by Colin Clark
Meanwhile life goes on. Filming starts on Monday and everything needs to be ready. Studio A is now bursting with technicians, preparing the equipment. The first shots on Monday will be unimportant – just there to make sure everything works, camera, lights, sound etc.
Jack Cardiff has to have the right lights hanging from the grid. It looks a total muddle but it has a pattern which only the gaffer and he understand. The lights get very hot – I dread to think what the temperature is up on the gantry. Whenever possible the lights are all switched off. ‘Save the lights’ is the cry, and there is a great clunk and what seems like darkness for a moment. But actually there are work lights which always stay on. They make everything look tawdry and pathetic. Carpenters are hammering, scene painters are finishing back-drops, curtains (drapes) are being hung and ornaments are being selected to decorate the set (props).
Roger Furse is meant to be in charge of the scenery but his assistants hardly seem to have time to listen to him.
Bumble Dawson is clearly close to a breakdown. She has all the costumes to worry about and some aren’t to her liking.51 My little Wdg, who works for Bumble of course, is too busy to give me anything but a smile, but we do have another date for Saturday night.
FRIDAY, 3 AUGUST
Tony B is incredibly nice. It seems he and Anne have rented a large house near Ascot, at Runnymede, where King John signed the Magna Carta. They want me to come to live with them there while filming is going on. It is much nearer the studios than London, of course, and not far from Tibbs and Englefield Green. Since I have to be at Pinewood by 6.40 a.m. every morning from now on, that is very good news.
But the real joy is to be invited to be part of ‘the family’. Tony B and Anne are very much part of SLO and Vivien’s ‘family’ and now I will be too. I always have a tendency to feel lonely unless I am with people. It is an absolutely lovely idea and I accepted with much gratitude.
Rehearsals ended at lunchtime and all the cast dashed off for the weekend.
‘Not you,’ said David sternly, and we stayed to see the last person leave. I don’t mind. My mind is firmly fixed on tomorrow night.
I will go out to Tony and Anne at Runnymede on Sunday afternoon.
SUNDAY, 5 AUGUST
This is a glorious Edwardian mansion, with leaded windows, mahogany furniture and large Turkey rugs. The garden is very green and lush as we are near the river. The house is dark and cool. Anne is enchanting – slim, pretty, vivacious. She has filled the rooms with flowers and put the excess bric-a-brac in the attic. Tony is gruff and jovial. He brings generous drinks before dinner. I feel I have landed in Paradise! Anne cooked a delicious meal and the conversation sparkled.
My poor little Wdg is rather heavy going. Not a brain in that pretty little head. Anything that wouldn’t go in a woman’s magazine goes straight over it.
Lack of sophistication can be so attractive, and yet it’s also rather tiring. Last night was delightful but I’m not sure that I can keep it going. What she likes is Romance. Well, I’m a great romantic, but she sees it only in terms of clichés. One step away from these simple terms and she is startled; one original remark and she gets suspicious. Alas, one cannot just kiss all evening. It might be different if we were sleeping together – then there is always something to do – but of course we are not.
Tomorrow we start to make a film.
The strain on SLO is going to be terrific. He has to direct as well as act. His confidence in his co-star and partner is minimal. Already late, already prone to be detached from reality, MM is the sort of star he just does not understand. It’s no good treating her like ‘a pretty little thing’ who must do what she is told. When he does talk to her directly, she just gazes at him with those huge eyes, and it is impossible to tell whether she is even listening or not. I’ve never heard her reply. So SLO is forced to go through Milton, and he is sometimes forced to go through Paula. We must all be very careful not to take sides, or we will make things worse.
I feel as if this film has really become my life.
MONDAY, 6 AUGUST
I am officially 3rd Ast Dir at last.
‘Your most important duty right now,’ said David, at 9 a.m. in a crowded Studio A, ‘is to get me a mug of tea and a piece of bread and dripping.’
We had all been there for over two hours by then, and we were very hungry indeed. A sort of NAAFI wagon appears in the concrete corridor at nine and my task is to queue for David’s breakfast (and my own).
