Tag: Kirstie Alley

As is usually the case when a celebrity dies, all former political effrontery tends to be glossed over. This certainly held true for the likes of James Caan (who died earlier this year) and Doris Day (who died in 2019). Granted, these might be prime examples of “Old Hollywood Republicans” (because, believe it or not, it used to be much chicer to be conservative than liberal in that town), but the point is, no one brought up the political leanings that formerly made people cringe once these “icons” were dead. The same seems to go for Kirstie Alley, who was, as a Midwesterner, perhaps an unavoidable Republican. A reality that came to harsh light during the 2016 election, when she announced her intention to vote for Donald Trump instead of Hillary Clinton. Backpedaling after her declaration was met with verbal reprisals, she claimed, “I hate this election and I’m officially no longer endorsing either candidate.”

“Endorsing” him or not, Alley still voted for Trump in 2016 and 2020 (the ultimate sign of a “die-hard” [read: white supremacist] Republican). Being vocal about it again the latter election year when she tweeted, “I’m voting for @realDonaldTrump because he’s NOT a politician. I voted for him 4 years ago for this reason and shall vote for him again for this reason. He gets things done quickly and he will turn the economy around quickly. There you have it folks there you have it.” The pronouncement was met with a swift barrage of venom, including from the likes of Judd Apatow, who replied, “Shelley [misspelled as Shelly] Long was way funnier than you.” Alley went on The Sean Hannity Show the next day to continue to defend her stance, doubling down once more on her position. All of this is to say that, despite the 1999 mockumentary masterpiece that is Drop Dead Gorgeous being a satire, Alley’s role as pageant mother/head of the pageant organizing committee Gladys Leeman wasn’t that much of a reach for her to embody. Not politically speaking, anyway.

Directed by Michael Patrick Jann and written by Lona Williams, the latter was highly inspired by her hometown of Rosemount, Minnesota (hence, the name of the town in the movie being Mount Rose, MN) for the story. Complete with over-the-top Minnesota accents that Alley was happy to accommodate as she said on-brand conservative things like, “I know what some of your big city, no bra wearin’, hairy-legged women libbers might say. They might say that a pageant is old-fashioned and ‘demeaning’ to the girls…” Her cohort, Iris (Mindy Sterling), chimes in, “What’s sick is women dressin’ like men!” Gladys agrees, “You betcha, Iris. No, I think you boys are gonna find something a little bit different here in Mount Rose. For one thing, we’re all God-fearin’ folk, every last one of us. And you will not find a ‘back room’ in our video store. No, no. That filth is better left in the Sin Cities.” Iris clarifies, “A.k.a. Minneapolis-St. Paul.”

Gladys’ carefully-curated image as the perfect mother and homemaker is especially crucial this pageant year as her own daughter, Rebecca “Becky” Leeman (Denise Richards), will be competing. Which is why it’s also so important for Gladys to come up with an “original” theme like “Proud to Be An American.” So much different from previous themes like, “Buy American,” “USA Is A-OK” or “Amer-I-Can!” Although mostly confident that Rebecca has what it takes to win, Gladys isn’t so naïve as to discount the potential of someone such as doe-eyed, blonde Amber Atkins (Kirsten Dunst) or even Tammy Curry (Brooke Elise Bushman), the dyke archetype who beat out Rebecca to become the president of the Lutheran Sisterhood Gun Club. This win being precisely her motive for rigging Tammy’s tractor to blow up.

The explosion turns out to be a foreshadowing of the comeuppance Gladys will get with another big kabluey at the end of the movie—this time of her own daughter on a giant swan. After fixing the pageant so that Rebecca would win (even though Amber was the clear favorite), it’s obvious the Leemans had no intention of ever letting Rebecca lose in that they had pre-purchased this massive piñata-esque float for their daughter to ride in at the celebratory parade. A parade, by the way, filled with scenes that mirror the most grotesque cliches of American stereotypes as perpetuated by Republicans. Ignorance abounding in shit-kicker aesthetics (from army camouflage to oversized khaki shorts) and behaviors (e.g., mocking a mentally challenged person with their overalls caught in a car door).

At Rebecca’s funeral, reference to the swan being made in Mexico comes back as the pastor notes to God, “Maybe it’s your way of telling us, ‘Buy American.’” Or that Rebecca’s own win-at-any-cost mother epitomizes the sort of tactics that Trump himself would employ to “get the job done.” Ignore reality, ignore what the majority actually wants and just bulldoze your way to “success.” The “anti-wokeness” of Gladys Leeman—which comes out in dialogue like, “I said I’d move if a cripple came” (re: parking in a handicapped spot)—is an additional foil of Alley’s own nature, which would go on to reveal some very pro-MAGA, QAnon-sympathizing sentiments.

Determined to wield her “blunt” persona as “telling it like it is,” it became increasingly evident over the course of the post-90s years (particularly with Scientology becoming less tenable for many outside observers and defectors alike, including Leah Remini, who clashed a number of times with Alley after leaving the organization) that her brand was less “freedom of speech” and more mumbo-jumbo. Including her response to the war in Ukraine being that she didn’t “know what’s real or what is fake in this war. So I won’t be commenting. I’ll pray instead.”

Incidentally, Scientologists don’t subscribe to prayer. Something the aforementioned Remini was eager to point out in her back-handed tribute/condolence to Alley and her family when she said, “Although Scientologists don’t believe in prayers, my prayers do go out to her two children, who are now without their mom.” Another thing Scientologists don’t believe in is seeking cancer treatment before it’s too late, told by the Church that they can conquer such “ailments,” particularly someone who was at Alley’s Operating Thetan Level VIII. Yet another reason it feels all too pointed that fellow Scientologists Kelly Preston and Chick Corea also died of cancer in 2020 in 2021, respectively. And both, like Alley, near the Church’s Flag Building in Clearwater, Florida.

While there’s no denying Alley had many beloved roles, from Mollie Jensen in the Look Who’s Talking trilogy to Diane Barrows in It Takes Two to Veronica Chase in Veronica’s Closet to a caricaturized version of herself in Fat Actress, her death doesn’t deify her enough to dismiss her often problematic politics. Of the same ilk that Gladys Leeman was only too proud to trumpet under the banner of “Proud to Be An American.”