Both director George Cukor and writer Ruth Gordon are a bit off their form in The Actress, a backstager that lacks the spark that is so essential both to tales of the theater and tales of youth (and, as concerns the father in the story, tales of youth long lost). Perhaps Gordon was too close to the autobiographical material, as much of the screenplay comes off as a bit too precious. Gordon also doesn't find enough fresh things to say about this oft-told theatrical situation, although she does much better when sticking to the relationship between father and daughter, and indeed creates quite a memorable character in Clinton Jones. Cukor's work is a bit dry, his pacing flagging too often. However, he does do a fine job of capturing the right period feel and setting, and he has several inventive visual moments, starting with a very nicely composed opening sequence that takes in the entire theater. Even better is the parlor scene between Ruth and her suitor. Comprised of only three shots, this lengthy sequence allows Cukor to insinuate his camera throughout the room in a very dramatically effective manner. In the title role, the beautiful Jean Simmons is surprisingly annoying; the performance is mannered and fluttery, lacking in sufficient charm and depth. This leaves the film to Spencer Tracy, whose performance is wonderfully rich and detailed. Teresa Wright has too little to do but does it well, and Anthony Perkins is notable in his screen debut -- especially clad in Walter Plunkett's excellent costumes.