron, “You should see the scripts I get […].
Ninety percent of them have notes that say, ‘The best hooker you’ll every play.’ Sure, I’d play a
hooker again. If she got to be Secretary of State.”
257
MacLaine was evidently searching for roles
that reflected the complexities of her own life—in which sexual liberation was not at odds with
political sophistication. As she explained in People magazine, she wanted to play “real women,”
who moved beyond the “housewives and hookers” to which Hollywood producers gravitated.
258

Accordingly, the roles MacLaine chose to pursue reflected more complex representations
of women. In April of 1974, Judy Klemesrud announced MacLaine’s plans to begin production
on an Amelia Earhart biopic, entitled Amelia and written by boyfriend Pete Hamill.
259
MacLaine
had long been interested in producing and starring in a biopic about the historical figure. In 1964,
Hedda Hopper reported that MacLaine had traveled to San Francisco to purchase the rights to
Fred Goerner’s account of Earhart’s disappearance.
260
Yet, neither MacLaine nor the press made
any mention of MacLaine’s passion project until nearly ten years later. In an interview with
Clifford Terry, MacLaine articulated her interest in Earhart as a “real feminist pioneer” who
defied stereotypical gender constructions: Earhart’s professional life took center stage while her
romantic life was, according to MacLaine, the “subplot.”
261
Unable to receive studio financing,
MacLaine raised $5 million for the project, and by March of 1975, Hamill had completed a
screenplay.
262
However, the following month, entertainment columnist Shirley Eder reported that
MacLaine was “upset” to discover that Universal was producing a similar project as a television
movie.
263
After NBC aired Universal’s Amelia Earhart, starring Susan Clark, on October 25,

206
1976, MacLaine told Mary Daniels that plans for Amelia had been postponed because of the
television movie’s release.
264
Although MacLaine’s project was never produced, its subject
matter demonstrates how MacLaine’s political awakening influenced her career choices in the
late 1970s.
The first film MacLaine acted in following her break from Hollywood realized her desire
to portray a “real” woman. In The Turning Point (1977), directed by Herbert Ross and written by
Arthur Laurents, MacLaine plays Deedee, a mid-forties dance instructor and former professional
ballerina who gave up her career aspirations to become a wife and mother. When Deedee helps
her daughter Emilia (Leslie Browne) move to New York to join the ballet company that Deedee
left in her youth, Deedee is reunited with childless best friend and prima ballerina Emma (Anne
Bancroft). Their turbulent encounter compels both Deedee and Emma to contemplate their life
decisions about career and family. As MacLaine admitted to Clark Taylor in the Los Angeles
Times, Laurents’s script was “the first she has read in a long time ‘that [wasn’t] idiotic.’”
265

Reviews of the film emphasized how The Turning Point spoke to the concerns of the
contemporary feminist movement. After summarizing the film, Gene Siskel wrote, “If all this
makes ‘The Turning Point’ sound like a feminist movie […] my apologies.”
266
Vincent Canby
likewise noted, “All of the men in the film exist as little more than dance partners or as props for
the drama. This is partly the result of the focus of the movie in which Miss MacLaine and Miss
Bancroft give such powerhouse performances.”
267
While both Siskel and Canby are dismissive
of The Turning Point’s attention to the concerns of female characters, the film showcased
MacLaine’s “powerhouse” ability to apply her politics to her performances.
Ultimately, MacLaine’s political work during the 1960s and early 1970s challenged not
only conservative notions of stardom and femininity but also ideas about the participatory nature

207
of American democracy. In her efforts to speak on behalf of herself and others, MacLaine
performed adulthood as an active, knowledgeable, and serious member of society. Although not
all of her political work was successful, MacLaine persevered both on and off screen, insisting
that dominant culture could in fact change. Still, MacLaine was not one to remain in any capacity
for very long. By 1980, having returned to Hollywood, forty-six-year-old MacLaine admitted to
Howard Kissel of Women’s Wear Daily, “[Now] I find myself evaluating the whole political
scene on a spiritual level. You get to a point where you realize there’s something bigger than all
of us.”
268
In the final chapter, I consider how MacLaine, as an aging actress, embraced New Age
spirituality and thus demonstrated new ways in which stardom could speak to spheres “beyond”
the world of entertainment.

NOTES

1
Joyce Haber, “Shirley in a Plain Brown Wrapper,” Los Angeles Times, March 9, 1975.

2
Shirley MacLaine, You Can Get There From Here (New York: Bantam Books, 1976), 48.

3
Quoted in Martha Weinman Lear, “Shirley MacLaine: How to Be 40 and Love it!” Ladies’
Home Journal, March, 1975.

4
For a definition of politics, see Liesbet Van Zoonen, Entertaining the Citizen: When Politics
and Popular Culture Converge (Lanham, MD: Roman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2005), 4-7.

5
Quoted in Lear, “Shirley MacLaine: How to Be 40.”

6
See, for example, Richard Dyer, Stars, supplementary chapter by Paul McDonald (London: BFI
Publishing, 1998), 63-83; Michael Anderegg, “Hollywood and Vietnam: John Wayne and Jane
Fonda as Discourse,” in Inventing Vietnam, ed. Michael Anderegg (Philadelphia: Temple
University Press, 1991), 15-32; Tessa Perkins, “The Politics of ‘Jane Fonda,’” in Stardom:
Industry of Desire, ed. Christine Gledhill (New York: Routledge, 1998), 237-50; and Susan
McLeland, “Barbarella Goes Radical: Hanoi Jane and the American Popular Press,” in Headline
Hollywood: A Century of Film Scandal, eds. Adrienne L. McLean and David A. Cook (New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2001), 232-52.

208

7
Leo Lowenthal, “The Triumph of Mass Idols,” in The Celebrity Culture Reader, ed. P. David
Marshall (New York: Routledge, 2006), 124-152; Daniel J. Boorstin, The Image: A Guide to
Pseudo-Events in America (New York: Vintage Books, 1992); Francesco Alberoni, “The
Powerless ‘Elite’: Theory and Sociological Research on the Phenomenon of the Stars,” in
Stardom and Celebrity: A Reader, eds. Sean Redmond and Su Holmes (Los Angeles: Sage
Publications, 2007), 65-77.

8
Lowenthal, “The Triumph of Mass Idols,” 128, 129, 130.

9
Boorstin, The Image, 57 [italics in original], 46.

10
Alberoni, “The Powerless ‘Elite,’” 65 [italics in original].

11
Dyer, Stars, 8.

12
Ibid., 28.

13
Ibid., 8.

14
Ibid., 77.

15
Ibid., 78 [italics in original].

16
Van Zoonen, Entertaining the Citizen, 7; T.H. Marshall, Citizenship and Social Class and
Other Essays (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1950).

17
Steven J. Ross offers a compelling argument for the political power of conservative stars in
Hollywood Left and Right: How Movie Stars Shaped American Politics (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2011).

18
P. David Marshall, Celebrity and Power: Fame in Contemporary Culture (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1997), ix.

19
Ibid., 240.

20
Ibid., x [italics in original].

21
Ibid., 49.

22
Ibid., 56.

23
Richard deCordova, Picture Personalities: The Emergence of the Star System in America
(Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1990). 12.

24
Ibid., 110.

209

25
Maurice Isserman and Michael Kazin, America Divided: The Civil War of the 1960s, 3
rd
ed.
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), ix.

26
Philip Jenkins, Decade of Nightmares: The End of the Sixties and the Making of Eighties
America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 4.

27
Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 7.

28
Ibid.

29
For more information on political activism during the Classical Period, see Ronald
Brownstein, The Power and the Glitter: The Hollywood-Washington Connection (New York:
Pantheon Books, 1990), 42, 73; Larry Ceplair and Steven Englund, The Inquisition in
Hollywood: Politics in the Film Community, 1930-1960 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press,
2003), 85; and Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 69-70, 73. For more information on Katharine
Hepburn’s disagreement with RKO, see William J. Mann, Kate: The Woman Who Was Hepburn
(New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2006), 228-29.

30
For more information on business practices of the studios during this period, see Drew Casper,
Postwar Hollywood: 1946-1962 (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2007), 43-44, 121-23;
Drew Casper, Hollywood Film: 1963-1976 (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), 59-60; Peter
Lev, The Fifties: Transforming the Screen, 1950-1959 (Berkeley: University of California Press,
2006), 87, 105; Paul Monaco, The Sixties: 1960-1969 (Berkeley: University of California Press,
2003), 40, 43-44.

31
For more information about the “New Audience,” see Casper, Hollywood Film, 59-60.

32
Ceplair and Englund, The Inquisition in Hollywood, 418.

33
For more information on the Blacklist in Hollywood, see Ceplair and Englund, The Inquisition
in Hollywood, 418-419; Brian Neve, “HUAC, the Blacklist, and the Decline of Social Cinema”
in The Fifties: Transforming the Screen, 1950-1959, by Peter Lev (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 2006), 70.

34
Murray Schumach, “Democrats Lead G.O.P. in Filmland,” New York Times, April 18, 1960.

35
Murray Schumach, “‘Thinking’ Actors in Vogue on Coast,” New York Times, May 5, 1960.

36
John C. Waugh, “Democrats Gather Hollywood Stars,” Christian Science Monitor, June 11,
1960.

37
Roscoe Drummond, “Hollywood Breaks Its Silence,” Boston Globe, November 15, 1961.

38
Vernon Scott, “More Hollywoodians Are Waiting in the Wings for Political Cue,” Washington
Post and Times Herald, July 24, 1966.

210

39
“The Star-Spangled Look of the ’68 Campaign,” Life, May 10, 1968.

40
“The Pulchritude-Intellect Input,” Time, May 31, 1968.

41
“Show Biz in Politics,” Newsweek, September 25, 1972.

42
deCordova, Picture Personalities, 12.

43
Judy Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’” New York Times, August 8, 1971; Marian
Christy, “Shirley MacLaine’s Revolution,” Boston Globe, July 15, 1973.

44
Shirley MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain (New York: Bantam Books, 1970), 108;
“Show Biz in Politics,” Newsweek, September 25, 1972.

45
Schumach, “Democrats Lead G.O.P.”

46
Russell Baker, “Daring Democratic Drama Opens to Big Stretches of Empty Seats,” New York
Times, July 12, 1960.

47
“1960 Democratic Convention Los Angeles Committee for the Arts,” YouTube video, 8:00,
unknown source of footage from the Democratic National Convention on July 11, 1960, posted
by “soapbxprod,” November 20, 2011, http://youtu.be/7opAIZ9dv3E.

48
“Brown Rejects Stars’ Appeal for Chessman,” Los Angeles Times, May 2, 1960; Lawrence E.
Davies, “Gov. Brown Rejects Chessman’s Appeal,” New York Times, May 2, 1960.

49
Information about the Caryl Chessman case compiled from the following newspaper articles:
“Mrs. F.D.R. in Plea for Chessman,” Los Angeles Times, October 14, 1959; “Brown Rejects
Stars’ Appeal for Chessman,” Los Angeles Times, May 2, 1960; Lawrence E. Davies, “Gov.
Brown Rejects Chessman’s Appeal,” New York Times, May 2, 1960; “12-Year Court Helped Stir
Pleas to Save Chessman,” New York Times, May 3, 1960.

50
Hedda Hopper, “Minnelli Will Test Horst Buchholz,” Los Angeles Times, May 4, 1960.

51
Hedda Hopper, Hollywood, Hartford Courant, May 17, 1960.

52
Quoted in Rowland Barber, “Hollywood’s Most Unconventional Mother,” Redbook, July
1961.

53
Schumach, “‘Thinking’ Actors”; Lawrence S. Wittner, Resisting the Bomb: A History of World
Nuclear Disarmament Movements, 1954-1970, vol. 2 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press,
1997), 246.

54
David Cortright, Peace: A History of Movements and Ideas (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press, 2008), 136.

211

55
“Entertainers Plan Disarmament Rally,” Los Angeles Times, November 17, 1961; Bill Becker,
“Rightists Picket Kennedy’s Speech,” New York Times, November 19, 1961.

56
Quoted in “Stars for Freedom Concert,” Los Angeles Sentinel, October 10, 1962.

57
“Barbara Walden,” Los Angeles Sentinel, October 31, 1963.

58
“Is There Time?” advertisement, Variety, October 27, 1964.

59
For more information on stars’ involvement with Proposition 14, see Ross, Hollywood Left
and Right, 167, 170.

60
MacLaine, Don’t Fall Off the Mountain, 144-59.

61
“Pedro Berman Heads Unity Awards List,” Los Angeles Sentinel, May 19, 1966.

62
Dominic Sandbrook, Eugene McCarthy and the Rise and Fall of Postwar American Liberalism
(New York: Anchor, 2006), 169, 177, 179; Bruce Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment: The McGovern
Insurgency and the Identity Crisis of the Democratic Party (Lawrence, KS: University of Kansas
Press, 2007), 16-17; Isserman and Kazin, America Divided, 233-35; Lewis L. Gould, 1968: The
Election that Changed America (Chicago: Ivan. R. Dee, 2010), 50.

63
“Kennedy Slate Filed,” Sun (Baltimore, MD), March 22, 1968.

64
“Citizens for Kennedy,” political advertisement, Variety, March 22, 1968.

65
“Hollywood for Kennedy,” advertisement, Variety, May 29, 1968.

66
“The Star-Spangled Look of the ’68 Campaign,” Life, May 10, 1968; Rick Perlstein,
Nixonland: The Rise of a President and the Fracturing of America (New York: Scribner, 2008),
271.

67
Quoted in “The Star-Spangled Look of the ’68 Campaign,” Life, May 10, 1968.

68
Gould, 1968, 51; Isserman and Kazin, America Divided, 243; Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment,
17.

69
Jean Tucker, “Funeral Reveals Family Courage,” Hartford Courant, June 9, 1968.

70
“Hungry Dems Please Cafes,” Chicago Tribune, August 25, 1968.

71
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 17.

72
Quoted in Michael McGuired, “Movie Stars Label M’Govern Real Star,” Chicago Tribune,
August 28, 1968.

212

73
Isserman and Kazin, America Divided, 243-247.

74
Quoted in Norman C. Miller, “Celebrity Delegates at Democratic Parley Get No VIP
Handling,” Wall Street Journal, August 28, 1968.

75
Jack Gould, “California Gets 3 Candidates on Air Together,” New York Times, August 28,
1968.

76
“Using Audiences,” Guest Editorials, Chicago Tribune, September 20, 1968. The following
quotation is also from this article.

77
Clifford Terry, “The Happy Hoofer,” Chicago Tribune, June 6, 1976.

78
Christopher Lydon, “McCarthy Promises to ‘Carry On,’” Boston Globe, October 26, 1968.

79
Brownstein, The Power and the Glitter, 237.

80
Joyce Haber, “Social Spotlight on Jackie Onassis,” Los Angeles Times, October 31, 1968.

81
Deac Rossell, “Close-Up on Shirley MacLaine: Hollywood’s Golden Girl of the Streets,”
Boston After Dark, February 19, 1969.

82
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 43.

83
Carl Greenberg, “Muskie and McGovern to Speak in California,” Los Angeles Times, October
2, 1969.

84
Quoted in Brownstein, The Power and the Glitter, 237.

85
MacLaine, You Can Get There, 47; Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 324.

86
Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 325.

87
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 19-23.

88
Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 325.

89
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 19-23.

90
Quoted in Robert L. Asher, “Moratorium, Mets Stir New Yorkers,” Washington Post, Times
Herald, October 16, 1969.

91
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 13.

213

92
Lawrence Van Gelder, “Thousands Join in Peace Rally in Times Square and Antiwar
Symposiums in City,” New York Times, November 14, 1969; Personalities, Washington Post,
Times Herald, May 23, 1970.

93
“Mothers’ Group Urges War Protest on Sunday,” New York Times, May 7, 1970; People,
Time, May 18, 1970.

94
People, Time, May 18, 1970.

95
“Women For: Urge Letters for Peace,” Los Angeles Times, June 18, 1971.

96
Ibid.

97
Alice Echols, “Women’s Liberation and Sixties Radicalism,” in Major Problems in American
History Since 1945, eds. Robert Griffith and Paula Baker, 3
rd
ed. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin
Company, 2007), 300-01.

98
Ibid., 301.

99
Ibid., 303.

100
“Winter Kills NYC March for Abortion,” Boston Globe, December 13, 1970; “Feminist
Marchers Brave Icy Rain,” New York Times, December 13, 1970.

101
Quoted in Gwen Morgan, “Why the Tube Draws Shirley,” Chicago Tribune, April 11, 1971.

102
Echols, “Women’s Liberation,” 303-04.

103
MacLaine also discussed her support of the women’s liberation movement in Michael Pearse,
“She Wants to Free Love, Leopards, Women, Hard Hats, and, Most of All, Shirley MacLaine,”
Modern Screen, November 1971.

104
Brownstein, The Power and the Glitter, 239.

105
Paul Sabin, The Bet: Paul Ehrlich, Julian Simon, and Our Gamble over Earth’s Future (New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2013), 39.

106
Derek S. Hoff, The State and the Stork: The Population Debate and Policy Making in US
History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012), 135-36; Sabin, The Bet, 1-2.

107
Quoted in Hoff, State and the Stork, 196.

108
Ibid., 179.

109
Ibid., 166.

214

110
Ibid.,196.

111
Shirley MacLaine, interview by Daniel Schorr, Live Coverage of Democratic National
Convention, CBS, July 12, 1972, White House Communications Agency Video Collection, File
#5565, Nixon Presidential Library and Museum, Yorba Linda, CA.

112
Shirley MacLaine, Dance While You Can (New York: Bantam Books, 1992), 325.

113
Names & Faces in the News, Boston Globe, June 15, 1971; “‘Sterilize More Men’—Shirley
MacLaine,” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, June 15, 1971; “Expressive,” Los Angeles Times,
June 15, 1971; “Addresses Democrats,” Hartford Courant, June 16, 1971; “Quotable Women:
Clothes Don’t Beget Security,” Hartford Courant, June 20, 1971.

114
“Sterilize More Men’—Shirley MacLaine,” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, June 15, 1971.

115
Quoted in “Quotable Women: Clothes Don’t Beget Security,” Hartford Courant, June 20,
1971.

116
Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”

117
Pearse, “She Wants to Free Love.”

118
Earl Wilson, “Will Rogers Returns: Former Yalie to Drawl out Special,” Hartford Courant,
February 2, 1972; MacLaine, You Can Get There, 48.

119
Richard Bergholz, “McGovern Files First Primary Delegate List,” Los Angeles Times,
February 17, 1972.

120
Bob Wiedrich, Tower Ticker, Chicago Tribune, February 21, 1972; MacLaine, You Can Get
There, 48, 52.

121
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 52-55.

122
MacLaine, You Can Get There, 48.

123
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 55.

124
MacLaine, You Can Get There, 48, 52.

125
MacLaine, You Can Get There, 53; Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 329.

126
Earl Wilson, “Loud-Mouthed Wife Foils Fondler,” Hartford Courant, February 21, 1972; Bill
Fripp, “Polluting the Arts,” Medley, Boston Globe, April 8, 1972; George Goodman Jr.,
“Badillow Backs McGovern’s Candidacy as ‘Best Hope’ to Aid Slum Dwellers,” New York
Times, April 22, 1972; “McGovern Backers Plan Fete Here,” Sun (Baltimore, MD), April 23,

215

1972; Judy Harkison, “How Senator McGovern Thanked Some Special Contributors,” New York
Times, June 25, 1972; Max Frankel, “Middle America Finds the Campaign Boring,” New York
Times, September 15, 1972; Lucinda Smith, “McGovern to Campaign in Bay State Oct. 11,”
Boston Globe, September 16, 1972.

127
Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 329-330; McLandish Phillips, “Rock ’n’ Rhetoric Rally in
the Garden Aids McGovern,” New York Times, June 15, 1972; Bentley Orrick, “Shirley
MacLaine Tells Guilford, Hopkins Groups McGovern Will Win,” Sun (Baltimore, MD), May 6,
1972.

128
“That Telethon for Democrats: A Huge Gamble to Repay a Huger Debt,” Broadcasting, June
26, 1972.

129
Bill Greeley, “Show Biz, Politics Run Together in Democrats’ TV Fundraiser,” Variety, July
12, 1972.

130
“That Telethon for Democrats: A Huge Gamble to Repay a Huger Debt,” Broadcasting, June
26, 1972; “Democrats End TV Fund Appeal,” New York Times, July 10, 1972.

131
Quoted in Sally Quinn, “Revival: Stomping in the Garden,” Washington Post, Times Herald,
October 28, 1972.

132
Maurice Carroll, “Rose Kennedy Helps Stage Rally Here for McGovern,” New York Times,
October 28, 1972.

133
Brownstein, The Power and the Glitter, 237; Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 328.

134
MacLaine, You Can Get There, 52-59; John R. Thomson, “Actress Gives Nixon Another Low
Grade,” Chicago Tribune, February 22, 1972; “Shirley MacLaine to Give Address,” Los Angeles
Times, May 28, 1972; Stephen Isaacs, “Corruption and Confusion Shadow New Jersey Voting,”
Washington Post, Times Herald, May 15, 1972; “Stars in Films and on TV, Delve into Politics,”
New York Times, June 4, 1972; James M. Naughton, “M’Govern Visits Police in Queens,” New
York Times, June 16, 1972; Ellen Goodman, “Terry McGovern Gives It a Try,” Boston Globe,
October 14, 1972; “Actress Campaigns for McGovern Here,” New York Times, October 15,
1972.

135
For more on the themes of McGovern’s campaign, see Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 45, 50.
For references to MacLaine’s interpretation of these themes, see Thomson, “Actress Gives
Nixon”; “Shirley MacLaine to Give Address,” Los Angeles Times, May 28, 1972; Isaacs,
“Corruption and Confusion”; “Stars in Films and on TV, Delve into Politics,” New York Times,
June 4, 1972; Naughton, “M’Govern Visits Police”; Goodman, “Terry McGovern”; “Actress
Campaigns for McGovern Here,” New York Times, October 15, 1972; Shirley MacLaine,
interview by Dick Cavett, The Dick Cavett Show, ABC, aired on May 11, 1972, released on The
Dick Cavett Show: John & Yoko Collection, DVD, Shout Factory, 2005.

216

136
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 39.

137
Quoted in Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”; Quoted in Mary Blume, “Great Leap
Forward for Shirley in ‘Characters,’” Los Angeles Times, February 13, 1972; Quoted in Orrick,
“Shirley MacLaine Tells Guilford.”

138
Quoted in Harlow Robinson, “Yale Seniors Not Impressed by Remarks from Actress,”
Hartford Courant, December 12, 1971.

139
Muriel Dobbin, “MacLaine Hustings Style Is Unique,” Sun (Baltimore, MD), March 7, 1972.

140
Christopher Lydon, “Celebrities Rally Behind McGovern,” New York Times, April 2, 1972.

141
Quoted in Goodman, “Terry McGovern.”

142
Jack Zaiman, “Actress Throws Political Angles a Curve,” Hartford Courant, July 8, 1972.

143
Elizabeth Peer, “Shirley’s Road Show,” Newsweek, September 25, 1972.

144
“Show Biz in Politics,” Newsweek, September 25, 1972.

145
Quoted in “Show Biz in Politics,” Newsweek, September 25, 1972.

146
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 125.

147
MacLaine, You Can Get There, 62.

148
Shirley MacLaine, “Women, the Convention and Brown Paper Bags,” New York Times, July
30, 1972.

149
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 64, 206-207; MacLaine, You Can Get There, 63.

150
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 205, 206-07.

151
Quoted in MacLaine, “Women, the Convention.”

152
Ibid.

153
“McGovern Stand Irks Caucus,” Washington Post, Times Herald, June 27, 1972; Miroff, The
Liberals’ Moment, 205, 207.

154
Richard L. Lyons, “Democratic Platform Gets Praise, Scorn,” Washington Post, Times
Herald, June 28, 1972.

155
John Herbers, “Democrats Assured of a Platform Fight,” New York Times, June 28, 1972.

217

156
Quoted in David S. Broder, “Display of Unity,” Washington Post and Times Herald, June 28,
1972.

157
Herbers, “Democrats Assured”; Lyons, “Democratic Platform.”

158
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 205.

159
Ibid., 204-05.

160
“Stating Support for McGovern,” Hartford Courant, July 8, 1972.

161
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 207.

162
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 207; James M. Naughton, “McGovern’s Youths Yield to Old
Pros in Floor Flight,” New York Times, July 11, 1972; “MacLaine, Abzug Shout It Out in Hall,”
Los Angeles Times, July 13, 1972.

163
Quoted in “MacLaine, Abzug Shout It Out in Hall,” Los Angeles Times, July 13, 1972.

164
Live Coverage of Democratic National Convention, CBS, aired on July 12, 1972, White
House Communications Agency Video Collection, File #5565, Nixon Presidential Library and
Museum, Yorba Linda, CA. All of the following quotations from the speeches of Farenthold,
Holmes, Walsh, and MacLaine have been transcribed from this video.

