The best part of this movie for me was the weekends. During the week Dick Van Dyke, Jason Robards, and I worked like mad, but when we were done on Friday, my security guard, Zinc, would drive us to my beach house in Malibu. We’d drink and sing and laugh all night. Jason would sing along to the soundtrack from Mame. He was a happy drunk. I don’t know if his wife, Betty Bacall, appreciated his drinking songs, but I found him the most entertaining company. Lucky Betty, to be married to Bogie and then Jason. What wonderful men. When the party was over, Zinc was available to drive anyone home.
In the movie, the couple who divorce go through some mishaps and then get back together. Harry and I got as far as the mishaps. It seemed we weren’t aging well together. Neither has this movie, but at least it got some good reviews.
How Sweet It Is!
(NATIONAL GENERAL, 1968)
In a way, this comedy about an American couple in Paris trying to resist temptations was as true off the screen as on it. Lots of film people have on-set affairs and romances, but I must say that this was the only time I was attracted to someone in the cast. One of the men my character encounters in Paris is played by the gorgeous French actor Maurice Ronet, who really did it for me. Even if I had ideas about Monsieur Ronet, though, I wouldn’t have acted on them, because I was still married to Harry Karl. Although we were having problems, I was still committed to my husband. Besides, Maurice was gay, and I wasn’t Elizabeth Taylor! Leave it to me to have two strikes before anything even could get started.
This was a fun film to make. I spent a lot of time in a turquoise bikini. In one scene, producer Garry Marshall wanted me to be nude in bed with James Garner, who plays my husband. I refused to be completely naked. I argued with Garry, who finally let me do the scene wearing panties and pasties. James was supposed to be nude also, but he kept his shorts on the whole time. As the scene started, James was to turn toward me and give me a kiss. Sounds simple enough. Then I heard “Action,” followed by an oddly familiar buzzing noise. Jim had decided to play a joke on me during our love scene. He’d brought a huge vibrator to bed with him. I rolled over and grabbed it out of his hand. I swear it felt like a baseball bat. And I used it like one, chasing and clobbering Jim with it—while still dressed in pasties and panties.
Jim would come to our house for parties. He’d make small talk with everyone and then go into my son’s room and play slot cars with Todd while Harry and I and the other grown-ups were partying in the living room. He’s a sweet friend.
Our director, Jerry Paris, was funnier than anyone I ever worked with. He was always kidding. He went on to be a very successful television director of hit series, including Happy Days, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, The Odd Couple, and two of Dick Van Dyke’s series. He’s probably best known for his portrayal of Jerry Halpern, the dentist on The Dick Van Dyke Show. Jerry was sweet to everyone and so well liked. He had a short life and will be forever missed.
Jerry’s closest friend was Garry Marshall, who wrote and produced the film along with Jerry Belson. There’s nobody like Garry—one of the great comedy minds and the greatest friend you could ever want. He is luckily married to a true doll, Barbara. He’s a loving husband and friend.
What’s the Matter with Helen?
(UNITED ARTISTS, 1971)
In the summer of 1970, Curtis Harrington came to me with a book called Best of Friends, about two ladies in the 1930s who move to Hollywood from a rural town, hoping for a fresh start after their sons are convicted of murder and imprisoned. The complex story examines the lives of these women, one an overweight psychopath and the other a dancing teacher. Curtis was known for his edgy horror movies; in 1963 Time magazine called him “Poe with a megaphone” for his film Night Tide. I loved the book he showed me, and when a deal with NBC requiring them to bankroll two movies for me made it possible, I decided to do it. The script included musical numbers, which also appealed to me.
Otto Preminger had just made a movie called Such Good Friends, based on a best-selling novel of the same name, so we couldn’t use our book’s title. Since Henry Farrell, our scriptwriter, had done the screenplay for the huge hit Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? it was decided that we would try to capitalize on the connection by calling our movie What’s the Matter with Helen? I hated this.
