The first man to impersonate Marilyn Monroe may well have been her dance coach, Jack Cole. Anticipating the iconic Marilyn, he brought out her exceptional femininity through dance. Monroe copied him in return. A star was born.
Monroe's six-movie collaboration with Cole began with 1953's "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes," the breakthrough film that made her a superstar. Yet the man behind the icon has been forgotten -- an odd missing puzzle piece in view of Monroe's staying power.
Revelations about the pioneering jazz-dance choreographer's influence on his talented pupil continue to surface in interviews, biographies, archival material and an upcoming Cole documentary. It all leads to a critical reassessment of an overlooked dance artist who lived and worked in Los Angeles for 33 years.
Coming 47 years after her death on Aug. 5, 1962, it also sheds new light on Monroe's capacity to improve her craft. With other authority figures, Monroe could be vague and even rebellious. With Cole, a stern taskmaster who did not suffer fools, she buckled down.
A preeminent film choreographer when he joined Twentieth Century Fox to oversee "Gentlemen's" musical numbers for director Howard Hawks, Cole came to Hollywood from the world of nightclubs and Broadway. His decade-long film portfolio included remarkable female solos: "Put the Blame on Mame" for Rita Hayworth in "Gilda" (1946); "No Talent Joe" for Betty Grable in "Meet Me After the Show" (1951) and "Beale Street Blues" for Mitzi Gaynor in "The I Don't Care Girl." (1953).
In "Gentlemen," Cole connected the nondancer Monroe to her fulsome body, giving her the power of movement. But he went even further, injecting comic zing into her line readings and coaching her breathy song delivery. Forming a bond with the insecure actress, Cole helped solidify the dumb-blond persona she introduced in "Monkey Business," "All About Eve" and "Love Happy." In her much beefier role in "Gentlemen," they perfected it, together.
Difficult people
Monroe famously drove entire movie sets crazy. Producers sweated her tardiness; she was a budgetary time bomb. Directors seethed when she consulted her private drama coach. Fellow actors stewed because her flubbed lines meant multiple takes. Tremulous, tearful meltdowns visited her regularly. She often hid in her dressing room, dreading the soundstage.
