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The Thoroughly Modern World of Louise Brooks

The Thoroughly Modern World of Louise Brooks The Thoroughly Modern World of by Kristine Somerville People who are beautiful make their own laws. --Tennessee Williams Still from Diary of a Lost Girl (1929). Courtesy of the George Eastman House Motion Picture Document Collection harlie Chaplin pirouetted around the airy penthouse in a storm of toilet paper. As the music on the gramophone became hard and mournful, he rose into an arabesque and with one hand yanking upward made a noose of the flimsy paper scarf around his neck. His face contorted in pain, and he fell limp on the couch, delightfully dead. "Isadora Duncan," Louise Brooks guessed. Louise was as drunk as the devil, but still she poured herself a cup of corn whiskey from her Wedgewood teapot as Charlie swished around the room as a Follies girl. Louise recognized her own silky walk. In Charlie Chaplin, Louise Brooks had met her match; they were both pleasure seekers and way too wild in a business that was way too tame. He was between movies, and she was about to leave the Follies. She had yet to answer Hollywood's call to accept Colleen Moore's leftovers. Charlie had warned her away. "It's murder. A town of whores http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

The Thoroughly Modern World of Louise Brooks

The Missouri Review , Volume 35 (3) – Feb 14, 2012

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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
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Abstract

The Thoroughly Modern World of by Kristine Somerville People who are beautiful make their own laws. --Tennessee Williams Still from Diary of a Lost Girl (1929). Courtesy of the George Eastman House Motion Picture Document Collection harlie Chaplin pirouetted around the airy penthouse in a storm of toilet paper. As the music on the gramophone became hard and mournful, he rose into an arabesque and with one hand yanking upward made a noose of the flimsy paper scarf around his neck. His face contorted in pain, and he fell limp on the couch, delightfully dead. "Isadora Duncan," Louise Brooks guessed. Louise was as drunk as the devil, but still she poured herself a cup of corn whiskey from her Wedgewood teapot as Charlie swished around the room as a Follies girl. Louise recognized her own silky walk. In Charlie Chaplin, Louise Brooks had met her match; they were both pleasure seekers and way too wild in a business that was way too tame. He was between movies, and she was about to leave the Follies. She had yet to answer Hollywood's call to accept Colleen Moore's leftovers. Charlie had warned her away. "It's murder. A town of whores

Journal

The Missouri ReviewUniversity of Missouri

Published: Feb 14, 2012

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