Among the few living real legends is Faye Dunaway.
The legendary actress, well-known for portraying strong, resentful, and challenging women, is among the best in movie history.
And the eighty-three-year-old continues on…
Dunaway is best known for her twisted cry in the campy cult film Mommie Dearest, “No more wire hangers!” She also starred in Hurry Sundown with Michael Caine and Bonnie & Clyde, winning the main part over Jane Fonda and Natalie Wood.
The Florida native actress, who was also awarded three Golden Globes and an Emmy, was born in Bascom.
It’s difficult to discuss Faye Dunaway’s career without bringing up the film Mommies Dearest. Channeling Joan Crawford’s energy, Faye Dunaway shocked the Mommie Dearest crew when she initially appeared from the dressing room in the legendary role of the four-year-old actress.
The sensationalized movie Mommie Dearest (1981) is based on Christina Crawford’s memoir of the same name, which describes her troubled connection with the late actress Joan Crawford, who was her adopted mother.
Dunaway managed to create a combination of charm and terror.
In her unsettling portrayal of Crawford, Dunaway blurred the boundaries between reality and resurrecting Joan, both on and off the set. She was so desperate that she declared, “I want to climb inside her skin,” to a Hollywood biographer.
Dunaway either developed her method acting skills to a high degree or her spirit took over. In her memoir, Looking for Gatsby, she writes. “I was told by one that it felt like Joan herself had risen from the dead.”
In reality, the media began to believe that Crawford was haunting Dunaway.”(Dunaway) appears to have borrowed it for 12 weeks from the ghost of Joan Crawford,” the Los Angeles Times remarked about her voice.
In a part that will live in legend, Dunaway expresses remorse. She told Entertainment Tonight, “I think it turned my career in a direction where people would irretrievably have the wrong impression of me—and that’s an awful hard thing to beat.” “I should have known better, but sometimes you don’t know what you’re getting into and you’re vulnerable.”
Working with some of the sexiest men in Hollywood, like Paul Newman, Robert Redford, Kirk Douglas, and Johnny Depp, Dunaway showed extreme self-control and maintained a platonic connection with her co-stars.
A few individuals were drawn to particular things; perhaps Jack (Nicholson) and Warren (Beatty), but not many. Though Steve McQueen was contentedly devoted to someone at the time, Warren was at that point in his bachelorhood. “I wouldn’t mess around with something like that even if it were offered, but it wasn’t,” Warren said.
“You simply don’t,” she remarked in a Harper’s Bazaar interview. “You don’t do that because you know it will ruin the performance and the movie. That’s my rule.”
The dapper, Italian award-winning actor Marcello Mastroianni, broke the rules for the timeless beauty with her delicate high cheekbones because he was too much of a temptation.
Life imitates art in her connection with the Italian celebrity. starring in the 1968 film A Place for Lovers, which Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times referred to as the “most godawful piece of pseudo-romantic slop I’ve ever seen!”-Dunaway portrays a fashion designer who is having an extramarital romance with Mastroianni, a race car driver. She had a brief but intense three-year romance with the actor in real life, which she ended when he refused to leave his wife.
Dunaway stated, “I was deeply in love with him,” in a People interview. I had never encountered a man like him before, and I felt incredibly safe with him.
She wed musician Peter Wolf, the lead vocalist of The J. Geils Band, in 1974; they separated after five years.
According to a Marie Claire article from 2017, Dunaway began an affair with renowned British photographer Terry O’Neill because she was dissatisfied in her marriage to Wolf. With her Oscar from the movie The Network on the table next to her, O’Neill captured a picture of her lounging by the pool at The Beverly Hills Hotel.
After being married in 1983, Dunaway misled the public for many years, claiming that her son Liam, who was born in 1980, was actually her biological child. In 1987, Dunaway and O’Neill were divorced.
Dunaway is alleged to be a manipulative diva who is very difficult and unpredictable for co-stars, production personnel, and even hotel employees.
She was fired from her role as Audrey Hepburn in the off-Broadway production of Tea at Five in 2019 for creating a “dangerous” and “hostile” environment, and she was fired by Andrew Lloyd Weber from his Sunset Boulevard production in Los Angeles, California, in 1994.
