Actress and student Kim Stanley was determined that those who balked at Strasberg’s techniques were merely too frightened to reveal themselves onstage. She spoke about being at the Actors Studio in 1958. “There’s really no such thing as the Method,” she said. “Lee Strasberg is a man gifted to see the capabilities a person really has. He releases a freedom of the spirit. It’s something like psychoanalysis. You have to know yourself before you can improve. Lee has that rare ability to convince you that you’re capable of more than what you’re doing. If only you could attend classes for six months, you’d see what marvelous things he can do.”
While actors such as Gary Cooper and Spencer Tracy denied any interest in becoming Method actors, by the mid-1950s, the membership had grown to include such high-profile names as Marlon Brando, Montgomery Clift, James Dean, and soon Marilyn Monroe. “We have made history,” said Lee Strasberg in 1957, “in the sense that all over the world the Actors Studio has been thrown under a spotlight. Indeed you hardly read about an actor but you learn he is from the studio—well, I don’t know when they all got in, unless it was when I was away!” While not every actor was a student there, the sheer amount of superstars choosing to become associated with the Actors Studio brought attention to a degree it had never known before.
Association with Hollywood legends was great for the studio, but it actually caused quite a stir for the actors who had fought their way in through intense auditions. The celebrities that just walked through the doors without having uttered a word in the audition process were resented by the stage actors, who all thought—quite rightly, of course—that everyone should receive the same treatment.
The negative feelings from New York City actors toward Hollywood luminaries was further complicated because for some years they had also been blamed for stealing Broadway roles from local talent. In 1956, actor Barry Nelson described the Broadway stage as dying and a phenomenon of the past. The problem, he said, was that theater managers wanted actors who were well known throughout the country, not just in New York. By employing film stars, they were almost guaranteed to sell out on opening night, and audiences were much more likely to attend a run. “As Mr. Nelson admits,” wrote Eric Johns, “their presence on Broadway is decidedly detrimental to the theater and often the play itself suffers because they cannot possibly do justice to their roles. Yet genuine craftsmen in the art of acting may have been turned down or never considered because their names mean nothing to the masses.”
This problem had actually worked the opposite way in the late 1920s and early ’30s, when Hollywood enlisted the help of East Coast stage actors to survive the transition to talkies. The actors were brought over to California for the simple reason that they knew how to speak their lines. This left many established Hollywood actors of the silent era furious. By the mid-1950s, stage actors in New York were feeling the same way.
While still studying with Constance Collier, Marilyn met Actors Studio director Cheryl Crawford at a party. The two did not hit it off immediately, however, as Crawford was friends with Marilyn’s former agent Charles Feldman and felt that he had been treated badly by the star. Marilyn stood her ground and explained that she needed somebody on her side who was not also working for Twentieth Century Fox. Crawford eventually understood the predicament she had found herself in, and the two became friends.
The story of how Marilyn actually took the final decision to become involved in the Actors Studio has often been discussed. Milton Greene was said to have given her a push in that direction, since he was friends with member Marlon Brando. Arthur Miller believed that the whole reason for Marilyn’s move to Manhattan was because she desperately wanted to study there. Others believe that it was the fateful meeting with Cheryl Crawford that gave the opportunity to follow through with any fledgling plans she might have had. In truth, it was probably a mixture of all of these reasons. Marilyn had long been aware of the Actors Studio (and had told Studio director Lee Strasberg’s daughter, Susan, in 1954 that she one day wanted to work with her father), so it was perhaps always inevitable that her quest to become a successful, serious actress would one day lead to the Actors Studio. Whichever path she took, this fateful decision sent her on a journey that would change her entire approach to acting.
Marilyn was introduced formally to Lee and Paula Strasberg, and they adored her from the start. They opened their home to this Hollywood misfit and made her part of their family. Daughter Susan became a surrogate sister, and Marilyn’s occasional overnight stays ensured son John had to sleep on the sofa. For someone who had never enjoyed the security of living with two parents in a loving environment, Marilyn adored her time with the family and took a keen interest in their lives. John’s first impression on meeting Marilyn was that she was “instinctively smart, nobody’s fool.”
