I Blame Dennis Hopper

by Illeana Douglas

  Vanessa wrote in my autograph book, “I really think I would have cracked if it hadn’t been for you! I’m still glad we shared a bucket and brush, and a fixed camera together.”

  THE DIRECTOR: DAVID GREENE

  Where do I begin? Wonderful David gets the credit always for some of my favorite things ever said to me or to anyone on a set. Hands down. Such as “You were late to set so lovely Jennifer is now going to say your lines.” Or, when, at the wrap party, after one of the lead actresses gave him a beautiful leatherbound script as a gift, he threw it onto the ground and said, “You were the worst one!” As she ran off in tears, he looked around as if to ask, What did I say?

  David was British and looked like a character from a Dr. Seuss story. Wild crazy white hair sticking straight out. Married about six times, bless his heart. He got married for the last time about three days before he passed away. I’m not sure how old he was when he directed Bella Mafia—in his late seventies or eighty—but he would not admit that he couldn’t hear very well. His favorite expression, which he said so frequently that eventually we all began imitating it, was “What? What? Who said that?” when either no one was talking or when he had his headphones on. After lunch, at about three o’clock, he would stop for “teatime,” and I’ll let you interpret what “teatime” means. After that he would fall asleep, only to wake up suddenly and shout, “What? What? Who said that?” It was straight out of a Monty Python sketch.

  I couldn’t wait to meet David because he had an amazing body of work. He had directed one of my favorite TV movies of all time, The People Next Door, starring Eli Wallach, about a family dealing with their daughter’s drug addiction. Before he disliked me, which began on day two, we spoke at length about the movie, which was so terrifying that it kept me from ever even experimenting with drugs. He directed Friendly Fire, for which he won an Emmy for Outstanding Director, and a little miniseries called Roots, which you may have heard of—for which he also won an Emmy. But he had also directed the TV remake of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? with real-life sisters Lynn and Vanessa Redgrave. That was the “history” he and Vanessa had carried into poor Bella Mafia. Apparently they hadn’t gotten along on the earlier film, but that hadn’t stopped them from working together again. On Bella Mafia, David would groan and say, “What is she doing? God, I hate this kind of acting” while the scene was going on. As if Vanessa couldn’t hear him. As if we all couldn’t hear him. David would say things that any other director might of course be thinking but never say out loud! Once, in the middle of a scene, with the cameras rolling, he actually said, “God! I’d love a glass of wine!”

  Of course, the cast started sharing these tasty bits of gossip. It made you want to show up early not to miss anything! One day, I was walking to the set, and I was very upset about my swiped dress—which I will get to in a minute—and I passed by one of the producers, and he was shaking. He said, “You missed the worst scene in there.”

  And I said, “Oh, the scene was bad?”

  And he sighed and said, “Well, that, too, but no, the scene between Vanessa and David.”

  I doubled over with laughter. One particularly long day on the set, they were going at it, and Jennifer Tilly quipped, “This movie isn’t going to end, because she’s going to kill him, and then there will be the trial of Bella Mafia, and we’ll all be shooting that.”

  Like I said, a lot of laughing and crying. And David had an obsession with not crying. There were all these gruesome murders and torturings and funerals, all things you would cry about, but he would become very upset whenever an actress was crying. We were shooting a scene in which one of the lead actresses loses her baby, and she was preparing for the highly emotional moment.

  “Where is she?” David said impatiently.

  “She’s preparing to cry,” said the first assistant director, very quietly trying to keep the mood.

  “I don’t want her to cry!” David said.

  The actress walked onto the set, and she was sobbing, ready to shoot this very sad scene. Through her tears she said, “Are we ready yet?”

  And David said, “We have four minutes to shoot this before lunch; please stop crying!”

  She ran off crying—for real. And … what’s for lunch?

  The problem with all this miscommunication is that by the time we would get to shoot there would be time for only one or two takes. David would look at me and Jennifer and here was his direction: “And you two … act up a storm.”

