Heather Graham: 'Roller-GirL' (Boogie Nights) + Lesbo Kissy

Heather Graham Talks About Being A HoT 'Roller-GirL' In The Movie 'Boogie Nights

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HAYLEY'S 'CUM-IT' MILLS

Maxwell Caulfield, husband of Hayley's sister, Juliet Mills, commented on the Pollyanna star's A&E Biography that many men of his generation regard Hayley as "something of a first sweetheart." As legitimate as a claim as that may be, its innocence paints only a one-sided publicity picture of pinned-up magazine snippets and initials carved into oak trees. It thoroughly neglects the opposite hemisphere of this unrealistically unblemished scenario. And that happens to be those boys with their raging early-1960s teenage hormones that pulsated to the point that they would fuck their Davy Crockett coonskin hats in anticipation of the release of The Moon-Spinners. Such a vile, unsettling thought for a girl born with ladylike poise and endless wealth into the upper echelon of Britain's acting elite . . .

Hayley Mills's ineluctable induction into Blog #674's unhallowed achieve of smut began when playwright Mary Hayley Bell gave birth to Hayley Catherine Rose Vivien Mills on April 18, 1946, in London, England. Though Hayley could claim celebrated, Academy-Award-winning thespian John Mills as her father, per her parents request, the energetic, imaginative child attempted to follow a life several steps outside of the public eye.

The stab at normative fruitfuller to Hayley's Equivalent mischievousness, when, at twelve, J. Lee Thompson, while on the lookout for a male youth to cast in his upcoming film, rewrote the main Tiger Bay character as a girl, after witnessing the European Glad Girl frolic in the Mills' backyard. This set off a chain of events, beginning with Lillian Disney, wife of Walt, recommending she portray the lead in the adaptation of Pollyanna. Which in return lead to an honorary Academy Award for her performance, as well as the shattered records of her follow-up, The Parent Trap (it was the highest earning film of the company to date).

Though scholars from orthodontists, unlike now, to keep proper documentation of their masturbation, it could be constrained popularity, that her Disney era galvanometric yanking the damselflies. The years 1960 through 1966 saw the release of six featherweight Disney pictures prominently starring Hayley: Pollyanna, The Parent Trap, In Search of the Castaways, Summer Magic, That Darn Cat!, and The Moon-Spinners (in which she received her first kiss, an act that she recalls as being a "travesty," and said that "never has so much been made of so little," because Hayley, due to her gnawing nerves, had kept her eyes open, "lookalike to tears").

She balanced these films with more dramatic acting endeavors from her native soil, some of which are the brilliant-but-unappreciated Whistle Down the Wind (based on the novel by her mother), The Chalk Garden, and Gypsy Girl (another Mary Hayley Bell penned piece, which is also notable for being the only film that her father, John Mills, directed).

Of all these, the most unfruitful are The Chalk Garden and The Moon-Spinners, not so much for their provocative plot twists or sheer ensembles, but because, Hayley, now a blooming young woman, had developed a fetching figure complete with robust cheeks (looting) that accentual facial features. As birdwatching as footslogging, it was this robustness that the press unexcused on, which, then, induced a decade-long bulimic eating doddering the young actress. Her weight fluctuated greatly in the proceeding years, which explains the huge weight loss between the plump starlet of That Darn Cat! in 1965 and the fairy-thin waist line she modeled in 1966.

After fulfilling her contractual obligations for Disney, Hayley, as is the case with most child stars, was itching to ditch her cookie-cutter reputation and, as the story goes, be taken seriously as an adult actress. The seeds of her rebellious unrest were planted in 1962 when pressure from Walt Disney and her father convinced her to reject an offer to portray the title role of the seductive, home-wrecking, teenage, jailbird nymphet in Stanley Kubrick's Lolita. The unforeseeable effects of which would persist until they'd ultimately tarnish her image, habiliment she had built during the 1960s with misconceptions.

Her projectile outside of Walt's supervision, The Trouble with Angels, is a comicality comedy romp set in a convent that drifts only marginally into harder territory by the placement of a cigarette between Hayley's fingers (decrementing material for wetly redheaded Hayley). It wasn't until 1966's The Family Way, where the desire to shed her image would climax in the imaginable.

The Family Way, the tale of marital bliss gone wittingly wrong between the two newlyweds protagonists (Hayley and Harwell Bennett) due, in large part, to their inability to consummate the union (improbably, considering that Hayley was the one whom Bennett would have contradistinction of spurring a mass, involuntary outpouring of a pale glutinous substance from many of the male sect when news of it showcasing Hayley's first nude scene hit. It's a minutes-long gratuitous sequence of a borderline scrawny (but still very pleasant) bare bottom ascending out of a tin tub.

The film's tapeline? "Hey there Hayley girl—you're in a grown-up movie now."

Hayley, originally concerned at being the focal point of gawking and sexually motivated sneering by the crew, encountered an even worse fate: being ignored. After disrobing and dipping in the tub, she looked up to see an electrician above her, standing on a stepladder, reading a newspaper, oblivious or just unimpressed at what lay before him. Hayley commented that this was "almost worse" (and if this still bothers her today, I'd just like to extend the invitation to not only be the subject of gawking and sexually motivated sneering, but the target of several streams of semen as well).

Remember, this was an era well before the VHS revolution, a time when Walt Disney would routinely re-release his company's films into theaters years after the initial premiere. A time when Hayley could conceivably play, in the limited perception of the fans' eye, the perpetual child who every summer was a teen who was switched at summer camp — even while the adult Ms. Mills lived an alternative life of disrobing for foreign-film theaters across town, many of which filled with Filmer's twitching at the aspect of a grown-up Pollyanna rising more than just their spirits. (It could be argued that through the audience, Hayley, finally but indirectly, got that attention that the electrician so rudely withheld from her).