Cynics have suggested that Lee and Paula adored the notoriety the actress brought with her. Even if that was so, there is no doubt that during those early years in New York, Marilyn relied on the family quite heavily. Paula spoke about her feelings for the actress in 1960: “Marilyn has a God-given talent, really phenomenal talent. My husband says she is a combination of Jeanne Eagels and Pauline Lord. Like them she is greatly misunderstood. Where Marilyn’s work is concerned, she wants perfection and to achieve perfection in anything is well-nigh impossible. But she constantly seeks it—even at the expense of her health and peace of mind.”
It was decided that Marilyn would take a variety of classes with Lee Strasberg. First there were free, one-on-one lessons that took place in the living room of the Strasberg apartment. Susan would often overhear the conversations going on in the room and noted a lot of swearing and anger from Marilyn toward Twentieth Century Fox and anyone she felt had betrayed her. Susan found these observations fascinating but also frustrating, because in all the time she had known her father, he had never once given her the kind of support that he gave Marilyn during their lessons.
Also at the Strasberg apartment were classes attended by other actors and actresses. These were more formal, fee-based lessons, and involved a series of exercises and improvisation. At first, Marilyn did not feel confident enough to take part so would sit on an easy chair and observe. Eventually, however, she started to loosen up and studied scenes with the other actors. Over the course of time, Marilyn found herself engrossed in studying Ulysses (she was intrigued that author James Joyce was able to get into a woman’s mind through the character of Molly Bloom), as well as improvisations where she imagined herself in the role of a cat. One exercise saw the actress study animals at the zoo, where she fell in love with a lioness called June and then became worried that the big cat was lonely.
Her studies were extremely enjoyable and allowed Marilyn to open up in a way she had rarely done before. Strasberg noted that she had developed a lot of bad habits in Hollywood, but thankfully they had not affected her sensitivity or raw talent. Over time, the overemphasis on her voice—taught by Lytess—began to subside, and her true acting ability soon emerged. This new, subtle approach to her craft was perfect for Marilyn, who away from the cameras hardly wore makeup, ran her fingers through her unstyled hair, and dressed in casual clothes and no jewelry. In short, she realized that for the first time, it was perfectly okay to just be herself.
Perhaps the most notorious part of her education was when Marilyn was invited to observe work at the actual famed Actors Studio. Once again, she did not feel confident enough to do scenes there at first, so instead she sat in the crowd, made extensive notes, and watched the other actors onstage. Since Marilyn was one of the biggest celebrities in the world, the New York actors were not going to go out of their way to make her feel welcome or wanted when she walked into class. They did not greet her with hostility (not to her face anyway), but they were wary of her presence and outwardly seemed unimpressed by her star status.
Arthur Miller’s sister, Joan Copeland, remembered that some of the students would whisper and ask questions such as “What the heck is she doing here?” The cat
ty remarks would also be used to make fun of her talents, even though no one had actually seen her act onstage. Marilyn never admitted that her feelings were hurt, but Joan imagined they must surely have been. Instead, Marilyn kept quiet and tried desperately to blend into the background. Dressed down in skirts and button-up shirts or sweaters and pants, Marilyn sat toward the back of the class and, at first, rarely spoke to anyone. Her initial reaction was that the other students seemed so much younger than her, and she was intimidated by their youth and experience.
The frosty atmosphere was perhaps made no better when it became obvious to everyone that the Strasbergs absolutely adored Marilyn, and vice versa. However, over the course of time, the students began mellowing toward her, and she started to let down her guard as well. Flanked by the Strasbergs, Marilyn would attend lunch with the other students and happily took part in conversations. At night, she would often join them again at places such as Downey’s on Eighth Avenue, where they would discuss art, music, and culture.