  Was there competition among the five actresses of Bella Mafia? Yes! Was it subtle? No! We were shooting a scene welcoming Vanessa back from prison and all the girls were supposed to run outside and embrace her. Well, someone shoved me, because she wanted to embrace Vanessa, and I went flying out of frame and onto the ground. I started laughing, because of course the take was completely unusable, but to my shock, David yelled out:

  “Cut. Print. Moving on!”

  I said, “David. I fell in the scene.”

  “I know,” he said. “Very emotional!”

  “No, on the ground, David. I fell on the ground. Someone pushed me!”

  “Moving on!” he yelled out.

  I have a wonderful Polaroid of David in my autograph book that I snapped when he wasn’t looking. I knew I would always want to remember exactly what he looked like. I look at that picture and start to laugh. It’s the back of beautiful Nastassja Kinski’s head, and David is inches from her ear, giving her direction. You can’t see Nastassja’s face, you have to imagine it, but I have a feeling her eyes may have been crossed.

  If David was dismissive with other members of the cast, sometimes it seemed as if he was overdirecting Nastassja. One day David asked her if she was ready to act the scene. We had been called to rehearse, but David told Nastassja to go through the whole performance. Well somehow, Nastassja thought this meant the camera was rolling, so she proceeded to act out this highly emotional monologue. It was brilliant, but no one was filming it! The cameraman was trying to signal David to ask if he should start rolling, but David was just oblivious, waving him off for having interrupted Nastassja! He was completely engaged in “directing” her, and Nastassja obliged in giving one hell of a performance. We all just stood there watching, not knowing what to do. When she finished, David said to her, “That was beautiful, darling—the perfect amount of emotion. Would you like to put one on film now?”

  Nastassja said, “I thought you were shooting?” She was, of course, wondering why he or anyone else hadn’t stopped her. We all felt terrible. Here we were again, up against lunch, and with little time to shoot the actual scene. We all stood helpless, wanting to help Nastassja but not wanting to interfere with David. She said, “Well, now I can’t do it with everyone looking at me,” which she meant figuratively—but David literally instructed us to turn away and not to look at Nastassja. David said, “No one is looking, Nastassja, you may begin!” I was looking at Jennifer like, What is happening? Why are we doing this? We were all turned around waiting for her to start, but now began the discussion of whether or not there was time. “And … that’s lunch,” said the first assistant director. I grabbed a Polaroid camera and secretly snapped David and Nastassja’s picture to put in my journal.

  NASTASSJA KINSKI

  The first time I heard the name Nastassja Kinski was when my grandfather Melvyn Douglas recommended a movie to me he had just seen called Tess, directed by Roman Polanski. I followed Nastassja’s career ever since and was almost starstruck at the notion of meeting her. In Bella Mafia, Nastassja played Sophia, one of Vanessa’s daughters by marriage. I thought it might be funny to show Nastassja what a big fan I was, so I brought a movie magazine I owned from the 1980s that had her on the cover to show her on the set. It was from around the time she had been in Cat People and Paris, Texas, a movie I really love. When I asked her if she would autograph it, she looked at me innocently and said, “Are you making fun of me?” I felt terrible. It was not my intention at all. I loved her. But maybe it is inappropri
ate to ask your costars to sign your movie memorabilia. There were five ladies in Bella Mafia, and there was always an ongoing issue with dresses. Who could, would, or should be wearing what? And how low-cut could it be? Every time I wanted to wear something I would see on the rack I would hear, “Sorry, Nastassja is wearing that. No, sorry, Jennifer is wearing the red.”

  And cleavage. This one’s got the dress with the cleavage. You’re wearing a sack. When we shot the poster, there was a brawl over diamond earrings. All the actresses had picked out the same pair of diamond earrings that they each insisted they had to wear. And no one wanted to hold the gun. I wasn’t a fighter, so I ended up with no earrings and holding a large pistol in the poster. One day I came to work, and I passed Nastassja. She said hello, very quietly, and I noticed something strange. She was wearing my dress.

