That she made The Misfits rather than Breakfast at Tiffany’s was one of the greatest tragedies of Marilyn’s career. It would have given Marilyn the opportunity to shine as a charming character who combines wit and pathos. It would also likely have provided her with a smash hit. The Misfits gave her neither.
NINETEEN
MAKING LOVE
Before starting The Misfits Marilyn had to fulfill her contract and make a movie for Fox. So while Miller toiled away on The Misfits screenplay, Marilyn prepared to return to Fox.
Having perfected the deliciously ditzy blonde image for all time in Some Like It Hot, it was, in fact, the perfect moment to put a period on it and expand her magic to a different image for the new decade. The year 1959 was a pivotal moment for growth, and had Marilyn been given a good script with a role of substance, she might have been able to transform and transition her image into the 1960s as a beautiful and mature woman living in the real world. Some Like It Hot had confirmed that Marilyn was at the top of her game. And she might have stayed there had Fox not put her into the overblown, mediocre musical that was eventually titled Let’s Make Love.
* * *
Reviewing the history of Fox, it’s difficult to believe that they hadn’t bothered to develop any story exclusively with Marilyn in mind. Instead they assigned her to The Billionaire, a trite musical comedy of mistaken identity with a script that was developed as a Gregory Peck vehicle. His leading lady hadn’t been cast yet.
The comedic situations in the story would revolve around Peck, playing a fantastically rich tycoon who must learn to become a song-and-dance man to capture the heart of the woman he loves. When he learns that an off-Broadway show plans to spoof his playboy image, he attends a dress rehearsal to check the revue for slander. There he sees Amanda Dell—the female lead in the show—do a dance number, and after watching her perform, he is mistaken for a look-alike actor auditioning for the role of the “billionaire.” Because he is so taken with Amanda, he goes along with the charade and accepts the role, essentially agreeing to satirize himself in the production.
When the studio realized they had to put Marilyn to work or risk having another year go by without a Monroe picture, they decided to cast her in the supporting role of Amanda.
The satire in the screenplay derives from the fact that he is a business shark—with no talent—spoofing himself in song-and-dance numbers. Marilyn’s role is that of second banana, a noncharacter who is simply a foil for the male lead’s comic antics.
Fox secured George Cukor for the movie—one of the directors listed as acceptable in her contract. Well known for bringing out the best in female stars like Jean Harlow, Katharine Hepburn, and Greta Garbo, Cukor was also renowned for his light comedic touch. They also hired Marilyn’s favorite choreographer, Jack Cole, to work on her musical numbers.
* * *
Now that it was being touted as a Marilyn Monroe film, the title The Billionaire was scrapped for the more provocative Let’s Make Love. Realizing that her supporting role was in no way suitable for a star, the studio—in a supreme miscalculation—hired Arthur Miller to rewrite the script and build up her character. Perhaps they thought it would fire up Marilyn’s enthusiasm. Miller, however, had never written a truly comedic line in his career.
In his autobiography Miller attempted to strengthen the legend that he was an all-sacrificing husband willing to do anything to save their marriage. “I went so far as to do some rewriting on Let’s Make Love to try to save her from a complete catastrophe, work I despised on a script not worth the paper it was typed on,” he wrote contemptuously. “It was a bad miscalculation, bringing us no closer to each other. She seemed to take for granted what for me had been a sacrifice of great blocks of time, and it was plain that her inner desperation was not going to let up.”
Miller fails to mention that he was paid fifteen thousand dollars for his two weeks of “sacrifice” on the script—money he was happy to pocket although he did not want screen credit for his contributions.
Unfortunately his fingerprints are all over Let’s Make Love. Amanda’s character was suddenly reciting dialogue that could have been rejected lines written for Roslyn, the role he was writing for Marilyn in The Misfits. Miller wrote cardboard versions of “Marilyn”—a series of lines that she said in real life or bits of her history that he was incapable of transforming in any way. For example, being a woman with no formal education becomes a major factor in both characters Miller was working on for Marilyn.
