Among the few living real legends is Faye Dunaway.
The legendary actress, well-known for portraying strong, resentful, and challenging women, is among the best in movie history.
And the eighty-three-year-old continues on…
Dunaway is best known for her twisted cry in the campy cult film Mommie Dearest, “No more wire hangers!” She also starred in Hurry Sundown with Michael Caine and Bonnie & Clyde, winning the main part over Jane Fonda and Natalie Wood.
The Florida native actress, who was also awarded three Golden Globes and an Emmy, was born in Bascom.
It’s difficult to discuss Faye Dunaway’s career without bringing up the film Mommies Dearest. Channeling Joan Crawford’s energy, Faye Dunaway shocked the Mommie Dearest crew when she initially appeared from the dressing room in the legendary role of the four-year-old actress.
The sensationalized movie Mommie Dearest (1981) is based on Christina Crawford’s memoir of the same name, which describes her troubled connection with the late actress Joan Crawford, who was her adopted mother.
Dunaway managed to create a combination of charm and terror.
In her unsettling portrayal of Crawford, Dunaway blurred the boundaries between reality and resurrecting Joan, both on and off the set. She was so desperate that she declared, “I want to climb inside her skin,” to a Hollywood biographer.
Dunaway either developed her method acting skills to a high degree or her spirit took over. In her memoir, Looking for Gatsby, she writes. “I was told by one that it felt like Joan herself had risen from the dead.”
In reality, the media began to believe that Crawford was haunting Dunaway.”(Dunaway) appears to have borrowed it for 12 weeks from the ghost of Joan Crawford,” the Los Angeles Times remarked about her voice.
In a part that will live in legend, Dunaway expresses remorse. She told Entertainment Tonight, “I think it turned my career in a direction where people would irretrievably have the wrong impression of me—and that’s an awful hard thing to beat.” “I should have known better, but sometimes you don’t know what you’re getting into and you’re vulnerable.”
Working with some of the sexiest men in Hollywood, like Paul Newman, Robert Redford, Kirk Douglas, and Johnny Depp, Dunaway showed extreme self-control and maintained a platonic connection with her co-stars.
A few individuals were drawn to particular things; perhaps Jack (Nicholson) and Warren (Beatty), but not many. Though Steve McQueen was contentedly devoted to someone at the time, Warren was at that point in his bachelorhood. “I wouldn’t mess around with something like that even if it were offered, but it wasn’t,” Warren said.
“You simply don’t,” she remarked in a Harper’s Bazaar interview. “You don’t do that because you know it will ruin the performance and the movie. That’s my rule.
The dapper, Italian award-winning actor Marcello Mastroianni, broke the rules for the timeless beauty with her delicate high cheekbones because he was too much of a temptation.
Life imitates art in her connection with the Italian celebrity. starring in the 1968 film A Place for Lovers, which Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times referred to as the “most godawful piece of pseudo-romantic slop I’ve ever seen!”-Dunaway portrays a fashion designer who is having an extramarital romance with Mastroianni, a race car driver. She had a brief but intense three-year romance with the actor in real life, which she ended when he refused to leave his wife.
Dunaway stated, “I was deeply in love with him,” in a People interview. I had never encountered a man like him before, and I felt incredibly safe with him.
She wed musician Peter Wolf, the lead vocalist of The J. Geils Band, in 1974; they separated after five years.
According to a Marie Claire article from 2017, Dunaway began an affair with renowned British photographer Terry O’Neill because she was dissatisfied in her marriage to Wolf. With her Oscar from the movie The Network on the table next to her, O’Neill captured a picture of her lounging by the pool at The Beverly Hills Hotel.
After being married in 1983, Dunaway misled the public for many years, claiming that her son Liam, who was born in 1980, was actually her biological child. In 1987, Dunaway and O’Neill were divorced.
Dunaway is alleged to be a manipulative diva who is very difficult and unpredictable for co-stars, production personnel, and even hotel employees.
She was fired from her role as Audrey Hepburn in the off-Broadway production of Tea at Five in 2019 for creating a “dangerous” and “hostile” environment, and she was fired by Andrew Lloyd Weber from his Sunset Boulevard production in Los Angeles, California, in 1994.
