by Anne Edwards
There was no location shooting, since the entire picture was filmed first at Columbia studios and then the Paramount process stages. Ironically, Kramer never used a ship, nor was a single ship photographed for the film. Unlike her relationship with Kazan, Vivien’s comments and discussions on the script were welcomed by Kramer, and he allowed her great leeway in her interpretation. Out of these discussions emerged the way she finally played the makeup scene at the mirror and the Charleston scene. But even surrounded and supported by friends and working under superior conditions, Vivien spun into a manic phase within a short time. She had been drinking and Jack, feeling that alcohol was partially responsible, rang her friends to ask them not to serve cocktails before dinner if at all possible. She turned on Simone Signoret, who played the Condesa in the film, but the French star was marvelous and supportive and quickly became someone Jack could count on for assistance. Katharine Hepburn was by her side whenever she was not at Tracy’s, and accompanied her to the periodic shock treatments she was forced to undergo during the making of the film. Kramer was completely aware of her condition, indeed knew of it even before he signed her. He had always admired her and says to this day, “Her courage was magnificent. Only occasionally were there problems. I cannot emphasize Vivien Leigh’s courageous attitude enough. Any lesser person could not even have attempted to keep busy during such pressure, yet she was one of the hardest working and most professional performers I have ever worked with.”
But the effort cost Vivien a great deal in her health, and Jack was alarmed when it was suspected that her tuberculosis had flared up again. Vivien did everything she could to fight the manic attacks and seemed much more terrified than ever of an attack coming on. She made sure that she was surrounded with all the people with whom she seemed to behave best, such as Kate and Cukor. She even sent for Gertrude, and persuaded John Gielgud to prolong his stay.
One day Vivien was sunning by the pool and Gielgud was in it. Vivien assumed that he could swim, because he would remain in the water for hours at a time. But he actually waded back and forth at the shallow end, making it appear that he was swimming. When Vivien heard a faint cry—“Help! Help!”—she looked up. Gielgud had stepped accidentally into the deep end and was flailing his arms about. Down he went. Vivien thought he was clowning about and paid no attention. Up he came again. “Oh, do please help,” he whimpered, swallowing water as he gasped the words and sank below the surface again. Vivien leaped to her feet, dashed to the edge of the pool, dove in, pulled him from under the water, and swam with him to the edge of the pool. Somehow she managed to push him onto the ledge, whereupon she jumped out and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
She seldom had any recall at all of what she did or who she might have offended during a manic attack, and this worried her terribly. “You must tell me who I might have hurt,” she would beg Jack as she once had Olivier. “You must. I have to write them an apology.” It was this gallant attitude of hers that won everyone’s heart.
Lee Marvin, who was known to have an occasional drink, often came on the set breathing heavily and exhaling gusts of stale-scotch breath. More outspoken than she had been able to be with Gable during the shooting of Gone With the Wind, she would order him off the set and refuse to do a scene with him until he took care of his bad breath and his disrespectful behavior. In spite of it, they had a mutual admiration for each other. “God, you have talent!” she lauded him after the playing of their last scene together.
In the mirror scene she hummed and sang snatches of a popular song of the 1920s, and to use it in the film would have cost $30,000 to clear the rights. Kramer asked her to hum something else. She fixed her big beautiful eyes on him and smiled her famous Cheshire cat smile. “My husband was one of the greatest directors in the theatre and films. He would permit me to do any song I liked!” she replied. Kramer let her have her way but then dubbed in another song that needed no clearance and was hummed by another singer whose voice was of the same timbre as Vivien’s.
She would talk about Larry often and to everyone. When she wrote him he replied. Enough time had passed since the divorce that he obviously felt in a more secure position. He was now a family man, a new father. Once again his picture appeared by her bedside, and the mementos from their life together were reinstated as well.