165
MacLaine, “Women, the Convention.”

166
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 208.

167
Ellen Goodman, “Abortion Plank—A Family Feud,” Boston Globe, July 13, 1972.

168
MacLaine, interview by Schorr, Live Coverage of Democratic National Convention.

169
Goodman, “Abortion Plank”; Myra McPherson, “Sisters vs. Sisters: Abortion Battle Turns
Bitter,” Washington Post, Times Herald, July 13, 1972.

170
Quoted in Goodman, “Abortion Plank.”

171
MacLaine, “Women, the Convention.”

172
Quoted in Carroll, “Rose Kennedy.”

173
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 210; Martin Nolan, “Woman, Black Elected to Top
Democratic Posts,” Boston Globe, July 15, 1972; “McGovern Puts Abzug, MacLaine in Staff
Jobs,” Los Angeles Times, August 26, 1972; Carroll, “Rose Kennedy”; Quinn, “Revival:
Stomping in the Garden.”

218

174
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 208-09.

175
“Show Biz in Politics,” Newsweek, September 25, 1972.

176
McGovern: The Man and His Beliefs, selected and edited by Shirley MacLaine (New York:
Artists and Writers for McGovern, 1972).

177
McGovern: The Man and His Beliefs, back cover. Book distribution information from Miroff,
The Liberals’ Moment, 218; Patricia Erens, The Films of Shirley MacLaine (New York: A. S.
Barnes and Company, 1978), 40.

178
MacLaine, You Can Get There, 73.

179
Shirley MacLaine, “McGovern Puts Everything—Good or Bad—in Open,” Boston Globe,
October 1, 1972.

180
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 226.

181
Miroff, The Liberals’ Moment, 226-27; Ross, Hollywood Left and Right, 331.

182
Quoted in Morgan, “Why the Tube”; Quoted in Scott MacDonough, “A Lady in Her Prime:
Miss Shirley MacLaine,” Show, May 1971.

183
MacDonough, “Lady in Her Prime”; Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”; Lear,
“Shirley MacLaine: How to Be 40.”

184
Quoted in Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”

185
June Goodwin, Inside the News, Christian Science Monitor, April 20, 1973.

186
Quoted in Pearse, “She Wants to Free Love.”

187
Lear, “Shirley MacLaine: How to Be 40.”

188
Quoted in Ibid.

189
Quoted in Clifford Terry, “The Happy Hoofer,” Chicago Tribune, June 6, 1976.

190
Schumach, “‘Thinking’ Actors.”

191
Drummond, “Hollywood Breaks.”

192
Quoted in Kevin Thomas, “Shirley’s Quiet Role as an Activist,” Los Angeles Times, June 18,
1968; Reprinted in Kevin Thomas, “Shirley’s One Actress Who’s Fully Committed,”
Washington Post, Times Herald, August 17, 1968.

219

193
C. Robert Jennings, “Welcome Back Shirley,” Los Angeles Times, March 16, 1969.

194
Quoted in Roy Newquist, “The Voice of Shirley MacLaine,” Chicago Tribune, July 20, 1969.

195
Quoted in Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”

196
Ibid.

197
Ibid.

198
Maxine Cheshire, “She Pushes a Button for McGovern,” Washington Post, Times Herald,
August 28, 1968.

199
Rollie Hochstein, “The Crusades and Capers of Shirley MacLaine,” Good Housekeeping,
June 1969.

200
Hal Humphrey, “Same Old Ending to ‘Fort Democrat’?” Los Angeles Times, August 28,
1968.

201
“Will Shirley Try to Oust Murphy?” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, September 24, 1968.

202
Hollis Alpert, “The Diversification of Shirley MacLaine,” Saturday Review, February 27,
1971.

203
MacDonough, “Lady in Her Prime.”

204
Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”

205
Peer, “Shirley’s Road Show.”

206
See, for example, Louis Berg, “The Trouble with Shirley,” This Week, October 23, 1955; The
Ring-a-Ding Girl,” Time, June 22, 1959; and Pete Martin, “I Call on Shirley MacLaine,”
Saturday Evening Post, April 22, 1961.

207
“The Star-Spangled Look of the ’68 Campaign,” Life, May 10, 1968.

208
Lawrence Van Gelder, “Thousands Join in Peace Rally in Times Square and Antiwar
Symposiums in City,” New York Times, November 14, 1969.

209
“Expressive,” Los Angeles Times, June 15, 1971; “Actress Talks to the Democrats,” Los
Angeles Herald-Examiner, June 15, 1971; “Addresses Democrats,” Hartford Courant, June 16,
1971; “Women: A Flock of First Ladies—and Maybe Ms. President,” Life, December 13, 1971.

210
Thomson, “Actress Gives Nixon.”

220

211
Herbers, “Democrats Assured”; Lyons, “Democratic Platform.”

212
“Show Biz in Politics,” Newsweek, September 25, 1972.

213
Hedda Hopper, Looking at Hollywood, Chicago Tribune, January 16, 1964.

214
Hedda Hopper, Looking at Hollywood, Chicago Tribune, February 14, 1964.

215
For more on the stability of Hollywood marriages, see Adrienne L. McLean, Being Rita
Hayworth: Labor, Identity, and Hollywood Stardom (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University
Press, 2004), 77.

216
Joyce Haber, “‘Owl, Pussycat’ Role for Barbra,” Los Angeles Times, November 25, 1968.

217
Joyce Haber, “Hollywood Party Larger Than Life,” Los Angeles Times, January 6, 1969;
Photo of MacLaine and Vanocur dining in Photoplay, July 1970; Photo of MacLaine, Vanocur,
Warren Beatty, and Julie Christie at Westbeth Gallery, source unknown.

218
George Carpozi, “Shirley MacLaine and Sander Vanocur: Free to Love or Free Love?”
Photoplay, October 1970.

219
Ibid.

220
Clifford Terry, “Shirley MacLaine: Revved Up, Roarin’, and Real,” Cosmopolitan, August
1977.

221
Ibid.

222
Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”

223
Quoted in Walter Scott, Personality Parade, Boston Globe, September 26, 1971.

224
People, Time, May 18, 1970; Names & Faces in the News, Boston Globe, June 15, 1971.

225
Live Coverage of Democratic National Convention, CBS, July 12, 1972, White House
Communications Agency Video Collection, File #5565, Nixon Presidential Library and
Museum, Yorba Linda, CA.

226
Quoted in Pearse, “She Wants to Free Love.”

227
“Show Biz in Politics,” Newsweek, September 25, 1972.

228
Barbara Baird, “NOW Pays Tribute to Feminist Mothers,” Los Angeles Times, May 15, 1978.

229
George McKinnon, “Meet Shirley, ‘One of the Guys,’” Boston Globe, February 16, 1969.

221

230
Joyce Haber, “Kirk Douglas’ Offspring on the Rise,” Los Angeles Times, July 19, 1971.

231
Klemesrud, “Shirley: ‘Let’s Tax Diapers!’”

232
Lloyd Shearer, “Do Politicians Have to Be Good-Looking?” Boston Globe, December 31,
1967.

233
“Will Shirley Try to Oust Murphy?” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, September 24, 1968.

234
Quoted in John Austin, “TV Debut for Shirley,” Citizen News, May 18, 1970.

235
Quoted in Alpert, “Diversification of Shirley MacLaine.”

236
“Shirley MacLaine to Run for Congress?” Hollywood Reporter, September 1 1971.

237
Shirley MacLaine, interview by Dick Cavett, The Dick Cavett Show, ABC, aired on May 11,
1972, released on The Dick Cavett Show: John & Yoko Collection, DVD, Shout Factory, 2005.
The following quotations by MacLaine and Cavett have been transcribed from this recording.

238
The film shares some similarities with William Peter Blatty’s bestselling novel The Exorcist,
published in 1971 and being adapted into a film at that time by Warner Bros. Blatty also
admitted to being inspired by MacLaine when writing his protagonist Chris MacNeil, an actress
and mother to possessed twelve-year-old Regan. (See Joyce Haber, “A Winner on Wyatt Earp’s
Terms,” Los Angeles Times, November 22, 1971.) However, neither MacLaine nor Cavett
explicitly makes reference to The Exorcist. MacLaine does repeatedly note that the occult is an
extremely popular subject at the moment.

239
Kurt Lang and Gladys Engel Lang, Television and Politics, rev. ed. (New Brunswick, NJ:
Transaction Publishers, 2002), 98.

240
Quoted in Kimmis Hendrick, “So Sparkling, Intelligent, and Nice,” Christian Science
Monitor, July 31, 1967.

241
Quoted in Jack Hamilton, “Shirley MacLaine as Sweet Charity,” Look, July 9, 1968.

242
Quoted in Thomas, “Shirley’s Quiet Role.”

243
Shirley MacLaine, interview by Dick Cavett, The Dick Cavett Show, ABC, aired on May 11,
1972, released on The Dick Cavett Show: John & Yoko Collection, DVD, Shout Factory, 2005.

244
Margo Miller, “Shirley MacLaine Made ‘Woman of the Year,’” Boston Globe, February 19,
1963.

245
Quoted in Judith Martin, “Shirley MacLaine Recalls Days in Washington,” Washington Post,
Times Herald, June 26, 1969.

222

246
Quoted in Thomas, “Shirley’s Quiet Role.”

247
Shirley MacLaine, “Politics and Performers,” New York Times, May 18, 1972; See also “Stars
in Films and on TV, Delve into Politics,” New York Times, June 4, 1972; and Shirley MacLaine,
interview by Dick Cavett, The Dick Cavett Show, ABC, aired on May 11, 1972, released on The
Dick Cavett Show: John & Yoko Collection, DVD, Shout Factory, 2005.

248
This quotation and the following references to MacLaine’s views of performers as political
are all from Shirley MacLaine, “Politics and Performers,” New York Times, May 18, 1972.

249
Dyer, Stars, 78.

250
Marshall, Celebrity and Power, 49.

251
Ibid.

252
MacLaine, You Can Get There, 1. The page numbers of the following references to You Can
Get There From Here are cited within the text.

253
Rex Reed, “Activist Shirley Reactivates Career,” Sun (Baltimore, MD), July 28, 1974; Leroy
F. Aarons, “Shirley MacLaine Is Back, But Playing What Role?” Washington Post, November
29, 1974; Marian Christy, “Shirley’s Back in Town,” Boston Globe, March 7, 1975; Arthur
Unger, “Shirley Maclaine: Out of Politics?” Christian Science Monitor, January 16, 1976; Julia
Cameron, “Shirley MacLaine—Back in Her Dancing Shoes,” New York Times, April 18, 1976;
Mary Daniels, “Shirley: Show Biz Dropout Drops Back In,” Chicago Tribune, February 18,
1977.

254
Charles Champlin, “Shirley MacLaine at Grand Hotel,” Los Angeles Times, July 15, 1974.

255
Reed, “Activist Shirley Reactivates Career.”

256
Quoted in Unger, “Shirley Maclaine: Out of Politics?”; See also: Cameron, “Shirley
MacLaine—Back in Her Dancing Shoes”; “In Her Own Words,” People, May 10, 1976; Terry,
“Shirley MacLaine: Revved Up.”

257
Quoted in Cameron, “Shirley MacLaine—Back in Her Dancing Shoes.”

258
Quoted in “In Her Own Words,” People, May 10, 1976.

259
Judy Klemesrud, “Come to the Nightclub Old Chum,” New York Times, April 7, 1974.

260
Hedda Hopper, “Shirley Picks Her Own Film Stories,” Los Angeles Times, October 22, 1964.

261
Quoted in Clifford Terry, “The Happy Hoofer,” Chicago Tribune, June 6, 1976.

223

262
Joyce Haber, “Shirley: Star with Speed of Comet,” Los Angeles Times, December 16, 1974;
Maggie Daly, Metropolitan, Chicago Tribune, March 28, 1975.

263
Shirley Eder, “Earhart Film Conflict Looming,” Show People, Hartford Courant, April 18,
1975.

264
Nancy Josephson, “Susan Clark—She’ll Do Better,” Chicago Tribune, October 17, 1976;
Mary Daniels, “Shirley: Show Biz Dropout.”

265
Clarke Taylor, “MacLaine: Long-Distance Runner Changes Pace,” Los Angeles Times,
October 3, 1976.

266
Gene Siskel, “MacLaine Excels in Choice ‘Point,’” review of The Turning Point, directed by
Herbert Ross, Chicago Tribune, November 18, 1977.

267
Vincent Canby, “‘Turning Point’ Limns Ballet Life,” review of The Turning Point, directed
by Herbert Ross, New York Times, November 15, 1977.

268
Quoted in Howard Kissel, “Shirley MacLaine: On a New Track,” Women’s Wear Daily,
September 9, 1980.

224
CHAPTER 4

OLD AGE/NEW AGE MACLAINE: AGING PRODUCTIVELY IN HOLLYWOOD AND BEYOND

In December of 2013, President Barack Obama welcomed five Kennedy Center Honorees
to the White House. The recipients of the award, “recognized for their lifetime contributions to
American culture through the performing arts,” included opera singer Martina Arroyo, musicians
and composers Herbie Hancock, Carlos Santana, and Billy Joel, and actress Shirley MacLaine.
1

In his opening remarks, Obama recalled the words of President John F. Kennedy, who claimed
that the “highest duty” of an artist is “to remain true to himself, and let the chips fall where they
may.”
2
According to Obama, the honorees had not only exemplified Kennedy’s words to
startling success but also “inspired the rest of us to do the same.” Obama then elaborated on the
individual accomplishments of each recipient. When he came to MacLaine, he began seriously,
“Now, when you first become President, one of the questions that people ask you is, what’s
really going on in Area 51?” Upon hearing reference to the notorious cite of UFO speculation,
the audience chuckled, as MacLaine raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips in sheepish
acknowledgement of her well-known belief in extraterrestrials. Obama continued, “When I
wanted to know, I’d call Shirley MacLaine. I think I just became the first President to ever
publicly mention Area 51. How’s that, Shirley?” Following more laughter and applause from
both the audience and MacLaine, Obama then detailed the always “unconventional,” “fearless,”
and “risk-taking” triumphs of her nearly sixty-year career in film and television.
While Obama likely evoked Area 51 merely for comic effect, the joke also underscored
that, for MacLaine, being “true” to oneself entailed not only onscreen performances showcasing
a “grittier, deeper truth,” but also an offscreen life that celebrated otherworldly experiences. In
admitting that he was likely “the first President to ever publicly mention Area 51,” Obama

225
emphasized how MacLaine’s stardom challenged notions of both political and star discourse.
Nevertheless, he acknowledged that the longevity of MacLaine’s career is inextricably linked to
her metaphysical beliefs.
In this chapter, I explore the ways in which New Age spirituality became a dominant
aspect of MacLaine’s persona as an “aging” actress. As shown in the three previous chapters,
MacLaine’s image—through her performances onscreen, her appearance, her family life, her
travels, and her political endeavors—consistently challenged conventional notions of femininity,
while the press concurrently associated her stardom with various stages of life evolving from
childhood to maturity. Appropriately, since she turned forty years old in 1974, MacLaine’s
continued fame has destabilized the predominant association between female stardom and
youth—an association that positions the physical body as the primary source of female power.
Alternatively, as MacLaine embarked on “old age”—at least, as defined by Hollywood—she has
demonstrated how embracing the spiritual realm offers opportunities not only for inner
transformation and personal enlightenment beyond the confines of the physical body but also for
a profitable career in multiple media outlets.
Bridging Star Studies with Age Studies and Religious Studies
Stardom through the Ages
Accordingly, this chapter unites star studies with both age studies and religious studies.
As identified by cultural theorist Margaret Morganroth Gullette, age studies conceives of age as
culturally determined—“that we are aged more by culture than by chromosomes.”
3
This
understanding suggests that “the systems producing age and aging” are not “natural” but rather
“could be different.”
4
Similarly, in her work The Stages of Age, performance scholar Anne Davis
Basting “read[s] aging and old age as performative acts” in order to challenge “the ‘natural’

226
physiological process of aging.”
5
While Basting ascribes more agency to the individual as an
active performer of age, compared to Gullette’s conception of individuals as inheritors of cultural
definitions, both scholars seek to dispel the widespread belief that age is an indisputable product
of biology. The progression of MacLaine’s attitudinal ages—irrespective of her biological age—
delineated in the previous chapters demonstrates how age can be understood as a matter of both
performance and cultural articulation.
According to Gullette, contemporary American culture predominantly conceptualizes age
as a narrative of “decline.”
6
She cites, for example, the anti-aging industry that encourage the
consumption of products—from cosmetics, to health foods, to spa getaways—to delay, reverse,
and/or erase the physical effects of aging. In Gullette’s analysis, these “remedies” for the aging
process ultimately “presuppose defects”; Gullette maintains, “Americans wouldn’t need such
‘hopes’ [of renewing youth] if aging really equated progress.”
7
Borrowing terminology from
Pierre Bourdieu, Gullette argues that “youthfulness is symbolic capital” in America.
8
Film
scholar Martine Beugnet similarly contends, “In the context of late capitalist culture old age is a
disease, equivalent to the categories of low consumer value and low productivity.”
9
Yet, this
reverence toward youth and dismissal of the old need not persist. Alternatively, Gullette
proposes that conceptualizing age as a “progress” narrative—emphasizing “survival, resilience,
recovery, and development” through the passage of time—will enable one “to feel at home in the
life course at every age.”
10
Basting’s work, which only briefly refers to Gullette, illustrates one
of the ways in which the decline narrative can be subverted, as she argues, “[f]or older adults the
very act of acting interrupts popularly held notions that old age is a narrative of decline and
rigidity.”
11
By considering age as a performance, Basting understands middle to late adulthood

227
as continuously powerful life stages. Thus, I build upon age studies to conceptualize MacLaine’s
periods of “middle” and “old” age as ones of continued, if not increasing, productivity.
In doing so, I interrogate how MacLaine’s career rethinks the dominant trajectory of
female stardom that has persisted since the emergence of the studio system. As Heather Addison
argues, Hollywood discourse has celebrated youth—those aged between sixteen and thirty years
old—since the late 1910s and 1920s, when the rise of consumer culture positioned the youthful
as most responsive to the appeals of advertisers.
12
Addison maintains, “[Hollywood] became the
lens through which the desires of consumer culture were clarified and focused, and the potent
characteristic of that lens was youth.”
13
Hollywood’s predilection for the young was particularly
pronounced in regards to female stars: “Women’s appeal was largely dependent upon their
possession of youth and beauty, which became crucial markers of their ‘exchange’ value. Such
value decreased with each passing year, ironically resulting in less worth for those female stars
with years of industry experience.”
14
While not all stars were under the age of thirty, as Addison
recognizes, “Women beyond their thirties were often damned by faint or overzealous praise.”
15

Meanwhile, motion picture fan magazines applauded the anti-aging practices—from plastic
surgery to “torturous” daily routines of diet and exercise—that were deemed necessary for
female stars eager to maintain their youthful beauty.
16
Thus, the course of female stardom in
early Hollywood supports Gullette’s observations about age functioning predominantly as a
narrative of decline in American culture.
In her work The Silvering Screen, Sally Chivers contends that this ideology persisted
through the 1960s. Chivers maintains, “Women who had played some of the strongest
Hollywood roles in the 1930s were now relegated to a back room, a bit part, a grandmotherly
role.”
17
The only substantial roles for these aging actresses were horror films that equated the

228
effects of female aging with monstrosity. For example, Chivers cites Gloria Swanson’s
performance in Sunset Boulevard (Billy Wilder, 1950) and Joan Crawford’s and Bette Davis’s
performances in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (Robert Aldrich, 1962). Both of these films
dramatize the “plight of the aging actress” and thus ultimately anticipate the actresses’
unavoidable exclusion from future starring roles. As Swanson, Davis, and Crawford respectively
established their careers, at least in part, on their beautiful bodies, Chivers argues, their onscreen
grotesquerie signified their loss of power in Hollywood. Accordingly, MacLaine’s early career,
as discussed in the first chapter, predicted her ability to destabilize this prevailing course of
female stardom: even in her youth, MacLaine’s image had challenged standards of beauty; thus,
the transformation of her physical image did not necessarily equate the loss of her star power.
While Chivers acknowledges that “it is not considered a skill to look old onscreen,” Anne
Morey dismisses this commonly held belief in her essay, “Grotesquerie as Marker of Success in
Aging Female Stars.”
18
Rather than view these roles as “demeaning to women,” Morey argues
that aging female performances—roles that she calls the “elegiac grotesque”—offer actresses the
opportunity to demonstrate their abilities beyond merely their physical assets. In her analysis,
Morey interrogates a cycle of films that depict aging stardom as a broader metaphor for the
concurrent waning impact of the studio system. She cites, for example, Sunset Boulevard,
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, All About Eve (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1950), and The Star
(Stuart Heisler, 1952). Indeed, Morey recognizes, discourse surrounding these films “often
insisted that no ‘acting’ was involved” on the part of the female stars.
19
Nevertheless, the self-
reflexive subject matter of these films—in which the actresses play fading stars by foregrounding
the physical effects of aging—“emphasize[s] the grotesque as a construction rather than as the
natural product of aging femininity.”
20
These roles thus appealed to stars with “feminist

229
impulses.” Morey expounds, “The grotesque […] recalls the vulnerability already latent even in
women’s most youthful roles, and thus demonstrates the omnipresence of effort in constructing
femininity from youth to age, for the star and the celebrity.”
21
Consequently, the effort evident in
these performances not only “dramatize[s] the problems of female celebrity” but also allows
aging female stars to “display their own talent as performers.”
22
Thus, Morey redeems the aging
female star, who is often dismissed as merely evidence of a misogynistic film industry.
Morey’s argument effectively challenges Jean Kozlowski’s analysis of MacLaine’s later
career in the article, “Women, Film, and the Midlife Sophie’s Choice: Sink or Sousatzka?.” In
the film Madame Sousatzka (John Schlesinger, 1988), MacLaine plays the title role, an eccentric
piano teacher, and wears makeup to make the character appear in her mid-sixties, despite the
character being only forty-five years old in the film’s source novel (at the time, MacLaine was
fifty-four).
23
As Sousatzka, MacLaine is, in Morey’s terminology, “grotesque.” According to
Kozlowski, MacLaine’s acceptance of a character role like Sousatzka marked the “end of
productivity” in her career as a female star.
24
MacLaine’s portrayal, Kozlowski argues, reiterates
sexist attitudes about midlife femininity, “the anatomy-is-destiny-based correlation between
reproductive capability and personal worth.”
25
Yet, as Morey contends, “it was by no means
inevitable that an ingénue of the studio era would ‘graduate’ to crone roles if she stayed in
Hollywood long enough, or that this progression would mark the end of her serious career.”
26

This argument undoubtedly extends to female stars of MacLaine’s era: MacLaine’s lasting
ability to secure roles in Hollywood productions, even as she turned eighty in April of 2014, was
not certain and furthermore demonstrates that her performance in Madame Sousatzka hardly
marked the end of her productivity.