  “Hi,” she whispered as she passed. I should mention that Nastassja barely speaks above a whisper. Sexy in real life but tough when you’re trying to act with her. I would be with her in a scene, a foot away, and I would look at Jennifer and say, “I can’t hear anything. Is she talking?” Jennifer would answer in her signature baby voice, “What did you say?” That’s why I’m leaning forward in every scene. I could never hear my costars! I headed to wardrobe, and I said, “Guys, I just passed Nastassja and she is wearing my dress.”

  “I know,” they said. “She saw it hanging there and she wanted to wear it.”

  I said, “But I’m wearing it in the scene.”

  The wardrobe lady was so blasé by that point. She sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “We tried to explain that to her, but she liked it.”

  I said, “I wore the dress in another scene. So we are both going to be wearing the same dress in different scenes. So our characters share dresses?”

  They all shrugged. By that point, fatigue had set in. In the end, the only person who even noticed the double dress was my friend the designer Cynthia Rowley, who had lent me the dress in the first place. She was thrilled, of course, to see Nastassja Kinski wearing her dress, and Nastassja, as always, looked beautiful. But it was my dress!

  I was so sad when Nastassja wrote in my autograph book: “Even though we hardly spoke, I want you to know I wanted to. I just get shy.” There’s a little heart next to it. I was so happy to reconnect with Nastassja recently. She still looks stunning, and I’m pushing for a Bella Mafia reunion … or intervention.

  JAMES MARSDEN

  How did he come out unscathed? He was just starting out then, but I knew he had a talent for comedy. How else could he have played Nastassja’s psychopathic son, Luka—a Sicilian boy who had been raised by monks and who accidentally killed his entire Mafia family, which drives him mad! He was a brilliant actor, because he got through two days of being tied up and tortured by women wearing slips, and pushing boobs in his face, without laughing. For the record, he did the best “What? What? Who said that?” imitation of David Green.

  Jimmy wrote in my autograph book, “Thank you for getting me through the day! Please let’s work together again!” I’m still waiting for that to happen.

  FRANCO NERO

  Camelot. The man was in Camelot! He had been in so many great films and had so many great stories to tell. He and Vanessa met during Camelot, became involved, and were then in other relationships, but they kind of reunited on Bella Mafia—in which Franco played Mario Domino, a character on the opposite side of the Luciano family who causes them to lose their family fortune, so he kills himself. There, among the ruins, is a true and lasting miracle. They were married in 2006.

  Franco wrote in my autograph book, “You cry very well!”

  TONY LO BIANCO

  The French Connection. I was in a movie with Tony Lo Bianco, and he was in The French Connection! Isn’t that cool?

  DENNIS FARINA

  A prince. He played my father, Don Luciano, and we danced together at one of the many weddings in the show. I will never forget: We were shooting the scene and he had me in his arms when one of the actresses came over to us, talking very quickly and animatedly, and when she walked away, without missing a beat of the dance step, he said in his Chicago-cop accent, “That’s drugs!”

  In my autograph book I wrote two words under Dennis’s Polaroid. “The Best!” It’s the kind of thing any actor hopes will be written about them. Other actors will know what I mean by that, but what it means to me is that he is solid, always present, has no ego, and just truly enjoys the work. I never saw Dennis complain, and this was a movie where we could have put out a daily paper filled with complaints.

  PETER BOGDANOVICH

  One of my all-time-favorite comedies is Peter Bogdanovich’s What’s Up, Doc? It had a hysterical script by Buck Henry (remember him? He kept his feet up on the desk during my To Die For audition), David Newman, and Robert Benton. It was always a dream of mine to work with Peter Bogdanovich on a comedy. He had made such an impact on my early moviegoing with his films such as Paper Moon and The Last Picture Show. Classics. He also directed a really underrated film—another farce, called Noises Off, about a crazy British director and an even crazier bunch of actors doing a play in which everything that can go wrong does, and they all end up at each other’s throats! It is very funny. But it’s not real. Bella Mafia was real! We were fighting over dresses! We were pushing one another to the ground and filming it.