Jack was thankful to get back to London with Vivien on September 23. “We arrived bang on time,” he wrote the Dietzes, “to find blue skies and sunny warmth and London looking clean and lovely, and Gertrude [who had returned before them] there to meet us looking clean and lovely too. She is amazing. She had got up at half-past five in order to be at the airport at nine and arrived looking like a two year old!”
That weekend they were back at Tickerage. Vivien was in a state where she wasn’t quite herself but was not completely wild. The doctor came down from London to see her and a young Australian nurse, Adelaide, was engaged. Gertrude, Mrs. Mac, and Cal Darnell (Linda Darnell’s brother and a fond friend) were with her as well. Jack was terrified of what was to become of her. She had managed to get through the Kramer film with his kindness and the marvelous cooperation of Lee Marvin and Simone Signoret, but she was hallucinating much more frequently than she had, and he was fearful she might not be able to get the insurance companies to cover her for another film. And he could not see how she could continue to live on the scale she insisted on living if she did not do a film every couple of years. It seemed to him he had to do what he could to further his own career to supplement their income. Feeling assured she was in good hands, he went to London to speak to his agent.
Vivien then became hysterical and she rang him on the phone. “You’ve got to come home,” she cried. “Things are very bad at Tickerage. I’m all alone!” Jack returned immediately, but she was, of course, as he had immediately upon disconnecting verified, not alone. For days he and Gertrude seemed to be holding a hospital vigil. Then one evening the three of them sat in the sitting room, Vivien curled up tensely in her favorite chair looking as though she might spring out of it at any moment; Poo Jones circled her neck like a fur collar; Sebastian was at her feet; the giant labrador, Jason, who had recently joined the family, was asleep by the fire. For a week Vivien had worn a troubled look, one that Jack and Gertrude and all those close to her recognized as a sign that she was in the manic phase of her illness. She was, in fact, not Vivien at all, reacting and acting like a totally different woman. Jack stared across the room at her, but she did not see him. Suddenly the troubled look seemed to simply melt away and she became incredibly serene. Her hands, which had tensely grasped each other moments before, had relaxed and she was stroking Poo Jones, and the attitude of her entire body was different.
Jack turned to Gertrude and whispered, “My God, I think I may go to church on Sunday.”
“Church, dear?” Gertrude replied, not having noticed Vivien at that moment. “Why, dear, why?”
“Because she’s returned to us.” Jack sighed with relief.
And so she had, and once again Tickerage was filled with friends and Vivien was the Lady of Tickerage Mill. On October 18 she had recovered sufficiently to have Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon for luncheon. Lord Snowdon had once lived in the house as a child, and the luncheon was thus an even more special occasion. Vivien adored royalty as much then as she always had, and she went to great extremes to make the visit perfect. She spent hours picking and arranging flowers, planning the menu (they had a halibut mousse, stuffed Cornish hens, green beans, salad, and an apple flan), selecting the linens and the china. The house had to be cleaned from top to bottom, the hedges trimmed, the gardens pruned. First she had decided to lunch on the terrace and then, fearful it might grow too cool, changed all the preparations to the dining room. The wines were chosen with great care, and she was truly thrilled when Lord Snowdon commented on their delicacy. When an occasion like the Snowdon luncheon was planned, Jack was always apprehensive until it was over. The strain of not knowing what he might expect at any minute was begi
nning to tell on him. But Vivien was so excited about the luncheon that she called Lucinda Dietz in New York to tell her about it. Any uneasiness Jack suffered seemed worth such genuine and childlike delight.
Her birthday was spent as it had been the previous year, with Leigh. Writing Ted Tenley, she commented, “I had a perfectly lovely birthday staying in Wiltshire with my first husband. It was peaceful and gay and the countryside was a wonder. Merivale was in fine humor. He goes to California tomorrow. I may go to Katmandu on the 30th. No joking!”
She wasn’t. Jack had been offered a film role and after great deliberation had decided to take it. Vivien had behaved badly when he came to his decision. He suggested she come with him, but she refused. To Vivien a pattern seemed to be repeating; and she was not entirely wrong, because like his predecessor, Olivier, Jack had begun to fight for his own identity and self-preservation.
