The Art of Glamour #11 - Gene Tierney: A Portrait of Beauty and Tragedy

Spencer Tracy once remarked of Gene Tierney, "Her beauty blinded." It was an allure difficult to define—was it the chiseled cheekbones, the crystalline green eyes, or the air of quiet mystery? Yet, beneath her picture-perfect exterior lay a life shaped by deep instability, personal losses, and struggles that rivaled even the most tragic of her film roles.

Born in 1920 in Brooklyn, New York, Tierney was raised in privilege, the daughter of a successful insurance broker. She attended the finest East Coast schools before completing her education in Switzerland, where she became fluent in French. In 1936, she returned to the U.S., her future seemingly predestined for high society rather than Hollywood.

That changed in 1937 during a family trip to the West Coast. While visiting Warner Bros. Studios, the striking 17-year-old caught the attention of director Anatole Litvak, who immediately arranged a screen test. The studio was eager to sign her, but her father refused, insisting that if Gene were to act, it should be on the legitimate stage. He kept his word, supporting her as she pursued a theatrical career.

Her Broadway debut in The Male Animal was a resounding success. At just 19, she became the toast of the theatre world, drawing the attention of Twentieth Century Fox’s Darryl F. Zanuck. Watching her from the audience, he saw more than a promising actress—he saw a star.

Unquestionably, the most beautiful woman in movie history, he declared, offering her a contract on the spot.

Tierney’s entrance into Hollywood required little alteration—her face was already sculpted for the silver screen. The studio’s beauty machine had only two concerns: her slight overbite and a cameraman’s suggestion that she lose weight to accentuate her cheekbones. She adamantly refused to fix her teeth, fearing it would alter her face, even having a clause written into her contract ensuring their protection. As for the weight, she turned to Harper’s Bazaar for diet tips and followed the same strict regimen for two decades. "For all of Hollywood's rewards, I was hungry for most of those 20 years," she later admitted.

In 1940, she landed her first major film role in Fritz Lang’s The Return of Frank James. Watching herself on screen for the first time, she was horrified. "I sounded like an angry Minnie Mouse," she lamented. Determined to lower her voice, she took up smoking—a habit that would later cost her dearly.

That same year, she met Oleg Cassini, an up-and-coming fashion designer who would later dress Jacqueline Kennedy. Despite opposition from her family and the studio, the two eloped. Tierney was so devoted to Cassini’s work that she insisted only he design her costumes.

In 1943, while pregnant with their first child, Tierney made an appearance at the Hollywood Canteen, a wartime entertainment venue for servicemen. Unbeknownst to her, one fan had broken quarantine for German measles to attend. The consequences were devastating: her daughter, Daria, was born with severe disabilities, including blindness and hearing loss. The guilt consumed her. "After that, I didn’t care whether I was anyone’s favorite actress," she later said.

Despite her personal torment, Tierney’s career flourished. In 1944, she starred in Laura, the film that would define her legacy. As the enigmatic titular character, she barely appears in the first act, existing only as an image in a painting. The detective investigating her supposed murder becomes obsessed with the portrait, mirroring the audience’s own fixation. Upon reading the script, Tierney doubted she was beautiful enough for the role, suggesting Hedy Lamarr instead. But as Vincent Price later said,

"No one but Gene Tierney could have played Laura."

Her next role, as the obsessive Ellen in Leave Her to Heaven (1945), showcased the dark side of her ethereal beauty. The performance earned her an Academy Award nomination and cemented her as a leading lady of the decade. The film became Twentieth Century Fox’s highest-grossing release of the 1940s.

Tierney never fully recovered from her daughter’s condition, and the guilt weighed heavily. Her marriage to Cassini crumbled under the strain, ending in divorce in 1952. Her emotional distress seeped into her work—her concentration wavered, her performances suffered, and by the mid-1950s, her career had ground to a halt.

During the filming of The Left Hand of God (1955), co-star Humphrey Bogart, whose sister had struggled with mental illness, recognized her distress. He discreetly fed her lines when she faltered, urging her to seek help. But by then, it was too late—Hollywood had moved on, and so had she. "My departure from Hollywood was described as a walkout. No one understood that I was cracking up," she later reflected.

Tierney was diagnosed with manic depression—now known as bipolar disorder—and institutionalized for six years. In a time when mental illness was still deeply stigmatized, she endured grueling electroshock therapy, an experience she later described as erasing entire pieces of her memory. "I existed in a world that never is—the prison of the mind," she wrote.

At 39, she found solace in the arms of Texas oil tycoon Howard Lee, who had previously been married to Hedy Lamarr. Unlike Hollywood, Lee did not demand perfection. He provided stability, supporting her through lingering bouts of depression until his death in 1981.

In 1991, just days before her 71st birthday, Tierney succumbed to emphysema—a cruel irony, given that smoking had been the price of her voice. Reflecting on her life, she once said, "If what I have learned can be summed up in one sentence, it would be this:

life is not a movie

And yet, for those who watch Laura, Leave Her to Heaven, or any of the luminous roles she left behind, Gene Tierney remains forever frozen in time—an exquisite, haunting figure on the silver screen.