Stigwood was planning to bring back the movie musical and partnered with producer Alan Carr, who optioned Grease in 1975. Everyone in Hollywood knew that this was a movie project that had seen its fair share of starts and stops. The rights to the film had been sold three or four times before Carr got his hands on them. At one point, Grease was even going to become an animated feature, but that was scratched too.
Carr and Stigwood made an unstoppable team, though. Both were a hundred per cent on board, and they were given a $6 million budget from Paramount. All systems were go, so it was time to find Sandy and Danny.
John Travolta was the easy first choice for handsome, rugged, too-cool-for-school Danny Zuko. But I was so busy touring the world that Grease wasn’t even on my radar.
In 1976, fate intervened.
Helen Reddy invited me to a dinner party at her house in Los Angeles, and I planned on having a lovely night catching up with my good friend and her husband, Jeff. It turned out that Helen had invited an eclectic mix of guests for supper, and, over ‘pass the butter’, I met Alan Carr. He was a charming man – a showman with a big personality – who was small in stature, wickedly funny, told great stories, and kindly said that he was a big fan and loved my music.
‘I Honestly Love You’ had been number one on the charts, as had ‘Have You Never Been Mellow’, and my new album, Don’t Stop Believin’, was doing well on the charts. We talked about the songs and my touring life. It was a wonderful meal, and Helen and Jeff were amazing hosts. After the plates were cleared, Alan and I continued to chat about nothing in particular. He hadn’t even brought up his next project.
Yet.
Somewhere between coffee and brandy, he began to talk about this little musical that was his newest obsession, in fact he’d optioned the film rights, and maybe I had seen the play on my travels – and, by the way, it had the most wonderful songs and was a great role for someone who might want to act, sing and jettison their career to the next level. He said this was going to be big. Not just United States big, but a worldwide phenomenon.
‘I can’t wait to see it,’ I said sincerely.
‘You know, we haven’t cast the female lead,’ Alan said in a casual voice. ‘You would make a wonderful Sandy.’
Over coffee at Helen’s house, Alan even talked to me about John Travolta playing Danny and how everyone was so excited for him to do this role he was obviously born to play. My first thought: He was so cute on his television series. He’s a great and funny actor. Alan mentioned he was a few years younger than me, but it was no big deal. I was always good at maths (ha!) and ran the numbers. I’m twenty-eight and John’s twenty-three. I could not play a high school student at age twenty-eight!
Why are we having this discussion?
Between sips, I had a few more fleeting thoughts. Could I play a high school student? Could I look like I was seventeen?
No! No! No!
Age wasn’t the only issue. Most people don’t know this, but this wasn’t my first brush with the movies. In fact, I made a few doozies. When I was fifteen, I made a movie musical called Funny Things Happen Down Under, which I filmed with Ian Turpie. It was a family movie musical about a barn used by a group of children for singing practice. When the barn is in danger of being sold, the children dye sheep strange colours and market all that funky wool to save the barn. They even had a sheep shearing contest to raise money. It’s best remembered today for being my first film and I did love the experience of filming it. It was great to work with the kids and especially the animals who also appeared in it.
Oh, and there was music in it!
Later, I did another movie musical. In 1970, I starred in a British musical film called Toomorrow, about a group of students who pay their way through college by performing in a pop band of that name. Then we are taken up into the sky by aliens while singing . . . I’ll stop now because you get the idea!
The project was the brainchild of Canadian theatre and film producer Harry Saltzman who produced the James Bond movies, and Don Kirshner, an American music publisher, rock music producer and talent manager for Carole King, Neil Diamond and Paul Simon, among many other songwriters. He also put together successful pop groups including the Monkees, Kansas and the Archies.
The idea was to put a pop group together and do a series of movies with the musicians. The four of us were Ben Thomas, a handsome American cowboy singer; Vic Cooper, an English Tommy Steele-type, and musical comedy star and Cockney boy; and Carl Chambers, a tall, gorgeous, lanky drummer from Philadelphia. And then there was me, the Aussie girl next door.