She was dubbed the “gossamer grenade” by one of her leading men, Jack Nicholson, and when Johnny Carson questioned her in 1988, “Who’s one of the worst people you know in Hollywood?” “Faye Dunaway and everybody you can put in this chair would tell you exactly the same thing,” was the swift response from the feisty and unrepentant Bette Davis. “I don’t think we have the time to go into all the reasons—she’s just uncooperative,” the woman said. For Miss Dunaway, Miss Dunaway is Miss.
Dunaway is still a very talented performer despite her challenging, frequently harsh, and nasty demeanor.
She was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1996, and in 1997, People magazine listed her as one of the 50 Most Beautiful People.
Regarding her romantic status, she is now single.
She stated in a 2016 People interview that she was still open to dating. She says, “I’m very much a loner.” “I always think that if I could find the right person, I would like to have a partner in life, and I would.”
Her most recent credit dates back to 2022, when she costarred in the Italian film L’uomo che disegnò Dio with Kevin Spacey.
During my grandfather’s funeral, a stranger gave me a note — I couldn’t help but laugh after reading it because Grandpa had played a trick on us
At Grandpa’s funeral, 18-year-old Dahlia feels isolated as her family fumes over the pitiful $1 inheritance. But when a stranger slips her a secret note, Dahlia is pulled into a mystery only she can solve.
I stood by the graveside, hands clenched in the pockets of my too-small black dress, listening to the priest’s droning voice blend with the rustle of the wind.
This was the saddest day of my life, but everyone else in the family seemed more concerned with glaring at each other than mourning Grandpa.
I could feel their bitterness lingering in the chilly October air, thick like syrup. One dollar each. That’s all Grandpa left us in his will, and they were furious. But me? I wasn’t angry. Just… hollow.
Grandpa wasn’t supposed to be gone. He was the only person who ever saw me, not the mess-up or the spare kid nobody paid attention to, but me. He let me in when no one else cared.
I stared down at the flowers resting on his coffin. I’d brought him a red rose, and it stood out among the white daisies everyone else had placed on the casket.
“One dollar,” Aunt Nancy hissed from behind me. “One damn dollar! That man was loaded, and this is what we get?”
Uncle Vic let out a bitter laugh. “Right? I swear he did it on purpose, the spiteful old man.”
“Typical Dad,” Mom muttered, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “He always played favorites, and Dahlia here was his little pet. Bet she got something we don’t know about.”
Aunt Nancy’s eyes cut toward me, sharp as glass. “What did he leave you, Dahlia? Anything? Don’t act like you didn’t get something.”
I stiffened. “I got the same as all of you.”
Mom’s fingers tightened over my shoulder. “Are you sure?” she asked in a low voice. “You were always with him. Maybe he told you something… think hard, Dahlia. You owe it to your family to share whatever he gave you.”
Memories came rushing back of Grandpa’s goofy stories about long-lost treasure and the butterscotch candies he always kept in his coat pocket.
Sometimes, he’d wink at me and say, “One day, kiddo, I’m leaving you a treasure. Real treasure!” But it was just a game, a joke between us.
I shook my head and turned my gaze back to the coffin. “What Grandpa gave me was his love, his stories, and a place that felt more like home than my actual home. Those things were worth more than money, and there’s no way I can—”
“Nobody cares about any of that!” Mom snapped. “Think, girl! What happened to all of his money?”
I shrugged. I truly didn’t know the answer to her question and didn’t care. Grandpa was gone. He was my confidant, my safe place, my friend. I’d lost the most important person in the world, but all they cared about was slapping a price tag on his death.
“She knows something,” Vic muttered, loud enough for me to hear.
Their voices twisted together, accusing, scheming — like they could squeeze secrets out of me if they tried hard enough. But I had no secrets that could earn them more money.
The second they realized there’d be no fortune, they turned away from the grave and stormed off. I could still hear them bickering as they walked away, lashing out at each other like vultures. It made me sick.
“You must be Dahlia.”