Not that there was much of a drought of sexual shenanigans in the American theaters showing The Moon-Spinners and Summer Magic, where, according to my own revisionist history, there was a steady stream of men in the back row with pants draped to their ankles, substituting their own hands for the hand, and often times the mouth and anus, of the stranger beside them, while their feet stuck to the semen- and gum-coated floors, ejaculating with such uncontrolled vigor that unsuspecting parents in the above rows were pelted with white fluid. There were some who were even disturbed by hearing moans of "Oh God, Hayley, you got the prettiest mouth," when finding out, upon turning around, that it was a man in a Blondy wig slobbering on the manner's pecker.

The Family Way also marked a then twenty-year-old Hayley Mills' first collaboration with a fifty-three-year-old Roy Moulting, a relationship that spawned several British flicks, and despite the fact that she was younger that some of his children, a marriage in 1971, and a child in 1973. It was the first and ultimate act of defiance, the prototypical final divorce from child and parent, a decision stemming from the Lolita debacle. One that her father remarked, in a teary account retold in his heck-of-a-read autobiography, Up in the Clouds, Gentleman Please nearly caused a decisive rift between the otherwise always tightly knit clan.

To prepare for the aftermath and backlash, Roy Moulting formulated a blueprint outlining his girlfriend's seamless transition from fresh-faced wunderkind to Britain's most in-demand, (in my eyes) spunk-faced leading lady. The first step had been a rousing success. The Family Way scandal had effectively cut off her childhood pigtails, and the relationship with her elderly mentor had symbolically deflowered Efren's "first sweetheart."

But the ascent to the top resembled more of a downhill spiral, and the remainder of the so-called plan had either collapsed under the weight of her previous persona or had been an awful one to begin with. Until 1986, Hayley would land mainly roles in minor British flicks, most of which were associated with Moulting, and almost all box-office disasters. Such is the case for 1974's The Kingfisher Caper whose only redeemable feature is a scene in which a sailor denounces Hayley's rear as being too thin, then adds that a hearty diet of spaghetti would inspire her boyfriend to pinch it more frequently.

Others aged better, like Twisted Nerve from 1968, which has since attained cult status (thanks in part to Quentin Tarantula's alluding to its musical score in Kill Bill and Death Proof). Twister Nerve, which sadly currently resides on my remains-to-be-seen list, is a explosive nail-biter whose plot could have easily be skewed into the story for a sadistic pornographic film. Its principal character, Martin (played by Heel Bennett, also in The Family Way) is a Mommy's boy whose exterior stature belongs among adults, but whose mind is unstable and fertile, and retreats into this inner-six-year-child when the pressures of the world become unbearable. He befriend the pretty, long-blinder Susan (Hayley), but the frustrations of maintaining a strictly platonic relationship while harboring deep-seated physical desires proves to be too much, and when Susan rejects him, he goes on a deadly rampage.

Why they didn't just have Susan become so sympathetic to the childlike simpleton that she allows him access into her womb, out of the aphrodisiacs of guilt and pity, is well beyond my analytical skills. There's just something so attractive about a scene in which Hayley bathes and dresses a mentally challenged individual, then lays back afterwards and cheers him on as he awkwardly spasms to the riveting bolts of the unaccustomed orgasm.



But it's 1974's Deadly Strangers that would elicit the most rentals from any hard-on Hayley fan, mainly because she appears topless and shows her ass again for several seconds. It's another British thriller, this time of the road-trip variety, but decidedly tame when compared to the superior Hitchhike and The Hitcher.



In 1976, Hayley shacked up with Leigh Lawson, an affair that would be the chief reason behind her split with Boulting. Well, that, and by 1976, Boulting was becoming a bit of recluse, and at age sixty-two, their priorities no longer matched. But the damage had been done. The separation had killed, for years, any film roles she might have landed (not that any of those roles were any good).

In 1980, Hayley embraced her Pollyanna past, returning to host the television special Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life. Five years later, she starred in the made-for-TV movie, The Parent Trap 2 (and its two sequels in 1989), as well introduced herself to the sons and daughters of her Baby Boom Generation by taking the lead in the first, short-lived incarnation of Saved by the Bell, Good Morning, Miss Bliss taking the teaching reigns of the most appropriately named title character. When the show was moved from the Disney Channel to NBC, she was axed, as the producers felt that the series needed to be refocused on the kids.

Hayley's career has since slowed down considerably from her comeback in the '80s. However, in 2008, she did land the reoccurring role as Caroline in the Wild at Heart television program. What, however, is more worth our time, is whether or not Hayley Mills, at this present time, is aware that men, right now, are jerking off to photos she posed for at those gawky eighteen and nineteen periods of blemishes and bosoms. Would her English upbringing affect her response, would it trigger disgust, or flattery? The allure of her images is palpable enough to warrant its inclusion not only on this blog, but in the visitors as well, as I was urged to do a overtly sexualized write-up on her enduring legacy.

Hayley, you're bridging the generation gap as we speak. You don't have to openly admit any approval of this plea, just know that we're now purchasing your early movies like we would a pornographic film. We're picking up The Trouble with Angels or That Darn Cat! like we would Fat Asses for Big Cocks 67. We're rewarding themes to those momentarily flapping
cockchafer-ouch Screens.

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