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Moreover, though perhaps limited in their depiction of aging female sexuality,
MacLaine’s film (and television) performances do not encompass the entirety of MacLaine’s
media productions between the early 1980s and the present day. MacLaine’s acclaimed
performances in films such as Terms of Endearment (Jim Brooks, 1983), Madame Sousatzka,
Steel Magnolias (Herbert Ross, 1989), and Postcards from the Edge (Mike Nichols, 1991),
among others, indeed offer compelling examples of MacLaine’s “talent as a performer.”
However, I instead focus on MacLaine’s productions of New Age spirituality, which locate her
value outside of the physical body. In doing so, I illuminate the ways in which MacLaine
continues to mobilize new methods of performing female stardom.
Worshiping Stars, Star Worshipers
In addition to exploring MacLaine’s most recent career through the lens of age studies, I
also build upon religious studies to contextualize MacLaine’s development as a star. The
theoretical intersection between stardom and religion is evident in Dyer’s description of stars’
“charisma,” which Dyer, borrowing from Max Weber, defines as “a certain quality of an
individual personality by virtue of which he [sic] is set apart from ordinary men and treated as
endowed with supernatural, superhuman or at least superficially exceptional qualities.”
27
Thus, in
possessing these mystical characteristics, stars are therefore similar (or, at least, understood as
similar) to gods, angels, spirits, and other supernatural beings. In his book Celebrity, scholar
Chris Rojek expounds upon these similarities; Rojek argues that celebrity culture has
“inescapable parallels with religious worship, and these are reinforced by the attribution by fans
of magical or extraordinary powers to the celebrity.”
28
For example, as fans enter states of frenzy
in the presence of celebrities, collect celebrity memorabilia, and/or visit celebrity gravesites, they

231
reenact religious rituals, yet within the context of an increasingly secularized American society.
29

The celebrity’s kinship with religious figures thus underscores the celebrity’s extraordinariness.
While celebrity scholars have recognized the likenesses between religious and celebrity
culture, few have delineated the extent to which faith has been a prominent aspect of the
celebrity’s persona. As Nitin Govil acknowledges, “Ironically, Richard Dyer’s influential text on
stardom does not elaborate on the question of celebrity faith, noting only that religion is among
the many ‘social categories in which people are placed and through which they have to make
sense of their lives.’”
30
Nevertheless, Govil recognizes, celebrity religion appeals to consumers,
as it seemingly dispels the association between celebrities and superficiality.
31
In recent years,
celebrity faith has been the frequent topic of celebrity gossip; Govil lists Julia Roberts’s 2009
conversion to Hinduism, Tom Cruise’s and John Travolta’s professed beliefs in Scientology, and
Mel Gibson’s devout Catholicism, among other stars and their faiths.
32
According to Govil,
public conversion narratives, such as Roberts’s, illustrate how religion functions as a form of
self-branding in a global marketplace that insists upon increasing modes of intimacy.
33
In this
way, as opposed to the celebrity’s relationship with religious figures, celebrity faith alternatively
highlights the celebrity’s everydayness: stars who worship are “just like us.”
34

Despite their prevalence in the contemporary global marketplace, declarations of faith are
not new to celebrity discourse. The studio system allowed for certain religions to become the
dominant aspect of stars’ personae. While not all stars professed their faith in the pages of
newspapers and fan magazines, as Ian C. Jarvie notes, “some stars […] emphasized their religion
as part of their persona.”
35
For example, although Eddie Cantor (born Edward Israel Iskowitz)
anglicized his name, Jarvie maintains that Cantor was still perceived by audiences as
“undisguisedly Jewish.”
36
As David Weinstein demonstrates, “at a time when public figures of

232
Cantor’s stature […] rarely discussed their religious faith in public,” Cantor “acknowledg[ed] his
religion” by supporting Jewish refugees and contributing to the anti-Nazi movement in the early
1930s; these acts, Weinstein argues, helped “[revitalize] [Cantor’s] public image.”
37
During the
1940s, Bing Crosby’s faith also played an important role in his star persona. The top box-office
star between 1944 and 1948, Crosby not only publically identified with Roman Catholicism, but
also played an Irish Catholic priest three times: twice as Father Chuck O’Malley in Going My
Way (Leo McCarey, 1944) and its sequel The Bells of St. Mary’s (Leo McCarey, 1945), and once
as Father Conroy in Say One For Me (Frank Tashlin, 1959).
38
According to scholar Eric Michael
Mazur, fans frequently equated Crosby with his role as Father O’Malley, referring to the star as
“Father Crosby” in fan mail.
39
As Weinstein and Mazur respectively argue, religion could
potentially strengthen a star’s career, either by transforming the star’s persona or by creating a
more intimate connection with fans.
Other stars eventually found religious life more fulfilling than Hollywood. In 1950,
Twentieth Century Fox starlet Colleen Townsend announced her retreat from Hollywood to
enroll in a Christian seminary.
40
Musical star June Haver also publically contemplated pursuing
ordained religious life in February of 1953, when she entered a Sisters of Charity convent in
Kansas.
41
(Although she earned praise from the Sisters, Haver eventually left the convent later
that year and married fellow star Fred MacMurray in 1954.)
42
These expressions of faith inspired
Hollywood columnists to explore the role of religion in the lives of stars in the early 1950s:
Harold Heffernan, for example, commented upon a “Religious Revival” in Hollywood, listing
stars who identified as Christian Scientists, Mormon, Catholic, and Jewish; and Seymour
Korman noted that “stars of all faiths” were showing a “growing and genuine interest in religion
and religious works.”
43
These examples—by no means exhaustive—demonstrate the varying

233
ways in which celebrity faith has shaped star discourse throughout its history. Thus, exploring
celebrity faith—particularly, through MacLaine’s New Age spirituality—not only reveals shifts
in the star system but also illustrates how the significance of religious institutions in the America
has evolved in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.
New Age Spirituality in America
When MacLaine publicly professed her belief in reincarnation, channeling, and
extraterrestrials in the early 1980s, New Age spirituality was gaining popularity throughout
America. As religious studies scholar Sarah M. Pike explains, “‘New Age’ is an umbrella term
that encompasses multiple beliefs and practices,” which include self-transformation and societal
reformation through “channeling, visualization, astrology, meditation, and alternative healing
methods.”
44
Lacking a recognized doctrine or centralized institution, New Agers
“indiscriminately” draw from an eclectic mix of philosophies, ranging from Native American
spiritual practices to Asian religions and traditions (for example, Zen Buddhism, the I Ching,
Sufism, Shamanism, yoga, etc.).
45
This spiritual eclecticism emphasizes “flexibility,” where
“practices for changing one’s consciousness can be myriad, with no one right way for
everyone.”
46
Thus, while some New Agers maintain their religious identities—for example, as
Christians, Buddhists, or Jews—others distance themselves from institutionalized religions.
47

Although many scholars have located the origins of the New Age movement in the
American counterculture of the 1960s,
48
the precursors to the varied tenets of New Age beliefs
and practices are in fact much older. Pike traces the origins of New Age spirituality to early
occult rituals in sixteenth-century Europe.
49
Numerous colonists carried these rituals with them
to America; however, “the transmission of magic and the occult […] was made difficult by
religious and political leaders’ goal of creating a Christian country and the absence of the Old

234
World’s magical landscape.”
50
By the early nineteenth century, America then became what
scholars have described as a “spiritual hothouse.”
51
During this period, numerous movements—
Transcendentalism, Swedenborgianism, Christian Science, New Thought, Theosophy,
mesmerism, spiritualism, and dowsing—emerged that would shape the beliefs of many future
New Agers.
52
These nineteenth-century sects collectively emphasized the “continuity between
matter and spirit,” and many also borrowed from both Western and Eastern religious
philosophies.
53
According to Pike, the early twentieth century was a “quieter era for alternative
religions.”
54
Still, in the 1920s and 1930s, several reports of UFO sightings along with a renewed
fascination in the lost ancient civilizations of Atlantis and Lemuria evoked the beliefs of
nineteenth-century metaphysical traditions.
55
Despite some notable exceptions—including
psychic Edgar Cayce (1877-1945), whose writings combined Asian and Christian philosophies
and profoundly influenced MacLaine—alternative religions did not dominate the public
consciousness again until the 1960s.
Several interrelated factors led to the rise of New Age spirituality in the middle of the
twentieth century. As Pike maintains, “The most significant examples of new events in the 1950s
that fed the alternative religions of the 1960s were interest in UFOs, the Beat generation’s
eclectic Asian religiosity, and early signs of the emergent psychedelic drug culture.”
56
Each of
these seemingly disparate examples, Pike illustrates, evidenced a developing search for meaning
both within and outside the self. During the following decade, according to Maurice Isserman
and Michael Kazin, “A small but growing minority of Americans, most of them young, no longer
felt comfortable with faiths allegedly drenched in the polluted stream of the commercialized,
competitive, power-hungry West.”
57
Consequently, Asian religions became increasingly popular
amongst the counterculture. Pike situates this popularity within the context of the Immigration

235
and Nationality Act of 1965, which lifted restrictions that had long prohibited Asians from
moving to the United States.
58
Following the Act’s ratification, an influx of Asian texts and
teachers—and their affinity with feminism, sexual liberation, and environmentalism—inspired
numerous young people who were searching for meaning outside of established Western
religious institutions.
59
These young converts attracted a great deal of media attention, especially
when Beatles guitarist George Harrison and several other celebrities, as mentioned in Chapter 2,
began associating with the Transcendental Meditation guru Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.
60

Nevertheless, adherents to these faiths still remained in the minority of the American public. For
example, less than ten percent of the population of San Francisco—the “mecca for unorthodox
faiths”—practiced alternative religions in the early 1970s.
61

Nevertheless, interest in New Age spirituality escalated throughout the latter half of the
twentieth century. As Philip Jenkins argues, the 1970s witnessed the “mainstreaming” of many
aspects of the 1960s counterculture, including various religious “fringe” movements.
62

According to Jenkins, “Occult and esoteric themes, which had developed strong roots in the
counterculture, now [in the mid-1970s] gained a broad national audience.”
63
For example,
Jenkins cites the popularity of a wide range of texts that incorporated and/or explained New Age
beliefs, from Charles Berlitz’s non-fiction bestseller Bermuda Triangle (1974), to Fritjof Capra’s
equally successful mystical interpretation of modern science The Tao of Physics (1975), to
Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and George Lucas’s Star Wars
(1977).
64
As will be discussed further below, MacLaine was also, at least partially, responsible
for the “mainstreaming” of the New Age movement; as Pike explains, “MacLaine’s success is
one of many examples of the popularization of New Age ideas once relegated to the radical
fringe of the American religious landscape.”
65
By the turn of the twenty-first century, Americans

236
spent between $10 and $14 billion on New Age workshops, publications, and/or alternative
health care, while roughly 12 million Americans participated in some form of New Age
activity.
66
These numbers continue to increase: a recent study published in Yoga Journal reports
that 20.4 million Americans practiced yoga in 2012.
67

Branding New Age Spirituality
As these figures indicate, New Age spirituality not only functions as a belief system but
also offers sizeable economic opportunities. Accordingly, in her work Authentic™: The Politics
of Ambivalence in a Brand Culture, Sarah Banet-Weiser interrogates New Age practices to
illustrate how “religions are branded.”
68
Distinguishing from theories about the commodification
of religion—which conceive of commerce and culture as distinct spheres—Banet-Weiser argues
that the branding of religion “represents a shifted understanding of what religion means in US
culture.”
69
Religion thus becomes indistinct from consumer culture; as Banet-Weiser explains,
“brand strategies intersect with consumer activity and content to create a brand culture around
religion, and […] capitalist business practices merge with religious practices in an
unproblematic, normative relationship.”
70
In contemporary culture, religions, including
Prosperity Christianity and New Age spirituality, position adherents more like consumers than
merely believers and, in turn, emphasize individual over collective needs and mutual
gratification.
71
In addition to mobilizing various economic strategies within a narrative of the
self-fulfilling individual, branded religions also build upon the contemporary “promotional
culture, […] public relations mechanisms, and technologies of communication.”
72

Through the “impulses of individual choice and self-fulfillment,” New Age spirituality,
Banet-Weiser argues, paradoxically offers both escape from and engagement with the strategies
of advanced capitalism. For instance, New Agers frequently seek out spiritual practices in order

237
to distance themselves from commercial culture; however, “the therapeutic products and services
often associated with new age capitalism—yoga, macrobiotic eating, feng shui, spiritual journeys
to the East—are luxury items for most people, so that in a familiar paradoxical scenario, one
must have substantial means in order to ‘escape’ from material culture.”
73
This dynamic becomes
especially evident in the widely publicized conversion narratives of the celebrities cited by Nitin
Govil and, as I argue, MacLaine: the economic power of their celebrity facilitates their respective
conversions. Moreover, as Banet-Weiser maintains, these New Age practitioners extend Edward
Said’s notion of Orientalism, as they continue to conceive of Eastern spirituality as “mystical and
exotic” while also positioning that spirituality as part of a brand in contemporary capitalist
culture.
Expanding upon Banet-Weiser’s work, I investigate the ways in which MacLaine
participates in branded New Age spirituality not merely as a believer/consumer but, more
significantly, as a producer of New Age products and services. Shortly after her fortieth birthday
in 1974, MacLaine began to reconceptualize her approach to life, aging, and death through
various New Age beliefs and practices. Between her spiritual awakening and her eightieth
birthday in 2014, MacLaine wrote eleven memoirs that detailed her spiritual experiences to
varying degrees, co-wrote and starred in a miniseries based on her first spiritual memoir,
conducted multiple spiritual seminars around the United States, produced an “inner” workout
video, and launched a website, all while continuing to act in numerous films and television series
largely unrelated to her spiritual quest. While MacLaine’s beliefs indeed exemplify Orientalist
and capitalist impulses of branded New Age spirituality—as articulated by Banet-Weiser, Govil,
Kimberly Lau, Jane Naomi Iwamura, and others
74
—I instead focus on how MacLaine’s beliefs
have generated multiple products that have extended and redefined her image as an aging star.

238
Ultimately, I interrogate her New Age texts to illuminate how MacLaine defies the notion of
aging as a narrative of decline, and instead embodies, in the words of Gullette, “survival,
resilience, recovery, and development.”
The Dawn of a New Age MacLaine
MacLaine’s numerous and diverse New Age productions illustrate how she has furthered
her career by consistently challenging generic boundaries and expanding the function and
meaning of Hollywood stardom. With each product, MacLaine increasingly positioned herself as
an author of her own image and amongst, in the words of Amelie Hastie, “women who write and
women who know.”
75
Although not all of MacLaine’s products have been critically and/or
commercially successful, they continue to draw a large enough audience and/or readership such
that MacLaine is still producing new and original New Age media at eighty years old. In this
section, I trace MacLaine’s New Age output from the early 1980s through April of 2014, giving
most attention to her pioneer efforts in each particular medium.
Although she recounted meditating in the Himalayan Mountains in her first memoir,
Don’t Fall Off the Mountain (1970), and advocated yoga throughout the 1970s,
76
MacLaine
underwent her most transformative spiritual awakening in the late 1970s, and she only began to
discuss it openly in the fall of 1980. While promoting two unspectacular films, Loving Couples
(Jack Smight, 1980) and A Change of Seasons (Richard Lang, 1980), MacLaine told McCall’s
journalist Natalie Gittelson that she had “become more concerned with [herself], [her] own
purposes, [her] karmic destinies.”
77
MacLaine continued, “I want to explore what I’m on earth
for—personally. What can I communicate and contribute that no one else can?” Even from this
early stage, MacLaine envisioned her spirituality as a narrative to be shared. Appropriately, this
narrative was the topic of an upcoming book, “into which,” Gittelson noted, MacLaine had

239
purportedly “invest[ed] much of her psychic energy.” In Women’s Wear Daily, MacLaine
claimed she shared this interest in mysticism with “a lot of people,”
78
including the recently
deceased Peter Sellers. As MacLaine revealed, Sellers claimed to have seen a “white light”
before being brought back to life from a heart attack years earlier. Although these stories of the
afterlife intrigued MacLaine, she recognized that spiritual conversations were not commonplace;
she supposed, “Others may feel it, but they’re afraid to admit it in public.” MacLaine, however,
would not be deterred by such fears. Later that fall, she confessed to the New York Times that, on
the night of Sellers’s death in July, she had proclaimed, “Something’s happened to Peter
Sellers,” before hearing the tragic news from a reporter.
79
At the time, MacLaine envisioned
these paranormal experiences as intertwined with her career aspirations. As she explained to
Sandra Shevey of Us magazine, “There is a lot better work I want to do, and a lot more
understanding I want to have of the whole meaning of life.”
80
In these early articulations of her
metaphysical beliefs, MacLaine projected that spirituality would be crucial to her development
as a multimedia star.
MacLaine’s first entry into the New Age market was her third memoir, Out on a Limb,
published in July of 1983. MacLaine wrote her first draft of the book as a fictionalized account
of her spiritual awakening.
81
However, when she brought the manuscript to the publishers at
Random House, as she later remembered, “Jason Epstein, the editor there, thought I had a
psychological dislocation. He said, ‘This won’t sell at all. We don’t want to be a party to it.’”
82

MacLaine then gave a revised, nonfiction manuscript to Bantam Books, which already had an
established New Age book division. Although, as Nina Easton reported, “even this publisher was
a little wary,” Bantam accepted MacLaine’s work. A month after the book’s publication,
publisher Jack Romanos explained Bantam’s interest in Out on a Limb: “There’s enough in the

240
new book to satisfy people who want to read about Shirley MacLaine the actress, but there are
many people interested in the other aspects of the book […]. I think there’s a huge underground
that believes in higher consciousness, and it has been looking for a public figure to express that
belief.”
83
According to Romanos, both MacLaine’s stardom and the popularization of New Age
ideas predicted Out on a Limb’s success. Ultimately, Bantam Books proved Random House
wrong: over 2.5 million copies of MacLaine’s memoir sold by September of 1987.
84

Out on a Limb details MacLaine’s conversion from spiritual skeptic to New Age believer.
In the opening pages, MacLaine admits that some of the people in the book are composite
characters whose names have been changed and that the order of certain events has been
modified; however, she insists, “all of the events are real.”
85
MacLaine thus presents her work as
an authentic representation of herself and her supernatural discoveries. Yet, she does not rely
merely on her own words to communicate her beliefs: Each of the book’s twenty-six chapters
opens with a quote about a metaphysical concept authored by a notable figure—for example,
Albert Einstein, Ralph Waldo Emerson, or Immanuel Kant. Accordingly, MacLaine situates her
fascination with supernatural ideas within a long lineage of scientists, poets, and philosophers
who were similarly inspired. She not only acquires authority through the work of these other
respected thinkers, but also demonstrates the importance of reading to one’s spiritual awakening.
Accordingly, the relationship MacLaine has with other spiritual texts effectively parallels the
relationship MacLaine intends for her readers to have with Out on a Limb. Still, MacLaine’s
quest has less to do with these other figures and more to do with herself, as she states in the first
chapter: “Somewhere way underneath me were the answers to everything in the world.”
86
Like
other New Age works, Out on a Limb emphasizes the importance of the individual in matters
both personal and global.

241
In the book, MacLaine’s relationships with two men, whom she calls Gerry and David,
facilitate her journey inward. Gerry is a married British politician with whom MacLaine has a
clandestine love affair. Yet, despite their inexplicable attraction to one another, their relationship
flounders as Gerry refuses to jeopardize his career or hurt his family. Frustrated and unfulfilled,
MacLaine finds companionship in her platonic friend David, an artist and passionate traveler. At
first, MacLaine describes David as “into a whole lot of stuff [she] had no time for”;
87
but a trip
with him to the Bhodi Tree book store in Los Angeles turns out to be “one of the most important
decisions in [her] life.”
88
Upon David’s recommendation, MacLaine starts to read about
reincarnation, beginning with an encyclopedia entry and then delving into books by and about
Edgar Cayce and other trance mediums. Intrigued by her findings, MacLaine then meets
contemporary trance channelers, first Sturé Johannsen (and his spiritual entity Ambres) in
Sweden and then Kevin Ryerson (and his spiritual entities John and Tom McPherson) in a
private session at her home. During her session with Ryerson, the entity John informs MacLaine
that Gerry is her soul mate (the soul she was created with at the beginning of time) and David is
her twin soul (a soul with whom she had “experienced many lifetimes”).
89
Although her friends
Bella Abzug and a man named Mike warn her against speaking publically about her beliefs,
MacLaine does not curtail her spiritual journey. She accompanies David to Peru, where he
continues to teach her about metaphysical theories and practices. Eventually, he tells MacLaine
about his previous encounter with an extraterrestrial named Mayan, who had intimated that
MacLaine was destined to share her experiences in a book. Out on a Limb ends with MacLaine
beginning her first draft and wondering if her journeys would ever take her to another planet.
For the most part, reviewers of Out on a Limb remained skeptical about MacLaine’s
forays into New Age spirituality. In her New York Times review, critic Barbara Shulgasser

242
admitted that she enjoyed MacLaine’s account of her affair with Gerry—what one might
consider typical fare for a female star’s memoir—but was less impressed by the spiritual parts of
the book. In Shulgasser’s assessment, “When it comes to waxing philosophic, Miss MacLaine is
puerile.”
90
Christopher Schemering of the Washington Post was likewise disappointed with
MacLaine’s summation of New Age beliefs; he evaluated, “MacLaine has not honed or shaped
her raw material in any organized or coherent fashion.”
91
The only redeeming feature of the
book, Schemering argued, was the description of Peru (excluding, of course, David’s story about
the extraterrestrial). Los Angeles Times critic Lisa Mitchell echoed Schemering’s review:
“Aspects of the first three quarters of the book irritate; the last quarter is worth the whole bumpy
road.”
92
Still, Mitchell contended that Out on a Limb “must not be dismissed,” as she proposed,
“Any time we find someone moving from material to spiritual values, from self-obsession to a
sense of community, we are witnesses to good news.”
93
Although Mitchell did not necessarily
agree with MacLaine’s beliefs, she recognized the positive implications of MacLaine’s spiritual
transformation: as Out on a Limb demonstrated, stars could be more than materialistic and self-
obsessed.
Despite the negative assessments of Out on a Limb, the book’s commercial success
undoubtedly encouraged MacLaine and her publishers to continue to capitalize on the New Age
market. MacLaine remained with Bantam for over ten years and published her next five memoirs
with them: including Dancing in the Light (1986), It’s All in the Playing (1987), Going Within: A
Guide to Inner Transformation (1989), Dance While You Can (1991), and My Lucky Stars: A
Hollywood Memoir (1995). Each became a New York Times bestseller. In 2000, MacLaine
published The Camino: A Journey of the Spirit, another bestseller, with Simon & Schuster, Inc.,
and has remained with them since then. Although she had less success with her tenth book, Out

243
on a Leash: Exploring the Nature of Reality and Love (2003), “co-authored” by her beloved dog
Terry, MacLaine resumed bestseller status with Sage-ing While Age-ing (2007) and I’m Over All
That and Other Confessions (2011). Most recently, MacLaine released What If…A Lifetime of
Questions, Speculations, Reasonable Guesses, and a Few Things I Know for Sure in November
of 2013.
94
MacLaine’s eleven New Age books illustrate that, even if MacLaine’s philosophical
musings were “puerile,” they nevertheless have appealed to a large segment of consumers and
have have enabled MacLaine to sustain an image of productivity and authority into her early
eighties.
Still, MacLaine’s productivity has not been limited to the publishing industry. In May of
1985, ABC announced that a five-hour miniseries adaptation of Out on a Limb, starring
MacLaine as herself, would appear on the network.
95
MacLaine and Colin Higgins, writer of
Harold and Maude (Hal Ashby, 1971) and writer-director of Nine to Five (1980), penned the
script, which remained fairly faithful to the source material. And the miniseries, co-produced by
Stan Margulies Co. and ABC Circle films, began filming in England in November of 1985.
96
The
cast and crew then traveled to Sweden, Peru, and the United States—all locations discussed in
the book—before wrapping in the spring of 1986.
97
The stars, the writing, the varied
international production locales, and producer Margulies—who had previously produced two
successful ABC miniseries, Roots (1977) and The Thorn Birds (1983)—promised high
production values for the $13 million two-part series, scheduled to air January 18 and 19, 1987.
98

The subject matter of the miniseries, however, veered from typical television fare. As
Margulies noted during filming, “To my knowledge, no one has tackled the subject of a spiritual
search before […]. There’s a big audience out there for the idea, but it’s normally not what you’d
expect a major TV network to attempt.”
99
The casting of trance channelers Sturé Johannsen and

244
Kevin Ryerson to play themselves also contributed to the noteworthiness of the production, as
the Los Angeles Times announced in the article “Entities at Work on ‘Out on a Limb’” in
February of 1986.
100
According to Margulies, just as writing the book required MacLaine to go
“out on a limb,” so too did the completion of the miniseries.
101
Nevertheless, when he and the
other cast and crewmembers signed on to the project, Margulies claimed elsewhere, “None of us
asked what our ratings share would be next November [the originally scheduled air date].”
102

Considering their ratings may have been a more wise decision: after the first part aired on
January 18, 1987, the series earned among the lowest shares for that evening and was deemed a
“flop.”
103

The critical response to the miniseries Out on a Limb recalled the responses to
MacLaine’s memoir of the same name: critics were wary of MacLaine’s metaphysical reveries,
despite some of the production’s laudable features. For example, Howard Rosenberg of the Los
Angeles Times deemed Out on a Limb’s pacing “uneven” and the “yawning, self-indulgent
philosophical schmoozes better left to the printed word,” even though the miniseries was “well-
acted” and had a “fine, filmic look.”
104
Tom Shales of the Washington Post dubbed the
miniseries “one of the nuttiest entertainments in years,” considering MacLaine’s “revelations
about reincarnation and other spiritual matters” as “ingenuous at best.”
105
Hartford Courant
television critic James Endrst contended that the miniseries, “though a well-made, well-
performed piece of work,” was also “a good example of what can happen to people with too
much money.”
106
And the Variety reviewer assessed, “Bradford May’s camera work [was]
smashing, and director Robert Butler [gave] the telefilm an insistence the subject matter [didn’t]
warrant.”
107
Accordingly, reviewers repeatedly distinguished between the series’ artistic merit
and its spiritual subject matter.

