Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the ‘sewing circle’ of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life
Xia Meng, also known as Hsia Moog or Miranda Yang (Sunrise, Bride Hunter)—For those who are familiar with Hong Kong’s early cinema, Xia Meng is THE leading woman of an era, the earliest “silver-screen goddess”, “The Great Beauty” and “Audrey Hepburn of the East”. Xia Meng starred in 38 films in her 17-year career, and famously had rarely any flops, from her first film at the age of 18 to her last at the age of 35. She was a rare all-round actress in Mandarin-language films, acting, singing, and dancing with an enchanting ease in films of diverse genres, from contemporary drama to period operas. She was regarded as the “crown princess” among the “Three Princesses of the Great Wall”, the iconic leading stars of the Great Wall Movie Enterprises, which was Hong Kong’s leading left-wing studio in the 1950s-60s. At the time, Hong Kong cinema had only just taken off, but Xia Meng’s influence had already spread out to China, Singapore, etc. Overseas Chinese-language magazines and newspapers often featured her on their covers. The famous HK wuxia novelist Jin Yong had such a huge crush on her that he made up a whole fake identity as a nobody-screenwriter to join the Great Wall studio just so he can write scripts for her. He famously said, “No one has really seen how beautiful Xi Shi (one of the renowned Four Beauties of ancient China) is, I think she should be just like Xia Meng to live up to her name.” In 1980, she returned to the HK film industry by forming the Bluebird Movie Enterprises. As a producer with a heart for the community, she wanted to make a film on the Vietnam War and the many Vietnam War refugees migrating to Hong Kong. She approached director Ann Hui and produced the debut film Boat People (1982), a globally successful movie and landmark feature for Hong Kong New Wave, which won several awards including the best picture and best director in the second Hong Kong Film Award. Years later, Ann Hui looked back on her collaboration with Xia Meng, “I’m very grateful to her for allowing me to make what is probably the best film I’ve ever made in my life.”
This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
whether you’re intentionally lying, or you genuinely have no idea that what you see isn’t the truth, your readers cannot trust you at all - not when it comes to getting the facts, at least. as a narrator and character, you’re thoroughly entertaining and complex, and will probably become the source of a few dozen thesis statements in any given semester. trying to pin down what your true motivations are, and sort out what’s real and what’s not are fool’s errands, but that won’t stop anyone.
the peripheral narrator
okay, let’s be real: you’re rarely at the center of the action in this story. you’re usually there when it goes down, but off to the side observing and reporting what you see - often mixed in with information you picked up later. you’re more likely to contemplate the situation than do anything about it, a move that isn’t always popular with others, but it does keep you alive to see the end of the book. you provide a number of vital services to the story: being a level-headed narrative foil, providing a great number of witty remarks in your internal monologue, and being the voice of reason that the audience can trust.
the stream of consciousness
you rarely think about what you’ll describe for your readers next; you just tell them whatever’s going on in your head at any given moment. what you see and hear in real life can be mixed in with daydreams and stray thoughts at the back of your mind. it doesn’t always make sense, and it may feel disjointed and unconnected, but it all ties back into how the plot is affecting you and your emotional state. some may find this confusing or frustrating, but for others, it’s a puzzle that is extremely rewarding to work through. you’re all about living in the moment.
the epistolary narrator
the story is told through your diaries and letters, meaning everything has a deeply emotional and personal bent to it. you’re not always the most objective narrator - and why should you be, it’s your diary! - but you’re usually truthful and always endearing. much of what the reader knows about the others comes from how you write to and about them, lending you a surprising amount of control over the narrative. whether or not you’re entirely fair in your depictions depends on your genre… and what mood you’re in that day.
the biased narrator
close cousin of the unreliable narrator, but less obvious - even to yourself. you’re not intentionally lying to your reader, and nothing you say is an outright lie, but it’s colored by your own perceptions, and this ain’t an omniscient narrator situation. you’re emotionally invested in everything that happens, and you have Opinions on everyone you meet, and that bleeds through in how you describe things. you’re mostly a good source of information, but your audience may have to read things once or twice more to get the full, unbiased story.