Most students kept quiet about their thoughts on Marilyn, but one unidentified member spoke to reporter Gene Houseman. The actor was keen to give a different slant on the story: “Actually nobody’s being snooty with this no-talk bit,” he said. “Behind it is an unwritten agreement with Marilyn. She doesn’t want any publicity in connection with her attendance there, and she has placed her trust in everyone there to follow her wishes. It’s really an admirable and remarkable thing that none of the students—there are about 165—has ever dreamed of violating that trust. Especially when you take into account that none of them are really bound in any way, and many of them are very poor, struggling actors who could certainly use the fast buck they might make for talking.”
One of the students who remembered Marilyn coming into the studio at the beginning was Stefan Gierasch, who said that the actress sat at the back and tried not to draw attention to herself. According to him, everyone was aware that Lee and Paula Strasberg were her mentors, but he was unaware that anyone had been unkind to Marilyn; in fact, he remembered various members trying to welcome her. In comparison, actor Mark Weston said they were told never to treat Marilyn any differently than other students, and his first impression was that she was there just to take up space. This observation was somewhat unfair because while Marilyn may not have said anything at all in the beginning, she was soaking up all that the studio had to offer.
TO GET A BETTER understanding of their psyche, it was felt that students of the Method should undertake a period of psychoanalysis. Marilyn took the advice very seriously and began therapy in February 1955 with Dr. Margaret Hohenberg, a therapist introduced to her by fellow patient Milton Greene. While one may think that it was slightly unethical to treat two business partners—particularly if one had anything to say about the other—Hohenberg either did not think about this, or did not care. Documents also suggest that various business decisions were made only after consultation with Hohenberg, which was unusual, to say the least. Regardless, Marilyn attended regular sessions with the Freudian analyst, and this therapy continued with Hohenberg and others until the end of her life.
Without access to Marilyn’s patient records, we cannot say categorically what happened during meetings with her psychiatrists. However, clinical psychologist Dr. L. Ruddick, who practices in Birmingham, England, has been able to shed light on the kinds of sessions a Freudian analyst could have provided:
Therapy is likely to start with the therapist establishing a full history from the person, including things that are important to them about their childhood, family relationships—particularly with primary care-givers—emotional symptoms, physical health, sexual relationships, important memories whether real or imagined, and events leading up to the onset of emotional/physical/psychological symptoms. The focus of the therapy is liable to have been to look at the relationship between conscious and unconscious parts of the mind (memories and fantasies), seeking to undo the repression of hidden impulses and to find alternative outlets.
A therapist wouldn’t necessarily rely on verbal information, but alongside listening would be observing the mood and the feelings to think about underlying messages. Freud used the technique of free-association at some point in his career and would just let the person talk as they so wished, free as much as possible of the influence of the therapist. Reflection was frequently used as a technique.
There have been many discussions over the years as to whether her regular stream of therapists did Marilyn any good. It is certainly debatable. In and out of foster homes and an orphanage, Marilyn was wounded by memories of an unstable childhood, and it would perhaps have been better for her long-term health if she had dealt with it quickly and moved on. But the sustained use of therapists ensured that she was continually reminded of particular moments of her childhood that were perhaps best left in the past.
Actors Studio student Delos Smith Jr. told Susan Strasberg that Marilyn would often be conservative with the truth during her sessions with Hohenberg. Terrified because her mother had been committed to an asylum, the actress would withhold information so that the analyst would not think she required the same kind of treatment. According to Smith, Marilyn also had a fascination with suicide and spoke about it often. When he told Lee Strasberg that he feared she would die, the acting guru was furious. He believed that any negativity she harbored would be cured by immersion in the classes.
In this age of mental health awareness, it is important to acknowledge that Marilyn did have issues. She was particularly vulnerable, easily hurt, and often brought to tears or anger through perceived rejection or betrayal. Her life was always black-and-white: a person was either on her side or not, and there was simply no middle ground. She fought inner demons; she constantly looked for the truth of her life and was prone to bouts of depression. In spite of that, she still achieved great heights and never let her anxiety stop her quest for knowledge and education. For Marilyn to accept that she had problems, and to realize that in spite of them she was able to accomplish everything she did, was in itself empowering.