245
Still, despite its weaknesses, the miniseries, combined with MacLaine’s books, had a
profound impact on the popularity of New Age spirituality in America. As Nina Eastman
acknowledged in 1987, the miniseries was indeed “a ratings dud but a New Age spark.”
108
And
numerous other journalists attributed the popularization of the New Age movement to MacLaine.
In a 1985 article in Newsweek, Charles Leershan asserted, “You needn’t be psychic to sense the
current fascination with metaphysics; just be silent, meditate and listen to the great cosmic Yes!
that has reverberated since Shirley MacLaine began publishing her astral adventures.”
109

Although interest in New Age beliefs certainly extended beyond MacLaine and her works,
Leershan positioned MacLaine as the most notable figure spurring these interests. In her 1986
Los Angeles Times article, “The New, Chic Metaphysical Fad of Channeling,” Lynn Smith
likewise noted that many people “credited” MacLaine for the “channeling boom.”
110
Similarly,
Kathleen Hughes, in her 1987 article, “For Personal Insights, Some Try Channels Out of This
World,” described channeling as “the latest craze in California” that “has ridden to renown on
the coattails of actress Shirley MacLaine.”
111
Later that year, Wall Street Journal reporter Meg
Sullivan equally proposed, “What has prompted the search for the new age isn’t known, although
Shirley MacLaine’s otherworldly book and television movie […] have been influential.”
112

While numerous factors certainly led to the mainstreaming of New Age beliefs in America,
MacLaine and her works frequently signified the origins of the contemporary movement in the
press and thus marked MacLaine as an authority.
Booksellers particularly felt the impact of MacLaine’s efforts. Nina Eastman described
the “real boon” for both MacLaine’s memoirs and other New Age books after the miniseries Out
on Limb aired on ABC: “Suddenly, bookstores couldn’t keep enough New Age books in
stock.”
113
Dan Bergeson, an occult book buyer for B. Dalton Bookseller, claimed he had “never

246
seen anything like” the surge in popularity of New Age books following MacLaine’s
successes.
114
Bhodi Tree, the bookstore frequented by MacLaine in both the book and the
miniseries, reported a 25-30% increase in sales after the miniseries aired.
115
Phil Thompson, co-
owner of Bhodi Tree, observed that works referenced in both versions of Out on a Limb—
particularly, books about reincarnation and Edgar Cayce—were amongst the most requested by
patrons.
116
While some New Age booksellers, as Garret Condon reported, “[said] that the interest
[in New Age books] would be there with or without MacLaine,” others insisted “the boom [was]
a fad promoted by MacLaine’s success and by media hype.”
117
MacLaine’s initial fears of her
work being dismissed as “occult” proved to be wrong.
118
Instead, during the years following the
publication of Out on a Limb, booksellers replaced “Occult” sections with “New Age” sections,
and counted New Age books as a $1 billion market in 1987.
119

On January 23, 1987, during the same week that her miniseries aired, MacLaine also
introduced the first of a series of two-day New Age seminars, called “Connecting with the
Higher Self.”
120
Aided by program coordinator Midge Costanza, MacLaine originally scheduled
the tour for ten cities—including Virginia Beach, San Diego, Seattle, Boston, Albuquerque,
Chicago, Portland, Denver, Los Angeles, and New York—and then later added seven additional
cites before its conclusion in August of 1987.
121
With the exception of an introduction by
Costanza, MacLaine led the entirety of the seminar, which totaled roughly thirteen hours over the
two days. She delivered instructional speeches about a variety of topics, ranging from finding
god within oneself, to the importance of the seven chakras (energy centers) in the body, to the
inspirational power of trees. MacLaine also guided participants through various meditational and
past life recall exercises. Still, according to Marlys Harris, MacLaine “only half grasped some of
the ideas she had encountered in what she un-self-consciously referred to as ‘[her] 20 years of

247
high-level investigations and esoteric inquiries.’” Despite this apparent uncertainty, MacLaine
fielded numerous questions from the audience. And, as Dick Roraback of the Los Angeles Times
noted, “Never once during the two-day seminar [did] she answer: ‘I don’t know.’”
122
For
attendees that wanted to continue their spiritual journey after the weekend, the seminars also
served as a resource for information about other New Age products and services—including
local bookstores, cosmic diets, healing crystals, and psychic counselors.
Tickets for the seminar cost $300, a price that was reportedly “low enough to encourage
attendance but high enough to discourage gawkers”; as MacLaine repeatedly joked, “$100 for
mind, $100 for body, $100 for spirit.”
123
In addition to paying these fees, participants also had to
sign a waiver, as Newsweek recounted, “absolving the seminars’ organizers from responsibility
for psychological injury.”
124
According to Harris, the waivers also granted the organizers
permission to use the participants’ voices in any future reproductions of the seminar. While
Harris predicted that MacLaine might soon produce a home video version of the seminars,
MacLaine only released recordings of the seminars years later, as a compact disc entitled
Purposes and Obstacles: A Seminar Meditation.
125
In response to critics’ accusation of
MacLaine profiting from the seminars, MacLaine defended the ticket price: “if you don’t invest
in something you think it has no value.”
126
And MacLaine’s seminars undoubtedly had value: by
their conclusion, the seminars attracted upwards of 10,000 attendees—predominantly white,
upper class females between the ages of thirty and fifty-five—and earned an estimated $3.8
million.
127
MacLaine purportedly intended to use the profits to build a spiritual center in
Crestone, Colorado, but local residents, opposed to its potential appeal to tourists, prevented her
from realizing her intentions.
128

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In lieu of offering a destination for spiritual seekers, MacLaine released a home video,
Shirley MacLaine’s Inner Workout, on March 15, 1989.
129
In the seventy-minute spiritual fitness
routine, MacLaine explains chakras and then guides viewers through both open-eyed and closed-
eyed meditation. Friend and former skeptic Bella Abzug reportedly encouraged MacLaine to
make the video.
130
Then, acting as executive producer, Abzug arranged a deal with home video
distributor Vestron Video. Eager to capitalize on the profitable fitness video market, Vestron
cross-marketed Inner Workout, priced at $29.98, with MacLaine’s sixth book Going Within,
published in April of 1989. While the covers of both the videocassette box and the book featured
similar photos of MacLaine wearing a pale pink sweatsuit, the videocassette included a coupon
for the book, and the book featured an ad for the video.
131
Vestron spent an estimated $2 million
on the promotional campaign, $250,000 of which was devoted to ads in mass market and New
Age publications and on radio stations.
132
The publicity tour for both the book and the video
began on April 10, 1989, and included appearances by MacLaine in eight cities and on The
Oprah Winfrey Show, Larry King Live, and Good Morning America.
133
And the publicity push
paid off: within two months of the video’s release, over 100,000 copies sold.
134
As a Jeff Pleish,
an executive at Vestron, explained, “A lot of video store managers weren’t prepared for how big
this tape would be […]. The success shows how people have a need for this in their lives. It’s
opened a whole new genre of videocassettes.”
135
Once again, her spirituality enabled MacLaine
to challenge generic boundaries and exploit a growing market.
In May of 2000, MacLaine extended her image into yet another platform with the launch
of the website ShirleyMacLaine.com.
136
As she explained to columnist Buck Wolf in July of that
year, “I think everyone goes through a period where they want to teach. I’m in that phase now
[…]. I’m going to bring together the best of the Internet on spiritualism and help people seek

249
truth about their past lives and the world around them.”
137
While MacLaine emphasized the
instructional benefits of her website, the original iteration of ShirleyMacLaine.com was as much
a celebration of MacLaine’s stardom and productivity as it was an avenue for education and self-
fulfillment. The homepage of the original website shows a sketched image of MacLaine at the
bottom of the screen, her red hair styled in a classic pixie cut.
138
With a bemused grin, she is
holding up a bowl, inscribed with the word “life” and filled with cherries, in one hand and a
single cherry in the other. The image conveys both MacLaine’s power—she holds her life in her
hands—and her playfulness—“life is a bowl of cherries,” as the saying goes. Behind MacLaine
are two pyramids and an expansive night sky punctuated by numerous stars, three planets, and a
man’s face etched into a crescent moon. Paired with this background, MacLaine becomes one of
many icons of New Age spirituality. In the top right corner, the site’s mission reads: “‘Life is a
bowl of cherries…so never mind the pits.’ This site will be a reflection of my world; always in
transition and always in search of truth, however unseen and unbelievable it might seem. I invite
you to visit us often so we might share and explore the experiences of our minds, our bodies, and
our spirits.” In her mission statement, MacLaine underscores how the adaptability of
ShirleyMacLaine.com suits representations of her ever-changing life. The mission also highlights
the site’s dual, if somewhat conflicting, purposes: it is “a reflection of [MacLaine’s] world”—an
exultation of MacLaine’s individuality; and it is also a communal space to “share and explore.”
On the left side of the screen, a list of links, ranging from Biography to UFOs to Reincarnation,
fulfills the site’s promise.
As the content of ShirleyMacLaine.com continues to evolve, the most recent iteration, as
of April 2014, demonstrates the numerous ways in which MacLaine’s New Age spirituality
continues to emphasize her productivity as an aging star. The current design of the website has

250
been in use since March of 2005. While MacLaine’s slogan, “Life is a bowl of
cherries…nevermind the pits,” remains the same, the site’s banner now features, in place of the
sketched image, several revolving publicity stills of MacLaine throughout her career. At the top
of the page, users have the opportunity to login as members. For a subscription fee of $9.90 per
month or $99.90 for the entire year, members receive access to: The ShirleyGram, a monthly
newsletter written by MacLaine about herself and other topics, ranging from the physical to the
metaphysical; Independent Expression (IE) Radio, a weekly radio program on which MacLaine
interviews various New Age personalities, including astrologists, physicists, and extraterrestrial
“contactees,” among others; the archive of the Cooking in the Lite (CL) Radio Show, the CL
Cookbook, and the CL newsletter, a guide to healthy living; a library of streaming video clips
from MacLaine’s films, television appearances, theater performances, and speaking
engagements; a chat room and the Encounter Board, a message board “where [one] can exchange
ideas, concepts and grow friendships”; email updates; and discounts in the site store. In addition
to these exclusive benefits, the site also provides users with articles on Astrology, Numerology,
Aging, Health, Sacred Sites, Dreams & Prophecy, UFOs & Phenomenon, Environment,
Reincarnation, and Pet Pages. A site store, called Shirley’s World, allows users to buy her books
and audiobooks, her films, a variety of meditation CDs and DVDs featuring MacLaine, as well
as various other New Age products (jewelry, homeopathic medicine, beauty products) and
services (access to psychic and astrological readings). This abundance of information, goods, and
services—all cohering around MacLaine’s image—locates the ongoing vivacity of her stardom
within the commercial viability of New Age spirituality. MacLaine is by no means declining; at
eighty years old, she continues to perform, produce, and profit across multiple media channels.

251
Constructing MacLaine as an Aging New Ager
Appropriately, MacLaine’s various New Age endeavors since the early 1980s ushered in
yet another striking transformation in the representation of MacLaine’s persona. Profiles of the
former kook, traveler, and activist now highlighted her metaphysical beliefs, especially her belief
in reincarnation. The following titles have accompanied articles about MacLaine in major
newspapers and magazines: “MacLaine: Her Lives & Times,” “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out Yet
Very Much In,” “Shirley MacLaine: Spiritual, Successful, Surprised,” “The Best Years of Her
Lives,” “Catching Up with the Real MacLaines,” “Metaphysical Madam,” “MacLaine: Let’s Get
Metaphysical,” “She’s Having the Time of Her Lives,” “Isness Is Her Business,” “Shirley
MacLaine: The Prime of Her Lives,” “Which Life Is It Anyway?” “The Many Lives of Shirley
MacLaine,” and, most recently, “MacLaine’s Next Life.”
139
As is evident in this sampling of
titles, the press equated MacLaine’s successes—both personal and professional—with her
spirituality.
As with previous transformations of her persona, MacLaine’s age and New Age interests
informed the way the press discussed her appearance, her private life, and her professional life.
MacLaine’s metaphysical beliefs did not prevent the press from scrutinizing her physical
appearance in terms of age. While numerous reporters made note of the wrinkles now lining her
face, they frequently situated her attractive physical appearance in opposition to her age—rather
than, as Gullette and proponents of age studies would hope, as indicative of her age. For
example, in his review of If They Could See Me Now, critic Tom Donnelly of the Washington
Post portrayed MacLaine as “fortyish but with a youthful glow and in great shape.”
140
The
implication of this description is that “fortyish” does not typically connote vibrancy or physical
fitness. This implication persisted in numerous other descriptions of MacLaine. Martha

252
Weinman Lear noted that MacLaine “doesn’t look [40]” in Ladies’ Home Journal.
141
Six years
later, McCall’s journalist Natalie Gittelson wrote, “At 46, even in the cruel Southern California
sunlight, [MacLaine] looks about half her age.”
142
Paul Rosenfield echoed this sentiment in the
Los Angeles Times: “At almost 50, [MacLaine] looks almost 37 and thinks all of 17.”
143
Aljean
Harmetz similarly purported in her New York Times profile on MacLaine: “In sunlight,
[MacLaine] could pass for 40; in candlelight, for 30.”
144
And, when MacLaine was honored as
one of “America’s 10 Best Bodies” by McCall’s magazine, the article insisted, “At 51, she has
the body and outlook of a woman half her age.”
145
While each of these articles reiterated
MacLaine’s lasting beauty they also positioned her appearance as antithetical to the aging
process. Accordingly, the press suggested that MacLaine would be less valuable as a star if she
in fact looked like her numerical age—in other words, unfit and ugly.
In this new phase, MacLaine professedly focused on the spirit over the mind and the
body; however, she was not completely immune to these implications about her appearance.
Although reporter Shaun Considine noted that MacLaine was “not wearing any make-up” during
his 1975 interview with the forty-one-year-old star, he also admitted, “At first one gets the
impression that she’s not at all concerned with such frills and vanities. Not quite! Upon spotting
a camera lying in the bottom of my canvas tote bag, Shirley shakes her head. ‘No photographs
[…]. No Way! Not without my lashes.’”
146
While MacLaine may have been less concerned with
glamour than her contemporaries, she still conformed to some beauty standards. In her mid-
fifties, she even elected to have face-lift surgery, and later admitted, “I loved how I looked
afterward.”
147
She defended the process in a 1985 interview in Ladies’ Home Journal: “Even if
it’s just for vanity, there’s nothing wrong with a face-lift […]. And if you’re proud of your face,
or your face helps you make your living, you have to keep it in shape. If you feel good about

253
how you look, you feel healthier physically.”
148
MacLaine apparently considered a youthful
appearance as necessary to her emotional and physical wellbeing. Still, as she confessed in her
book I’m Over All That and Other Confessions, “I’m Not Over Vanity But I’m Trying.”
149

MacLaine apparently recognized how vanity was at odds with some of her expressed beliefs but
also acknowledged the difficulty in overcoming vanity, especially as a Hollywood star whose
appearance was continuously dissected.
Despite her unrelenting concern with her appearance, MacLaine repeatedly celebrated the
aging process. MacLaine still conceived of aging, even after the age of forty, as a narrative of
progress rather than decline. In 1977, she told Mary Daniels of the Chicago Tribune: “I’m so
glad I’ll never be real young again […]. I have never had a better time or felt better about
everything.”
150
As a forty-three-year-old star, MacLaine still associated aging with happiness.
She reiterated this notion in Cosmopolitan later that year: “Well, I like the idea of getting on with
life. I wouldn’t want to be young again. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been.”
151
Upon turning
fifty, MacLaine still “[welcomed] aging,” as she told Time magazine, “I love the idea of 50,
because the best is yet to come. I am going to live to be 100, because I want to, and I am going to
go on learning.”
152
MacLaine recognized that aging allowed her to continue to acquire
knowledge; contentment was in the process not the answers. As MacLaine explained in the Los
Angeles Times in 1997, “The biggest thing I’m learning about old age is to fall in love with the
process and let the goal take care of itself.”
153
Old age was not an end point but an ongoing
progression, and one that afforded new forms of power. MacLaine told Bradley Bardin of
Premiere magazine in 2005: “I’m also enjoying the experience of aging: There’s something to do
with getting older that gives you the right to express any feeling you have.”
154
Accordingly,
MacLaine’s experience of aging enabled new forms of communication. Just before turning

254
eighty, MacLaine explained to Oprah Winfrey on an episode of Super Soul Sunday (OWN,
2011– ), “age is just a reality that we create for ourselves.”
155
MacLaine continued to articulate
age as a constructed, not biological, notion.
The progressive aspects of MacLaine’s approach to aging can be located in MacLaine’s
New Age beliefs. After being enlightened to her past lives, MacLaine’s notion of death shifted.
She repeatedly insisted that she was no longer scared of dying, as she explained in an interview
with Jon Gould in 1985: “When you realize you’ve died many times, the first thing it eliminates
is the fear of death—that’s a huge fear.”
156
Without the fear of death, MacLaine envisioned aging
as enhancing her spiritual journey. Jean-Noel Bassior of Modern Maturity magazine explained,
“As she ages, MacLaine senses that she’s getting closer to the real truth, what she’ll see when
she passes on.”
157
Her new approach to death also enabled MacLaine to rethink her relationship
to time. As she reflected in her 2007 book Sage-ing While Age-ing, “Then, as I allowed my
consciousness to continue to wander, the future seemed like the past and the past the future. The
present was both to me. I remembered dying before. It was like a birth. It was light without
loneliness. Dying was a new beginning.”
158
For MacLaine, the belief in reincarnation dismantled
aging’s linear narrative and replaced it with one that was circular—allowing for rebirth, revival,
and renewal.
While spirituality changed MacLaine’s relationship with the aging process, it also altered
representations of her love life. As discussed in the previous chapters, MacLaine’s
unconventional marriage to husband Steve Parker had not deterred her from having widely
gossiped about affairs with Robert Mitchum, Sandy Vanocur, Pete Hamill, and, in the early
1980s, Australian Foreign Minister Andrew Peacock.
159
In 1982, MacLaine and Parker finally
divorced, but without much fanfare in the press.
160
MacLaine’s love life—particularly the true

255
identity of the character Gerry in Out on a Limb—filled gossip columns again just before the
book’s publication. As a Reuters article in the Los Angeles Times reported, “Fleet Street
[London] newspapers were combing Parliament for the mystery man […] with whom MacLaine
said she had a torrid affair […]. But nobody was owning up publicly or, apparently, to his
wife.”
161
Later that month, MacLaine described the British press’s obsession with the “mystery
man” as “hilarious.”
162
She recalled her response to these gossipers in an interview with Connie
Lauerman of the Chicago Tribune: “I said to ’em: ‘You’re more interested in my in-body
experiences than my out-of-body experience. It really seems you should be more interested in
your affairs of state than in the state of my affairs.’”
163
In this pithy response, MacLaine
suggested that the press was missing the point of her book—her romantic life was insignificant
compared to both her spiritual experiences and global politics.
Appropriately, accounts of MacLaine’s affairs became far less salacious in the years
following Out on a Limb’s publication. Although Phyllis Battelle of the Ladies’ Home Journal
reported that MacLaine’s “insatiable curiosity” had sparked “an affair—very ‘sexual, by the
way’—with the right-hand man to Tibet’s Dalai Lama,” MacLaine admitted, “My rigorously
investigative nature has offered me great opportunities for growth. But it hasn’t made for many
candle light dinners.”
164
In his Time magazine profile on MacLaine, William A. Henry III
similarly purported, “Romance is sacrificed to [MacLaine’s] fervor for growth.” As MacLaine
elaborated, “I have mostly used relationships to learn, and when that process is over, so is the
relationship.”
165
MacLaine emphasized the pragmatic function of her lovers to her process of
self-transformation. And she was also aware that this attitude occasionally jeopardized her
lovers’ respective attitudes toward her. In the Los Angeles Times, MacLaine admitted: “Sure,
several men have left me because I was too serious.”
166
Nevertheless, MacLaine lauded the

256
benefits of her “seriousness”; she proposed, “When a relationship becomes spiritual, […] it
becomes more than a union of just two bodies, but the ultimate—a union of souls manifest in the
body. Sex becomes a sort of magnificent expression.”
167
In her estimation, New Age spirituality
facilitated the most satisfying romantic life.
Whereas MacLaine’s political awakening paired her with other liberal-minded
intellectuals, MacLaine’s spiritual awakening enabled her to find happiness within her self. In
doing so, MacLaine not only supported the New Age tenet of self-fulfillment but also realized
the goals of female empowerment that she articulated in the 1960s and 1970s. As Stephanie
Mansfield described MacLaine in the Washington Post in 1983, “She’s no longer looking for a
man to ‘ratify the other half of [her] existence.’”
168
MacLaine added, “I AM my other half. I
think I’m terrific.”
169
She also later repeated similar sentiments in two different interviews with
Paul Rosenfield in the Los Angeles Times, as she insisted, “I don’t find that selfish or self-
centered.”
170
In 1991, MacLaine was still content; she told Nancy Collins of Vanity Fair: “I’ve
found myself so fulfilled in the last few years, it’s a mystery where a man fits.”
171
In these
repeated pronouncements of personal contentment, MacLaine challenged the common
conception, as articulated by Richard Dyer, that “love is not so much celebrated as agonised
over” in star discourse:
172
MacLaine celebrated her self-love. And she was aware that her
perspective diverged from typical constructions of female stardom, even her own. In Ladies’
Home Journal, Jeff Rovin described MacLaine’s “spring cleaning [‘of the soul’]” as “so
comprehensive that Shirley apologizes for the fact that nowadays her private life makes much
less interesting copy,” especially compared to her past when she considered “working with
someone […] the prelude to a possible love affair.”
173
MacLaine’s spirituality thus expanded star
discourse in terms of romantic relationships yet again.