The studio is usually pretty dark except for the ‘work lights’, not to save electricity (money is no object in this film!) but to stop the set getting too hot. There is a real danger of the actors breaking out into a sweat – which is especially embarrassing if the action is set on a cold day.
Jack stands in the middle of each set, gazing at the stand-ins and giving orders to his ‘gaffer’. Different lights are raised and lowered, switched on and off. Strange filters are added – ‘barn doors’ and ‘gauzes’ – and fingers are burned.
Except for the areas the cast acts in, the floor is completely covered with cables, camera rails and other hazards, so ‘Have a nice trip?’ becomes a much too frequent joke.
There are also a lot of people – electricians, camera assistants, boom operators, property men, make-up ‘artists’, wig-dressers, carpenters, drapery men, painters, plasterers, set decorators, etc., some of whom are busy, and a lot of whom are just milling around in case they are needed.
A journey from one side of the studio to the other with two mugs of scalding tea and two pieces of floppy ‘Bread and Drip’ is a truly hazardous experience. There must be at least 40 people in the way now, and I’m sure it will get worse when MM appears tomorrow.
The crew are all very English, very professional and clearly not easy to impress. They, of course, can see me for what I am – the lowest of the low.
There is Elaine, the continuity girl, whose job it is to make sure that every scene blends perfectly with its neighbours. Without her, cigarettes would suddenly lengthen or shorten, or jump from hand to hand, doors would suddenly open, and dresses rearrange themselves. Elaine is cool and competent and I get the impression that nothing will frustrate her.
There is Denys [Coop], the camera operator, and his crew. I didn’t realise but Jack never even touches the camera. Very occasionally he is allowed to peek through it while everyone gives him odd looks. The camera is usually at the end of a long crane, or on rail tracks or both. Denys sits behind it, on a little chair with his legs either side, and twirls wheels to move the camera around. He also has two young men to push and steer, despite the use of electric motors. The sound recordist is Mitch, a very quiet, very patient man, who is often ignored by everyone. He has a metal console, linked to a microphone on a boom and to another recordist in a soundproof room somewhere.
Actually Mitch and this crew are more dangerous than they look, as they demonstrated while we were waiting this morning. Mitch saw Roger Furse and his assistant hobnobbing in a corner. A nod to his boom operator and the ‘mike’ was extended across all the obstacles until it was over Roger’s head. Then a quick whisper to his recordist and the secret conversation was being played over the Tannoy system. Incredibly, even though their conversation was booming out from every loudspeaker, they didn’t realise what was going on for over a minute. It could have been very embarrassing.
When we are ready to start filming David shouts ‘QUIET, STUDIO. Going for a take. LOCK THE DOORS.’
A claxon goes PARP, PARP, PARP. Red lights flash. Denys says ‘Camera rolling.’ There are two little beeps from Mitch’s console and Mitch says ‘Speed.’
David says ‘Mark it.’ The clapper boy steps in front of the camera, names the film and the shot and the take number: ‘The Prince and the Showgirl (which is the new title) shot 3 take 1,’ then he goes ‘SNAP’ with his clapper, on which the same information is written. Then the director – SLO or Tony – quietly says ‘Action,’ and filming starts.
This is e
ssential for the editor. It gives him all the information on the sound tape and the film, so he can join the two up very easily. But it must be awfully off-putting for a nervous actor or actress. I suppose they have to learn to ignore it. It’s all very well for the director to say ‘Action’ in soft and persuasive tones, but four other total strangers have just barked out their contributions, heedless of acting nerves.
As almost all scenes are very short, often just a few seconds, the director will be saying ‘Cut’ almost immediately and, nine times out of ten: ‘Let’s do it again.’
The happiest words you can hear are ‘Print it’ – you only print the very best takes – but even that is often followed by: ‘Let’s do it just once more, shall we, to be sure.’
Then Denys says ‘Check the gate,’ and his assistant opens the front of the camera and looks inside with a torch, to see that no fluff or ‘film debris’ has got caught on the shutter mechanism, and scratched the film.