I play the dance teacher, Adele, and Shelley Winters was cast as her troubled friend, Helen, who turns out to be a murdering crazy woman. And that’s what Shelley became—every minute of the shoot. Shelley was a method actress. I had no problem with that, having worked with many actors who follow the teachings of Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio. But whatever your school of acting, you don’t have to be nuts to play nuts. Shirley terrorized the entire cast and crew. She thrived on all her craziness and made everyone’s life miserable.
Even before filming began, Shelley got into terrible fights with Morton Haack, our very talented costume designer, who’d done such beautiful work on Molly Brown. One day during a fitting, Shelley screamed at Morton that he was trying to make her look fat while making me look thin—I was down to 104 pounds, which worked for my character. Morton reminded Shelley that she was fat, which Shelley in her saner moments admitted, usually when stating that she was going on a diet (which she never managed to do). Furious, Shelley ripped off all her clothes, stomped out of the fitting room stark naked, and left the set. She refused to wear anything that Morton designed for her after that. Shelley so soured Morton on working with actors that he quit the movie, returned to London, and never made another picture.
Shelley was irrational about every detail in the film. She wouldn’t show up on time, so I offered to pick her up on my way to work. It was a tense few months of production, which almost caused me to have a breakdown. I hyperventilated at one point, but fortunately was fine the next day.
Because of my deal with NBC, I was an uncredited producer on What’s the Matter with Helen? I was also taking no salary, thinking that if the movie turned out to be successful, the money would come in later. Shelley’s behavior did nothing to endear her to me, and after three weeks I decided to fire her. But the cost of reshooting her scenes with another actress would have put us way over budget. So we had to keep her, even though Geraldine Page was ready to step in.
But Shelley didn’t make it easy. In one of the last scenes of the movie, her character goes into a jealous rage because my character is getting married. To prevent me from leaving, Shelley stabs me to death. I told the prop masters to get rid of all the real knives so Shelley couldn’t actually do me in. I couldn’t risk her slicing me up just to stay in character.
Dennis Weaver plays my love interest and was a total delight. He was also a great kisser, even better than Frank Sinatra. Since my marriage to Harry Karl was breaking up and I wasn’t getting any sex at home, I thoroughly enjoyed my love scenes with Dennis. He couldn’t have realized how much I liked making out with him, as he was happily married and wasn’t a player. I remember him fondly to this day.
When filming was finally completed, I vowed never to speak to Shelley again, but I couldn’t keep my promise. I’d known her for so many years. At the wrap party, everyone reminisced about memorable moments from the shoot. I enjoyed reminding Shelley about her insane antics. She protested that she’d never ripped doors off their hinges, made hysterical scenes, or acted like a maniac; that I was making it all up. Only when the crew gleefully chimed in, “Yeah, Shelley, you really did that,” did she acknowledge that just maybe she might have been a wee bit out of line.
Shelley was never easy to take as a friend, even when we weren’t working together. Hugh O’Brian once escorted me to a party in Malibu that Shelley also attended. When we went into the living room, there was Shelley, with her full skirt spread out, covering two young men who were servicing her. Hugh and I left immediately, not wishing to spend time around Shelley’s doubleheader.
What’s the Matter with Helen? didn’t do well at the box office, but I think it’s one of my better performances. I just hated making it. I hated
working on a project that I believed in with a temperamental actress who made life miserable. Cuckoo and crazy—that’s what was the matter with Shelley! Still, in spite of all the difficulties, I love the finished film.
Little did I realize it would be my last appearance in a starring role for quite some time. My next part was also a lead—but you never see my face in the movie.
Charlotte’s Web
(PARAMOUNT, 1973)
I got this movie thanks to Lillian Sidney. She was having dinner with Richard Sherman, the younger half of the Sherman Brothers songwriting team. He told Lillian that he hadn’t yet settled on an actress to do the voice of Charlotte in the animated film of E. B. White’s classic children’s book about a barnyard spider who befriends a piglet doomed for slaughter.
“Stop looking,” Lillian said. “Debbie would be perfect.”