My audition involved meeting director Val Guest, who was wearing a white shirt with a cravat and a suede jacket. He had a mini moustache and a little cigar dangling from his lips – the stereotype of what you’d think a director should look like. We discussed the script and he said, ‘There is one part of the movie where you will get into a time machine and go back to being a little girl. We will regress in time.’
It sounded so exciting until he said, ‘And then all your clothes will whip off and you will be in your bra and panties.’
My heart dropped and I realised I couldn’t do this movie if naked time travel was a part of it.
‘I can’t do that,’ I said firmly. ‘I don’t want to be in my underwear.’
In the end, they changed the script and it was never men-tioned again. It was a good lesson in saying no.
On the weekends during the shoot, we were invited to Harry Saltzman’s mansion in the countryside outside of London. I had never seen opulence like this expanse of land where horses roamed and a huge swimming pool where movie stars tanned. Often on these Sunday afternoons, actors Roger Moore (in his pre-Bond days) and Michael Caine would stop by with their lovely wives. They were delightful and down to earth, and made me feel very comfortable.
We also went to Don’s house for a party where we met a jingle singer named Jamie Carr who was hilarious and cracked us up. By us, I mean Rona and I as she was with me (again) as a chaperone. Jamie would take Rona and me out and call us ‘the whore’ and ‘the virgin’, never explaining which one of us was getting what moniker.
The perks of working with Don was that he was quite generous. He sent me an expensive bottle of Bal à Versailles perfume and a beautiful yellow suitcase with a black stripe down the middle. I never had a new suitcase or fancy perfume. I was blown away by his generosity.
In the end, though, Toomorrow was a disaster and I wasn’t sure if I would ever act again. There were some positives, including my lifelong friendship with actress Susan George who interestingly enough was set to play the role before me, but her agent wouldn’t let her do it because it wasn’t serious enough. (Lucky for her!) I’m so proud that she set up a foundation called Lasting Life after she lost her wonderful husband Simon eight years ago. We also share a passion for horses and she raises the most beautiful, award-winning Arabian horses ever at Georgian Arabians, the name of her farm.
As for acting, my thought: Why risk it? I didn’t want to make another mistake that would last forever on celluloid. I reasoned, ‘Maybe this just isn’t my thing.’
‘My music is going well,’ I told Alan Carr. ‘I’m not interested in making another movie. And I’m twenty-eight and too old for Sandy. And I can’t do an American accent.’
‘I love your music. And you’re not too old. You look so young,’ he said.
His mind kept moving fast. He would talk to the writers and change the Grease script to make Sandy an Australian transfer student spending her senior year in America at Rydell.
Wow, they were really trying to make this work for me! But I was still hesitant.
‘I’m anxious about making any movie,’ I tried to explain. He didn’t want to hear any of it.
‘Sandy could be a great role for you,’ Alan cajoled. ‘A legendary role.’ Helen’s husband Jeff would also try to convince me that this was a good role for me.
I agreed that I would at least see the play before I made any final decisi
on. I was on my way to London and Richard Gere had the lead role on stage as Danny Zuko at that time. He was beyond wonderful in it.
Something about Grease began to nag at me.
It’s so much fun. The songs are wonderful. Sandy is a great character. The tone is making me nostalgic for high school – well, not really. But still. And with Sandy’s switch-over, it would give me the opportunity to play two different types of girls. Could I even pull that off?
And then I decided: I would pass.
I would say no. That made the most sense. I would work on new songs and go back out on the road. Sandy was someone else’s role. It was right to walk away. No regrets.
And then Danny Zuko himself walked up my front steps.
I was back from London and living at a beautiful ranch in Malibu that I had purchased as my new home. A few times while driving around Los Angeles, I had seen someone navigating the roads in a sleek butterscotch-yellow convertible Mercedes. John Travolta was actually very cute behind the wheel. ‘Striking’ is a word that perfectly described him – and it does to this day.