I looked up to see a woman, maybe in her 60s, with kind eyes and a worn leather bag slung over her shoulder. Her smile was soft and secretive, like she knew something the rest of us didn’t.
“I was a friend of your grandpa’s,” she said, leaning in as if we were co-conspirators. “He asked me to give you this.”
Before I could respond, she slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand and whispered, “Don’t let anyone see it, especially your family.”
Her presence felt surreal, almost dreamlike, and before I could say anything, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd of mourners. My heart pounded in my chest as I unfolded the note.
111 locker — Southern Railway Station.
For a second, I stood frozen, the words blurring in front of me. Then it hit me: Grandpa’s “treasure.” A laugh bubbled up from my throat, inappropriate and wild, but I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t joking after all.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The note was tucked under my pillow like a secret. Grandpa’s voice echoed in my mind, playful yet certain: “Locker number 111… There’s treasure in there, kiddo!”
A weight settled on my chest, something between grief and hope. What if this wasn’t just some wild goose chase? What if Grandpa had really left something for me, hidden away where no one else could reach?
The thought twisted around in my mind until I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know what was in that locker.
I called a cab the next morning. It was the first thing I did after I woke up. As I tiptoed past the kitchen, I could hear Mom muttering on the phone about Grandpa’s will, probably trying to squeeze sympathy or cash out of anyone who would listen.
I clenched my jaw and slipped out the door, the chilly morning air hitting my skin like a slap.
The ride to Southern Railway Station felt like the longest 20 minutes of my life.
My knee bounced with nervous energy as the cab wound through narrow streets, past graffiti-covered walls, and empty coffee shops just starting to open. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror but didn’t say a word.
When we finally pulled up at the station, I stepped out and asked him to wait for me. I clutched the note tightly as I entered the train station.
The station smelled like diesel and stale popcorn. People rushed past me in every direction — commuters, travelers, strangers with places to go.
I hesitated at the entrance, suddenly feeling small and out of place. But then Grandpa’s voice floated back into my mind, steady and reassuring: “Real treasure, kiddo.”
I took a deep breath and headed toward the lockers and I could hear my heart pounding. Rows of metal boxes lined the wall, each one looking identical: gray, dented, and slightly rusty.
My eyes scanned the numbers until I found number 111.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded note. The key was taped to the back. With trembling fingers, I peeled it off and slid it into the lock.
For a second, it jammed, and I panicked. But then — click! The lock turned, and the door swung open.
Inside was a duffel bag. It was old, faded, and heavy. My hands shook as I pulled it out and unzipped it.
The bag was full of cash. Bundles upon bundles of it!
I gasped, my mind reeling. It couldn’t be real, could it? I reached in and pulled out a stack, flipping through crisp hundred-dollar bills. There had to be at least $150,000 in there.
And tucked inside the bag was another note, written in Grandpa’s messy scrawl:
For my beloved granddaughter, everything I saved is now yours. Take it and live free, kiddo. The rest of the family may not see your worth, but I’ve always believed in you.
Tears blurred my vision, and I hugged the note to my chest, a knot forming in my throat. This wasn’t just money. It was freedom — a way out.
Grandpa always knew how badly I needed to escape this family. And now, he’d given me exactly what I needed and tricked everyone else in the process!
I zipped the bag shut, slung it over my shoulder, and walked out of the station, my heart pounding in tune with my footsteps.
The early morning sun was just starting to peek through the clouds, casting everything in a soft, golden light. For the first time in years, I felt… light.
During the cab ride back, I stared out the window, watching the city come to life. I had options now. No more suffocating family dinners, no more being ignored or treated like an afterthought, no more being the family scapegoat.
I could leave. I could build something new.
The thought scared me as much as it excited me, but Grandpa’s voice echoed in the back of my mind: “Live free, kiddo.”
As the cab pulled up to my house, I made my decision. I wasn’t staying. Not another minute!
I didn’t even bother going inside. I pulled out my phone, booked a ticket to anywhere, and told the driver to head straight to the airport.
With the duffel bag in my lap and Grandpa’s note tucked safely in my pocket, I smiled for the first time in days.
I was free. And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what that meant.
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