Happy Birthday William Horatio Powell | July 29th, 1892 – March 5th, 1984
His careful attention to the neceties of grooming; his perfectly tailored suits, spotless cuffs, and collars; his orotund voice curled around well-turned phrases; the deferential way he bowed his head slightly when being introduced — all would have helped him gain entry at any elite, leather-chair-and-brandy-snifter men’s club.
“I’m not a ladies’ man. I haven’t the physical characteristics for one thing. Not handsome. Someone like Valentino should have played this part. Not Bill Powell.
Unfortunately, or perhaps it is fortunate that I have always been forced to stand on my acting ability. I haven’t a personality such as Jack Gilbert`s, for instance, that attracts women and makes them like me for myself. When I am on the screen I must make them forget me entirely and think only of my acting”
Powell is to dialogue as Fred Astaire is to dance. His delivery is so droll and insinuating, so knowing and innocent at the same time, that it hardly matters what he’s saying.