Chapter Thirty-one
Through Roger Furse Vivien had been introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Stebbins, who had lived in India and were planning to return. “Why don’t you join us?” they asked Vivien after seeing how enthusiastically she asked questions about India and their life there, and hearing that she had been born in Darjeeling. When Vivien found she could not change Jack’s plan to take the film assignment, she told the Stebbinses she would indeed go with them to India and then join Roger Furse and his wife on the island of Corfu, where they had a home.
Nothing Jack or Gertrude said made her change her mind, and so, leaving on November 19, earlier than she anticipated, she began what she glibly titled “a return to my roots.” What follows are the letters she wrote Jack, which form an encapsulated journal of the trip.
November 22nd (1964)
Dearest Angel
Arrived in Delhi in a glorious sunrise welcomed by absolutely charming Americans and given a delicious breakfast. Now we are in the air in a tiny plane seating about 10 flying towards Katmandu. The Stebbins are completely good and sweet and gay and gentle. The sun is shining and the air very clear. Oh—the first sight of these extraordinary mountains—Oh dear, how I wish you were here seeing them with me.
November 23rd
The flight became too bumpy and uncomfortable to write any more—The Stebbins given a tremendous welcome at the airport—and I drove with his second in command and his wife who was in the middle of playing Elvira in Blithe Spirit for a week—I must tell you the first sight of the Himalayas is unforgettable—Peaks of blue white that you think must be clouds. The Embassy here is charming—lots of rooms, but simple—some have 2 beds lovely views and no bath. I do not know how to describe the place. It is by far the most enthralling I have ever seen—Temples everywhere—beautiful faces—Tibetan and Nepalese—After lunch we drove to the funeral city—all along the river are alcoves where the dead are burned and dowsed into the river. Above—lines of small temples heavily carved gutted windows and in the center the worshipped Penis sometimes surrounded by flowers and little offerings. Dear heart you will have been home two days when you get this. [He only did a cameo bit and then returned to London.] I am in bed. All the others still up. I am so sleepy and have not really recovered from the shots—the 2nd was far worse-than the first but I think with a real night’s rest tonight I shall feel quite well again. I wish you were here to see these astonishing things. But I think just the same you would be restless!!—Goodnight my love—I’ll add a little in the morning.
November 25th
Already we have seen so much—so many marvels—one’s eyes are just kept swiveling. My darling one I do long to know how it all was with you—how it all is with you—whether you are spending most of the time at Tickerage or at the flat. Did little Poo give you a good welcome? We leave here Saturday and from then on I really am not sure of the itinerary as schedules are of the very vaguest in these regions—so plans are continually switching—All I know is that I shall be with Roger [in Corfu] on the 18th [of December] where I trust I shall find you my beloved. [Jack had promised to join her there.] This is a very healthy holiday dearest—early bed—lots of air—I am very well indeed—My breakfast is just coming in brought by a gentleman whose name translated means “moon God”! Not bad is it? My love my darling my most dearly missed darling—Your Angelica—
November 28th
In the air to Delhi
Darling one—I do hope this reaches you on your birthday [December 1st] and I hope you will have a happy day—how earnestly I wish you were here for it. The week in Katmandu was a truly marvelous experience—The Stebbins were the most enchanting hosts—you would love them—It was a warm and comfortable and charming house. Our inspections of the various temples and villages were all fascinating. The Nepalese are a dear people smiling and warm—truly beautiful faces—also the warmth of the Tibetans and some Chinese. One walk I shall never, never forget up to a tiny village with a miraculously beautiful temple where we watched a Buddhist Ceremony—Then one day we flew to a place called Pokra—a very funny day on arrival at the airport. We asked for horses to take us to the lake—no horses. Mules? No mules—so I said “There are two bullocks—please attach them to a cart and we shall get in it!” This we did sitting on straw! The lake water was the color of pale jade and very warm. Yesterday we chartered a little plane (the Raj’s in fact!) and flew all day over the range of these fantastic mountains and as close as we could get to Everest—It was so thrilling. Darling the only unhappiness has been your absence—I long for news and ache to hear your voice.
