Endword and Upward

Page 1 2 3 Every college drama department has a stage. But only the Greer Garson Theatre can boast of having its most prominent patron volunteer to headline a 1975 production of Jean Giraudoux's The Madwoman of Chaillot, all to raise funds, publicity and public awareness of the facility, still the largest venue of its kind between Albuquerque and Colorado Springs, and moreover the home of an undergraduate theater program with international standing.

Every state these days has a movie studio somewhere within its borders. But only New Mexico had its own guardian angel over the Garson Communications Center, an angel who lived to see her biggest, and her fondest, dream come true (and all this in the years following the installation of her first pacemaker: "I recommend one to everyone over 37!" she declared).

Clearly an enthusiastic and energetic supporter of all esthetic endeavor, Garson would undoubtedly embrace New Mexico's cutting-edge computer imaging technology.

Already, revolutionary hardware and software explorations are making possible the reanimation of stars from Hollywood's Golden Age.

Fox, for instance, would very much like to remount 1962's unfinished Something's Got to Give, with a digitized Marilyn Monroe completing a final performance her death precluded.

Is it possible, then, to consider an Intel-generated Garson? What would she herself think about electronic resurrection?

Indeed, she bristled about books like Mommie Dearest: "I must say I do not have a high opinion of those authors who write nasty books about people who have just died and can't defend themselves."

The gracious Garson - who said she wanted to be remembered as being "civil, courteous, earthy, practical, simple" - has nothing to fear from the jackals, virtual or otherwise.

Instead, might we dare to hope to see more of her?

Imagine a Greer Garson reborn at any age desired, acting the hell out of parts she didn't live long enough to play:

Mary Queen of Scots, perhaps, or, say, Margaret Thatcher, or even a willful Southern Gothic matriarch in some as-yet-undiscovered Tennessee Williams playscript.

Imagine an eighth nomination, a ninth, a tenth . . .

The possibilities are limitless, the probabilities only slightly less so.

Happy trails, Greer. See you in the 21st century.