257
In addition to repositioning the importance of her love life, MacLaine’s New Age beliefs
reshaped representations of her role as a mother. While she continued to challenge traditional
notions of family life, she framed those choices within her New Age beliefs. In Out on a Limb,
MacLaine explains how reincarnation offered her a new perspective on motherhood. After
discussing reincarnation with David, MacLaine thinks about her daughter: “[H]ad [Sachi]
already lived many many times before, with other mothers? Had she, in fact, been one herself?
Had she, in fact, ever been my mother?”
174
These questions consequently lead MacLaine to
suppose the following: “Maybe parents were merely ancient friends, rather than authority figures
who felt they knew better than their children. And too, maybe unresolved conflicts of previous
lifetimes contributed to the all-too-frequent antagonisms between parents and children today.”
175

Through these suppositions, MacLaine apparently justifies her unconventional performance as a
mother. At least as the press represented her, MacLaine acted more like an occasional friend than
a persistent authority figure to Sachi. Reincarnation presented an explanation for the nature of
their relationship and therefore replaced the former justifications of MacLaine’s unusual
parenting—her individualist and feminist principles.
Appropriately, representations of MacLaine in the press sensationalized MacLaine and
Sachi’s New Age relationship. In the Washington Post, Stephanie Mansfield listed seven
comments—from “rocks have souls,” to “junk food doesn’t make her feel good”—that
MacLaine made during their lunch in the spring of 1983; Mansfield then added, “Wait! There’s
more! Her 23-year-old [sic] daughter was really HER MOTHER IN A FORMER LIFE!”
176
As
MacLaine explained, “Somewhere in the deep recesses of the two of us, when we’re sitting back
in Malibu looking at the sunset, we both touch the recognition of the reality of something deeper
than the social conditioning of our relationship.” To which Mansfield condescendingly

258
responded, “Huh?” Nevertheless, as MacLaine added, Sachi had “an extremely maternal
feeling” for her mother. While Mansfield remained skeptical, MacLaine’s comment underscored
how she furthered New Age beliefs to break apart dominant social constructions.
MacLaine referred to her past lives with Sachi and their unusual bond in this life in
numerous other magazine and newspaper articles.
177
Described by William A. Henry III as a
“deliberately unmotherly mother,” MacLaine insisted that her performance as a mother was not a
detriment to her relationship with Sachi; as she explained, “I never really embraced the label
motherhood. I choose to call it personhood…Sachi and I are very close persons to each other.”
178

MacLaine thus pointed to the power relations implicit in the language of traditional motherhood.
By subverting this language, MacLaine established new forms of intimacy with her daughter. In
Ladies’ Home Journal, Maclaine conceded, “Can we prove it? No. Does it matter? Only insofar
as it makes our relationship more complete.”
179
Once again, this new understanding of their
relationship served to heighten their bond. Accordingly, MacLaine elaborated upon her view of
familial relationships in an interview with Paul Rosenfield: “If we understand we choose our
friends and our colleagues, then it’s only a short step to understanding that we choose our
parents. It also helps us stop blaming them for our lives.”
180
While she did not reference Sachi
directly here, MacLaine seemed to absolve herself from any wrongdoing through her New Age
understanding of parenthood.
Although representations of MacLaine revealed the star as content in her atypical
motherly role, representations of Sachi presented a more ambivalent view of her mother’s
parenting decisions. In 1983, as Sachi was attempting to launch her own acting career, she told
columnist Marilyn Beck: “We don’t relate as a parent and as a child […] but as close
girlfriends.”
181
In this instance, Sachi’s view of their relationship corresponded with MacLaine’s:

259
their relationship was unusual but intimate. When Beck asked, “Did Sachi never feel resentment
that her mother refused the responsibilities of motherhood and did not provide emotional support
during Sachi’s formative years, that she didn’t have the benefit of the mother-child bonding that
experts now say is vital to the development of the young?” Sachi insisted that feelings of
resentment “never occurred” to her. Still, she admitted she would be “grateful” and “thrilled” if
her mother helped her with her budding acting career. Although Sachi did not explicitly say
anything negative about MacLaine, Beck’s interview emphasized the tensions between the star
mother and her daughter, an aspiring actress.
These tensions resurfaced again after MacLaine played an aging actress and overbearing
mother named Doris Mann—a character based on Debbie Reynolds and written by Reynolds’s
daughter Carrie Fisher—in Mike Nichols’s Postcards from the Edge. In a profile on MacLaine in
Vanity Fair, Sachi reflected on her eccentric upbringing: “It was only as an adult […] that I
looked back and it made me mad. ‘Why didn’t my mom spend more time with me? Why didn’t
she raise me?’ So Mom and I went into therapy and screamed at each other.”
182
While a belief in
reincarnation offered answers to these questions for MacLaine, Sachi had to work through
resentment towards her mother. Moreover, unlike her mother, Sachi relied on arguably more
conventional methods—therapy—to deal with her past. Sachi also confessed to being “jealous”
of Meryl Streep, who played Doris’s daughter Suzanne in Postcards from the Edge. Sachi
explained, “There was so much in the movie that was so right-on between Mother and me.”
While Sachi did not elaborate any further, one might presume that Sachi related to the volatility
of the mother-daughter relationship presented in the film. Nevertheless, MacLaine claimed,
“[Sachi] doesn’t manipulate the potential of making me feel guilty ever, ever, ever.” Although
MacLaine maintained that she and Sachi had a positive relationship, MacLaine’s comment also

260
intimated that she felt culpable. In a Los Angeles Times article entitled “Independence of Sachi
Parker,” Sachi reiterated that “it would be great” if either MacLaine or Warren Beatty helped her
acting career, yet she still insisted she did not “feel resentful.”
183
Again, despite their repeated
insistence otherwise, representations of MacLaine and Sachi’s relationship repeatedly hinted at
an underlying conflict between the two.
More recently, in 2013, Sachi Parker published her first memoir, Lucky Me: My Life
with—and without—My Mom, Shirley MacLaine.
184
In the book, Sachi discusses flying to Japan
alone at the age of two, being forgotten at boarding school during vacations, and being told that
her father was a clone of her real father, an alien named Paul. On February 1, 2013, 20/20 anchor
Elizabeth Vargas introduced her interview with Sachi by recalling the Joan Crawford biopic
Mommie Dearest (Frank Perry, 1981), based on the book of the same name by Crawford’s
daughter Christina. In doing so, Vargas equated female stardom with deficient parenting and
situated Sachi’s account within a history of tell-all biographies written by the children of female
stars. As scholar Anne Morey maintains, the “trajectory of the typical female performer of the
grotesque during the studio era” culminated in “a postmortem existence in which revelations by
daughters or other intimates suggest that her enactments of the grotesque onscreen were not
acting but a sort of cineme vérité—a faint reflection of an off-screen maternal melodrama in
which the monstrous mother victimized her less powerful daughter.”
185
Through Lucky Me,
Sachi positions herself as one of these “less powerful daughters.” However, as examined within
this dissertation, none of these stories were new within MacLaine’s historied star discourse. The
MacLaine-Sachi conflict thus illustrates how MacLaine’s representation of femininity has
continuously subverted the typical trajectory of female stardom: the unusual family life that
established MacLaine as a star could not be subsequently used to undo MacLaine in the same

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way that Christina Crawford employed Joan Crawford’s previously concealed monstrosity for
Mommie Dearest years earlier.
Furthermore, Sachi’s book demonstrates the persistent significance of New Age
spirituality to MacLaine’s persona. The 20/20 interview climaxed in a discussion of MacLaine’s
belief in aliens. After describing the corresponding section of Sachi’s book, Vargas twice and
emphatically described MacLaine’s views as “crazy.” Thus, while MacLaine employed her New
Age beliefs to promote a progressive notion of family life, both Sachi’s book and the 20/20
interview showed how those beliefs could easily be used to reiterate MacLaine’s poor parenting
skills. Following Lucky Me’s publication, MacLaine released a statement in which she claimed
she was “shocked” and “heartbroken” over this “dishonest, opportunistic effort.”
186
Eventually,
Sachi admitted to writing Lucky Me to support her own daughter, but maintained that the content
was true.
187
Ultimately, this mother-daughter conflict illustrates how MacLaine’s metaphysical
beliefs not only maintain the visibility of her image but also continue to offer economic
opportunities for both MacLaine and others.
As spirituality transformed representations of MacLaine’s private life, it also reframed
representations of her professional life, including both past and contemporary performances. As
she explained to Connie Lauerman in the Chicago Tribune, “I always recognized that as a
performer I didn’t know where some particularly inspired moments came from. I think it came
from knowledge of previous experience and spiritual guidance at the same time.”
188
According to
MacLaine, reincarnation offered an explanation for her celebrated performances. In an article in
Time magazine, MacLaine elaborated on how this theory of her artistic inspiration had a
noticeable impact in her body of work: “I was definitely a prostitute in some lifetime […]. It’s no
accident I played all those hookers.”
189
This appreciation for former lives not only changed the

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way MacLaine viewed her past performances but also the way she approached her new work:
she now “channeled” characters, including both Aurora Greenway in Terms of Endearment and
Sousatzka in Madame Sousatzka.
190
And this practice purportedly improved her craft; she told
Arianna Stassinopoulos of Ladies’ Home Journal in May of 1984: “The greater my spiritual
awareness, the more aligned I am with myself, the better I am at everything I do […]. I can sing,
dance, act and write better now than ever before.”
191
As MacLaine had just won her first
Academy Award for her performance in Terms of Endearment, her reasoning would have
certainly seemed plausible. In 2005, MacLaine concluded in Premiere magazine: “And I think
[the New Age movement] goes hand in hand with being an actor: To be metaphysical, to be
interested in the exploration of the spirit, is to be a true artist—in life we’re creating our own
reality every moment and that’s what the actor’s job is.”
192
Whereas MacLaine had previously
conceived of activism as a natural extension of acting, MacLaine now viewed New Age
spirituality and acting as intimately intertwined. For MacLaine, the profession of acting not only
meant having empathy for others, as she reasoned concerning her activism, but also meant
having a deeper understanding of the self in this life and in previous ones. In MacLaine’s view,
spirituality facilitated her extraordinariness as a star.
In addition to changing the ways she approached her performances, spirituality affected
how MacLaine chose roles in films. For example, although she was reportedly offered a part in
Poltergeist (Tobe Hooper, 1982), she turned down the opportunity. As she explained in Ladies’
Home Journal, “[she] didn’t want to exploit the dark side in the marketplace. [She would] rather
keep working in the ‘light.’”
193
MacLaine avoided negative representations of her metaphysical
beliefs. She also declined parts that were overtly violent. In Playboy, she described three scripts
recently offered to her: “one about a woman who goes crazy because she’s being murdered;

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another about a murderess; the third about someone else involved in a murder.”
194
The reason
MacLaine refused these roles was, in her words, “sociological”; she elaborated, “I don’t want to
contribute to the violence out there, especially since I’m on a spiritual path.” In MacLaine’s
estimation, an inward journey had both artistic and social implications. Accordingly, MacLaine
also refused villainous roles. Jeff Rovin described her “unshakable resistance to playing a bad
person on the screen”: “That isn’t just an aesthetic principle; Shirley sincerely believes that
because of the way she now approaches acting, it’s impossible to play a negative scene without
drawing negative things to her.”
195
While, on the one hand, MacLaine saw her performances as
reflections of her past lives, she also understood them as affecting her present and future life.
Still, she did not necessarily want to perform roles that were specifically about spiritual
characters. As she explained in an interview with Anne Thompson of the Chicago Tribune, “I’m
not all that interested in playing metaphysical or spiritual subjects on-screen […]. So far, I
haven’t seen any that work. […] It’s very difficult to dramatize. It could look like a B movie.”
196

Although mysticism had permeated all aspects of her life, MacLaine still appeared very
discerning about its portrayals onscreen. These narratives about the roles that MacLaine turned
down emphasized MacLaine’s agency in her career through her later life. While spirituality
enabled MacLaine’s productivity, she apparently maintained high standards for the ways in
which her image could be consumed.
These developments in MacLaine’s private and professional life also changed how the
press distinguished her from her peers in Hollywood. Formerly associated with other star
activists, MacLaine now drew repeated comparisons to the equally transformed Jane Fonda as
well as Steven Spielberg and George Lucas. In the early 1980s, both MacLaine and Fonda
produced media that altered their respective images as former activists. Before MacLaine

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published Out on a Limb, Fonda had developed her 1979 fitness studio routine, “Jane Fonda’s
Workout,” into a bestselling fitness book, Jane Fonda’s Workout Book (1981), and a bestselling
fitness video, Workout (Karl Video, 1982).
197
Although Fonda’s objectives were physical and
MacLaine’s were spiritual, their shared desire for self-improvement continued to link the two
aging actresses. For example, in her review of Out on a Limb, Nan Curtis Tyler anticipated that
MacLaine’s latest memoir would attract the “Will Durant-Jane Fonda mind-body connection
crowd.”
198
Despite this potential overlapping fan base, Blair Sabol differentiated between the two
stars in her Chicago Tribune column in 1986. According to Sabol, the fact that MacLaine had
“not [written] a fitness book” was remarkable, as MacLaine was “practically the only Hollywood
celeb who [hadn’t].”
199
Blair lauded MacLaine’s “self-control” as opposed to Fonda’s “self-
hostility” and “self-punishment,” ultimately concluding that “MacLaine [was] accessible and
real, while Jane [remained] remote and icily idealized.”
200
For Sabol, MacLaine’s spirituality
was more agreeable than Fonda’s fitness. Still, regardless of these potential distinctions,
Cosmopolitan dubbed MacLaine “a Jane Fonda for the metaphysical set,” while People
described MacLaine as “the Jane Fonda of mysticism.”
201
In these repeated references to Fonda
in articles about MacLaine, the press therefore equated the two stars as signifiers of profitability
in their respective self-improvement markets.
As MacLaine and the press also repeatedly compared MacLaine’s New Age beliefs and
products to Steven Spielberg’s E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and George Lucas’s Star Wars, they
further underscored the profitability and popularity of MacLaine’s work. In a 1983 Ladies’ Home
Journal article, MacLaine argued that “American people’s readiness for a rebirth,” as discussed
Out on a Limb, could also be seen in the success of two seemingly different films: E.T. and
Gandhi (Richard Attenborough, 1982). As MacLaine explained, “one little space creature and

265
one earth creature were saying the same thing, and it’s what audiences wanted to hear—that
there is that extra dimension.”
202
MacLaine’s allusions to E.T. and Gandhi tempered the
somewhat controversial topic of her New Age memoir. She also highlighted the parallels
between Out on a Limb and Lucas’s and Spielberg’s films by describing her new fans as “the
‘Star Wars’ and ‘E.T.’ audience”; as she recalled, “I’d sit at the stage door for an hour with a
hundred young people, talking about The Force and how to apply it to their own lives.”
203
In
MacLaine’s estimation, her work offered a practical application of the ideals portrayed in Star
Wars. And MacLaine continued to celebrate the intersections between her work and these
fantasy blockbusters. In Interview magazine, MacLaine described God as a “love force”: “It’s the
light, it’s what George (Lucas) was talking about in Star Wars. ‘May the force be with you.’ […]
Luke Skywalker got it right.”
204
Through these allusions to other cultural markers, MacLaine
situated her spirituality as mainstream. Several members of the press likewise identified
MacLaine and her works as related to these contemporary films as well. For example, Arianna
Stassinopoulos described MacLaine as “America’s answer to Steven Spielberg’s little invader: a
beautiful, bright, earthy, feminine and funny version of E.T., a woman who delights and
strengthens, entertains and uplifts, all the same.”
205
Washington Post journalist Chuck Conconi
similarly labeled MacLaine’s second New Age memoir, Dancing in the Light, as “like a Steven
Spielberg movie” that “does have its appeal.”
206
Accordingly, MacLaine’s image functioned as
an accessible figure through which spirituality could be consumed. While these references to
E.T. and Star Wars underscored the positivity of MacLaine’s message, they also highlighted that
message’s profitability, as both films were known for breaking box-office records. Moreover,
while MacLaine’s ongoing association with Fonda highlighted both stars’ aging femininity, her

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comparisons to Spielberg and Lucas connected MacLaine, at least symbolically, to young (and
male) audiences as well.
Making Sense of Metaphysical MacLaine
MacLaine’s image as a New Ager encouraged diverse but impassioned responses from
her readers and viewers. As Stuart Applebaum, publicity director of Bantam Books, maintained,
“MacLaine probably gets more mail than any other Bantam author with the exception of Louis
L’Amour.”
207
In January of 1987, MacLaine estimated that she had received over 350,000 letters
since the publication of Out on a Limb, while her appearance on The Oprah Winfrey Show on
April 20, 1986, likewise inspired over 15,000 callers who were eager to ask the star questions or
share their own experiences.
208
Charles Leerhsen reported in Newsweek: “Many of [the letter
writers] echo[ed] Lisa VanderYacht, 22, from Bellingham, Wash.: ‘You probably hear people
say they have known you in a past life about 200 times a day—well, here’s 201.’”
209
Other letter
writers praised MacLaine for talking publicly about her New Age experiences. Juliet Hollister,
for example, described MacLaine as a “great gutsy gal who is giving me the courage to say I’ve
experienced recollections of myself as a Catholic nun in the 11
th
century.”
210
MacLaine’s
supporters also celebrated the transformative impact of her teachings. Claudia Aguilar, who
attended multiple seminars, proclaimed, “[MacLaine] has changed my life.”
211
Although Audley
Collins, another seminar attendee, confessed she did not follow all of MacLaine’s teachings, she
still applauded the seminars for their “very positive impact on [her] life.”
212
Accordingly,
spirituality, as Nitin Govil argues, enabled fans to engage with MacLaine in increasingly
intimate ways.
Still, not all of the responses to MacLaine’s beliefs were positive. MacLaine’s denigrators
could also be, as Tom Burke described the Donahue audience, “rude” and “hostile” and treat

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MacLaine with “a not-so-subtle air of affectionate patronization and bemused condescension”;

nevertheless, MacLaine answered their questions with “composure and courage.”
213
Many
people challenged the rationality of MacLaine’s beliefs. Author James W. Sire, for example,
published a pamphlet, Shirley MacLaine & the New Age Movement, devoted to illuminating how
the New Age movement “lacks logical consistency, how it differs from traditional Eastern
thought and how it distorts Christianity.”
214
Some of the most prominent opponents of
MacLaine’s spirituality were her friends, specifically Bella Abzug and Pete Hamill. In numerous
interviews with MacLaine, reporters recounted how Abzug and Hamill, as William A. Henry III
wrote in Time magazine, “tried to persuade her to keep quiet” about her belief in reincarnation,
out-of-body experiences, and extraterrestrials.
215
According to MacLaine, her two friends made a
pact with each other saying that they would not leave Atlantic City, where MacLaine was
performing a stage show, until they had convinced her to forgo publishing Out on a Limb.
“Instead,” MacLaine remembers, “we sat around talking about what all this means.”
216
While
both Abzug and Hamill remained incredulous—Abzug did eventually find solace in MacLaine’s
meditation techniques—MacLaine reportedly appreciated their skepticism, as it strengthened her
own understanding of New Age mysticism. She explained in the Los Angeles Times: “Because of
my friends, I began testing and researching what I believed, what I observed, and I got very
specific.”
217
In an article in the Chicago Tribune, she reiterated how oppositional beliefs
heightened her spiritual journey: “people who oppose this point of view wouldn’t really upset me
because it [sic] makes me rigorously examine what I’m really saying, what I’m really
believing.”
218
MacLaine underscored her own certainty through these intellectual figures. And
MacLaine enjoyed their challenges, as she attested in Us magazine, “My favorite people are the
skeptics. Real healthy, intellectual skeptics—that’s who I hang out with. People who are already

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into this—what is there to discuss? But someone who’s still dealing with the world in the old
ways, there’s something to discuss!”
219
MacLaine’s friendships with non-believers foregrounded
her thoughtful approach to spirituality. While MacLaine may have been unable to convince her
friends to follow her lead, she demonstrated how opponents deepened her faith.
Yet, like the critics of MacLaine’s activism in the 1970s, critics of her spirituality
opposed more than merely her beliefs: they also focused on what it means to be a film star.
When MacLaine appeared on Donahue, for example, one audience member posed, “I think it’s
outrageous that people believe anything a movie star says…I think Shirley MacLaine is an
authority on singing, dancing, but not on spiritualism. Why do we listen because a movie star is
talking?”
220
According to this detractor, film stars function primarily as entertainers, and any
ventures outside this realm are both unworthy and potentially publicity-driven; in this view,
MacLaine lacked the appropriate knowledge and power to discuss matters of the spirit. Reginald
Alev, executive director of the Cult Awareness Network, was also apprehensive about
MacLaine’s authority; he explained in the Chicago Tribune: “I’m concerned because she’s a
rich, famous, articulate, accomplished personality, she exerts an influence and I think there are
people who may be harmed by indulging in some of the practices that lead from her concepts.”
221

While Alev acknowledged MacLaine’s power as a star, he proposed that her unqualified spiritual
guidance was a misuse of that power. And reader Tom Tomeoni, who wrote to the Los Angeles
Times after the publication of Nina Easton’s 1987 profile on MacLaine, argued, “When
privileged personalities preach spiritual awareness for the masses, run for the hills. Who benefits
from this well-orchestrated personality parade? Not the masses, no way.”
222
Tomeoni suggested
that MacLaine’s spirituality added only to her celebrity, not to the spiritual wellbeing of her

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followers. MacLaine’s spirituality, similar to her liberal beliefs, prompted criticism of her
authority and her authenticity.
Moreover, as Tomeoni’s comment suggested and as MacLaine’s successes indicated,
MacLaine’s many spiritual works were commercially viable for MacLaine; accordingly,
journalists also debated whether or not MacLaine was intentionally exploiting this market. Nan
Curtis Tyler of the Baltimore Sun acknowledged, “There has hardly ever been a more perfect
recreation of a publicist’s dream than ‘Out on a Limb.’ It is far easier to turn aside skeptical
scorn for karmic cosmic justice and extraterrestrial spirituality than to be blind to the radiant aura
of commercialism surrounding it.”
223
Tyler underscored the economic opportunities that Out on
a Limb offered to MacLaine. Yet, Tom Burke argued that it was readers, not money, that
MacLaine desired. Burke proposed, “If NBC viewers read her book for gossip value, so what?
Getting it read is what matters to her, and not, you’re sure, because of the royalties she’ll earn.
It’s no secret that Shirley MacLaine already has more money than she’ll ever need.”
224
Burke
purported that MacLaine did not necessitate the profits that her spirituality afforded her. While,
in her 1987 profile on MacLaine, Nina Easton dubbed MacLaine the “Super Saleswoman of the
New Age,” Easton reiterated Burke’s point: “While [MacLaine] has been criticized for profiting
from the New Age movement through book sales and seminars, her agent, Mort Viner, says
MacLaine has turned down film opportunities paying more than $1 million to pursue this
work.”
225
In proposing that MacLaine could make more money through making films than
selling spirituality, Viner’s comment situated MacLaine’s spirituality as a sacrifice of economic
security. Still, cynics continued to censure MacLaine’s potentially exploitative methods.
226

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Disarming Her Opponents
While MacLaine respected those who challenged her beliefs, she frequently preempted
her critics by recognizing her own shortcomings in interviews. Accordingly, the press positioned
MacLaine as neither frivolous nor self-important, neither outlandish nor insane, and, ultimately,
with an extraordinary sense of humor. For example, MacLaine frequently acknowledged the
faddish aspects of New Age spirituality. When MacLaine discussed the “collective spiritual
consciousness” with Kevin Kelly of the Boston Globe in 1982, she conceded, “Now, the minute I
say that, I know you’re probably thinking that I’m talking about some peculiar California
mystique, that kind of (expletive deleted) [sic]. But that’s not what I mean. I’ve felt this
everywhere I’ve been…from Australia to the Netherlands, Mexico to Paris.”
227
After referencing
the stereotype of California as a home to superficial crazes, MacLaine alternatively situated her
beliefs as part of a larger global phenomenon. Still, finding appropriate language proved to be an
ongoing issue for MacLaine. In a Cosmopolitan interview, MacLaine admitted, “I had a horrible
problem with using what sound like hippy-dippy California words like ‘karma’ and ‘trance
medium’ and ‘astral plane,’ but damn it, we don’t have any other words in English to describe
these higher spiritual dimensions!”
228
Aljean Harmetz similarly portrayed MacLaine as
struggling to represent her beliefs: “[MacLaine] shakes her head indignantly at having to use
clichés, ‘the prejudice,’ of language for what she considers wordless.”
229
MacLaine also excused
her “hippy-dippy” language in interviews in both the Ladies’ Home Journal and the Los Angeles
Times.
230
By making these frequent apologies, MacLaine appeared acutely aware of how the
ways in which she expressed her beliefs determined how audiences interpreted her image.
Furthermore, these apologies suggested that her apparent trendiness was merely the product of
the limitations of the English language, not the sincerity of her beliefs.

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As much as MacLaine expressly did not want to be associated with “hippy-dippy”
California—in other words, as much as she did not want to be dismissed as frivolous—she also
did not want to be taken too seriously. MacLaine insisted that she was not a religious leader
herself; in Nina Easton’s words, “there’s a fine line between teacher and guru—and [MacLaine]
knows it.”
231
In the majority of the profiles about MacLaine’s spirituality, reporters, her friends,
her coworkers, and MacLaine herself denied that she was either a guru or a “New Age
Evangelist,” as Lisa Anderson had dubbed MacLaine.
232
Phyllis Battelle explained that
MacLaine “would never try to convert [friend] Bella [Abzug]—or anyone else […]—from
skeptic to believer.”
233
MacLaine’s 1984 interview in Playboy affirmed this image, as the
interviewer wrote, “Her new age new spiritual consciousness was evident, though never in a
proselytizing manner.”
234
Miniseries producer Stan Margulies likewise described MacLaine in
the Los Angeles Times: “One of the things I like about Shirley […] is that she doesn’t ask that
you take a blood oath that you believe everything she’s written. She just asks that you think
about it.”
235
And Nina Easton reiterated, “Let’s get one thing straight. MacLaine is not a
missionary.”
236
As these various sources contended, MacLaine’s New Age works functioned to
bring about awareness not necessarily change.
MacLaine recognized how her role as a celebrity was advantageous to her educational
efforts. In the Washington Post, MacLaine reflected on her past lives, claiming “Maybe that’s
why I’m getting it right this time by becoming a celebrity so somebody would listen to me, so I
could share it.”
237
Just as she had done during her activist phase, MacLaine acknowledged her
celebrity as a means for communication. Still, she understood that her celebrity might also
negatively affect her representation of New Age beliefs. As she explained in Cosmopolitan,
“That I’m famous and have written this book works two ways: I have the visibility, and the

272
readers buy it ’cause I’m well known. Then there are just as many who feel that if it’s said by
me, a ‘movie star,’ it’s bound to be garbage.”
238
In other words, using celebrity as a means to
familiarize others with New Age beliefs did not guarantee success. According to MacLaine,
critics who had accused her of abusing her star power misinterpreted the impact of that power.
Appropriately, MacLaine described her New Age works as merely reflections of her own
spiritual journey, not religious resources. In Publisher’s Weekly, MacLaine confessed, “I feel
very inept at sounding like an expert on the subject, and I don’t like to be in that position […]
I’ve only written in terms of my own thinking and experiencing.”
239
She reiterated this notion in
Cosmopolitan the following year: “I’m only an authority on one thing—my own experience.”
240

And she told Jon Gould in 1985, “I’m not interested in what other people do. I’m only interested
in what I do. I personally don’t want to be anybody’s guru, or start a movement.”
241
Prior to the
release of her miniseries and the start of her seminars, MacLaine described herself: “I don’t think
of myself as a proselytizer, but more as a sharer of what my reality seems to be.”
242
Accordingly,
when responding to fans’ letters, as MacLaine explained elsewhere, she was “very careful”: “I
tell them that they are their own guru. They are the person in charge of their own destiny.”
243
In
1989—after MacLaine ended her seminars because attendees were “taking her too
seriously”
244
—MacLaine admitted, “I feel very comfortable with people trusting me. I don’t feel
comfortable with people asking me to do it for them. Or saying they ‘couldn’t do it without
me.’”
245
Whether or not these statements by MacLaine reflected the intentions of her multiple
New Age works, they upheld the New Age belief in finding truth within oneself and questioning
external authority figures. MacLaine thus employed her beliefs to undermine the negative
implications of her persona as a New Ager.

