The Lady from the Black Lagoon

This week, rather than reviewing a movie, I’d like to talk about a book. The Lady from the Black Lagoon by Mallory O’Meara is just out in hardback from Hanover Square Press. A really pleasurable work of non-fiction, the book operates on a variety of levels. First and foremost, it is the story of Millicent Patrick, a woman who, among other things, grew up on the grounds of William Randolph Hearst’s fabled California castle, was one of the first female animators at Disney and worked on Fantasia, acted in dozens of tv shows and movies, and was an accomplished artist and designer. Most notably, Patrick designed the iconic Gill Man from The Creature from the Black Lagoon, the last truly great monster movie from Universal Studio’s golden era of horror. The book also explores author Mallory O’Meara’s efforts to uncover Millicent’s forgotten story, tracking down leads everywhere from Disney Studios to library archives to the genealogy records of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. The book is also an exploration of sexism and abuse in Hollywood and how those nefarious forces have led to the professional silencing and vanishings of many women in the film industry, including Millicent Patrick. 

 

The crux of the book is that as a young, talented artist, Patrick transitioned from Disney to Universal when she got a gig as a designer in the makeup workshop of Bud Westmore, a well-connected makeup designer who was more known for his jealous credit-grabbing than for actual designs. Among other projects, Millicent got a prime spot working on designs for The Creature from the Black Lagoon and she created the look that inspires every humanoid water monster you’re ever going to see (including and especially  the creature from Oscar-winning The Shape of Water.) The studio liked her work and liked the fact that Patrick was a strikingly beautiful woman, and so they decided to send her on a publicity tour prior to the opening of the film. Millicent happily traveled all over with sketches and masks to promote the movie and had a ball doing it. But back in Hollywood, her boss Bud Westmore was boiling with jealous rage. He arranged to have her fired before she ever even made it back into town and the proceeded to claim sole credit for every design aspect of the famous creature. He essentially made it so Millicent Patrick would never work as a designer in Hollywood again, despite her obvious talent and clearly bankable success. 

 O’Meara takes on the very difficult task of finding Millicent’s story, despite much of it happening half a century ago in a time when women were rarely credited for anything and the fact that Patrick went by a variety of names over the course of her life. She also draws parallels between her experiences as a producer and screenwriter in Hollywood, a town still utterly rampant with harassment, sexism, and abuse. Her point of view in the book is clearly feminist, if by feminism you mean expecting fair and equal treatment and not taking advantage of people simply because of their gender. O’Meara’s persona in the book is smart, vulnerable, passionate, and fiery. Her personal connections to Millicent add a lot of emotional heft to the book, and when she comes to a crucial breakthrough in finding someone who was close to Patrick toward the end of the book, it makes for a moving, satisfying development.

The Lady from the Black Lagoon is exactly the kind of research writing I recommend to my students. It’s driven by intense curiosity; is grounded in honest, sometimes frustrating research; and shows readers why the topic matters in the first place. Millicent Patrick, despite the brevity of her career, made a huge impact in Hollywood and then thanks to both individual and institutional sexism, she vanished. O’Meara’s smart, readable, and important book brings her back. I, for one, am immensely glad it does.