In Let’s Make Love Amanda attends night school in hopes of getting her high school diploma because “I got tired of being ignorant. I never knew what people were referring to.” Knowing that Miller felt embarrassed by Marilyn in front of his intellectual friends, one cringes at him putting these lines in her mouth.*
Also, Miller’s “Marilyn” characters must be ashamed of their past. During a supposedly comedic scene, when the billionaire tries to reveal his true identity to Amanda, in a startling non sequitur, she blurts, “I’ve done things in my life that are very painful to talk about.” What, one wonders, could this carefree musical comedy performer ever have done that’s so difficult to talk about? And even more, why are lines like these being recited in what is supposed to be a joyful musical romp?
Gregory Peck, appalled at what was happening to the screenplay, promptly bowed out of Let’s Make Love. He graciously said that it was because of a scheduling conflict. In a more unguarded moment he said the script was “now about as funny as pushing Grandma down the stairs.”
This left Let’s Make Love without a male star. Rock Hudson, Cary Grant, and Charlton Heston all turned down the role for one reason or another. Satisfied with having Marilyn attached, Fox pushed ahead with the production anyway.
It was Arthur Miller who suggested the French singing star Yves Montand as Marilyn’s leading man. Montand had become friendly with Miller when he starred in the French production of The Crucible with his wife, the French actress Simone Signoret. Although virtually unknown to American audiences, Montand had recently scored a Broadway success in his one-man show, which Marilyn saw with her friend and Manhattan neighbor, Montgomery Clift. Marilyn saw the charisma that made Montand a huge star in France. She wanted him for the movie too. “He sings with his entire body,” she cooed.
To almost everyone else involved, Montand seemed like a wrong choice. The original writer, Norman Krasna, saw the character as a gruff “shit kicker.” Montand came across as an exceedingly suave gentleman. Since Montand was an accomplished song-and-dance man, all the comedy that would come from a klutz attempting to be a smooth performer would be drained from the story. But Marilyn persisted. She wanted Montand. So Fox agreed.
Another major problem in casting him was that Montand spoke almost no English. It would be difficult for audiences to understand him. Adding to the complications Fox already expected on a Monroe film, the studio hired a speech coach to teach Montand the lines, which he learned by rote.
Though the studio secured Jack Cole’s services at great expense, Marilyn’s illnesses and pill intake usually made her late or a no-show for most dance rehearsals. On some days Cole waited for hours in an empty rehearsal hall. He was furious and insulted that Marilyn would treat him with such a lack of respect.
After the filming Marilyn regretted her behavior. She sent Cole a note of apology saying it must have been “awful” for him. She included a check for $2,500, suggesting he take a vacation on her. Several days later she sent him another check for $500, advising him to stay “three more days.”
* * *
On Saturday, January 16, the studio held a press party at the Beverly Hilton to announce the start of filming of Marilyn’s latest movie. In newsreel footage of the event Marilyn proved that she could still transform herself into the radiant creature the world expected. She wore a pale silver silk halter dress with a plunging V-neck, body-hugging at the waist and then flaring out in chiffon panels. She sipped her customary champagne and flirted with Montand. W
hen journalists asked what she thought of her future costar, Marilyn said, “Next to my husband and along with Marlon Brando, Yves Montand is the most attractive man I ever met.” (Years before, Marlon Brando had been a lover.)
The next day, however, Marilyn’s glamorous mask cracked. The star power she had projected at the press party left her feeling exhausted, drained. She called in sick, saying she wouldn’t be able to work on Monday after all. Montand was thrown into a panic. He had already spent a great deal of time phonetically learning the lines for his first scene with Marilyn.
Director Cukor was forced to rearrange the schedule to shoot scenes that did not include her—which meant Montand hastily learning new dialogue by rote. Montand was terrified. He had brought a tape recorder to the set so he could read his lines and play them back to himself. Now he had to learn a new scene. Marilyn continued to call in sick for the rest of the week.