Even though I’m not crazy about spiders in real life, I love Charlotte, so I was happy to read for Richard and his older brother, Robert. As we worked in the studio, I kept reading more scenes. Finally I just said, “Why don’t you just use this? I can finish it today.”
They agreed, and together we did it that day. They were such a talented team. In 1965, I’d had the honor of presenting Robert and Richard with an Academy Award for their song “Chim Chim Cher-ee” from Mary Poppins. I was late getting to that awards show because Sydney Guilaroff spent three hours doing my hair. We arrived at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium just as the doors were closing. A few minutes after I presented the Sherman Brothers with their Oscar, Julie Andrews won her Best Actress Award for the same film. My children were happy when Mary Poppins won instead of their mother, because they enjoyed Julie’s movie so much.
Charlotte is a very special part for me, and I’m happy that children continue to enjoy this version of her story to this day.
That’s Entertainment!
(MGM, 1974)
MGM’s decision in 1970 to get rid of all their expendable things—including musical charts, tapes, and unused film scenes—caused a lot of us to worry about saving our history for future generations and was the reason I began my collection. My friend Jack Haley Jr. was an avid collector and film historian who also bought costumes and other items at the MGM auction. That’s Entertainment! was filmed on the lot that I had tried to buy from MGM to establish a theme park like Walt Disney’s.
What a spectacular love letter to film history this movie is! With care, knowledge, and passion, Jack manages to tell the story of MGM’s musical films from the 1920s to the 1950s, with tributes from their stars still living at the time, in one great film celebrating the studio’s fiftieth anniversary. Few people who grew up in the 1950s and ’60s had ever seen a Busby Berkeley number or the old classics. In 1974 there were no home videotape machines or cable TV. If you didn’t catch one of these jewels on the late night movie, you missed decades of brilliant films that were made by some of our best artists. In a stroke of genius, Jack introduced Eleanor Powell, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, and so many other MGM giants to a whole new audience. I believe the resurgence of interest in Singin’ in the Rain came from Jack’s use of the great musical numbers from the film in That’s Entertainment! My favorite number features Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell in Broadway Melody of 1940, tap-dancing to “Begin the Beguine.” It doesn’t get any better than perfection.
At the time That’s Entertainment! was made, I was performing on Broadway in Irene, so my part was shot in my dressing room at the Minskoff Theatre. When the movie opened, I was on hiatus from Irene and was able to attend the premiere in Westwood, near the UCLA campus. MGM stars of every era filled the theater. Fred Astaire attended with his sister, Adele, his original dancing partner. At the party afterward, everyone was thrilled when they went onstage to dance. Suddenly a very drunk Donald O’Connor scrambled after them and inserted himself into their routine.
Edie Wasserman, the wife of Universal Studios’ president, Lew Wasserman, grabbed me, insisting, “Debbie, you’ve got to stop this.”
With my dear friend Jack Haley Jr. He appreciated the value of film history, and That’s Entertainment! renewed interest in musicals like Singin’ in the Rain. Jack was also a memorabilia collector who worked with me on several attempts to create a Hollywood museum. I adored him. Licensed by Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All rights reserved
“Stop what?” I said. “I can’t stop Donald O’Connor from dancing.”
“We want to see Fred dance with Adele. You’ve got to go up there and stop Donald.”
Taking a deep breath, I stood up, climbed onstage, and moved behind Donald. Grabbing his shoulder, I spun him around and tried to dance with him. He hauled back to punch me, missing me by inches.
Jack Haley was the first to reach us, followed by two big men who picked Donald up and carried him down the stairs, out the back door, and onto Wilshire Boulevard, where they put him in his limo.
I returned to my seat, upset and embarrassed to be part of this scene, and left shortly after Fred and Adele finished their dance, still shaking. I had never been that close to a fistfight—and with one of my best pals!
It took a long time for Donald to forgive me. He said that I was wrong to interfere, that he’d wanted to dance with Fred and Adele. Eventually he admitted that he had been in a great mood because he had downed an entire bottle of Scotch.