A private person by nature, Marilyn did not speak about her therapy sessions often, but when asked by reporter Logan Gourlay in 1955, she gave a little insight. “I’m not taking a full course,” she said, before adding that she would never scoff at psychiatry and felt it useful to know what made her tick. When pressed further, she quickly changed the subject, but the question came again from the same journalist five years later. This time all Marilyn would say is that she knew nothing about psychiatrist Carl Jung, but quite a lot about Sigmund Freud. “He’s the one I believe in,” she said.
In 1956, Marilyn shared a little more to reporter Pete Martin. During the interview, she revealed that while previously she had felt a need to run away from her emotions, she was beginning to understand herself in a way that she never had before: “I’ve read a little of Freud and it might have to do with what he said. I think he was on the right track.”
FEBRUARY 1955 WAS A busy month for Marilyn. In addition to her acting lessons and therapy sessions, there was a press conference to announce a charity appearance at Madison Square Garden, a birthday party for actor Jackie Gleason (attended with Joe DiMaggio), and the premiere of East of Eden. The film opening—a benefit for the Actors Studio—caused the most excitement, with fans queued around the block just to get a glimpse of Marilyn acting as a celebrity usher.
During a party after the premiere, it was planned for the actress to sing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” and the event was even advertised numerous times in newspapers. However, Marilyn decided to pull out because she did not have time to rehearse and had no wish to look foolish in front of Broadway actors. Actress Carol Channing had played the part of Lorelei Lee in the 1949 Broadway production of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and was urged to trap Marilyn into singing “Diamonds” with her, but she thought that a dreadful idea. “I decided it wouldn’t be fair to Marilyn,” she said. “I just know that I’d kill anybody who’d do it to me, so why should I
do it to her?”
Away from the limelight, Marilyn, Milton Greene, and her representatives were in fevered negotiations with Lew Schreiber from Twentieth Century Fox regarding her contract. Fan mail was still pouring in to the studio and had hit an unprecedented eight thousand letters during March 1955. Many of the fans demanded to know when their favorite star would return to the screen, and, of course, that was something the studio did not yet know. After The Seven Year Itch, there would be no new Marilyn Monroe projects to release. Zanuck and his associates frankly could not believe that the woman they thought was no more than a ditzy blonde was actually holding them to ransom.
Marilyn, however, reveled in her newfound position. This was her way of punishing them for every bad picture they’d put her in, for every time she’d fought to read a script or even have her own dressing room. A climax of sorts came when Marilyn started returning their letters unopened. Furious, Zanuck announced that all negotiations were off and, just to add further drama, threatened to delay the release of The Seven Year Itch.
This might have given the studio head satisfaction, but it was all a bluff, as in reality he was campaigning to bring the premiere forward rather than push it back. Originally there had been an agreement whereby the studio would wait until the end of the Broadway run before releasing the picture. This seemed logical at the time, but in the end, despite saying that Marilyn was holding up the release, Fox paid a fine of $175,000 to the playwright and stage producers to be able to open much earlier than planned.
Marilyn may have been fighting for more money, but Fox found it difficult to believe that the ultimate aim was never to become rich. Instead, what she wanted more than anything was the right to make decisions about her own career and to express her creativity in a way that was relatable to the public. This should not have come as a surprise. Once, when Marilyn was a starlet, a member of the legal department tried to get her to sign a contract sooner rather than later. When she asked why, he told her it would save her money in the long run. “I’m not interested in money,” she said. “I just want to be wonderful.” She disclosed something similar to journalist and friend Sidney Skolsky: “I didn’t go into movies to make money. I wanted to become famous so that everyone would like me, and I’d be surrounded with love and affection.”
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