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Still, the eccentric aspects of her beliefs could easily be sensationalized, and the press
represented MacLaine as equally wary of this outcome. Initially, as she explained to William
Goldstein in Publisher’s Weekly, MacLaine refrained from discussing the details of her past lives
“to stay as much away from the National Enquirer kind of provocation as [she] could.”
246
In the
Washington Post, MacLaine reiterated that her past lives were “too sensational to put in [Out on
a Limb];” as she admitted, “I’ll probably end up being queen of the tabloids anyway, but I didn’t
exactly want to encourage it.”
247
While Chicago Tribune columnist Connie Lauerman described
MacLaine as “a Zen master or maybe a queen of the supermarket tabloids,”
248
MacLaine again
referred to herself as “queen of the tabloids” on Donahue.
249
Despite allegedly avoiding
discussions of her past lives, MacLaine did reveal colorful details about them—from committing
suicide on Atlantis to being a Himalayan monk—at the time of Out on a Limb’s publication.
250

However, even when she discussed these previous existences in Ladies’ Home Journal, for
example, Phyllis Battelle noted, “Shirley winces. ‘I’d rather not go into any more of that […]
because I’m afraid it might sensationalize the cornerstone of my understanding.”
251
While
MacLaine likely understood that these stories fueled publicity about herself and her book, she
and the press presented MacLaine as resistant to these commercially-driven objectives. Even in
2005, MacLaine insisted, “But whatever I’ve said, it was never to shock. I don’t believe in
manipulating the truth to shock.”
252
MacLaine maintained that her public pronouncements about
her spirituality only further underscored her representation as an authentic star.
While MacLaine’s outrageous beliefs were fodder for the tabloids, they could also be
used to question MacLaine’s sanity. MacLaine’s attentiveness to this consequence recurred in
interviews throughout the 1980s. For example, MacLaine asked Paul Rosenfield if people
thought she had “gone bonkers” in the Los Angeles Times,
253
and she told Stephanie Mansfield

274
that no one thought she was “off [her] rocker” in the Washington Post.
254
Alice Steinbach of the
Baltimore Sun acknowledged, “Now don’t think for a moment that Shirley MacLaine […] isn’t
aware that this kind of cosmicspeak might prompt her readers—and her fans—to speculate that
not only has […] [she] gone out on a limb, but, indeed may have gone over the edge, into outer
space. Or inner space, as the case may be.”
255
In the interview with Tom Burke, MacLaine
conceded that some people thought she was “not rowing with two oars.”
256
And, the following
year, MacLaine explained to Jeff Rovin, “I don’t know that anyone thinks I’m wacky, […]
though they might think what I’m saying is wacky.”
257
In these articles, MacLaine once again
asserted her levelheadedness by anticipating and appreciating the negative interpretations of her
persona.
MacLaine’s most effective tactic for disarming her critics was arguably her sense of
humor. In 1983, Paul Rosenfield noted that MacLaine’s persistent humor—“hours after she
started talking, she was still laughing”—was “critical.”
258
Aljean Harmetz reiterated that
mysticism “[had] not cost her sense of humor,” and Arianna Stassinopoulos similarly described
the star’s “all-pervasive” spirituality as “laced with humor.”
259
In 1985, MacLaine explained that
her joyous perspective was a conscious decision: “I’m looking for ways to ‘ootz’ us all into
metaphysical humor. Because laughter is the true sign of health. […] These days I’m laughing a
lot.”
260
Accordingly, MacLaine equated her wellbeing with her sense of humor. As Jeff Rovin
wrote in 1989, “one of her most appealing qualities” is her “ability to laugh at herself.”
261

MacLaine’s laughter also appealed to Hartford Courant book editor Jocelyn McClurg: “Shirley
MacLaine has one of the great laughs of all time […] and nothing seems to amuse her more than
being Shirley MacLaine.”
262
In these various interviews, emphasis on MacLaine’s buoyant

275
attitude functioned to underscore her lasting appeal as a star, regardless of how peculiar her
beliefs had become.
MacLaine’s appreciation for jokes about her New Age spirituality—told by both others
and MacLaine herself—emphasized her accessibility. Published on February 10, 1987, for
example, Gary Larson’s The Far Side comic showed two lizards conversing in the desert, while
the caption read, “There it is again…a feeling that in a past life I was someone named Shirley
MacLaine.”
263
Los Angeles Times writer Mary McNamara noted that a signed copy of the Larson
comic hangs on a bathroom wall in MacLaine’s residence in New Mexico.
264
Garry Trudeau’s
Doonesbury comic strip also evoked MacLaine’s beliefs when the character Boopsie, a ditsy
former actress, explored her past lives through channeling. MacLaine described such humorous
representations of New Age tenets as “endearing.”
265
She also purportedly “considered it a hoot”
when David Letterman mocked her at the 1986 Emmy Awards.
266
As Kim Garfield recalled in
Ladies’ Home Journal, Letterman greeted the audience: “Welcome to the 1986 Emmy Awards,
which is being broadcast all over the world as we speak…except to Shirley MacLaine, to whom
it’s being broadcast in the next century.”
267
In the same interview, MacLaine explained her
appreciation for jokes such as these: “You see, once you joke about something, you know that
it’s settled into the culture. And I love my name being attached to these jokes, because none of
them are funny unless they use my name.” MacLaine acknowledged that even jokes made at her
expense compounded the discursive power of her stardom.
Accordingly, MacLaine has also participated in numerous parodies of her beliefs. In
1987, she appeared on stage at the Academy Awards in a spaceship before presenting the award
for Best Screenplay.
268
As she approached the podium, she declared, “To you, this may seem like
special effects. To me, it’s basic transportation.”
269
Throughout the 1980s and early 1990s,

276
MacLaine’s touring stage shows also included self-effacing gags about her beliefs.
270
As she
reasoned, “All that stuff I talk about—death, life after death—needs relief. Comedy relief. It also
deflates my own power. I don’t like having a lot of power.”
271
While I would argue that her self-
deprecating humor in fact deflated the power of MacLaine’s critics not MacLaine, the
explanation evidences her understanding that audiences would be more willing to accept her
spirituality if constructed as humorous.
In 1998, MacLaine poked fun at herself again in a commercial for the Visa Check
Card.
272
Part of Visa’s “It’s everywhere you want to be” campaign, the commercial features brief
images of MacLaine in various years—47 B.C., A.D. 1231, 1823, and 1997—wearing the
respective fashions of each period. In the different historic eras, MacLaine appears with the same
woman, as a voiceover claims, “If you’ve lived seven or eight lives, you can make some pretty
long-lasting friendships.” In the present day, MacLaine enters a New Age shop and happens
upon her former friend at the cash register. The two friends affectionately embrace; however,
when MacLaine tries to pay with a check, the friend asks for identification. The voiceover
continues, “But even when you’ve known someone forever, without ID, you’re history.” The
commercial offers a poignant example of not only how MacLaine poked fun at herself but also
how her New Age beliefs could be commodified in the contemporary capitalist culture.
Three years later, MacLaine comically exploited her metaphysical persona in the parodic
made-for-television movie These Old Broads (Matthew Diamond, 2001). The movie
humorously dramatizes the intersections between MacLaine’s age and her spirituality: MacLaine
plays Kate Westbourne, an aging actress and New Ager, preparing to revive her faltering career
with agent Beryl Mason (Elizabeth Taylor) and former co-stars Piper Grayson (Debbie
Reynolds) and Addie Holden (Joan Collins). Throughout the film, Kate meditates, discusses

277
spirits and chakras, and wears extravagant Asian-inspired fashions. Prior to production,
MacLaine reportedly advised screenwriter Carrie Fisher: “Look, if you want to make fun of all
my New Age beliefs, then go right ahead—as long as they’re funny jokes.”
273
Again, MacLaine
was willing to mock herself as long as doing so attracted viewers; humor functioned to increase
her connection with audiences. While spirituality offered creative outlets for MacLaine through
books, speaking engagements, movies, and websites, these parodies compounded the reach of
her stardom: MacLaine’s spirituality could appeal to believers and non-believers alike.
Conclusion: The End?
Since the release of her first New Age book in 1983, MacLaine’s narrative of aging has
undoubtedly been one of progress. As a New Age authority, she has transcended the limitations
of the physical body. She has charted new paths within various media industries, from
publishing, to film, television, and home video, to the Internet. While her New Age products
have transformed representations of her private and professional life, her ability to challenge and
laugh at herself has facilitated her survival in an industry known for being cruel to aging women.
In addition to receiving multiple lifetime achievement awards—the Cecil B. DeMille Award in
1998, the American Film Institute Lifetime Achievement Award in 2012, and the Kennedy
Center Honor in 2013—MacLaine continues to star in mainstream films and television shows.
Just days after her eightieth birthday, MacLaine appeared as a guest star on the musical comedy
series Glee (Fox, 2009– ), and she is slated to appear in three films currently in production. She
still contributes to her website on a weekly basis, and if we can assume anything about
MacLaine’s future based on her past, she is probably working on a new book. In the final entry
of her 2013 metaphysical memoir What If..., Shirley MacLaine proposes, “What if this

278
isn’t…The End?”
274
As an eighty-year-old female star, MacLaine continues to imagine new
beginnings.

NOTES

1
“36
th
Annual Kennedy Center Honors,” The Kennedy Center, accessed April 1, 2014,
http://www.kennedy-center.org/programs/specialevents/honors/

2
“Remarks by the President at 2013 Kennedy Center Honors Reception,” The White House,
accessed April 1, 2014, http://www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2013/12/08/remarks-
president-2013-kennedy-center-honors-reception; “President Obama Speaks at 2013 Kennedy
Center Honors Reception,” YouTube video, 15:39, posted by “The White House,” December 8,
2013, http://youtu.be/m-mzjGHSx0c. The following quotations from Obama’s speech at the
Kennedy Center Honors Reception can also be found through these two sources.

3
Margaret Morganroth Gullette, Aged by Culture (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004),
101.

4
Ibid., 102.

5
Anne Davis Basting, The Stages of Age: Performing Age in Contemporary American Culture
(Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1998), 9, 10.

6
Gullette, Aged by Culture, 11.

7
Ibid., 22.

8
Ibid.

9
Martine Beugnet, “Screening the Old: Femininity as Old Age in Contemporary French
Cinema,” Studies in the Literary Imagination 39, no. 2 (Fall 2006): 4; Quoted in Chivers,
Silvering Screen, 14.

10
Gullette, Aged by Culture, 19, 20.

11
Basting, The Stages of Age, 2.

12
Heather Addison, “‘Must the Players Keep Young?’: Early Hollywood’s Cult of Youth,”
Cinema Journal 45, no. 5 (Summer 2006): 5-6.

13
Ibid., 6.

14
Ibid., 11.

279

15
Ibid., 12.

16
Ibid., 13, 17-18.

17
Sally Chivers, The Silvering Screen: Old Age and Disability in Cinema (Toronto: University
of Toronto Press, 2011), 38.

18
Sally Chivers, The Silvering Screen, 43; Anne Morey, “Grotesquerie as Marker of Success in
Aging Female Stars,” in In the Limelight and Under the Microscope: Forms and Functions of
Female Celebrity, eds. Su Holmes and Diane Negra (New York: Continuum, 2011), 103-124.

19
Morey, “Grotesquerie as Marker of Success in Aging Female Stars,” 104.

20
Ibid., 105.

21
Ibid., 108.

22
Ibid., 107.

23
Jean Kozlowski, “Women, Film, and the Midlife Sophie’s Choice: Sink or Sousatzka?,” in
Menopause: A Midlife Passage, ed. Joan C. Callahan (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1993), 18.

24
Ibid., 4.

25
Ibid., 6.

26
Morey, “Grotesquerie as Marker of Success in Aging Female Stars,” 106.

27
Max Weber, On Charisma and Institution Building, ed. S. N. Eisenstadt (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1968), 329; quoted in Richard Dyer, Stars, supplementary chapter by Paul
McDonald (London: BFI Publishing, 1998), 30.

28
Chris Rojek, Celebrity (London: Reaktion Books, 2001), 53.

29
Ibid., 53-63.

30
Richard Dyer, Heavenly Bodies: Film Stars and Society (New York: Routledge, 2004), 16;
Quoted in Nitin Govil, “Conversion Narratives,” Media Fields Journal 1, no. 2 (2011): 8n.

31
Nitin Govil, “Conversion Narratives,” Media Fields Journal 1, no. 2 (2011): 2.

32
Ibid., 1.

33
Ibid., 3.

280

34
For a discussion of stars as both ordinary and extraordinary, see John Ellis, “Stars as a
Cinematic Phenomenon,” in Stardom and Celebrity: A Reader, eds. Sean Redmond and Su
Holmes (Los Angeles: Sage Publications, 2007), 91.

35
Ian C. Jarvie, “Stars and Ethnicity: Hollywood and the United States, 1932-51,” in Stars: The
Film Reader, eds. Lucy Fischer and Marcia Landy (New York: Routledge, 2004), 172n.

36
Ibid., 173.

37
David Weinstein, “Eddie Cantor Fights the Nazis: The Evolution of a Jewish Celebrity,”
American Jewish History 96, no. 4 (December 2010): 235, 237.

38
Eric Michael Mazur, “Going My Way? Crosby and Catholicism on the Road to America,” in
Going My Way: Bing Crosby and American Culture, eds. Ruth Prigozy and Walter Raubicheck
(Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2007), 20-22.

39
Ibid., 21.

40
“Actress Tells Why She Quits to Serve Church,” Los Angeles Times, January 17, 1950.

41
“June Haver Says She’ll Become a Nun,” Los Angeles Times, February 5, 1953; “June Haver
to Quit Films,” New York Times, February 5, 1953.

42
“June Haver Wins Praise from Convent Sisters,” Los Angeles Times, March 29, 1953; “June
Haver Returns from Life in Convent,” Los Angeles Times, September 30, 1953; “Convent Return
Doubted,” New York Times, October 1, 1953; “June Haver Won’t Be Nun, Mother Believes,”
Los Angeles Times, October 2, 1953.

43
Harold Heffernan, “A Religious Revival,” Hollywood Camera, Boston Globe, April 3, 1953;
Seymour Korman, “Is Hollywood Getting Religion?,” Chicago Daily Tribune, June 6, 1964.

44
Sarah M. Pike, New Age and Neopagan Religions in America (New York: Columbia
University Press, 2004), 22.

45
Pike, New Age and Neopagan Religions, 25, 22-23; Bruce J. Schulman, The Seventies: The
Great Shift in American Culture, Society, and Politics (Cambridge, MA: De Capo Press, 2002),
96.

46
Pike, New Age and Neopagan Religions, 31.

47
Ibid., 25-26.

48
Nicholas Campion cites these “erroneous” works in Astrology and Popular Religion in the
Modern West: Prophecy, Cosmology and the New Age Movement (Burlington, VT: Ashgate,
2012), 30-31.

281

49
Pike, New Age and Neopagan Religions, 40.

50
Ibid.

51
Jon Butler, Awash in a Sea of Faith: Christianizing the American People (Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1999); quoted in Sarah M. Pike, New Age and Neopagan Religions in
America, 42.

52
Pike, New Age and Neopagan Religions, 24.

53
Ibid., 24.

54
Ibid., 61.

55
Ibid., 61-62.

56
Ibid., 69.

57
Maurice Isserman and Michael Kazin, America Divided: The Civil War of the 1960s, 3
rd
ed.
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 265.

58
Pike, New Age and Neopagan Religions, 24.

59
Ibid., 15.

60
Isserman and Kazin, America Divided, 266, 268.

61
Ibid., 266.

62
Philip Jenkins, Decade of Nightmares: The End of the Sixties and the Making of Eighties
America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 24-46.

63
Ibid., 36.

64
Ibid., 36-37.

65
Pike, New Age and Neopagan Religions, 16.

66
Ibid., 25.

67
“Yoga in America Study 2012,” Yoga Journal, accessed April 9, 2014,
http://www.yogajournal.com/press/yoga_in_america

68
Sarah Banet-Weiser, Authentic™: The Politics of Ambivalence in a Brand Culture (New York:
New York University Press, 2012), 166.

282

69
Ibid., 171.

70
Ibid.

71
Ibid., 176.

72
Ibid., 191.

73
Ibid., 188.

74
For further information, see Banet-Weiser, Authentic™; Govil, “Conversion Narratives”;
Kimberly Lau, New Age Capitalism: Making Money East of Eden (Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press, 2000); Jane Naomi Iwamura, Virtual Orientalism: Asian Religions and
American Popular Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).

75
Amelie Hastie, Cupboards of Curiosity: Women, Recollection, and Film History (Durham:
Duke University Press, 2008), 2, 160.

76
See, for example, Blair Sabol, “Yogi to the Stars and Everyman,” Los Angeles Times,
November 29, 1974; Linda Dannenberg, “I Wasn’t Born Beautiful…,” Family Circle, July 1975;
Sue Reilly, “Shirley MacLaine Explains,” McCall’s, August 1976.

77
Quoted in Natalie Gittelson, “Shirley MacLaine: On Her Own and Loving It,” McCall’s,
September 1980.

78
Quoted in Howard Kissel, “Shirley MacLaine: On a New Track,” Women’s Wear Daily,
September 9, 1980.

79
Quoted in Tom Buckley, “When Shirley MacLaine Had a Premonition,” New York Times,
October 31, 1980.

80
Quoted in Sandra Shevey, “‘…8…9…10!’” Us, November 25, 1980.

81
Frank Deford, “Shirley MacLaine,” People, July 18, 1983.

82
Quoted in “Shirley MacLaine,” Playboy, September 1984.

83
Quoted in Edwin McDowell, “The Reincarnation of Shirley MacLaine,” About Books and
Authors, review of Out on a Limb, by Shirley MacLaine, New York Times, July 31, 1983.

84
Charles Leerhsen, “Out There with Shirley,” Newsweek, October 21, 1985; Nina Easton,
“Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses,” Los Angeles Times, September 6, 1987.

85
Shirley MacLaine, Out on a Limb (New York: Bantam Books, 1983), front matter.

283

86
Ibid., 4.

87
Ibid., 10.

88
Ibid., 46.

89
Ibid., 200-201.

90
Barbara Shulgasser, review of Out on a Limb, by Shirley MacLaine, New York Times,
September 18, 1983.

91
Christopher Schemering, “MacLaine’s Spiritual Limbo,” review of Out on a Limb, by Shirley
MacLaine, Washington Post, August 13, 1983.

92
Lisa Mitchell, “A Metaphysical Shirley MacLaine,” review of Out on a Limb, by Shirley
MacLaine, Los Angeles Times, August 14, 1982.

93
Ibid.

94
Shirley MacLaine, Dancing in the Light (New York: Bantam Books, 1985); Shirley MacLaine,
It’s All in the Playing (New York: Bantam Books, 1987), Shirley MacLaine, Going Within: A
Guide to Inner Transformation (New York: Bantam Books, 1989); Shirley MacLaine, Dance
While You Can (New York: Bantam Books, 1992); Shirley MacLaine, My Lucky Stars: A
Hollywood Memoir (New York: Bantam Books, 1995); Shirley MacLaine, The Camino: A
Journey of the Spirit (New York: Pocket Books, 2000); Shirley MacLaine, Out on a Leash:
Exploring the Nature of Reality and Love (New York: Atria Books, 2003); Shirley MacLaine,
Sage-ing While Age-ing (New York: Atria Books, 2007); Shirley MacLaine, I’m Over All That
and Other Confessions (New York: Atria Paperback, 2011); Shirley MacLaine, What If…A
Lifetime of Questions, Speculations, Reasonable Guesses, and a Few Things I Know for Sure
(New York: Atria Paperback, 2013).

95
Kevin Goldman, “Lackluster Afils or ABC Sked? Hard to Tell at Gotham Confab,” Variety,
May 15, 1985.

96
International Sound Track, Variety, November 20, 1985.

97
Notes from Broadcast Markets in the U.S. and Abroad, Variety, November 20, 1985; Peter
Noble, In Confidence, Screen International, February 15, 1986; “Movies, Miniseries on the
Networks’ 1986-1987 Marquees,” Broadcasting, March 31, 1986; Bradley Graham, “MacLaine,
Out on a Peruvian Limb,” Washington Post, March 6, 1986.

98
Roderick Mann, “Entities at Work on ‘Out on a Limb,’” Los Angeles Times, February 9, 1986;
“She’s Having the Time of Her Lives,” People, January 26, 1987.

99
Quoted in Graham, “MacLaine, Out on a Peruvian Limb.”

284

100
Mann, “Entities at Work.”

101
Quoted in Graham, “MacLaine, Out on a Peruvian Limb.”

102
Mann, “Entities at Work.”

103
Mark Schwed, “ABC Miniseries Flops,” Los Angeles Times, January 21, 1987.

104
Howard Rosenberg, “MacLaine’s Limb Leaves Non-Believers Hanging,” review of Out on a
Limb, aired on ABC, Los Angeles Times, January 16, 1987.

105
Tom Shales, “Mysticism à la MacLaine,” review of Out on a Limb, aired on ABC,
Washington Post, January 17, 1987.

106
James Endrst, “Shirley MacLaine: Out of this World,” review of Out on a Limb, aired on
ABC, Hartford Courant, January 17, 1987.

107
Tone., review of Out on a Limb, aired on ABC, Variety, January 28, 1987.

108
Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

109
Charles Leerhsen, “Out There with Shirley.”

110
Lynn Smith, “The New, Chic Metaphysical Fad of Channeling,” Los Angeles Times,
December 5, 1986.

111
Kathleen A. Hughes, “For Personal Insights, Some Try Channels Out of This World,” Wall
Street Journal, April 1, 1987.

112
Meg Sullivan, “New Age Will Dawn in August, Seers Say, And Malibu Is Ready,” Wall
Street Journal, June 23, 1987.

113
Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

114
Quoted in Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

115
Connie Zweig, “Bhodi Tree Bookstore: Timeless Retreat,” Los Angeles Times, February 14,
1987.

116
Ibid.

117
Garret Condon, “‘New Age’ Books,” Hartford Courant, November 15, 1987.

118
William Goldstein, “Life on the Astral Plane,” Publishers Weekly, March 18, 1983.

285

119
Condon, “‘New Age’ Books.”

120
“Actress MacLaine Kicks Off Spiritual Seminars in Va.,” Washington Post, January 25, 1987.

121
Lisa Anderson, “Getting Cosmic with Shirley,” Chicago Tribune, August, 19, 1987; Marlys
Harris, “Shirley’s Best Performance,” Money, September 1, 1987,
http://money.cnn.com/magazines/moneymag/moneymag_archive/1987/09/01/84019/.

122
Dick Roraback, “650 Disciples Spend a Weekend in the Lives of Shirley MacLaine,” Los
Angeles Times, July 19, 1987.

123
Quoted in Mary Barrett, “Looking into the Beyond,” Chicago Tribune, January 9, 1987;
Harris, “Shirley’s Best Performance.”

124
Barbara Kantrowitz, “Going Even Farther Out on That Limb,” Newsweek, July 27, 1987.

125
Harris, “Shirley’s Best Performance”; “Purposes and Obstacles,” Shirley’s World,
ShirleyMacLaine.com, accessed May 5, 2014,
http://shirleymaclaine.com/shirleysworld/product.php?a=detail&pid=3198&id=50&sid=34.

126
Quoted in Lisa Anderson, “Getting Cosmic with Shirley.”

127
Kantrowitz, “Going Even Farther,” 46; Harris, “Shirley’s Best Performance.”

128
Terry Atkinson, “Shirley MacLaine’s Spiritual Aerobics,” Los Angeles Times, May 14, 1989;
J. Gordon Melton, The Encyclopedia of Religious Phenomenon (Canton, MI: Visible Ink Press,
2008), 209.

129
Jami Bernard, “Vestron Unveils Shirley MacLaine Relaxation Vid,” Billboard, February 4,
1989.

130
Although still skeptical about some aspects of New Age spirituality, Abzug had reportedly
found the meditation techniques MacLaine taught in her seminars series to be helpful in dealing
with the loss of her husband. See Atkinson, “Shirley MacLaine’s Spiritual Aerobics.”

131
Jami Bernard, “Vestron Unveils Shirley.”

132
“It’s Guaranteed,” Newsline…, Billboard, February 25, 1989; “Two New Strong Contenders:
HBO’s ‘Swimsuit Video’ and Vestron’s Shirley MacLaine ‘Meditation’ Lure New Buyers to
Sell-Through,” Billboard, February 25, 1989.

