THE JAMES DEAN STORY

If living icon Elizabeth Taylor could not suppress the kind of pap being served up by dollar-grabbing opportunists disguised as professionals, how is it that James Dean, dead and gone nearly 40 years, can warrant a spic-and-span bio-pic (Film Clips, April 30)?

Is it a result of the copyright-law prowess of family attorney Mark Roesler, the slick marketing skills of the second generation of “name and image” entrepreneurs, or plain ol’ Midwestern homophobia?

Dean cousin Marcus Winslow Jr.’s reiteration that “you can rest assured that there won’t be anything about him (Dean) being a homosexual” should be factored into your conclusion. (Dang homersexshuls!)

The same kind of studio sanitizing that nailed the closet doors shut on incredible performers like Rock Hudson and Sal Mineo failed miserably in containing the vibrant spirit of young Mr. Dean, and writer-director Alan Hauge’s contention that Dean became a victim of Stanislavski’s Method acting is very possibly the exact opposite of the truth.

As for whether Leonardo DiCaprio or Damian Chapa will better capture the essence of James Dean, there is simply no contest. The producers of the family-authorized version will have to accept that DiCaprio, while not looking “exactly like Jim” (as does Chapa in Hauge’s eyes), will easily outshine Chapa and the Winslow family’s whitewashed presentation.

God bless you, James Dean, and tweak Stanislavski’s nose for me.

G. FRED LOGAN

Laguna Niguel