All this is part of an inflexible routine. It happens every time a scene is filmed, no matter how often that scene is repeated. I can’t understand how actors put up with it. Do they do the same in Hollywood? David says they do, but David’s ‘bark’ alone is enough to frighten the lines right out of an actor’s head. I suppose I will get used to it all, like any ritual.
Many of the people in the studio today were finishing up the set for tomorrow. The first set to be filmed — but not the first scene in the story of course – is the private drawing room of the Carpathian Embassy. SLO plays the Grand Duke, the Regent of Carpathia, and in this drawing room he will try to seduce the showgirl, Elsie Marina, MM. Also built is the Queen Dowager’s sitting room, so that Dame Sybil’s scenes can be shot as soon as possible.
The art director is a small intense lady with short grey hair, cut like a man’s. She is Carmen Dillon, who has done many similar films. She works with a set dresser called Dario Simoni. Together with Roger Furse, they are responsible for the ‘look’ of the whole film. They are all completely professional, and only think about the scenery, and the props, and the costumes. They didn’t even glance at MM when she walked in to look at the set for a moment last week, even though MM was quite excited by the whole thing.
This professionalism pervades the entire crew. In fact I am sure that they are all extremely proud of it. But I don’t find it exactly ‘welcoming’ and I’m sure MM won’t either. A top actor like Dicky Wattis will take it for granted. A director like SLO will insist on it, but a stranger, a foreigner, a ‘new girl’ like MM may be put off by it. I know I am. I admire and envy all their skills but it is possible to be human too, isn’t it?
Anyway we did a couple of early shots which gave SLO and David a chance to get to know the crew before MM makes her very considerable presence felt. I had to stay until last so I only just got back here in time for Anne’s dinner.
Tony B is buoyant for a change. This certainly means that SLO is optimistic, despite the omens. I expect he is happy to be working in a studio again, on a ‘closed’ set (no visitors) where Vivien’s social demands have to take second place.
TUESDAY, 7 AUGUST
I left Runnymede at 6 a.m. sharp. Quite cool – no traffic on the road, so I was at Pinewood before 6.25. One sleepy guard who couldn’t care less. After 20 minutes of pacing up and down outside the star dressing rooms, a black hire car arrived bearing . . . Dame Sybil.
‘Oh Colin. How kind of you to meet me. Dear me, you look cold.’ (I was.) And she is over 70. I called make-up and hair and settled her in a warm dressing room. Five minutes later came Gilman in the Bentley, carrying SLO.
‘Hello boy. Marilyn arrived yet?’
‘Not yet, Sir Laurence.’
‘Well wait here until she does and let me know directly.’
He is an optimist. At 7.05 Dicky Wattis arrived in a London taxi. With him was Paul Hardwick who will play the Embassy Major Domo. At 7.15, Milton Greene.
‘Hi Colin. Is she here yet?’ Who is he kidding? Then a long wait. I remain poised outside on the pavement. David emerged from the studios.
‘What’s going on? I thought you had a contact in her house. Have you phoned yet?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Phone.’
Plod answered. ‘We are due to leave right now. We’ve been on standby for 10 minutes. Paula is here. She and Hedda are waiting too.’
Report to David. ‘ETA, 8.15.’
Report to SLO (being made up) and Milton. ‘ETA, 8.15.’
Scowl.
At 8.30 MM arrives with Paula. Plod, carrying her bag, winks. MM wears dark glasses, beige nylon scarf, slacks.
‘Good morning, Miss Monroe.’
‘Oh, hi.’
Whitey is already in her dressing room. He has been there for nearly two hours. Everyone but Paula is firmly shut out. I report to SLO again.
Now I must make a note: 8.30 a.m. arrival at the studio means 11 a.m. on the set. It just isn’t possible to hurry the Make-up – Hair – Costume sequence. Even if one could it might upset MM and then where would we be? Well, where? I expect we’ll find out, sooner or later.
SLO had expected MM to be late and had planned ‘cut-away’ shots to use up the time.
The main scene of the day was Dame S — the Grand Duke’s mother-in-law – greeting MM – the showgirl – in that purple drawing room. Jack had lit the stand-ins by 9 a.m. and by 9.30 Dame S and Dicky W were waiting on the set in full costume.