Alan kept phoning both me and my representatives about the role of Sandy, and I floated back to undecided again. Somehow a decision was made that John Travolta would come talk to me at my home.
Little did I know that John had his eye on me in those days from my music. As he told me years later, ‘I fell in love with you, Olivia, the first time I saw you on an album cover. You were wearing a blue shirt. It was love at first sight from a picture. I had this image in my mind that Olivia Newton-John was everybody’s ideal girlfriend – the kind of girl who would invade your dreams.’
Wow!
‘I was asked who would be my perfect leading lady in Grease and there was only one human being on this planet I could see as Sandy,’ John said. ‘That person was Olivia Newton-John. I told the producers, “I promise you that Danny Zuko’s Sandy is Olivia and no one else should play it.”’
I’ll never forget that day. My eye caught a flash of yellow and I saw John Travolta drive through my ranch gates. I went outside to be greeted by those piercing blue eyes and the warmest smile on the planet.
In person, John Travolta radiates pure joy and love. He is one of the most genuine and sweet people on earth and he really cares for other human beings on a deep level. That day, John greeted me with a big hug like we were already lifelong friends. There were no expectations or promises. We were just two people who were lucky enough to spend a gorgeous sunny afternoon enjoying each other’s company.
We took a walk around the ranch so I could show him my horses, and immediately we just liked each other. And with every passing moment, he was calming my fears about what we could do together with the film version of Grease.
I’ll let John tell it:
‘I went to her house and I loved Olivia. I thought, We’re off and running. I thought she’d hop on board, but then she explained that she had considerations. We were both in our twenties and she was worried about playing a high school girl. I assured her that we wouldn’t be fooling anyone with the casting. No one in the cast would be acting their actual age, and I reminded her that this is done all the time in Hollywood.’
In the end, we agreed that an actual screen test would be a good way to make me feel comfortable.
How could you say no to John Travolta?
When Danny Zuko pulled out of my driveway that day, it did feel good to know that soon we would know if it was going to work – or not.
I insisted that I wouldn’t do the screen test without John because I wanted to test our chemistry. (Even though I failed chemistry at school!) What if John doesn’t like the way I act? What if we don’t connect?
I knew I’d be performing with some wonderful actors and actresses who would be playing the Pink Ladies and T-Birds, all coveted roles.
‘You will be great,’ John insisted and he was so passionate about it that something deep inside of me began to actually believe it.
John made a quick call to Alan and soon I was speaking with Randal Kleiser, the director who would be making his theatrical feature film debut with Grease. John already knew Randal as he’d directed him in a beautiful and moving TV movie called The Boy in the Plastic Bubble. I told Randal and legendary choreographer Pat Birch, who also wanted me on board, that I still couldn’t say yes or no to Grease, but I would do that screen test with John.
A week later, I was on the Paramount lot in Los Angeles, where a driver dropped me off near one of the large, warehouse-style soundstages. I steeled my nerves because this wasn’t my world.
And then it happened.
John Travolta came out to greet me.
Our eyes met.
When we walked inside the room together, it was magic and everyone saw it. Knew it.
They couldn’t deny this kind of chemistry. We were right next to each other. Up close and personal.
Sandy and Danny standing there in the flesh. The best part? We hadn’t even read one line.
There were so many scenes we could have read for my screen test, but we settled on the pivotal drive-in movie scene and filmed it in the actual car, a 1948 cherry-red Ford convertible, that would be used in the movie. The first step was the make-up trailer, where the pros did my hair and make-up to prove that I could be seventeen again.
Even I couldn’t believe what a high ponytail, a ribbon and a little bit of petal-pink blush could do. I wanted to call Mum and ask for permission to stay out late that night with my friends!
