Valentino: Icon of Romance
DiskUs Publishing
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REVIEW BY GREGORY HARRIS
Few names from Hollywood's pantheon evoke such a strong image of romance and mystery as that of Rudolph Valentino. Blessed with exotic good looks, he is widely considered the first male sex symbol of the silent movie era. Yet the actor felt stifled within his screen image; he loathed his lothario reputation and detested the monikers "The Great Lover" and "The Sheik," the latter taken from his famous film of the same name. But even in the matter of names, the actor -- who cherished his privacy and was pained by the obsession many felt with him -- is an enigmatic figure. Born Rodolpho Guglielmi di Valentina d'Antonguolla, he gained international fame as Rudolph Valentino and was buried under the name Rodolfo Guglielmi Valentino. Based on more than 100 rare sources, Julia Ann Charpentier's well-researched biography, Valentino: Icon of Romance, chronicles the life and thoughts of the screen legend. Ever mysterious, few realized that he was a gifted actor with great comedic timing. But it was Valentino's sensuality that made him popular, and he attracted thousands of fans as the world shed the prudish values of Victorian society. After emigrating to New York and living in poverty, Valentino's fame was foretold when he became a successful dance instructor, a position that earned him a good living. Yet he was seen by many as little more than a gigolo. He made his way to Hollywood and embarked on a starring career that lasted just six years -- plenty of time to create a legend. Charpentier notes that many of Valentino's affectations -- such as his famous slave bracelet -- were seen as decadent, but it's a measure of how times have changed when she reveals that his wearing a wristwatch was also frowned upon. She also notes that the tender romanticism that women adored in him was perceived as a slur to contemporary ideals of masculinity. Spurred by jealousy or chauvinism, the number of men who hated Valentino nearly equaled the number of women who adored him. Charpentier sees in Valentino's appeal a precursor to the rise and enduring popularity of romance novels. Her introduction draws parallels between Valentino's oft-criticized persona and the perplexity expressed by romance novelists who sell millions of books but who are sneered at by critics. The common thread, Charpentier argues, is the mystery and mysticism of romance, which defies analysis. Valentino's mysterious onscreen persona, combined with the emphasis on look and gesture vital to silent films, combined to create a powerful romantic appeal. The author quotes many sources, both contemporaries and critics, and even cites a comment by the caretaker of Valentino's grave. Records of Valentino's early years are sketchy at best -- the schools he attended have long since vanished -- but Charpentier re-creates with obvious skepticism the unflattering portrait sketched by a writer from the Chicago Tribune after the star's death. Valentino had a well-known feud with the Tribune after an editorial blamed the actor for all effeminate behavior in men. The biography does explore and ultimately dismisses rumors of the actor's homosexuality. Charpentier's most prominent source is Valentino himself, in the form of extensive quotes from the actor's prolific diaries. While speculating that the journals may have been intended more for his wife than for posterity, the author notes the apparent incongruity of an actor who cherished his privacy while deliberately recording a host of intimate thoughts and details. Charpentier's portrait of Valentino reveals a deeply romantic spirit, one who craved fame and recognition but felt typecast and unable to pursue more serious roles. The reader gets an additional glimpse into Valentino's romanticism with the inclusion of several poems from the actor's 1923 bestseller, Day Dreams. Gregory Harris is a writer and editor living in Indianapolis.
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