I never thought I was the kind of person who got easily obsessed with actors or actresses... apparently, that isn't true, because I've seen 14 of Stewart Granger's movies since last Saturday. Oh my gosh, that sounds horrible. Really, who the heck is Stewart Granger, though? I had never even heard of him before last Saturday. But there I was, watching Fanny by Gaslight (1945) because I adore Phyllis Calvert to pieces, and suddenly onto the screen walked this fantastically handsome human being. I liked him from that very first scene, then I watched Madonna of the Seven Moons (1945) and that was it, finis, kissed my heart goodbye.
The best Stewart Granger is gypsy Stewart Granger... or hobo Stewart Granger... or drunk Stewart Granger... or Irish Stewart Granger... or...
He has quite definitely the best face ever. His laugh is my favorite thing in the whole world. His voice in general is perfection (when that man says "ruggedness", heaven help us). I find his hair ridiculously attractive. He has an absolutely adorable smile. He's really the only good thing in The Lamp Still Burns and The Little Hut. And I'm dying to read his autobiography (Christmas present to myself, me thinks).
I'm trying to convince myself that a week isn't enough time to call someone your favorite actor. But fourteen performances are living in the back of my mind screaming "He's great and you know it. Admit it. You know it's true, he's the best." Really though, look at him:
Favorite. Picture. Ever.