133
“Video Publishers Showing Renewed Interest in Bookstore Distribution,” Publisher’s Weekly,
Febuary 3, 1989; “Two New Strong Contenders,” Billboard, February 25, 1989; People, Variety,
April 5, 1989.

286

134
Atkinson, “Shirley MacLaine’s Spiritual Aerobics.”

135
Quoted in ibid.

136
Buck Wolf, “Shirley McLaine’s [sic] Next Frontier,” ABCNews, July 20, 2000, accessed May
11, 2014,
http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/WolfFiles/story?id=96448&page=1&singlePage=true

137
Quoted in ibid.

138
Original homepage obtained from “ShirleyMacLaine.com,” The Wayback Machine, captured
May 12, 2000, accessed May 12, 2014,
https://web.archive.org/web/20000512013021/http://shirleymaclaine.com/

139
Stephanie Mansfield, “MacLaine: Her Lives & Times,” Washington Post, June 21, 1983;
Tom Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out Yet Very Much In,” Cosmopolitan, February 1984;
Arianna Stassinopoulos, “Shirley MacLaine: Spiritual, Successful, Surprised,” Ladies’ Home
Journal, May 1984; William A. Henry III, “The Best Years of Her Lives,” Time, May 14, 1984;
Paul Rosenfield, “Catching Up with the Real MacLaines,” Los Angeles Times, November 11,
1984; Jon Gould, “Metaphysical Madam,” Interview, April 1985; Digby Diehl, “MacLaine: Let’s
Get Metaphysical,” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, October 6, 1985; “She’s Having the Time of
Her Lives,” People, January 26, 1987; Martin Gardner, “Isness Is Her Business,” New York
Review, April 9, 1987; Jeff Rovin, “Shirley MacLaine: The Prime of Her Lives,” Ladies’ Home
Journal, April 1989; Dani Shapiro, “Which Life Is It Anyway?” More, February 2001; Daniel
Schweiger, “The Many Lives of Shirley MacLaine,” Venice, December 2005/January 2006;
Dave Itzkoff, “MacLaine’s Next Life,” New York Times, January 6, 2013.

140
Tom Donnelly, “Shirley MacLaine…If They Could See Me Now,” Washington Post,
November 28, 1974.

141
Martha Weinman Lear, “Shirley MacLaine: How to Be 40 and Love It!” Ladies’ Home
Journal, March 1975.

142
Gittelson, “Shirley MacLaine,” 14.

143
Paul Rosenfield, “Still Shirl After All These Years,” Los Angeles Times, June 25, 1983.

144
Aljean Harmetz, “Call It Mad, But It’s Pure MacLaine,” New York Times, April 1, 1984.

145
“America’s 10 Best Bodies,” McCall’s, May 1985.

146
Shaun Considine, “Shirley MacLaine: Sweet Shirley Doesn’t Live Here Anymore,” After
Dark, July 1975.

147
MacLaine, I’m Over All That, 72.

287

148
Quoted in Jeff Rovin, “Shirley!,” Ladies’ Home Journal, August 1985.

149
MacLaine, I’m Over All That, 72.

150
Quoted in Mary Daniels, “Shirley: Show Biz Dropout Drops Back In,” Chicago Tribune,
February 18, 1977, A3.

151
Quoted in Clifford Terry, “Shirley MacLaine: Revved Up, Roarin’, and Real,” Cosmopolitan,
August 1977.

152
Quoted in Henry, “The Best Years of Her Lives.”

153
Quoted in Jay Carr, “MacLaine Lives Life on Her Own Terms,” Los Angeles Times, January
1, 1997.

154
Quoted in Brantley Bardin, “Women in Hollywood: Icon, Shirley MacLaine,” Premiere,
October 2005.

155
Shirley MacLaine, interview by Oprah Winfrey, Super Soul Sunday, OWN, aired on March
23, 2013.

156
Quoted in Jon Gould, “Metaphysical Madam,” Interview, April 1985. MacLaine makes
similar comments in Stephanie Mansfield, “MacLaine: Her Lives & Times,” Washington Post,
June 21, 1983; “Nothing Fazes High-Kicking Oscar Winner Shirley MacLaine—Especially her
50
th
Birthday,” In Her Own Words, People, April 30, 1984.

157
Jean-Noel Bassior, “Shirley’s Way,” Modern Maturity, January/February 2001.

158
MacLaine, Sage-ing While Age-ing, 93.

159
Gittelson, “Shirley MacLaine,” 14.

160
Alice Steinbach, “Shirley MacLaine: She’s Going ‘Out on a Limb’ with Beliefs about her
Past Lives,” Sun (Baltimore, MD), June 26, 1983; Henry, “The Best Years of Her Lives”;
“Shirley MacLaine,” Playboy, September 1984.

161
“Shirley Maclaine Mystery,” Los Angeles Times, June 3, 1983.

162
Quoted in Connie Lauerman, “Shirley MacLaine,” Tempo, Chicago Tribune, June 26, 1983.

163
Ibid.

164
Quoted in Phyllis Battelle, “Shirley MacLaine: An Interview That Will Amaze You,” Ladies’
Home Journal, June 1983.

288

165
Quoted in Henry, “The Best Years of Her Lives.”

166
Quoted in Paul Rosenfield, “So Says Shirley MacLaine,” Los Angeles Times, October 27,
1985.

167
Quoted in Rovin, “Shirley!”

168
Mansfield, “MacLaine: Her Lives & Times.”

169
Quoted in ibid.

170
Rosenfield, “Still Shirl”; Quoted in Rosenfield, “So Says Shirley MacLaine.”

171
Quoted in Nancy Collins, “The Real MacLaine,” Vanity Fair, March 1991.

172
Dyer, Stars, 45.

173
Quoted in Rovin, “Shirley!”

174
MacLaine, Out on a Limb, 101.

175
Ibid., 102.

176
Mansfield, “MacLaine: Her Lives & Times.”

177
See, for example, Steinbach, “Shirley MacLaine: She’s Going ‘Out on a Limb’”; Battelle,
“Shirley MacLaine: An Interview”; Stassinopoulos, “Shirley MacLaine: Spiritual, Successful,
Surprised”; Henry, “The Best Years of Her Lives.”

178
Henry, “The Best Years of Her Lives.”

179
Quoted in Stassinopoulos, “Shirley MacLaine: Spiritual, Successful, Surprised.”

180
Quoted in Rosenfield, “So Says Shirley MacLaine.”

181
Quoted in Marilyn Beck, “MacLaine’s Daughter Stops In, and Steps Up on Stage,” Chicago
Tribune, March 24, 1983.

182
Quoted in Collins, “MacLaine,” Vanity Fair, March 1991.

183
Quoted in Michael Arkush, “Independence of Sachi Parker,” Los Angeles Times, March 8,
1991.

184
Sachi Parker and Frederick Stroppel, Lucky Me: My Life with—and without—My Mom,
Shirley MacLaine (New York: Gotham Books, 2013).

289

185
Morey, “Grotesquerie as Marker,” 105.

186
Quoted in “MacLaine ‘Shocked’ by Daughter’s ‘Dishonest’ Memoir,” USA Today, February
5, 2013, http://www.usatoday.com/story/life/people/2013/02/03/shirley-maclaine-absent-mother-
says-daughter-memoir/1887499/

187
“Shirley MacLaine’s Daughter Pans Her Performance as Mom,” ABC News video, 8:57,
February 1, 2013, http://abcnews.go.com/2020/video/shirley-maclaines-daughter-pans-
performance-mom-18382979

188
Quoted in Lauerman, “Shirley MacLaine.”

189
John Leo, “I Was Beheaded in the 1700s,” Behavior, Time, September 10, 1984.

190
Rovin, “Shirley!,” 154; Roger Ebert, “Gamine Goes Gariatric,” Movieline, October 21, 1988.

191
Quoted in Stassinopoulos, “Shirley MacLaine: Spiritual, Successful, Surprised.”

192
Quoted in Bardin, “Women in Hollywood.”

193
Quoted in Battelle, “Shirley MacLaine: An Interview.”

194
Quoted in “Shirley MacLaine,” Playboy, September 1984.

195
Rovin, “Shirley!”

196
Quoted in Anne Thompson, “Crystals Clear,” Chicago Tribune, October 9, 1988.

197
Steven J. Ross, Hollywood Left and Right: How Movie Stars Shaped American Politics (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 250.

198
Nan Curtis Tyler, “Journeys into Oneself Are Best Made All Alone,” Sun (Baltimore, MD),
June 26, 1983.

199
Blair Sabol, “Working Out with Shirley MacLaine,” Chicago Tribune, September 28, 1986.

200
Ibid.

201
Rovin, “Shirley MacLaine: The Prime of Her Lives”; B.D., “Shirley MacLaine,” Definers,
People, Fall 1989.

202
Quoted in Battelle, “Shirley MacLaine: An Interview.”

203
Quoted in Harmetz, “Call It Mad.”

290

204
Quoted in Gould, “Metaphysical Madam.”

205
Stassinopoulos, “Shirley MacLaine: Spiritual, Successful, Surprised.”

206
Chuck Conconi, Personalities, Washington Post, September 12, 1985.

207
Barrett, “Looking into the Beyond.”

208
Ibid.

209
Charles Leerhsen, “Out There with Shirley.”

210
Quoted in ibid.

211
Kantrowitz, “Going Even Farther.”

212
Letters, Los Angeles Times, October 4, 1987.

213
Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out.”

214
James W. Sire, Shirley MacLaine & The New Age Movement (Downers Grove, IL:
InterVarsity Press, 1988), back cover.

215
Henry, “The Best Years of Her Lives.” See also: Steinbach, “Shirley MacLaine: She’s Going
‘Out on a Limb’”; Lauerman, “Shirley MacLaine”; Stassinopoulos, “Shirley MacLaine:
Spiritual, Successful, Surprised”; “Shirley MacLaine,” Playboy, September 1984; Rovin,
“Shirley!”; Barrett, “Looking into the Beyond”; Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the
Masses.”

216
Quoted in “Shirley MacLaine,” Playboy, September 1984.

217
Quoted in Rosenfield, “Still Shirl.”

218
Quoted in Lauerman, “Shirley MacLaine.”

219
Quoted in Cyndi Stivers, “Alive Always, Shirley MacLaine,” Us, November 18, 1985.

220
Quoted in Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out.”

221
Quoted in Barrett, “Looking into the Beyond.”

222
Letters, Los Angeles Times, October 4, 1987.

223
Tyler, “Journeys into Oneself.”

291

224
Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out.”

225
Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

226
See, for example, Rovin, “Shirley MacLaine: The Prime of Her Lives.”

227
Quoted in Kevin Kelly, “Shirley MacLaine’s World View,” Boston Globe, June 22, 1982.

228
Quoted in Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out.”

229
Harmetz, “Call It Mad.”

230
Rovin, “Shirley!”; Rosenfield, “So Says Shirley MacLaine.”

231
Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

232
Anderson, “Getting Cosmic with Shirley.”

233
Battelle, “Shirley MacLaine: An Interview.”

234
“Shirley MacLaine,” Playboy, September 1984.

235
Quoted in Mann, “Entities at Work.”

236
Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

237
Quoted in Mansfield, “MacLaine: Her Lives & Times.”

238
Quoted in Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out.”

239
Quoted in Goldstein, “Life on the Astral Plane.”

240
Quoted in Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out.”

241
Quoted in Gould, “Metaphysical Madam.”

242
Barrett, “Looking into the Beyond.”

243
Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

244
Quoted in Atkinson, “Shirley MacLaine’s Spiritual Aerobics.”

245
Ibid.

246
Goldstein, “Life on the Astral Plane.”

292

247
Quoted in Mansfield, “MacLaine: Her Lives & Times.”

248
Lauerman, “Shirley MacLaine.”

249
Quoted in Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out.”

250
Steinbach, “Shirley MacLaine: She’s Going ‘Out on a Limb.’”

251
Battelle, “Shirley MacLaine: An Interview.”

252
Quoted in “Shirley—You Jest,” Hollywood Reporter, October 21-23, 2005.

253
Quoted in Rosenfield, “Still Shirl.”

254
Quoted in Mansfield, “MacLaine: Her Lives & Times.”

255
Steinbach, “Shirley MacLaine: She’s Going ‘Out on a Limb.’”

256
Quoted in Burke, “Shirley MacLaine: Far Out.”

257
Rovin, “Shirley!”

258
Rosenfield, “Still Shirl.”

259
Stassinopoulos, “Shirley MacLaine: Spiritual, Successful, Surprised.”

260
Quoted in Rosenfield, “So Says Shirley MacLaine.”

261
Rovin, “Shirley MacLaine: The Prime of Her Lives.”

262
Jocelyn McClurg, “Blithe Spirit,” Hartford Courant, April 9, 1989.

263
Gary Larson, The Far Side, Los Angeles Times, February 10, 1987.

264
Mary McNamara, “The Life of Hollywood: Unsinkable,” Los Angeles Times, November 27,
2005.

265
Quoted in Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

266
Quoted in Kim Garfield, “Good Heavens, Shirley,” Ladies’ Home Journal, October 1987.

267
Ibid.

268
Easton, “Shirley MacLaine’s Mysticism for the Masses.”

293

269
Quoted in Garfield, “Good Heavens, Shirley.”

270
Henry, “The Best Years of Her Lives”; Jan Herman, “It’s Shirley’s Show,” Los Angeles
Times (Orange County Edition), April 11, 1991.

271
Quoted in Herman, “It’s Shirley’s Show.”

272
“Visa – Shirley MacLaine,” video, 00:30, posted by tvspotstv,
http://www.tvspots.tv/video/6278/visa--shirley-maclaine

273
Quoted in William Keck, “Scandal’s History for ‘These Old Broads,’ review of These Old
Broads, directed by Michael Diamond, Los Angeles Times, February 12, 2001.

274
MacLaine, What If…, 264.

294
CONCLUSION

PAST LIFE RECALL AND PROJECTING THE FUTURE

While working on this dissertation, I have frequently marveled at the seemingly random
events that brought me to know and love the stardom of Shirley MacLaine. I do not remember
the first Shirley MacLaine film I ever saw. (But, considering the timing of its release, I presume
my introduction to MacLaine was through her somewhat less memorable performance in
Guarding Tess [Hugh Wilson, 1994]). Before I started my research, I did not know MacLaine
had written a single memoir, let alone thirteen. I had no idea she was politically active, and I was
for the most part oblivious to her New Age beliefs. I happened upon this project, just as Hal
Wallis happened upon MacLaine when she was filling in for Carol Haney in The Pajama Game.
Roughly four years ago, while struggling to find an inspiring dissertation topic, I walked
into a novelty shop in Cleveland. Amidst the clutter of old toys, magnets, and lunch boxes, the
piercing blue eyes of Clevelander and fellow Kenyon College alumnus Paul Newman drew my
attention. Decorating the cover of the May 10, 1968 issue of Life magazine, Newman was not
promoting a film; he was campaigning for Senator Eugene McCarthy. At the time, I barely
acknowledged the full-page image of MacLaine, listed as a supporter of Robert F. Kennedy,
inside the magazine, but I did wonder what to make of all of these politically active stars. As I
began to research the topic further, I contemplated accounting for all politically active stars
during this period. When I realized such a project was far too ambitious, I decided to concentrate
on three case studies. I first selected Newman and Marlon Brando, and I knew I wanted the third
case study to be about a female star. Most of the scholarship on female star activists focused on
Jane Fonda, but I suspected hers was not the only meaningful image of female star activism at
the time. After reading a few pages on Shirley MacLaine in Ronald Brownstein’s The Power and

295
the Glitter, I haphazardly chose this star about whom I knew very little but hoped there would be
enough to fill a chapter. When I discussed my three choices with my dissertation committee chair
Rick Jewell, he suggested I start with MacLaine because, among other reasons, she was still alive
and I might have an opportunity to interview her. So that’s what I did, and although I have yet to
meet her, I soon discovered I had a lot more to say about MacLaine than merely a single chapter.
Exploring the various incarnations of Shirley MacLaine has enabled me not only to
pursue my diverse academic interests—in star studies, gender studies, theories of travel, political
history, and age studies, among others—but also to reflect on and think critically about various
aspects of my own life. As I wrote about MacLaine’s messy hair, I could not help but recall my
childhood nickname “Medusa,” lovingly given to me by my two older brothers. MacLaine’s
travel writing allowed me to consider what I have come to see and to know through my own
recent experiences in England, Scotland, Turkey, and Japan. And my mom turning 60 years old
and my grandpa turning 100 years old during the same month MacLaine turned 80 years old
compounded my investment in articulating aging as a narrative of progress. I may have begun
this project blindly, but I conclude it keenly aware of how it reflects as much about me as it does
about Shirley MacLaine.
Accordingly, it seems appropriate that a dissertation that has gone through many
transformations would ultimately be about transformations. In the four preceding chapters, I
illustrated how MacLaine has repeatedly reinvented herself over the sixty years of her stardom.
Each iteration of her persona, from kook, to traveler, to activist, to New Ager, has expanded, in
the words of Richard deCordova, the “regularities and limits” of star discourse.
1
In Chapter 1, I
demonstrated how MacLaine’s unruly childlike image blurred the distinctions between
stereotypes of female stardom both on and offscreen. As neither sexually objectified nor

296
domestic, MacLaine exposed the limitations of the discourse of glamour that had previously
dominated representations of female stardom during the era of the studio system. In Chapter 2, I
considered how MacLaine’s travels marked her offscreen life as distinct from her kooky image
in films. As she moved around the globe, her star image moved between various media. Travel
and travel writing authorized MacLaine as a knowing subject in the public sphere. In Chapter 3, I
argued that MacLaine’s efforts to effect political and social change transformed star discourse,
while emphasizing the inherently unstable nature of stardom and dominant culture. Finally, in
Chapter 4, I showed how MacLaine, in contrast to numerous actresses over forty years old, has
embodied a progressive narrative of aging by creating an abundance of New Age products and
services. The transformations between these dominant phases have enabled MacLaine to extend
the meaning of her stardom outside the sphere of entertainment and to challenge stereotypes of
femininity, but still within and through a variety of media outlets.
Fittingly, since MacLaine began discussing her spiritual awakening, the press has
underscored the significance of transformations to her persona. In Ladies’ Home Journal,
Arianna Stassinopoulos concluded, “Change has been the only certainty in [MacLaine’s life].”
2

To which MacLaine added, “When I stop growing, […] I might as well be dead.” Reflecting on
her past transformations, MacLaine also anticipated additional developments. MacLaine
reiterated the importance of change to her persona in an interview in Time magazine. Journalist
William A. Henry III wrote, “Even in this period of greater peace within herself, MacLaine says,
the one constant in her life is change: ‘My strongest personality trait is the way I keep unsettling
my life when most other people are settling down.’”
3
Although the article presented her latest
incarnation as fulfilling, MacLaine also reportedly valued challenging boundaries. Paul
Rosenfield constructed a similar image of MacLaine’s career: “Publicly and/or professionally,

297
MacLaine resurfaces every few years in ways that don’t fail to surprise. Or maybe we now
expect surprise from her, and accept it.”
4
Considering the entirety of MacLaine’s career, the
press evidently has appreciated transformations as the most dominant aspect of MacLaine’s
image. Rosenfield’s proposal that audiences now expect and accept those surprising
transformations points to the power of MacLaine’s star appeal. Shirley MacLaine has
continuously inspired viewers, readers, and users to think in new and challenging ways about
stardom, and her ability to convince audiences to accept those ways makes her not merely
extraordinary but truly legendary.
While I have organized the chapters of this dissertation chronologically and by subject, I
can also imagine other chapter configurations that would produce alternative conclusions about
the consistencies within MacLaine’s persona. Throughout each of the four chapters, I have
returned to how MacLaine’s offscreen interests have informed representations of her physical
appearance and her private life. Tracing these aspects of MacLaine’s persona—her appearance,
her romantic life, her role as a mother, and her relationships with other stars—across the chapters
underscores how MacLaine has continuously challenged dominant representations of femininity.
As discussed in the first chapter, MacLaine’s appearance—her short red hair, freckled
face, tall slender body, and disinterest in fashion—challenged ideals of beauty and beautification
commonly celebrated in and outside of Hollywood and thus exemplified her childlike unruliness.
MacLaine’s unglamorous appearance also suited her image as a traveler: as she cut her own hair
and had little use for high fashion, she effortlessly roamed the public sphere alone and with few
belongings. MacLaine’s most pronounced physical transformation occurred in the early 1970s.
Her then long hair disassociated MacLaine from the childlike aspects of her persona but not the
powerful and subversive aspects. Whereas the press had once decorated numerous pages of

298
magazines and newspapers with photographs of MacLaine laughing, the press instead began to
showcase photographs of MacLaine speaking in public. These new images of MacLaine, which
similarly drew attention to her unruly mouth, emphasized the impact of her stardom on the
social, political, and cultural milieu. Although MacLaine’s image has consistently defied notions
of beauty, she has not been immune to public scrutiny of the aging female body. While still
noting the appearance of her wrinkles, the press has celebrated MacLaine’s comparatively
youthful appearance, in spite of her age. Yet, never one to rely on outer beauty for success,
MacLaine has overcome the commonplace association between female stardom and youth
through her profitable foray into New Age spirituality, which focuses on inner and not outer
transformations.
As is typical of star discourse, MacLaine’s romantic life has preoccupied the press since
she wed Steve Parker in 1954. MacLaine and Parker’s intercontinental relationship troubled
gender ideals produced during the period: unlike the construction of other female stars’ private
lives, MacLaine’s and Parker’s unconventional marriage did not underplay but showcased
MacLaine’s work outside the home. MacLaine’s relationship with Parker also served as the
impetus for her love of travel and thus further situated MacLaine as an active subject in the
public sphere. Although gossip columnists framed MacLaine’s affairs with co-star Robert
Mitchum and producer Kevin McClory as evidence of her dissolving marriage in the early
1960s, MacLaine and Parker maintained their legal bond for nearly twenty more years. In the
late 1960s and early 1970s, MacLaine’s romances with journalists Sandy Vanocur and Pete
Hamill also blurred the distinctions between her public and private life. While MacLaine
advocated liberal causes in the public sphere, “serious” intellectual and political debates were
also part of constructions of her home life. Finally, after her spiritual awakening, MacLaine

299
proposed that male companionship was not necessary for personal fulfillment. In numerous
declarations of her self-love, MacLaine not only ostensibly achieved the goals of female
empowerment that she set during her activist phase but also subverted conventional star
discourse, as deCordova maintains, that frames the sexual as the ultimate authentic revelation.
5

MacLaine’s unusual parenting has also been a prevailing aspect of her image throughout
her career. While star discourse of the 1940s had previously constructed actresses as ideal
mothers (despite numerous real life inadequacies), MacLaine’s representation of motherhood in
the 1950s illustrated how the studios no longer uniformly contained images of unruly
motherhood. For MacLaine, parenting daughter Sachi was not an indication of her normalcy but
of her eccentricities. Allowing two-year-old Sachi to fly to Japan alone and leaving Sachi
unattended while at nightclubs, MacLaine offered a comparatively more complex representation
of femininity within star discourse. Then, as a traveler, MacLaine both celebrated her daughter’s
global upbringing and framed her own journeys as setting a progressive, unrestricted model of
femininity for Sachi. During the late 1960s and 1970s, the press associated her disinterest in
conventional motherhood with her support of the legalization of abortion and her concerns with
overpopulation. In doing so, they framed MacLaine’s parenting habits as not merely personal
eccentricities but as overtly political statements. Still, MacLaine’s New Age beliefs exposed her
most sensational understanding of motherhood while also maintaining her original un-motherly
image. As MacLaine recalled past lives in which she was Sachi’s daughter, MacLaine dismissed
the authoritative expectations of parenthood. Thus, MacLaine’s history of unusual parenting
subverts the typical trajectory of aging female actresses. Whereas numerous tell-all biographies
(most often written by resentful children) have deconstructed the idealized images of studio
system stars, the persistence of MacLaine’s imperfect parenting could not be deconstructed in the