The following Monday, Marilyn summoned up enough courage to face the Let’s Make Love cameras for the first time. Yves Montand was not needed that day. She would start the filming of the “My Heart Belongs to Daddy” number, which she would continue to shoot over the next few days. It was a technically difficult routine because there was a series of poles set up that Marilyn and the male dancers would have to dance around, swing from, and climb. As always, Marilyn used everything she had learned from Jack Cole, and by now she completely owned the number, bringing to it the unique brand of carefree sexuality she was worshipped for.
Dancer Bobby Banas remembered that Cole instructed the male dancers to “get out there and explode! Destroy yourselves!” The choreographer cannily had the dancers reflect the typical male reaction to Monroe. While Marilyn is singing, the guys are jumping and leaping as if her presence pushes a button making this explosion of men happen all around her.
Whereas studio execs viewing the rushes of the scene grumbled about Marilyn’s weight, Banas said that Marilyn in person did not appear zaftig at all. “She was voluptuous and beautiful. But in between takes I did hear her wardrobe lady whisper to her, ‘Now Marilyn, remember to hold in your stomach.’”
Friday, January 29, was the day Marilyn was scheduled to shoot her first scene with Montand. He observed her from across the set. “Great star that she is—she was trembling, ill at ease, and consuming more coffee than I have ever seen go into anyone’s system to steady her nerves.”
Shortly before filming their scene she approached Montand and announced sarcastically, “Now you’re going to see what it means to shoot with the worst actress in the world.”
“So you’re scared,” Montand replied. “Think of me a little. I’m lost.”
This show of vulnerability immediately intensified Marilyn’s attraction to Montand. She always responded to someone else’s insecurity. Now she had a sense of “We’re in this together.” She wanted to please him. Of course he realized anything perceived as an insult could instantly send her into a downward spiral. But he also sensed that if he was honest with her he would gain her trust.
He was touched by her and recognized her biggest weakness. It was one he shared: self-doubt, the fear of not being great at all times. Montand informed her, “You look beautiful. But I think you’re afraid of acting.” He went on to say he recognized her terror in the fact that she could never live up to her own expectations of herself. That’s why she was always late.
Marilyn was shocked and impressed that someone she respected was actually calling her out on her insecurities. “Nobody else would tell her that,” Montand said. “How could they? They just see this beautiful girl, singing, moving wonderfully.”
The more they worked together, the more comfortable they began to feel with each other. Montand saw Marilyn as an enchantress. A beguiling personality with a unique and dazzling combination of sensuality and fragility. When working with her he found himself looking into “those incredibly blue eyes that maintained the clarity other women’s only rarely possess.” Yet he was determined that he would not allow himself to fall for her. He loved his wife.
Marilyn also became enamored of Montand but—like him—she pushed her attraction aside. The time wasn’t right. Miller was obsessed with shooting The Misfits. They were both married. There was a movie to be made—and it was being filmed under the ever-watchful eyes of the Hollywood press—which was eager for a Monroe scandal.
* * *
At the Beverly Hills Hotel the two couples—the Millers and the Montands—lived across from each other in Bungalows No. 20 and No. 21. In the evening the couples quietly socialized after the day’s shooting.
Marilyn would arrive from the set, peek her head into the room, still in studio makeup, and say, “Just let me take a bath and I will join you.” A short time later she would join the others for dinner, music, and conversation. “Without makeup and false eyelashes, her face bare, she looked like the most beautiful peasant girl imaginable,” Simone Signoret would remember.
Signoret at thirty-seven—heavy and slightly weathered—already had the air of a ruined beauty. But she was a highly respected actress in Europe and was making a mark in America. That year she had played a lonely older woman opposite Laurence Harvey in Room at the Top and was nominated for an Academy Award, an honor Marilyn did not receive for Some Like It Hot. But Marilyn never displayed resentment or jealousy toward Simone. “You’re going to win,” she would tell her again and again.
Marilyn—who rarely had women friends—was fascinated by the worldly actress. Simone became an older sister and a mother figure. When Miller left for Ireland to work on The Misfits script with John Huston, Marilyn turned to Simone for companionship in the evenings. Plagued by insomnia, Marilyn was terrified of facing her empty bed. Simone told Marilyn how she walked out on her first husband and young daughter in order to be with Montand. “I left my husband and my home, which was bad,” Simone explained. “I left my child, which was worse. People didn’t like it, but I had to do it.” Marilyn was enthralled by this woman who had sacrificed everything for her one chance at true love.
