The Santa Ana child actress — on screen at five, Miracle on 34th Street at eight, teenage stardom through her twenties — who made the transition that almost no child actor manages: becoming an adult performer of the first rank, earning three Oscar nominations between twenty-one and twenty-five, and playing Deanie and Maria and Angie before drowning off Catalina Island at forty-three.
Portrait · Natalie WoodBorn Natasha Nikolaevna Zacharenko on July 20, 1938, in Santa Ana, California — the daughter of Russian immigrant parents, her father a set builder and her mother an ambitious woman who recognised the child's quality and brought her to a film location at four and a screen test at five. She was working professionally by six and had her breakthrough role at eight in George Seaton's Miracle on 34th Street (1947), playing the child who learns to believe in Santa Claus and whose belief the film uses to make its argument about faith and reason.
The transition from child actress to adult performer is the most difficult manoeuvre in Hollywood, and almost no one accomplishes it without either a hiatus or a visible struggle. Wood accomplished it without either. Nicholas Ray's Rebel Without a Cause (1955) — Wood as Judy, the teenager whose relationship with James Dean's Jim Stark is the film's moral and emotional argument — introduced her adult career at sixteen. By twenty-one she had earned her first Oscar nomination for Marjorie Morningstar.
Elia Kazan's Splendor in the Grass (1961) — Wood as Deanie Loomis, the Kansas girl whose thwarted love for Warren Beatty's Bud Stamper leads to a mental breakdown — is the performance at the centre of her legacy: the emotional transparency of a young woman whose desire is too large for her world, played with a fullness that earned her second Oscar nomination and established her in the first rank of American actresses. Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins's West Side Story (1961), the same year, gave her Maria, and the decade's most commercially successful musical.
She drowned in the waters off Catalina Island on November 29, 1981, under circumstances that have remained contested. She was forty-three. She had been working, was engaged in a career that had never stopped, and had more range remaining than the films had yet used.
The bathtub scene — Deanie's breakdown, the desire and the grief simultaneous, the body unable to contain what the social world has required her to suppress — is played by Wood with a physical commitment and emotional transparency that has no equivalent in her contemporaries. Kazan said it was the most complete performance he had directed; Beatty, who was making his own film debut, has credited her with teaching him what screen acting required.
The balcony scene — Maria and Tony in the fire escape, the city their world and the gangs its constraint — is one of the decade's most complete images of desire as both personal and political, the love story as the argument against the tribalism that will destroy it. Wood's Maria is the film's conscience; her quality — the openness that makes the tragedy credible — is what prevents West Side Story from being merely a spectacular production number with a sad ending.
Susan's quality — the child whose intelligence is apparent but whose capacity for wonder has been educated out of her — is played by the eight-year-old Wood with the same transparency the adult performances would have. The film's argument about faith and evidence runs through Susan's face; we see the reasoning happening, the resistance giving way, the wonder arriving; and the fact that it is happening in a child's face is both what makes the argument legible and what demonstrates the specific quality Wood had from the beginning.
Angie's quality — the working woman navigating a city that offers her very few choices and whose dignity within those constraints is the film's entire moral argument — is played by Wood with a specificity and a warmth that prevents the film's social critique from becoming didactic. Her chemistry with McQueen — two very different instruments finding a common frequency — is the film's commercial engine; her performance is its moral weight.
I want to do something splendid before I die — something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten.
Natalie Wood's legacy is the transition — the child who became an adult performer of the first rank without losing the quality that made the child worth watching, and who earned three Oscar nominations between twenty-one and twenty-five for three entirely different registers of the same instrument. Splendor in the Grass, West Side Story, Love with the Proper Stranger — three films in four years that together constitute one of the most concentrated demonstrations of range in a single career's early peak.
She drowned at forty-three with more remaining. The bathtub scene in Splendor in the Grass is the measure of what she was capable of — the emotional transparency fully deployed, the desire and grief simultaneous, the body as the site of everything the social world had refused to accommodate — and the three nominations are the industry's acknowledgment that it saw what the camera had found.