John was doing a little transforming too with the help of the Grease team, who slicked back his black hair and tossed him the perfect leather jacket. We climbed into the car, slid next to each other and he said the line: ‘Sandy, would you wear my ring?’ I replied, ‘I don’t know what to say, Danny. This means so much to me because I know you respect me.’
Two seconds later, he jumped at me and went in for a little grope. As a shocked Sandy, I jumped out of the car and threw the ring at him.
‘You can take this piece of tin!’ I cried, walking away.
To which John wailed in that pleading voice, ‘Sandy, you can’t just walk out of a drive-in!’
Everyone laughed because the chemistry was palpable. ‘As much as I loved her before we did the test, I was madly in love with how she was as Sandy,’ John said. ‘Olivia fit Grease like a glove.’
I couldn’t deny the onscreen spark we were creating. Randal and Pat were already calling our pairing ‘electric’. What I liked the most about the whole Danny/Sandy vibe that day was that, as characters, they were equals. She might have looked pure and innocent, but she followed her heart and her head while staying true-blue to her choices. He could dish it out, but so could she. Yes, she would put on that hot costume at the end, but he would also change for her and wear a letter sweater to capture her heart. The motivation to be together went both ways.
Little did I know then that my future great friend, actress Didi Conn, also would screen test that week, but not for the sweet, beauty school dropout Frenchy. Originally, there was some talk that she might make a good Rizzo – but as we all know, she was so obviously Frenchy. I can’t even imagine the movie without Didi in that role, or Stockard Channing tormenting me as Riz!
It wasn’t long before the rest of the cast was filled out. The Pink Ladies would also include Dinah Manoff as Marty and Jamie Connelly as Jan. Danny’s T-Birds would consist of Jeff Conaway as Kenickie, Barry Pearl as Doody, Michael Tucci as Sonny and Kelly Ward as Putzie. The funny thing was that Jeff had actually played Danny Zuko on stage.
There was just one name to add to that list.
Olivia Newton-John as Sandy.
‘Yes,’ I finally said. ‘I’ll do it.’
Those four words changed my life.
Shooting took place during the summer of 1977. In a blink, I had my call sheet for the first day. The twist was the first day on the set was unlike any other film I would ever do.
There would be no rehearsal time. No table read with the cast. We actua
lly had a sock hop! This was Alan Carr’s idea, and it was a great one. He wanted us to feel bonded like lifelong high school friends, and to that end we were required to have some fun. That entire first day was spent doing all of these dances in giant circles, joking with each other, laughing and even playing a few tricks. It was a brilliant way to create an instant vibe of familiarity.
And then to work. John and I shot the opening beach scene where Sandy and Danny have their big goodbye amid all that surf and sand. We shot at Malibu’s gorgeous Leo Carrillo State Beach, which was just a quick minute from my house.
It was a brilliant summer day as John and I frolicked on the shore and then raced each other into the foamy ocean where the waves threatened all that fifties hair and make-up. It didn’t matter because we were in the moment, flirting, kissing and establishing what would later become one of the most beloved couples in movie history.
And then it was back to actual high school. The interiors of Grease were filmed at Huntington Park High School – unfortunately during a summer heatwave with a broken-down air-conditioning system and a horrible smell in the hallways. Sandy’s dewy glow wasn’t just the result of that first flush of love or make-up, but was also created partly by sweltering interior temperatures that shot past the hundred-degree mark. I’m still shocked that half the movie student body didn’t pass out.
The truth was, the heat didn’t matter because we were having so much fun. On set, I was Sandy and not Liv because all of us referred to each other by our character’s name. To stay in the past, we even sang a lot of fifties songs during the breaks. In so many ways, it made me nostalgic for the high school experience I never actually had in my own life when I was going to school in Australia. It was so loose and fun at Rydell, while I wore uniforms at my real Australian high school. Forget about running into your crush in the hallways. At my school, the boys and girls had to use separate entrances and stairs, so we would never even meet or glance at each other. Our hormones were under wraps; at Rydell, they were celebrated.
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