  I would never have imagined that the first time I would meet one of my absolute idols, he would be acting opposite me as Jennifer Tilly’s Mafia-don boyfriend, Vito Giancamo. I was so confused as to who Vito Giancamo was that between takes I asked Jennifer Tilly for some explanation of how his character fit into the plot, and she said in her baby voice, “I should really read the script.”

  Peter wrote in my autograph book, “I always do enjoy talking with you. Looking forward to the next time.” It would take fourteen years, but it was worth it. He directed me in She’s Funny That Way, which was a real farce in the tradition of What’s Up, Doc? After he saw the rushes, he called me and said, “You’re quite good in the film.” Sure, it was no Bella Mafia, but I took the compliment to heart. Thank you, Peter.

  AND NOW THE CLOSER: JENNIFER TILLY

  I couldn’t wait to get to the set every day, pen in hand, ready to write down everything that happened. Then again, who would believe it? I have often joked that I became friends with Jennifer only so I could have someone to confirm the crazy on-set stories.

  I learned a lot about humor on the set of Bella Mafia. So many people wrote in my autograph book that my sense of humor had got them through what one actor had described as “madness.” When something happened, I took my cue from Dennis Farina. I didn’t complain; I just made a joke out of it. There were always trailers or rooms for everyone on set but somewhere along the way they started thinking of Jennifer Tilly and me as roommates. I would get to set, and I wouldn’t have a trailer, and they would say, “Oh, we put you in Jennifer’s room, because we know you two are friends.” Well, we weren’t really friends. I’m sure they were just doing this to save money, but I never said anything, because of course I wanted to room with Jennifer. Who else could I have a nice gossip with? And I really hoped we would become friends. In the morning I would see Jennifer in the makeup trailer, and we would exchange pleasantries and she would leave, and I would think, I bet she has no idea she is sharing her room with me. I can’t tell you how many times I would go to Jennifer’s room, lugging my costumes, and she would be lounging on her bed reading a script, or taking a nap, her clothes strewn about, and she’d be completely surprised by—but always gracious about—my arrival. And I would explain that apparently they had assigned me to her room. Again. I would clear a path among her shoes, her jewels, and find myself a spot, always trying to make her laugh with something outrageous that happened on set.

  I don’t know if I just wore her down, but eventually I would just go to her room whether I had my own room or not. So I could pester her about some of my favorite Jennifer performances, such as the ones in Bound, Let It Rid
e, and of course Bullets Over Broadway. We got up to a lot of high jinks together. One time we decided we would overact a scene, playing it with lots of wild hand gestures. So if the line was “There on the table,” we would both point wildly at the table as if it were a murder mystery: “There! On the table!” Or if the line was “They are taking the roof from over our head,” we would point madly to the roof! Poor David. I think once he almost noticed what we were up to.

  The worst outrage of Bella Mafia is that we never got to do another movie together, because I love Jennifer to pieces and think she is just wildly talented. She created a type: sassy, sexy, funny—a Jennifer Tilly type—that only she can play even though I have tried to imitate her on many occasions. Except for the cleavage.

  Jennifer wrote in my autograph book: “You have a knack of repeating the way something happened and making it hysterical. I laughed until tears squirted out of my eyes. Let’s hope we are not in the television version of Valley of the Dolls!”

  So, what was the fate of the five bitches of Bella Mafia? Driving down Beverly Boulevard, I nearly went off the road the first time I saw my face on the huge billboard for Bella Mafia. I was holding a big gun, but still, my face was on a billboard! Bella Mafia was so well received it won the ratings both nights we played on TV. The longer movie version was sold overseas and did even better. It was a huge hit! Vanessa Redgrave was nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Performance by an Actress in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture Made for TV. I was signed to a television deal with CBS. There was serious talk of a sequel. Of course I was asked, “Did you know when you were shooting Bella Mafia it was going to turn out so well?”