Because of her late evenings, in the mornings, zonked from too many pills and lack of sleep, Marilyn simply could not rouse herself to make it to the studio. Eventually the pace of filming went back to maddening delays. Hours ticked by. The actors were in their makeup. George Cukor stood around. When the morning passed with no sign of Marilyn, Montand would be fuming.
As always, though, many members of the crew forgave Marilyn for her delays. They sensed that she wasn’t being malicious or acting like a diva. She really did struggle. A fellow actor found a notebook Marilyn had used for a scene and left on the set. On one page she had written: What am I afraid of? Why am I so afraid? Do I think I can act? I know I can act. But I am afraid. I am afraid and I should not be and I must not be.
“It made her appear more naked than those calendars she posed for,” the actor said.
* * *
In March the Screen Actors Guild and the Writers Guild went on strike, and all movies shut down, including Let’s Make Love. The strike was for residual payments for actors when their movies were shown on television. It was such an important issue of the day that no writer would break ranks with the strike to work on the Let’s Make Love screenplay, which continued to need rewrites.
Astonishingly, because of the strike, Miller flew back from Europe in order to do more work on the troublesome Let’s Make Love script. Miller’s leftist politics decried the plight of the workingman, yet he had no problem crossing union lines in order to make another hefty sum for his work. Marilyn, already long disillusioned with her ideal of Miller, was disturbed by this hypocrisy.
On March 8 Marilyn received a Golden Globe for her performance in Some Like It Hot in a ceremony held at the Coconut Grove. She had been snubbed by most of Hollywood, but the town’s Hollywood Foreign Press Association, which gave the award, appreciated her in a way that the American entertainment industry still didn’t. Wrapped in fur, with tantalizingly exposed shoulders, she languidly sashayed up to the mic
rophone. Her entire speech consisted of “I thank you with all my heart”; a short but heartfelt declaration. Marilyn truly appreciated an acknowledgment for a performance she had worked very hard on. She always made her performances seem so effortless—which was part of her genius.
* * *
The Academy Awards were held on April 4. As Marilyn had predicted, Simone Signoret won Best Actress for her performance in Room at the Top. Although she didn’t show it, Marilyn was heartbroken at not even being nominated for her acclaimed work in Some Like It Hot.
It could be argued that many in the Hollywood industry so resented Marilyn that they were reluctant to endorse anything involving her. The industry still hadn’t forgiven her for walking out on her contract in 1954. They forgave her even less now; disliked her even more. Her lateness on sets flaunted her star power and made her seem like a spoiled diva. Some Like It Hot—today considered one of the greatest and most influential comedies—received no major Academy Awards.
* * *
On April 8 the strike ended, so production on all films resumed. The following day Signoret left for Europe to start a new movie. A few days later Miller flew to New York to continue working on The Misfits script. It seems curious that Miller would leave Marilyn alone with Montand when he admitted that his marriage was deteriorating.
Had Miller timed his departure so it would leave Marilyn free to indulge in an affair with Montand—perhaps to assure smooth sailing to the completion of the film and onto The Misfits set?
By this point Miller’s sole obsession was getting The Misfits made. Years later he admitted he was well aware of Marilyn’s susceptibility to Montand: “It’s true Marilyn was naturally drawn to him. He was a poor boy originally, and as with others, she invested that new person with a selfless interest in her. Personally I was glad he was there. She needed someone like this on the scene at all times, especially when embarking on a new film.”
Perhaps Miller saw Montand as a pawn to boost Marilyn’s spirits and rouse her energy to finish Let’s Make Love. The Misfits was slated to go into production immediately after this film wrapped. Feeling unappreciated and unloved, Marilyn had nothing to grab on to. Left alone in her bungalow, she grabbed on to Montand.
Marilyn Monroe Page 17