Betty Hutton has died at the age of 86, and while I mean no disrespect, my first thought was, "Good God, she was still alive?"
Yeah, yeah, she starred in The Miracle Of Morgan's Creek, and that is, by any definition, one of the greatest comedies ever made. Kudos and props to her for that, although in truth, I tend to find myself wishing it had someone else in the lead. Anyone else.
Because as a kid, I was terrified of Betty Hutton. The local Sunday afternoon movie package, amusingly called Valour Theater, seemed to feature in constant rotation two of her more popular vehicles, The Perils Of Pauline and Red, Hot And Blue, both of them featuring lengthy song numbers designed to show Betty doing...whatever the hell she did.
I wouldn't know, because they always sent me scurrying behind the couch. Even on our 19", black and white Philco, her scatchy voice, grating mannerisms and over the top energy felt like being hit by a blowsy blonde hurricane. They made me cry and ask my mom why someone as terrifying as this exists in the world, and Mom would basically say you had to be there.
This is the kind of thing that scars you for life. Well, that and seeing Hutton in The Greatest Show On Earth (another Valour Theater mainstay), and realizing to my horror that all the other characters seemed to find her sexy, when she looked and acted like somebody's mom, if I'd known anybody with a mom hooked on speed. For this Cornel Wilde fell off a trapeze?
So fine, The Miracle Of Morgan's Creek. And maybe even Annie Get Your Gun, if you're a committed fan of director George Sidney. (I'm not, but I understand they exist.) But when I think of Betty Hutton, I'll only remember trembling behind the couch, my tear-filled eyes averted, questioning the existence of a loving God.
I guess that's a legacy.
