Crashing Hollywood’s glass ceiling
Nothing could stop Lansing from getting top billing
Never heard of Sherry Lansing? That’s OK — neither had actor and producer Michael Douglas or industrialist Marvin Davis when she knocked at their doors.
Lansing was a young executive at Columbia Pictures when she was put in charge of The China Syndrome (1979), the movie Douglas was producing. She stopped by his office to introduce herself.
“Honey,” Douglas told her, “casting doesn’t start until next week.” Sure, what else could a goodlooking woman be doing there but looking for a role?
That was often the reaction to Lansing as she climbed each sexist rung of Hollywood’s corporate ladder.
On her first day as studio president of 20th Century-Fox, a security guard refused to let her through the gate — even when she pleaded that she was the boss.
“You can’t be,” he replied, oblivious to the headlines that a woman was in charge of a movie studio for the first time.
It didn’t stop there. Lansing had been running things at Fox for a year or two when, in 1981, Davis bought the studio with a chunk of his petroleum fortune. She stopped by his office to introduce herself.
“No, no, honey. I don’t want any coffee,” he told her. When Lansing insisted she was in charge of his latest acquisition, Davis asked, “A girl?”
Sexism is just one interesting facet of the life and career that biographer Stephen Galloway explores in Leading Lady.
He presents a fully realized portrait of a professional woman breaking glass ceilings.
But more importantly, The Hollywood Reporter journalist shows us the person who endures failure as often as she savours triumph. Her strength of spirit, personally and professionally, is what underlies Galloway’s title.
It’s also a play on Lansing ’s original goal of becoming a movie star. A dark-haired, 5-foot-10 beauty raised in Chicago, she moved to Los Angeles after graduating from Northwestern University in 1966.
Minor roles followed over the next few years — she played a scarred young woman in John Wayne’s lacklustre Western Rio Lobo (1970) — but found herself attracted to the business end of moviemaking.
Putting together projects, particularly analyzing scripts and the early versions of feature films, fed her creative side.
Nurturing actors and directors appealed to her, too, and she wasn’t afraid to kick their butts if they crossed her. (She threatened Edward Norton with a lawsuit if he didn’t appear in 2003’s The Italian Job as obligated.)
As chairman of Paramount Pictures, she kept blockbusters Forrest Gump (1994) and Braveheart (1995) on track despite the budget travails that threatened them.
She was wrong plenty of times, too, though her slip-ups receive relatively short shrift in Galloway’s recap.
One example: She tried, unsuccessfully, to talk director James Cameron into cutting My Heart Will Go On from the Titanic soundtrack.