Had Norma Shearer, the First Lady of MGM, had Methusaleh style genes she would have turned 106 years old today. She did have good genes --she was 81 before pneumonia stole her from us --but she wasn't immortal. The same unfortunately goes for her legacy as a superstar.

I've been a devotee for a number of years. She's a pet largely because she's not as remembered as other 30s titans... and for the more standard reason one loves an actor: I get a kick watching her --especially in The Divorcée and Marie Antoinette. Six years ago when Norma's centennial rolled around there weren't a billion movie blogs celebrating everybody's centennials. Norma missed out. She deserves better.

True story: I was out for drinks with an editor from a publishing house a few months back and he was playing sounding board (I've been trying to get a book deal). I had become briefly obsessed with doing a book on Shearer and the editor, a great guy but a pragmatist, shot me down:

I'm sure it'd be great but you want to sell more than 3,000 copies right?

Ouch. See... Norma gets no respect. Not even from people who genuinely love movies.

Perhaps her ghost is just not fierce enough? What her legacy needs is a bit more of that Mrs. Stephen Haines character arc in The Women (1939). Norma's phantom-self needs to stop playing nice and start fighting for her man reputation. She needs to flash vapory nails and throw scenery (chewed) around like an angry poltergeist...

Instead of "boo" she could hiss "Jungle Red!"