Professional Documents
Culture Documents
You may recall that in 2019, the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s annual
gala celebrated all things camp (https://daily.jstor.org/how-latin-camp-
rocked-the-new-york-underground/) (this was the year Jared Leto
carried his own head as an accessory and Billy Porter arrived, swathed in
gold sequins and actual wings, on a litter borne by six extremely
muscular gentlemen). The accompanying exhibit attempted, in a mint-
green text panel, to define the whole affair in the words of actress Mae
West: “Camp,” she commented in 1971, “is the kinda comedy where they
imitate me.”
West had good reason to say this. In the long arc of a career that went
from vaudeville to 1980s B-movies, West was a hardworking actress who
loved to push envelopes. From obscurity to fame, comeback to
caricature, she spent decades delighting in the stylization, excess, and
shock value of what we would come to know as camp culture.
To bring her career in line with her ambitions, West started writing plays
herself. Cobbling together financing and theater rental, she put together
a Broadway production, cast herself as the lead (a Montreal sex worker),
and debuted it in 1926 under the rabble-rousing title: SEX. As historian
Marybeth Hamilton writes ,
That forced closure was the result of raid by the NYPD vice squad
(https://www.pbs.org/wnet/americanmasters/the-time-mae-west-
spent-eight-days-in-jail/14642/), thanks to which West was charged
with obscenity and spent eight days in the women’s prison on Roosevelt
Island—an event that, to West’s delight, only boosted her public profile.
She continued to write boundary-pushing plays, centered on women’s
sexuality and gay life. At a time when thin flappers and demure Ziegfeld
girls were the fashion, West’s physicality and her embrace of burlesque
tropes brought low-class entertainment onto high-class Broadway.
West took advantage of her own notoriety in her 1928 play Diamond Lil
, sanding a few rough edges for the sake of public appeal. A vaudeville
drama set in the Gay Nineties, Diamond Lil at last made West a star
persona. She played a languid, singing, wise-cracking sexpot in drag
(https://daily.jstor.org/rupauls-drag-race-transgender-cultural-
studies/)—in her own words, “a little bit spicy, but not too raw.”
who writes her own plays and then stars in them, is one
hundred per cent good showman. Her showmanship is
apparent always, natural, inborn. She may have added to it,
learned a trick here and there, but her ability to put herself
over and her delight in doing it is a trait that could not have
been acquired.
In the 1930s, West got her big break in film. She was nearly forty years
old, at an age when most actresses were considered past their prime.
She went on to star opposite Cary Grant and W. C. Fields, and while at
one time she was among the highest-paid actresses in Hollywood, she
ultimately left the movie business due to clashes with censors , who
didn’t feel her burlesque persona fit with the reality of Hays Code
Hollywood (https://daily.jstor.org/end-american-film-censorship/).
But West was used to bad reviews and suggestions of censorship, and
Myra, along with the likes of late-night television and a 1971 Playboy
interview in which she defined herself as camp incarnate, set her up as a
resurgent celebrity. New generations with different attitudes toward sex
and entertainment—and an appreciation for looking back on campy
content—joyfully ate up her double entendres and husky swagger.
This was the Mae West of archetype, the woman about whom James
McCourt rhapsodized that
the buzz derived from watching her lope into an empty set-up
frame, survey the invisible audience like an ocelot raised on
ortolan fricase, utter “Goodness had nothin’ to do with it,
dearie,” and swerve off camera, was the ultimate fulfillment of
audiences’ collective expectations.
West died in 1980 at age eighty-seven. Since her passing, audiences and
scholars have explored her legacy as a camp diva, a queer icon
(https://daily.jstor.org/how-the-fag-hag-went-from-hated-to-
celebrated/), and a model of feminism. The same words that were used
to criticize her in her early career—she was “a grotesque, a man in drag,
a joke on women, and not a woman”—have come up against a fuller,
modern understanding of gender as performance
(https://daily.jstor.org/judith-butler-the-early-years/). Whether she (or
camp, for that matter) belongs to any one audience has been debated,
but scholar Michael Schuyler argues that Mae West is for everyone: “The
best self-consciously produced camp doesn’t take sides but desires,
instead, to be embraced by all sides. West, it seems, knew this .”
JSTOR
scholarly context to the news.
Become a member
Daily (https://www.patreon.com/jstordaily)
About Us
JSTOR Daily provides context for current events using scholarship found in
JSTOR, a digital library of academic journals, books, and other material. We
publish articles grounded in peer-reviewed research and provide free
access to that research for all of our readers.
JSTOR.org (https://www.jstor.org/)
Accessibility (https://about.jstor.org/accessibility/)
(https://www.jstor.org)
JSTOR is part of ITHAKA, a not-for-profit organization helping the academic community use digital technologies to preserve
the scholarly record and to advance research and teaching in sustainable ways.
©2023 ITHAKA. All Rights Reserved. JSTOR®, the JSTOR logo, and ITHAKA® are registered trademarks of ITHAKA.