300
same way (despite Sachi Parker’s recent attempts to do so). Although the explanations for
MacLaine’s “madcap” mothering have varied throughout the years, she has consistently
destabilized traditional constructions of motherhood.
As MacLaine has continually expanded the limits of star discourse, comparisons of
MacLaine to other stars have largely been framed in terms of difference. The press contrasted
MacLaine’s appearance with Marilyn Monroe and other popular blonde bombshells of the 1950s.
And although MacLaine was one of the few women affiliated with Frank Sinatra and his friends,
the press situated MacLaine as exceptional amongst them. Travel further distinguished MacLaine
from her peers in Hollywood. Notorious for traveling alone, MacLaine shunned the superficial
and commercial interests of other star travelers. MacLaine also evoked her travels in order to
disassociate herself from the influence of Sinatra. When MacLaine became politically active, the
press then associated MacLaine with a number of other politically active stars. Yet, her fervent
support of liberal causes and candidates inspired the press to differentiate MacLaine from Jane
Fonda. While the two actresses had overlapping intentions, the press underscored Fonda’s
radicalism in contrast to MacLaine’s more moderate political tactics. Accordingly, the press
distinguished MacLaine’s activism as productive to her development as a star. Although Fonda
and MacLaine underwent seemingly divergent transformations by the late 1970s—Fonda led a
fitness movement while MacLaine led a spiritual movement—their continued association
emphasized the profitability of their brands in spite of the longevity of their stardom. Still,
whereas Fonda’s image continues to depend on her youthful and beautiful body, MacLaine’s
image exceeds such limitations.
As I recapitulate my argument by emphasizing the regularities within MacLaine’s image
despite her various transformations, I demonstrate how MacLaine’s establishment as a star has

301
been in some ways crucial to how her power has been articulated in later developments. Jane
Fonda, as Susan McLeland argues, transformed from “sex kitten” to “political dilettante” to
“dangerous radical” to “respectable moderate.”
6
Despite the political period in which Fonda
“transcended her reputation as merely a female body to express a potentially radical thesis,” the
press has used both Fonda’s “sex kitten” past and later images of marriage and motherhood to
“contain” her “radical tendencies.”
7
Yet, such tactics could not be so easily employed with
regards to MacLaine. MacLaine’s travels, politics, and spirituality are extensions—not
“betrayals”—of her original unruly image, and she reiterated this notion as she articulated how
each phase informed her approach to acting. Appropriately, MacLaine has acknowledged the
importance of her initial construction as a star to the longevity of her career. In Vanity Fair,
MacLaine admitted, “My gift is that I’m not beautiful […]. My career was never about looks.”
8

She later elaborated in the Los Angeles Times: “I was never Julia Roberts or Barbra Streisand. I
wasn’t Natalie Wood or Elizabeth Taylor. […] I didn’t hit as a sex symbol, more of a girl next
door. I came in after glamour and before grunge. So the cosmetic issue of whether I’d last when I
got older never arose. That’s why my sun keeps coming up.”
9
While in these interviews
MacLaine primarily focused on her physical appearance, representations of her romantic
relationships, her family life, and her affiliation with other stars through her iterations as a
traveler, an activist, and a New Ager have been equally important in maintaining the subversive
power of her stardom.
In addition to recognizing the consistencies between MacLaine’s transformations, I also
acknowledge how MacLaine’s image articulates these multiple iterations at the same time.
Although MacLaine’s offscreen interests have varied over the past sixty years and I have isolated
those interests into distinct chapters, profiles on MacLaine regularly interweave discussions of

302
her celebrated screen persona with those of her travels, her writing, and her political and spiritual
beliefs. For example, during MacLaine’s 2012 appearance on CBS This Morning, the segment
begins with a scene from Terms of Endearment, and interviewers Gayle King and Charlie Rose
then ask MacLaine about the 1972 McGovern campaign, her former and deceased husband Steve
Parker, her friendships with Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, and her metaphysical interests.
10
As
the past and the present exist simultaneously within it, MacLaine’s image further enunciates the
industrially and culturally transgressive similarities between each of her transformations.
Ultimately, appreciating the impact of MacLaine’s transformations upon star discourse
leads one to consider how other stars have since echoed aspects of MacLaine’s image. Thus, this
dissertation, like Adrienne L. McLean’s interrogation of Rita Hayworth’s image, “point[s] in the
end toward other Hollywood stars and films, as well as to broader and enduring issues of modern
identity politics generally.”
11
A tempered version of MacLaine’s childlike unruliness certainly
exists in the onscreen image of Zooey Deschanel. Travel and travel writing, as discussed in
Chapter 2, have been fundamental to Angelina Jolie’s transformation from Hollywood rebel to
humanitarian. President Barack Obama’s appointment of Eva Longoria to campaign co-chair
prior to the 2012 election undoubtedly recalls Senator McGovern’s appointment of MacLaine
thirty years earlier.
12
And one wonders how Gwyneth Paltrow’s self-help/lifestyle/diet website
goop.com might have faired had MacLaine’s brand not ushered the New Age movement into the
mainstream in the 1980s. While none of these stars have yet to demonstrate the endurance (or
appeal) of MacLaine’s persona, together they exemplify the lasting influence of MacLaine’s
numerous extensions of star discourse. What was once “surprising” in terms of star discourse has
now become nearly commonplace. Although, as McLean acknowledges, “there are no ‘clean’
theoretical paradigms that fit the diversity of women’s labor, on or off the screen,”
13
MacLaine’s

303
model of stardom enables us to value at least some of the more progressive and/or powerful
representations of female stardom today.
Appropriately, contemporary interviewers repeatedly ask MacLaine to contemplate her
legacy. When Premiere magazine celebrated her iconic career in its “Women in Hollywood”
issue, Shirley MacLaine reflected on the diversity of her labors as a star: “When I look back at
my career, I think, ‘My God, did I do all this stuff?’ I can’t believe I did it all, ’cause I’ve done a
lot of work, haven’t I? […] But when people ask, ‘How do you want to be remembered,’ it’s
funny: I probably want to be remembered for not bothering with being remembered. It doesn’t
matter to me. I’ll be back again.”
14
Whether or not Shirley MacLaine will be back again, I am
not certain. But—sorry, Shirley—I am certain that remembering that Shirley MacLaine did “do
all this stuff”—subvert glamour discourse, demonstrate her authority, effect political change, and
construct aging as a narrative of progress—matters very much indeed.

NOTES

1
Richard deCordova, Picture Personalities: The Emergence of the Star System in America
(Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1990). 12.

2
Arianna Stassinopoulos, “Shirley MacLaine: Spiritual, Successful, Surprised,” Ladies’ Home
Journal, May 1984.

3
William A. Henry III, “The Best Years of Her Lives,” Time, May 14, 1984.

4
Paul Rosenfield, “Catching Up with the Real MacLaines,” Los Angeles Times, November 11,
1984.

5
deCordova, Picture Personalities, 143.

6
Susan McLeland, “Barbarella Goes Radical: Hanoi Jane and the American Popular Press,” in
Headline Hollywood: A Century of Film Scandal, eds. Adrienne L. McLean and David A. Cook
(New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2001), 233.

7
Ibid., 247, 233, 246.

304

8
Nancy Collins, “The Real MacLaine,” Vanity Fair, March 1991.

9
Bart Mills, “Tunes of Endearment,” Los Angeles Times, November 19, 1995.

10
“Shirley MacLaine on CBS This Morning,” YouTube video, 8:01, posted by “AUnitversity,”
March 22, 2012, http://youtu.be/rwRpBdDhemQ

11
Adrienne L. McLean, Being Rita Hayworth: Labor, Identity, and Hollywood Stardom (New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2004), 198.

12
Monica Langley, “Eva Longoria’s Next Role: Hispanic Activist in Washington,” Wall Street
Journal, January 18, 2013,
http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424127887323783704578247792990982484

13
McLean, Being Rita Hayworth, 199.

14
Brantley Bardin, “Women in Hollywood: Icon, Shirley MacLaine,” Premiere, October 2005.

305
APPENDIX A

MAJOR FILMS AND TELEVISION PROGRAMS FEATURING SHIRLEY MACLAINE

The Trouble with Harry. Film. Produced and directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Starring Edmund
Gwenn, John Forsythe, Shirley MacLaine. Paramount, 1955.

Artists and Models. Film. Produced by Hal B. Wallis. Directed by Frank Tashlin. Starring Dean
Martin, Jerry Lewis, Shirley MacLaine, Dorothy Malone, Eddie Mayehoff. Paramount, 1955.

Around the World in 80 Days. Film. Produced by Mike Todd. Directed by Michael Anderson.
Starring David Niven, Cantinflas, Robert Newton, Shirley MacLaine. United Artists, 1956.

The Sheepman. Film. Produced by Edmund Grainger. Directed by George Marshall. Starring
Glenn Ford, Shirley MacLaine, Leslie Nielsen, Mickey Shaughnessy, Edgar Buchanan. Metro-
Goldwyn-Mayer, 1958.

Hot Spell. Film. Produced by Hal B. Wallis. Directed by Daniel Mann. Starring Shirley Booth,
Anthony Quinn, Shirley MacLaine, Earl Holliman, Eileen Heckart. Paramount, 1958.

The Matchmaker. Film. Produced by Don Hartman. Directed by Joseph Anthony. Starring
Shirley Booth, Anthony Perkins, Shirley MacLaine, Paul Ford. Paramount, 1958.

Some Came Running. Film. Produced by Sol C. Siegel. Directed by Vincente Minnelli. Starring
Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Shirley MacLaine, Martha Hyer, Arthur Kennedy, Nancy Gates.
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1958.

Ask Any Girl. Film. Produced by Joe Pasternak. Directed by Charles Walters. Starring David
Niven, Shirley MacLaine, Gig Young, Rod Taylor, Jim Backus, Claire Kelly. Metro-Goldwyn-
Mayer, 1959.

Career. Film. Produced by Hal B. Wallis. Directed by Joseph Anthony. Starring Dean Martin,
Anthony Franciosa, Shirley MacLaine, Carolyn Jones, Joan Blackman, Robert Middleton.
Paramount, 1959.

Can-Can. Film. Produced by Jack Cummings. Directed by Walter Lang. Starring Frank Sinatra,
Shirley MacLaine, Maurice Chevalier, Louis Jourdan. Twentieth Century-Fox, 1960.

The Apartment. Film. Produced and directed by Billy Wilder. Starring Jack Lemmon, Shirley
MacLaine, Fred MacMurray, Ray Walston, Edie Adams. United Artists, 1960.

All in a Night’s Work. Film. Produced by Hal B. Wallis. Directed by Joseph Anthony. Starring
Dean Martin, Shirley MacLaine, Cliff Robertson, Charlie Ruggles, Norma Crane. Paramount,
1961.

306
Two Loves. Film. Produced by Julian Blaustein. Directed by Charles Walters. Starring Shirley
MacLaine, Laurence Harvey, Jack Hawkins, Nobu McCarthy. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1961.

The Children’s Hour. Film. Produced and directed by William Wyler. Starring Audrey Hepburn,
Shirley MacLaine, James Garner, Miriam Hopkins, Fay Bainter, Karen Balkin. United Artists,
1961.

My Geisha. Film. Produced by Steve Parker. Directed by Jack Cardiff. Starring Shirley
MacLaine, Yves Montand, Edward G. Robinson, Bob Cummings. Paramount, 1962.

Two for the Seesaw. Film. Produced by Walter Mirisch. Directed by Robert Wise. Starring
Robert Mitchum, Shirley MacLaine. United Artists, 1962.

Irma la Douce. Film. Produced by Billy Wilder and Edward L. Alperson. Directed by Billy
Wilder. Starring Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine. United Artists, 1963.

What a Way to Go! Film. Produced by Arthur P. Jacobs. Directed by J. Lee Thompson. Starring
Shirley MacLaine, Paul Newman, Robert Mitchum, Dean Martin, Gene Kelly, Bob Cummings,
Dick Van Dyke. Twentieth Century-Fox, 1964.

The Yellow Rolls-Royce. Film. Produced by Anatole de Grunwald. Directed by Anthony Asquith.
Starring Ingrid Bergman, Rex Harrison, Alain Delon, George C. Scott, Jeanne Moreau, Omar
Sharif, Shirley MacLaine. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1964.

John Goldfarb, Please Come Home! Film. Produced by Steve Parker and J. Lee Thompson.
Directed by J. Lee Thompson. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Peter Ustinov, Richard Crenna.
Twentieth Century-Fox, 1965.

Gambit. Film. Produced by Leo L. Fuchs. Directed by Ronald Neame. Starring Shirley
MacLaine, Michael Caine, Herbert Lom, Roger C. Carmel, Arnold Moss. Universal, 1966.

Woman Times Seven. Film. Produced by Arthur Cohn. Directed by Vittorio De Sica. Starring
Shirley MacLaine, Alan Arkin, Rossano Brazzi, Michael Caine, Vittorio Gassman, Peter Sellers,
Anita Ekberg, Elsa Martinelli, Robert Morley, Lex Barker, Patrick Wymark. Embassy Pictures,
1967.

The Bliss of Mrs. Blossom. Film. Produced by Josef Shaftel. Directed by Joseph McGrath.
Starring Shirley MacLaine, Richard Attenborough, James Booth. Paramount, 1968.

Sweet Charity. Film. Produced by Robert Arthur. Directed by Bob Fosse. Starring Shirley
MacLaine, John McMartin, Chita Rivera, Paula Kelly, Stubby Kaye, Ricardo Montalban,
Sammy Davis Jr. Universal, 1969.

Two Mules for Sister Sara. Film. Produced by Martin Rackin and Carroll Case. Directed by Don
Siegel. Starring Clint Eastwood, Shirley MacLaine. Universal, 1970.

307
Desperate Characters. Film. Produced by Frank D. Gilroy and Paul Leaf. Directed by Frank D.
Gilroy. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Kenneth Mars, Sada Thompson, Jack Somack, Gerald
O’Loughlin. Paramount, 1971.

Shirley’s World. Television series. Executive produced by Sheldon Leonard and Lew Grade.
Created by Frank Tarloff and Melville Shavelson. Starring Shirley MacLaine, John Gregson.
American Broadcasting Company, 1971-1972.

The Possession of Joel Delaney. Film. Produced by Martin Poll. Directed by Waris Hussein.
Starring Shirley MacLaine, Perry King. Paramount, 1972.

The Other Half of the Sky: A China Memoir. Documentary. Produced by Shirley MacLaine.
Directed by Claudia Weill and Shirley MacLaine. Featuring Shirley MacLaine. Shirley
MacLaine Productions, 1975.

The Turning Point. Film. Produced by Herbert Ross and Arthur Laurents. Directed by Herbert
Ross. Starring Anne Bancroft, Shirley MacLaine, Tom Skerritt, Mikhail Baryshnikov, Leslie
Browne. Twentieth Century-Fox, 1977.

Being There. Film. Produced by Andrew Braunsberg. Directed by Hal Ashby. Starring Peter
Sellers, Shirley MacLaine, Melvyn Douglas, Jack Warden, Richard Dysart, Richard Basehart.
United Artists, 1979.

Loving Couples. Film. Produced by David Susskind. Directed by Jack Smight. Starring Shirley
MacLaine, James Coburn, Susan Sarandon, Stephen Collins. Twentieth Century-Fox, 1980.

A Change of Seasons. Film. Produced by Marton Ransohoff. Directed by Richard Lang. Starring
Shirley MacLaine, Anthony Hopkins, Bo Derek. Twentieth Century-Fox, 1980.

Terms of Endearment. Film. Produced by Penney Finkelman, Martin Jurow, and James L.
Brooks. Directed by James L. Brooks. Starring Debra Winger, Shirley MacLaine, Jack
Nicholson, Danny DeVito, John Lithgow. Paramount, 1983.

Cannonball Run II. Film. Produced by Albert S. Ruddy. Directed by Hal Needham. Starring Burt
Reynolds, Dom De Luise, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Jamie Farr, Marilu Henner, Telly
Savalas, Shirley MacLaine. Warner Bros., 1984.

Out on a Limb. Television miniseries. Produced by Stan Margulies. Directed by Robert Butler.
Starring Shirley MacLaine, Charles Dance, John Heard, Anne Jackson. American Broadcasting
Company, 1987.

Madame Sousatzka. Film. Produced by Robin Dalton. Directed by John Schlesinger. Starring
Shirley MacLaine, Peggy Ashcroft, Shabana Azmi, Twiggy, Leigh Lawson, Geoffrey Bayldon,
Navin Chowdhry. Universal, 1988.

308
Steel Magnolias. Film. Produced by Ray Stark. Directed by Herbert Ross. Starring Sally Field,
Dolly Parton, Shirley MacLaine, Darryl Hannah, Olympia Dukakis, Julia Roberts. TriStar
Pictures, 1989.

Postcards from the Edge. Film. Produced by Mike Nichols and John Calley. Directed by Mike
Nichols. Starring Meryl Streep, Shirley MacLaine, Dennis Quaid. Columbia, 1990.

Waiting for the Light. Film. Produced by Ronald M. Bozman, Caldecott Chubb, and Edward R.
Pressman. Directed by Christopher Monger. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Teri Garr, Clancy
Brown, Vincent Schiavelli, John Bedford Lloyd. RCA/Columbia Pictures Home Video, 1991.

Used People. Film. Produced by Peggy Rajski. Directed by Beeban Kidron. Starring Shirley
MacLaine, Kathy Bates, Jessica Tandy, Marcia Gay Harden, Marcello Mastroianni. Twentieth
Century Fox, 1992.

Wrestling Ernest Hemingway. Film. Produced by Todd Black. Directed by Randa Haines.
Starring Robert Duvall, Richard Harris, Shirley MacLaine, Sandra Bullock, Piper Laurie. Warner
Bros., 1993.

Guarding Tess. Film. Produced by Ned Tanen and Nancy Graham Tanen. Directed by Hugh
Wilson. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Nicholas Cage. Tristar Pictures, 1994.

The West Side Waltz. Television movie. Produced by Randy Sutter. Directed by Ernest
Thompson. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Liza Minnelli, Kathy Bates, Jennifer Grey. Columbia
Broadcasting System, 1995.

Mrs. Winterbourne. Film. Produced by Oren Koules, Dale Pollock, and Ross Canter. Directed by
Richard Benjamin. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Ricki Lake, Brendan Fraser. Tristar Pictures,
1996.

The Evening Star. Film. Produced by David Kirkpatrick, Polly Platt, and Keith Samples.
Directed by Robert Harling. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Bill Paxton, Juliette Lewis, Miranda
Richardson. Paramount, 1996.

Joan of Arc. Television movie. Produced by Peter Bray. Directed by Christian Duguay. Starring
Leelee Sobieski, Peter O’Toole, Jacqueline Bisset, Powers Booth. Columbia Broadcasting
System, 1999.

Bruno. Television movie. Produced by David Kirkpatrick. Directed by Shirley MacLaine.
Starring Alex D. Linz, Shirley MacLaine, Gary Sinise, Jennifer Tilly, Joey Lauren Adams, Kathy
Bates. New Angel Films, 2000.

These Old Broads. Television movie. Produced by Lewis Abel. Directed by Matthew Diamond.
Starring Shirley MacLaine, Debbie Reynolds, Joan Collins, Elizabeth Taylor. American
Broadcasting Company, 2001.

309
The Battle of Mary Kay. Television movie. Produced by Ian McDougall. Directed by Ed Gernon.
Starring Shirley MacLaine, Shannen Doherty, Parker Posey. Columbia Broadcasting System,
2002.

Salem Witch Trials. Television movie. Produced by John Ryan. Directed by Joseph Sargent.
Starring Kirstie Alley, Alan Bates, Kristin Booth. Columbia Broadcasting System, 2002.

Carolina. Film. Produced by Carol Baum, Martin Bregman, Kate Guinzburg, and Lou Pitt.
Directed by Marleen Gorris. Starring Julia Stiles, Shirley MacLaine, Alessandro Nivola, Mika
Boorem, Randy Quaid, Jennifer Coolidge. Bregman-IAC Productions, 2003.

Bewitched. Film. Produced by Nora Ephron, Lucy Fisher, Penny Marshall, and Douglas Wick.
Directed by Nora Ephron. Starring Nicole Kidman, Will Ferrell, Shirley MacLaine, Michael
Caine, Jason Schwartzman, Kristin Chenoweth, David Alan Grier, Heather Burns, Stephen
Colbert, Steve Carell. Columbia, 2005.

In Her Shoes. Film. Produced by Curtis Hanson, Ridley Scott, Lisa Ellzey, and Carol Fenelon.
Directed by Curtis Hanson. Starring Cameron Diaz, Toni Collette, Shirley MacLaine. Twentieth
Century Fox, 2005.

Rumor Has It… Film. Produced by Ben Cosgrove and Paula Weinstein. Directed by Rob Reiner.
Starring Jennifer Aniston, Kevin Costner, Shirley MacLaine, Mark Ruffalo. Warner Bros., 2005.

Closing the Ring. Film. Produced by Richard Attenborough and Jo Gilbert. Directed by Richard
Attenborough. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Christopher Plummer, Mischa Barton, Stephen Amell,
Neve Campbell, Pete Postlethwaite, Gregory Smith. The Weinstein Company, 2007.

Coco Chanel. Television movie. Produced by Lucy Bernabei, Matilde Bernabei, Nicolas Traube.
Directed by Christian Duguay. Starring Shirley MacLaine, Barbora Bobulova. Lifetime
Television, 2008.

Anne of Green Gables: A New Beginning. Television movie. Produced and directed by Kevin
Sullivan. Starring Barbara Hershey, Rachel Blanchard, Shirley MacLaine. CTV, 2008.

Valentine’s Day. Film. Produced by Mike Karz and Wayne Allan Rice. Directed by Garry
Marshall. Starring Jessica Alba, Kathy Bates, Jessica Biel, Bradley Cooper, Eric Dane, Patrick
Dempsey, Hector Elizondo, Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Garner, Topher Grace, Anne Hathaway, Carter
Jenkins, Ashton Kutcher, Queen Latifah, Taylor Lautner, George Lopez, Shirley MacLaine,
Emma Roberts, Julia Roberts, Bryce Robinson, Taylor Swift. Warner Bros., 2010.

Bernie. Film. Produced by Liz Glotzer, Richard Linklater, David McFadzean, Dete Meserve,
Judd Payne, Celine Rattray, Martin Shafer, Ginger Sledge, and Matt Williams. Directed by
Richard Linklater. Starring Jack Black, Shirley MacLaine, Matthew McConaughey. Millennium
Entertainment, 2011.

310
Downton Abbey. Television series. Executive produced by Julian Fellowes, Gareth Neame, and
Rebecca Eaton. Created by Julian Fellowes. Starring Hugh Bonneville, Phyllis Logan, Elizabeth
McGovern, Maggie Smith. PBS, 2010–present.

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Film. Produced by Stuart Cornfeld, Samuel Goldwyn Jr., John
Goldwyn, and Ben Stiller. Directed by Ben Stiller. Starring Ben Stiller, Kristen Wiig, Shirley
MacLaine, Adam Scott, Kathryn Hahn, Sean Penn. Twentieth Century Fox, 2013.

Elsa & Fred. Film. Produced by Matthias Ehrenberg, Ricardo Kleinbaum, José Levy, Edward
Saxon, and Nicolas Veinberg. Directed by Michael Radford. Starring Shirley MacLaine,
Christopher Plummer, Marcia Gay Harden, Scott Bakula, Chris Noth, George Segal, James
Brolin. Millennium Entertainment, 2014.

Glee. Television series. Executive produced by Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, Dante Di Loreto,
Ian Brennan, Russel Friend, Garrett Lerner, and Bradley Buecker. Created by Ryan Murphy,
Brad Falchuk, Ian Brennan. Starring Lea Michele, Jane Lynch, Matthew Morrison. Fox, 2009–
present.

311
APPENDIX B

MAJOR PUBLICATIONS BY SHIRLEY MACLAINE

Don’t Fall Off the Mountain. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1970.

McGovern: The Man and His Beliefs. Selected and edited by Shirley MacLaine. New York:
Artists and Writers for McGovern, 1972.

You Can Get There From Here. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1975.

Out on a Limb. New York: Bantam Books, 1983.

Dancing in the Light. New York: Bantam Books, 1985.

It’s All in the Playing. New York: Bantam Books, 1987.

Going Within: A Guide to Inner Transformation. New York: Bantam Books, 1989.

Dance While You Can. New York: Bantam Books, 1991.

My Lucky Stars: A Hollywood Memoir. New York: Bantam Books, 1995.

The Camino: A Journey of the Spirit. New York: Pocket Books, 2000.

Out on a Leash: Exploring the Nature of Reality and Love. New York: Atria Books, 2003.

Sage-ing While Age-ing. New York: Atria Books, 2007.

I’m Over All That and Other Confessions. New York: Atria Books, 2011.

What If…A Lifetime of Questions, Speculations, Reasonable Guesses, and a Few Things I Know
for Sure. New York: Atria Books, 2013.

312
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Core Title Channeling Shirley MacLaine: stardom, travel, politics, and beyond

School School of Cinematic Arts

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Cinema-Television (Critical Studies)

Publication Date 09/03/2014

Defense Date 08/20/2014

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag aging,authorship,film studies,OAI-PMH Harvest,Politics,Spirituality,star studies,Travel

Format application/pdf (imt)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Jewell, Richard B. (committee chair), McPherson, Tara (committee member), Serna, Laura Isabel (committee member)

Creator Email ebonomo@usc.edu,elenajb