"Mary Pickford," Jan. 28, PBS

NEW YORK (CNS) -- She was the most famous and admired woman in the world. The first modern celebrity, she virtually invented acting on film. Long before the antics of Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston made headlines, her fairy-tale romance with Douglas Fairbanks had the world in thrall. She was a founder of United Artists, and functioned brilliantly in what was then strictly a man's world. And she lost it all in a few short years.

So begins Sue Williams' fascinating and poignant documentary, "Mary Pickford," a profile of the actress whose movies were among the biggest moneymakers of the silent era. The film is part of WGBH's "American Experience" series and will be rerun on PBS Monday, Jan. 28, 9-10:30 p.m. EST (check local listings.)

The film traces Pickford's career from when she was a budding child performer of 7 years old, tirelessly working to support her mother and siblings, to when she was a frail and bewildered old lady accepting an honorary Oscar in 1976. The story -- narrated by actress Laura Linney -- is as compelling as any of the star's hits ("Tess of the Storm Country," "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" and "Stella Maris," among them) that had world audiences mesmerized.

After appearing on Broadway under the banner of great impresario David Belasco, young Mary (born Gladys Smith) felt the movies were beneath her, but at her mother's urging she agreed to appear in small parts in some Biograph films for D.W. Griffith while waiting for her next stage assignment.

But her popularity was such that she never returned to the stage, and eventually became Hollywood mogul Adolph Zukor's most valuable asset at his Famous Players Film Company. A shrewd negotiator with a keen business acumen -- no doubt the result of having to fend for herself as a child actress -- she wrangled a top-dollar contract out of Zukor and got her own production unit no less. (Zukor admiringly opined that she could have run U.S. Steel given her business savvy.)

Though the public wanted to see her playing working-class types with whom they strongly identified, they also preferred seeing her playing children's roles. Serious actress that she was, she longed to break that image, without much success.

Her personal life was marred by an unhappy early marriage to actor Owen Moore, who was an alcoholic and was abusive.

Eventually, she would meet the great swashbuckling star Douglas Fairbanks, and it was love at first sight. But Fairbanks was married, too. Their mutual attraction was solidified during a tearful talk about his mother's death in a Central Park taxi -- during which the car's clock stopped and they took it to be a sign that his mother approved of their union. It led to eventual marriage, after both divorced their respective spouses. Their secret code for their affection henceforth became the phrase "by the clock."

Theirs was a seemingly idyllic union at their enviable Pickfair estate, until the pressures of their worldwide celebrity and an adulterous affair on Fairbanks' part led to divorce, a decision they both later seemed to regret.

A series of misfortunes followed in fairly rapid succession: the deaths of her mother, Fairbanks, her brother and sister, and the advent of talking pictures, which led to a rapid career decline. She made a few "talkies," including "The Taming of the Shrew," but the public was indifferent. After some attempts at other fields, including radio, she became an alcoholic (as her mother and siblings had been) and then a recluse for virtually the rest of her life, protectively guarded by her last husband, actor Buddy Rogers.

She died in 1979 at the age of 87.

The documentary about "America's Sweetheart" -- winner of a CINE Golden Eagle -- is loaded with well-chosen clips which clearly demonstrate Pickford's tremendous appeal. The various film historians interspersed throughout the documentary -- Jeanine Basinger, Kevin Brownlow, Robert Cushman and Scott Eyman, among them -- make telling comments about the actress and her work.

The story of her rise to fame and remarkable accomplishments inspire wonder, but the almost Norma Desmond-like existence of the rest of her long life powerfully demonstrates the ephemeral nature of fame.

Film buffs, pounce.

---

Copyright (c) 2007 Catholic News Service/U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops