Simple Thoughts on Jean Harlow’s Birthday, 111 Years Later

There’s really no in-depth research or analysis to be found in the following post. Just a true example of my “reflections and ruminations” description, simply pondering on Jean Harlow. (More informative post about the day she was born here).

It’s that time of year again—my favorite actress’ birthday, not to mention simply one of my favorite people who ever lived in general.⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣I end up repeating myself a lot every year on this day—full of endless gratitude for Harlow and her work, but with a poignant undercurrent of simple yearning for more of her. I always find myself thinking about possibilities we never got to see; there’s so many. What roles would she have gotten? We missed out on having Jean in Topper (Cary wanted her instead of Constance) and Alexander’s Ragtime Band, which helped make a real star out of Alice Faye. We missed seeing Harlow as the tremendous Crystal in The Women, which was played to absolute perfection by Joan Crawford….but the question remains. What would it have been like with Jean?⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

Would Harlow have left MGM with other cinematic giants Greta Garbo, Norma Shearer, and Joan Crawford in the coming years? Many agree that Harlow could have had a lucrative career phase in film noir, much like Joan Bennett (who also went from thirties blonde to forties femme fatale). These are all questions that will, weirdly, never be answered; somehow, it still feels open-ended.

⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣Today we celebrate Jean Harlow, a sweet, down-to-earth and multi-faceted individual who was seemingly loved by everybody she met; somebody who showed an incredible amount of determination learning (and mastering) the acting craft; somebody who could look like a million bucks in a potato sack; somebody who looked like a million bucks in slacks and sweaters. ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣One also wonders, a little more poignantly, what Harlow would have gone on to accomplish in her personal life had things been different and she never fell fatally ill. Would she have finally delineated a space for herself, without the influence of her mother? Would she have gone on with Donald Friede and formally ended things with Bill Powell, leaving us without the marriage rumors we have today?

All speculation aside, Jean Harlow was the real deal and ends up unfairly pigeonholed into “sexy blonde who died young”. While that’s not a false descriptor, it’s one with glaring omissions about the full and colorful person Jean Harlow was.

What better to close with than with these clippings that will leave us on a happier, less reflective note; a few accounts of Harlow celebrating her own birthday by sweeping in craps. Good for her.