She was dubbed the “gossamer grenade” by one of her leading men, Jack Nicholson, and when Johnny Carson questioned her in 1988, “Who’s one of the worst people you know in Hollywood?” “Faye Dunaway and everybody you can put in this chair would tell you exactly the same thing,” was the swift response from the feisty and unrepentant Bette Davis. “I don’t think we have the time to go into all the reasons—she’s just uncooperative,” the woman said. For Miss Dunaway, Miss Dunaway is Miss.
Dunaway is still a very talented performer despite her challenging, frequently harsh, and nasty demeanor.
She was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1996, and in 1997, People magazine listed her as one of the 50 Most Beautiful People.
Regarding her romantic status, she is now single.
She stated in a 2016 People interview that she was still open to dating. She says, “I’m very much a loner.” “I always think that if I could find the right person, I would like to have a partner in life, and I would.”
Her most recent credit dates back to 2022, when she costarred in the Italian film L’uomo che disegnò Dio with Kevin Spacey.
Buttons and Memories
I miss my mom. I used to push all the buttons just as she would walk down the aisle, a mischievous glint in my eye. Each time we visited the grocery store, I’d dash ahead, my small fingers dancing over the colorful buttons of the self-checkout machine. With each beep, she’d turn around, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You little rascal! One day, you’re going to break it!” she’d say, shaking her head, but her smile would give her away. Those moments were filled with laughter and light, the kind of memories that could brighten even the dullest days.
Since her passing, the grocery store has become a hollow place for me. I walk through, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh, and I feel the weight of the emptiness settle in my chest. The shelves filled with brightly packaged goods seem to mock my solitude. I can still hear her voice, echoing in my mind, reminding me to pick up my favorite snacks or to try a new recipe. I wander through the aisles, my heart heavy, searching for a piece of her in every corner.
I remember how she would linger by the produce, inspecting the apples with care, always choosing the shiniest ones. “The best things in life are worth taking a moment to choose,” she would say, her hands gently brushing over the fruit. Now, I find myself standing there, staring at the apples, unable to choose. They all seem dull and lifeless without her touch.
The self-checkout machines are still there, their buttons waiting to be pressed, but they feel like a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. I can’t bring myself to push them anymore. The last time I stood in front of one, the memories flooded back. I could almost hear her laughter, feel her presence beside me. But it was just a memory, fleeting and painful.
Every week, I return to the store, hoping that somehow it will feel different, that I’ll find a way to connect with her again. But the aisles remain unchanged, their fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a persistent reminder of my loneliness. I see other families laughing and chatting, and I feel like an outsider looking in on a world that no longer includes me.
One evening, as I walked past the cereal aisle, I spotted a box of her favorite brand. It was decorated with bright colors and cheerful characters, a stark contrast to the heaviness in my heart. I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed it, a sudden rush of nostalgia washing over me. I could almost see her standing beside me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Let’s get it! We can make our special breakfast tomorrow!”
With the box cradled in my arms, I made my way to the checkout. I felt a warmth spreading through me, the kind of warmth that comes from cherished memories. But as I stood there, scanning the items and watching the screen flash numbers, I realized that I was alone. The laughter we shared, the spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen, all of it felt like a distant dream.
When I got home, I placed the box on the kitchen counter, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. I thought about making pancakes, just like we used to, the kitchen filled with the scent of vanilla and maple syrup. I reached for my phone to call her, to share the news, but my heart sank as reality set in. There would be no more calls, no more laughter echoing through the house.
That night, I sat in the dark, the box of cereal beside me, feeling the weight of my grief settle in. I poured myself a bowl, the sound of the cereal hitting the milk breaking the silence. As I took the first bite, tears streamed down my cheeks. Each crunch reminded me of the moments we had shared, and I felt an ache in my chest for the warmth of her presence.
“I miss you, Mom,” I whispered into the stillness of the room. “I wish I could press all the buttons just one more time, hear you laugh, feel your hand in mine.”
But the buttons would remain untouched, just as the aisles of the grocery store would remain silent, a reflection of the emptiness I felt inside. And in that moment, I realized that while the world continued to move forward, I would always carry her with me, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once filled my life.
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