Stage Struck

Sex sells. Acting is a bonus, writes DONALD CLARKE

A peculiar but by no means novel class of fame has attached itself to a young Tennessean, erm, performer. Megan Fox is the latest Hollywood actor to become her era's leading sex symbol without really doing anything.

I exaggerate slightly. Two years ago, during the production of Transformers, she bent over a motorcar while wearing an insubstantial top. It doesn't sound like much, but, when the resulting photo appeared on every page of Phwoar!magazine, Fox rapidly found herself installed as every jiggle-fisted onanist's favourite movie star.

The only worthwhile thing about How to Lose Friends and Alienate People, last year's useless adaptation of Toby Young's memoir, was the casting of Fox as a modestly talented actor who, following baffling overnight fame, is suddenly expected to have an opinion on every issue from late-term abortions to overfishing of the North Sea. For the first time in her career, Megan - who has had more tattoos than Edinburgh Castle - appeared able to immerse herself fully in a performance.

"Hang on. What career?" I hear you say. She runs away from a few more robots in this week's Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, but, that Toby Young flick aside, she doesn't seem to have done any proper work since she squinted at her car in 2007.

The temptation to launch oneself into a whinge about the contemporary debasement of celebrity is almost overwhelming. Look at these people. Look as Jessica Alba, with her dead-slug mouth and koala eyes. Look at Marnie Poutmouth. Look at Caitlin Porridgehead. (Some of these names may be made up.) They are constantly touted as the sexiest female movie stars of their time, but they almost never do any work you'd actually cross the road to see. Reality TV has allowed its deadly virus to spread about wider culture and supposed actors no longer need to act to retain their fame. At least poor old Susan Boyle could warble a good tune.

But you know what? It's always been like this.

Think of such icons as Zsa Zsa Gabor, Jayne Mansfield, Theda Bara and Raquel Welch. Some of these worked harder than others. Whereas Gabor appeared reluctant to get out of bed if there wasn't a man at the door with an engagement ring, Mansfield and Bara, both prime sex symbols, scurried to and from movie sets with notable diligence. Yet none of these performers appeared in a single durable classic. Okay, Welch is tolerable in The Fantastic Voyageand Mansfield has fun in The Girl Can't Help it.But, like Fox, these actors were all more famous for spreading their oomph about magazines than speaking lines or avoiding the scenery.

The good news is that such quasi-actors can earn a lot of money for a small amount of work. The bad news is that careers are short and the professional afterlife is taken up with camp outrageousness. Mind you, with the recent death of Danny La Rue, an opening has appeared in that field. Get in there, Megan.