Betsy Jobs

This character has come to represent the quintessential high school airhead "hippie chick" of the early 70's, at least for me, which is probably why I can't resist repeatedly watching entire segments of the 1999 film as it plays relentlessly on assorted cable premium channels. "Betsy" differs very little from the "Amber Atkins" character Dunst played in "Drop Dead Gorgeous" the same year. But each of these little differences favors Betsy and allows Dunst to subtly steal the film, something she did not do in the other film even though her part was much bigger (it is Britney Murphy's supporting character who steals that film - in large part because she got the more endearing traits of Betsy).

Betsy nicely illustrates an interesting phenomenon of films and television, sometimes an actor will come to represent a point in time that is not their own, being more associated with it than those who actually participated.

Betsy (above) is surprised by "radical, muckraking bastards" Woodward and Bernstein in the public library, where she is researching turquoise jewelry for a school project. Betsy will later transcribe the White House tapes in her typing class at 30 WPM.

Elizabeth Hartman

I recently stumbled across this photo of Hartman in her other signature role ("Patch of Blue" is what most people remember her for) in which she played against type and created an extremely erotic character. I suspect that Barbara Darling was several degrees hotter for being played by the seemingly repressed Hartman, bringing into play the irresistible "librarian turned erotic vamp" dynamic. Coppola did not imbue that quality to the character, it was either a part of Hartman leaking through or more likely something the audience brought to the viewing themselves (hence the idea that actors bring an assortment of baggage into a role - sometimes a good thing and sometimes not so good). There is a lot of tragedy to Hartman's life and the fact that she had so few opportunities to feature this quality in film is one of them.

Hartman, of course, was the poster girl for depression, joining a legion of Hollywood's most beautiful and talented starlets who could not handle the weird career of a 20th century American actress (Barbara Bates & Peggy Castle come to mind) or just had really crappy things happen to them (Susan Peters). Almost all of these cases have depression as a significant component. I suspect that most people plagued with depression are simply less delusional than those who are rarely bothered by the condition (never more so than the insightful Virginia Woolf). They are burdened with too many moments of clarity - more so than the inability to put things into perspective. Personally I find Maggie McNamara the saddest of these although not by any objective measure - she just seems to evoke my protective instincts more intensely.

"One could argue there is a big difference between happiness and satisfaction. Satisfaction is basically resignation: the point where something is good enough to make you stop striving for something better. By definition, "the fulfillment of one's wishes, expectations, or needs." If you had very low expectations for your life, and you met those expectations, you would be satisfied; but that doesn't necessarily mean you would be happy. Which is why it might be just as accurate to characterize this as a study of who has the lowest bar for life satisfaction."

Or to put it in the words of Jeff's collective wisdom, life is a process of substitution and I suppose that most of those who successfully cope have simply learned to be indifferent to happiness.

Hartman played the main character, a blind woman, in "A Patch of Blue". When Hartman was nominated for Best Actress her agents sent out this material to voters, arguably the most original promotional campaign in the history of the awards.

The studio (MGM) did not even use her picture in their Oscar ads for her but used a sight gag, a pair of sunglasses in a Price Waterhouse envelope.

Remembering the Sad Story of Elizabeth Hartman

By Michael Musto Sep. 30 2010

Freckle-faced beauty Elizabeth Hartman debuted in 1965's A Patch of Blue, earning an Oscar nomination as the blind girl who's tortured by her mother (Shelley Winters) but learns about the brighter side of human nature when she's befriended by the nice black man in the park, Sidney Poitier.

Hartman went on to play diverse roles in films like Sidney Lumet's The Group and Coppola's You're a Big Boy, Now, but fame (and more importantly creative options) didn't stick around.

According to imdb.com:

Plagued by acute depression and insecurity as she saw her once promising career decline sharply within a decade, Elizabeth turned into a virtual recluse.

Her last work was a voiceover job in the animated film The Secret of NIMH (1982).

Nothing had been heard of Elizabeth for years until June 10, 1987, when it was reported that she had thrown herself out of a fifth-floor apartment window.

Divorced for three years at the time of her death, it was learned that she had been an outpatient at a psychiatric hospital in Pittsburgh and had called her doctor earlier that fateful day informing him that she was despondent.

A sad, sad end to an extremely bright and beautiful talent.