This is a decent, middle-of-the-road biography about one of the more enigmatic movie starlets from the 1950s--Kim Novak.
As I remember it, the book is breezy and fairly even-handed, if a little gossipy.
Novak became a model while in Los Angeles, and then made a cameo in the Jane Russell film The French Line. Very quickly, she was discovered and put into Columbia Pictures' starmaking system under the studio's svengali Harry Cohn.
After a few minor roles to cut her teeth, she was given a couple of major roles in 1955 that got her star rocketing off the ground: as the beauty queen Madge in Picnic, opposite William Holden; and as Molly, the girlfriend of Frank Sinatra's drug addict character in The Man with the Golden Arm. Both of these roles were well received by audiences and critics, and a year later she was the leading box office starlet in Hollywood.
Her quick rise to stardom came with the restrictions of Columbia's rigid system. Probably the book's highlight was describing Novak's relationship with her steady boyfriend Mac Krim--arguably the love of her (young) life--and the pressures brought to bear by the studio to break it off. Unhappily, she did, and I think it had a negative effect on her life and career.
Kim Novak was a platinum-haired beauty with a stunning figure, but she was also shy and pensive. She was an unnatural actress with a very limited range. She played many of her roles in her reserved, girl-next-door manner. She had a naturally husky, breathy voice, which was sexy, but she couldn't project well. Emotional scenes were a particular difficulty--it was all but impossible for her to cry on camera, much to the exasperation of numerous directors. She earned a reputation as buxom and photogenic but a shallow actress.
Novak also had an intimate friendship with singer Sammy Davis, Jr., which raised another alarm at Columbia, as many studios were intolerant of mixed-race relationships. Apparently, rumor had it that she was carrying Davis' child and had to undergo an abortion at the behest of the studio. The story may have been apocryphal, and it has never been confirmed or acknowledged by Novak, for what it's worth.
Her greatest role was as the romantic lead opposite James Stewart in Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo. Novak saw (and still sees) the role as ideal for her--an ordinary woman masquerading as an iconic beauty. Even so, Novak had not been Hitchcock's first choice--the role had originally gone to Hitchcock's then-muse Vera Miles, but Miles was expecting a baby and couldn't proceed with the role. As the film's production got underway, Hitchcock delighted in playing tricks on Novak in his petulance at losing Miles, and some of that is covered here.
When Columbia's Harry Cohn died in 1958, Novak lost the man who had steered her career to stardom, and the post-Cohn studio began to move away from her. The plum roles began to fade away, and she was forced into character roles that challenged and ultimately enriched her acting experience.
After a couple of risque roles in the mid 1960s (Kiss Me, Stupid; The Amorous Adventures of Moll Flanders), she found her opportunities dwindling, and Novak went into semi-retirement. She met veterinarian Robert Malloy, and they married in the 1970s. Since then, they have kept their long relationship carefully away from the eyes and ears of Hollywood. Kim Novak became the ordinary woman she knew herself to be.
In the late 1970s, she vied for the leading role in An Unmarried Woman, but the role went to Jill Clayburgh, and Novak could only wonder what the film could have done to revive her career. After an incendiary performance opposite Elizabeth Taylor in the Agatha Christie-written The Mirror Crack'd, her appearances have been increasingly rare and selective.
Novak herself had been writing her autobiography, which would have superseded this one, but her manuscript was burned in a house fire and she abandoned the project. It's a shame, because there's more to her story and I wanted her to tell her side. So we'll have to lament her loss and make do with this and other, lesser biographies. It's a fairly good, light, unsensational portrait of an actress who has survived Hollywood on her own terms.