That’s Entertainment, Part 2
(MGM, 1976)
That’s Entertainment, Part 2 is narrated by Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire. They do special numbers together as they introduce the many musical selections. The film built on Jack Haley Jr.’s devotion to film.
Dan Melnick replaced Jackie as the producer. The numbers in this sequel are wonderful, but it’s hard to top the first one. Even though the movie was well received, it wasn’t as successful as the original. Still, it’s a continuation of the great history of the MGM years we all love. And who can resist Kelly and Astaire, especially when they’re dancing together?
A year had passed between Charlotte’s Web and That’s Entertainment! It was another two years before That’s Entertainment, Part 2 was released. My last contract with MGM ended in 1973. By then, the old Hollywood studio system was a thing of the past. Harry Karl and I had also divorced around the same time. I devoted the next years to raising my family and touring to earn enough money to support us and pay off Harry’s gambling debts. By 1981, I was finally able to start saving again. In February 1983, I was back on Broadway, replacing Raquel Welch as the star of Woman of the Year. Carrie was a few blocks away, starring in Agnes of God. Later that year I taped a television special pairing stars with cars in Reno, Nevada, and met Richard Hamlett at a party. We married in 1984. You already know how that turned out. I’ll just say that it was a while before you saw much of me onscreen again. Here’s what I remember about those films.
Kiki’s Delivery Service
(STUDIO GHIBLI, 1989)
I was a voice actor for a very minor role in this animated Japanese film that was later dubbed into English. It’s about a young witch who runs an air courier service, my first film work of any kind in fifteen years. Movie musicals had long since gone away, and parts for middle-aged musical stars were nonexistent. Thankfully, I had my stage work to fall back on. Many actors my age just stopped working.
Richard and I were still together, I thought happily. My next appearance was a cameo in a hit film released the same year that we bought the hotel and my beautiful granddaughter was born.
The Bodyguard
(WARNER BROTHERS, 1992)
This was Whitney Houston’s film debut, about the life of a hugely successful pop singer, and was very much tailored to her talents. In addition to playing her bodyguard, Kevin Costner was a producer. He asked me to appear as myself in a scene on the red carpet outside the Academy Awards.
The shoot took a day and was very easy and pleasant. I met Kevin’s parents, who were visiting the set that day. They were so sweet and reminded me of my parents. I also briefly met Whitney Houston, who
was so nice to me. Who knew that we would lose her all too soon? She had the voice of an angel sent from God.
Kevin sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers afterward. You can’t teach people class. You either have it or you don’t. Kevin has it—as did Whitney, who also had beauty and grace.
Heaven & Earth
(Warner Brothers, 1993)
I made Heaven & Earth while I was still involved in the excitement of redoing my hotel to get it ready to open to the public. I was very surprised when Oliver Stone considered me for the part of Tommy Lee Jones’s mother in this final film of his Vietnam trilogy. I went to meet him in his Venice Beach office. Oliver is not a traditional member of show business society. He produces and directs his own movies, in his own way, and is so gifted and creative that his movies are terribly successful. He creates waves. I thought it was a privilege to be considered for this film.
When I met Oliver, I asked him to come over and stand by me so I could give him a hug, as if he were my son. I was surprised that he did it, sort of with a smile on his face.
“Well, you are sweet,” I said, patting his face. “I thought I would be afraid of you, but I’m not. Now you can sit down, dear, you’re perfect for the director.”
Oliver looked at me as if I weren’t real, then said, “Well, I guess you’re to be the mother.”
We talked about the character, how she had gray hair and a Southern accent. I told him that I was from Texas, so that would work.
“I agree with you,” he said. “You’ve got the part.”
I spent a lot of time in the background during the three-week shoot. I wanted this to be a different kind of role for me, which it was. The gray wig completely changed my look.
It’s a serious story about the struggles of a Vietnamese village girl during and after the war. Everyone on the set was so serious. In one scene, Tommy Lee and I had to put something in a car trunk. I climbed into the trunk and closed the lid, knocking on the inside as if I couldn’t get out. When Tommy Lee opened the lid, I smiled and said, “Hi, there!”
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