SLO offered profuse apologies but they didn’t seem to mind.
‘Poor dear. I expect she’s nervous,’ said Dame S.
‘I expect so,’ said Dicky dryly, but SLO did not get the point.
We shot a ‘reaction’ on Dicky, eyebrows up in mock surprise, and then I went to check on MM. As I was waiting outside her dressing-room door, she suddenly burst out, with Paula, Milton and Whitey surrounding her, like warders with a violent prisoner. They all swooped off in the wrong direction down the corridor, until I could run and catch up. When I got them into Studio A, they all bolted straight into the ‘portable’ dressing room on the set and slammed the door. This left Bumble, grinding her teeth and curling her lock of hair, MM’s dresser (skinny, rather sexy), a hairdresser and a make-up assistant all marooned on the outside rather wondering what to do.
When they were eventually admitted it must have been like the ‘And two hard-boiled eggs’ scene from the Marx Bros.52 The answer was to expel Paula and Milton but that is not so easy.
Finally at 11.30 a.m., MM did emerge, fully dressed and looking, I am bound to say, ravishing. What a beautiful creature she is, to be sure. Paula whispered in her ear, and she walked straight on to the set.
No apologies to Dame S for a two-hour wait. But Dame S could see that it was quite an act of courage to be there at all and gave her a warm welcome.
‘QUIET STUDIO. Going for a take. Hit the lights.’
The whole sequence began without SLO giving MM any direction, let alone MM asking for it. I suppose he just thought he would see what happened. He was sitting quietly behind the camera, in full costume as he was in the next shot.
‘Action.’
Dame Sybil’s performance is rock steady and flawless. All MM had to do was remember her lines.
When, by take 8, she had done this, we had a ‘print’ and MM’s first shot was ‘in the can’.
What a relief for us all, not least her.
Between takes MM cannot lie down, or even sit. Bumble’s gorgeous dress does not allow for that. So MM has a strange white resting board with armrests on which she can relax. She dashes to this on every possible occasion, flicking her fingers up and down in the air. She has been taught this trick as a ‘tension reliever’ by one of the Strasbergs. It does not look very effective to me, and it gives her the appearance of being in a flap.
Paula’s lips are never more than two inches from her ear, muttering and whispering continuously. Not unnaturally, SLO has a hard time coming to terms with this. He wants to talk to MM about the next shot, but it i
s hard for him to interrupt. I’m sure he had originally expected her to rush to him, and lap up his words of wisdom etc. Not a chance.
I hover equidistant from him and David while Jack re-lights as quickly as he can. During re-lighting, MM retreats to her mobile dressing room and once again the door is slammed. This time SLO knocked and walked in. Through the gap I could see a determined Paula trying to shield him from MM but he took no notice and shut the door behind him. David called ‘the half’ — union-ese for delaying lunch for half an hour – and we did another shot.
After lunch we did two more set-ups, and then David called ‘That’s a wrap, gentlemen,’ signalling enough for the day.
We were all exhausted. MM got straight into her car with Whitey and Paula. Whitey will remove her make-up at Parkside and, I hope, calm her down. SLO and Milton retired to SLO’s dressing room for ‘a conference’, and I could hear angry voices. I think SLO wants to nip ‘this idiotic behaviour’ in the bud. The trouble is that Milton does too, but he doesn’t know how.
I went to the bar for a drink.
Thank goodness for Tony and Anne. I don’t think I could have driven all the way back to London. I’m completely whacked. But I’ve sworn I will write this diary every night and that’s going to be a good discipline.
WEDNESDAY, 8 AUGUST
Has anyone told MM that she’s meant to be at the studios at 6.45 a.m.? Perhaps no one has dared? Perhaps it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference?
I wonder what the usual time is in the USA. She turned up at 8.30 again this morning, quite jolly, and I even got a smile. But 8.30, early though it is in normal circumstances, is 1¾ hours late for us. Once again, we couldn’t start filming with MM until 11.30. All the other actors have to be called for 9.00 on the set, just in case MM does turn up on time, and there are only so many shots we can shoot without her.