December 9th
Dear One . . . this morning we rode on elephants—a most peaceful and charming notion—their dear faces were all painted with flowers— Yesterday afternoon we went up a beautiful river which is a bird sanctuary—as amazing to see as our tropical fish [a recent hobby, for which a tank had been installed at Tickerage]—much colors and strange shapes—I took a lot of pictures and was given the nest of a Weaver bird—you shall see. The weather is most pleasant warm and sunny in the day and cool in the evenings—The dusk is positively Australian. The other day we passed a bus called “Public Transport”!!!—the markets are just too fascinating but I have been a very good angel only 4 earrings today and some bangles. I pray God it may not be very long before I see you. A thousand kisses.
December 15th
Dearest Love,
A letter—a letter—I keep reading it—it does indeed seem years since I saw you! We are flying over the Bay of Bengal landing any minute in Madras. With your letter came one from Cal (hilarious as ever)—a cable from Winston [Churchill] thanking me for his birthday flowers—one from Fursie saying how much he was longing to see us on the 18th—an Xmas card from Abby Mann saying he liked his jacket and that Stanley was getting pleased with the picture and me in it—oh—thank goodness—and a wonderful one from George—very funny and dear. You shall see them all on Corfu—Oh my Darling love! I miss you so and long for you and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you Dear love my love—Angelica.
To Jack’s and Gertrude’s great relief she had survived the Indian journey without any attacks and with seemingly little difficulty. Jack flew to meet her in Corfu on December 18, 1964, feeling some ease at having just received her last letter before boarding the flight. It was raining when he finally reached the island, a steady, depressing, humid rain which kept up the entire time they were there. Only a few hours after they were reunited it appeared to have a violent effect on Vivien. She became badly depressed. Jack wanted to return home with her immediately, but she would hear nothing of it. Before he could convince her, she had suffered a manic attack. Alan Webb had been visiting in Corfu with them, and the two men managed to get her onto a boat train (a plane would have been impossible). It was a terrifying trip, with Vivien in a terrible state, hysterical, trying to jump off the train, tearing at her clothes. Most people were frightened of her when she was in this condition (Trudi had been, as well as many other members of their staff), but Jack never feared that she would harm him, and he was able to restrain her.
During these violent a
ttacks she wanted to get rid of Jack because she thought of him as her custodian. But at the same time, because deep down there was still an awareness of the love they had for each other, she wanted him to be there. So she would suffer these wrenching and terrible schisms of behavior. One moment she would be screaming for him to go away, to get out, and the next shrieking that he must never, ever leave her.
They arrived home before the New Year. Vivien felt a desperate need to see her grandchildren; so Suzanne and Robin and her three small boys—Jonathan, Rupert, and Neville—stayed from December 31 until January 3, 1965, with Vivien, Jack, Gertrude, and Leigh at Tickerage. Vivien had seemed miraculously to snap back to normal. Shortly after she had returned she was told that Winston Churchill had accepted an invitation she had previously extended him to lunch with her at Tickerage on the third. Pamela and Leland Hay ward were also there, and Vivien appeared happier than she had been in years. She greeted Sir Winston as though he were a god, then led him into a discussion of Lord Nelson, whom she knew he worshiped. He once again told her how many times he had seen her film Lady Hamilton and how marvelous he thought it was. Afterward they walked in the gardens of Tickerage and discussed painting.
The parade of weekend guests at Tickerage began anew—Frederick Ashton, Laurence Harvey and Joan Cohn, Alan Webb, Jack and Dereen Hawkins—and on Valentine’s Day Tarquin brought down his new bride, Riddelle. He was writing then and had published a book. On February 28, Peter Finch came to visit. Vivien was charming and gay, the perfect hostess, the best companion.