I’VE ALWAYS been more of a Montgomery Clift fan. His dark, brooding complexity, good looks, and acting chops just do it for me. That said, the life of Tab Hunter (1931-2018) and his Hollywood-manufactured “All-American Boy-Next-Door” schtick fascinates me still. While I enjoyed Tab Hunter Confidential: The Making of a Movie Star by Tab Hunter with Eddie Muller (Algonquin Books, 2006), I acknowledge that it’s a polarizing autobiography for some readers. I first read the book shortly after its publication, years before Tab Hunter passed away.
Some of Hunter’s language and comments about queer people in his past are problematic. His later identity as an openly gay man in a long-term partnership who also remained a practicing Catholic adds another layer of complexity that can seem, at times, internally contradictory. While he asserts in the book that he fully accepts himself as a gay man, there are moments where an undercurrent of unresolved tension emerges, particularly in how he frames masculinity and sexual identity.
These tensions are deeply rooted in the historical context that shaped him. Tab came of age in an era when homosexuality was not only stigmatized but criminalized, and when even the language of identity we take for granted today was largely unavailable. His experiences of being present at a police raid on a private house party of gay men (when he was still Arthur Gelien), enduring tabloid scrutiny, and losing professional opportunities due to rumours about his sexuality suggest a pattern of trauma that would, of course, leave lasting scars.
This autobiography ultimately reads as more than just a Hollywood memoir; it becomes a case study in the emotional cost of mid-century celebrity, particularly for gay/queer men navigating an industry built on illusion and fabrication. The “All-American boy” image wasn’t just a marketing strategy; it was a kind of confinement, one that demanded not only silence but active participation in a fiction that denied Tab authenticity.
His story reflects how complicated self-understanding can be for someone who spent decades navigating fear, repression, and public scrutiny; Tab’s eventual openness comes across not as a tidy resolution but as something hard-won, imperfect, and still evolving. And sometimes that imperfection leads to the projection of deprecating bias onto other gay/queer men. Not an excuse, just an observation.
So yes, Tab Hunter is a complex man, forged in his identity partly by several decades of complicated, discordant opinions and beliefs on sexual behaviour and orientation and the Hollywood “don’t ask, don’t tell” machine. Though closeted for much of his Hollywood career, homophobia and fear of being outed (I’m looking at you, Confidential magazine!) did not stop him from forming intimate relationships with men beyond just bedroom antics. It shows his courage and strength of character.
The book discusses several notable men in his life, including the deeply conflicted Anthony Perkins, whom Tab neither outright judges nor excuses, resulting in a more nuanced portrayal than in the documentary adaptation. Tab is noticeably less apologetic here about Perkins’ internalized homophobia and his later turn toward conversionist behaviour than he appears in the film.
Empathy is admirable, but in the documentary, his commentary on this subject can feel somewhat forced. In the book, by contrast, his perspective comes across as more natural and honest, and less concerned with softening the edges. I wonder if he felt a sort of way after the book was published and consciously chose to alter his tone in the documentary? We’ll probably never know.
Other highlights of the book include accounts of his leading ladies, such as Natalie Wood, though Hunter is not overly revealing. This conscious “holding back” throughout the book doesn’t bother me; it’s his story to tell in the way he wants to. It also feels less “tell-all” and more—gentlemanly.
Though his up-and-down career as a “Matinee Idol” is riveting, I enjoyed the glimpses into his life outside Hollywood just as much. His love of horses and riding, his writing endeavours, and his friendships—his chosen family—are things Hunter does not shy away from speaking about passionately.
Overall, Tab Hunter Confidential: The Making of a Movie Star is a captivating chronicle of a (one-time closeted) gay man and actor caught between the old dying studio system and the emerging mainstream movie and independent film markets of the 1970s/1980s. Praised more often for his looks than his acting ability, Tab Hunter quickly understood Hollywood’s superficiality. Eventually, time, perseverance, and self-acceptance brought him to a life of love and a place outside the artifice of La La Land.
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