Unsinkable

by Debbie Reynolds

  “You’re really something, Debbie,” he said. “You’re really funny.”

  I was so happy to finally get a laugh out of him.

  I really enjoyed working with Tommy Lee. He’s a brilliant actor who can do anything. He has a very winning personality.

  When the film was edited, Oliver called me and said he hoped I wouldn’t be upset, but most of my part was cut because the film was too long. I wasn’t upset at all. I had a great time working with these wonderful talents. Tommy Lee and Oliver were very kind to me, and it was an honor for me to perform in an Oliver Stone film.

  A few years later, Carrie and I were staying at a hotel in Santa Monica called Shutters. We were walking on the beach and passed Oliver, who was carrying his little child on his shoulders. I said hello, but Oliver didn’t acknowledge me. He just walked right on, in his own world, happy and not wanting to be disturbed. He heard me but he didn’t hear me. I understand that, and I totally respect it. Sometimes, as an artist, you don’t open that door that keeps you safe from the outside world.

  That’s Entertainment! III

  (MGM, 1994)

  In the middle of my increasing troubles at the hotel, I was asked to do this third installment of That’s Entertainment! Jack Haley Jr. was no longer involved. The movie was made to capitalize on his success with the first That’s Entertainment! and I find this a very commercial picture. The producers went to the MGM vaults and found every dance number or fun scene that hadn’t been used in the first two installments in the series.

  This included my solo performance of “You Are My Lucky Star” that had been cut from Singin’ in the Rain—and rightly so, because it wasn’t up to the quality of the rest of the movie. The song was in a key too high for me. It’s fun to watch, but certainly has more of a place in That’s Entertainment! III than in Singin’ in the Rain.

  Mother

  (PARAMOUNT, 1996)

  This was the first starring role offered to me in a long time. Still, the decision to do Mother was a difficult one. My hotel was in trouble, and I felt that leaving to go on location in Los Angeles could cause more problems. But at Carrie’s insistence, I met with Albert Brooks, and he gave me the job on the spot.

  Albert knew exactly how he wanted me to play the character he’d written. Right before filming began, though, my stomach ruptured. My X-rays looked like I’d been drinking Drano instead of champagne. Albert was patient with me when I reported to work only a few days after getting out of the hospital. He’s a brilliant writer and producer and a great guy, and I worked hard to keep up with him. I’ll always appreciate his patience during the shoot. (For a complete account, see chapter 11.)

  This movie continues to be one of my favorites. I’m very proud of the work we all did together.

  Wedding Bell Blues

  (CINEPLEX ODEON FILMS, 1997)

  My main involvement in Wedding Bell Blues was providing the location for this romantic comedy about three girls who visit Las Vegas to find husbands and land at my hotel just off the Strip. The details were handled by my son, Todd. They filmed me performing in my Star Theater, but that’s my only scene with the girls. I hope they had no idea that everything was falling apart around me.

  This was during a very low point in my life. I was under great stress and barely alive. As the three girls in the movie were looking for husbands in Vegas, I was fighting for my life by getting rid of mine.

  In & Out

  (PARAMOUNT, 1997)

  By the time I made In & Out, Richard was gone from the hotel but not my life. He continued to cause problems for me from the other side of the country.

  Scott Rudin, a coproducer of In & Out, and Herb Nanas (his partner on Mother) recommended me for this role as Kevin Kline’s mother. After I met with the director, Frank Oz, in New York City, they gave me the part.

  In spite of some artistic differences I had with Mr. Oz, which we worked out, the film was a delight because the cast was so superb. For the complete story, see chapter 12.

  Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

  (RHINO FILMS/SUMMIT ENTERTAINMENT, 1998)

  I guess you can say that I snuck into this movie based on Hunter S. Thompson’s book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream. When hipsters Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro drive up to a hotel in Las Vegas in a drug-induced haze, my picture is on the marquee as the entertainment. They decide to check out my show.

  “That’s a hot chick,” Johnny says as he gets out of the convertible and looks at my poster. Inside, he leans against my picture by the showroom and you hear someone singing.

  It could be me.

  I’ve never met Johnny, but I’m tickled that he says I’m hot in Terry Gilliam’s fantasy movie. Thank you, Johnny. He is one of my favorite actors. When he was learning sword fighting for one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, he and his coaches rented space in my North Hollywood dance studio for rehearsals. I was on the road, but was told that Johnny was delightful and polite to everyone who worked there. I was so disappointed that I didn’t get to see him. He’s just wonderful. I’m glad we’re in a film together, even if I wasn’t there—which sounds like my romantic life in a nutshell.

  Zack and Reba

  (ITASCA PICTURES, 1998)

  In this dark story about teenagers and young people who have issues with departed loved ones, I play the grandmother of a young man whose wife has died. In an attempt to stay close to her, he carries her skeleton around with him. He becomes romantically involved with a young lady whose fiancé has just committed suicide.

  My character reminded me of an older Molly Brown, but with bad wardrobe and hair. In the film, I shoot at birds from my bedroom window in the wonderful Victorian house that was our set in the Salt Lake City location.

  There aren’t a lot of good things to say about this movie other than that I loved working with Michael Jeter, who was so funny and delightful. Brittany Murphy was dear, but I didn’t have many scenes with her. The most challenging part was working with my fictional grandson, played by Sean Patrick Flanery, who was difficult for me to reach. He seemed to want to be James Dean, but he wouldn’t rehearse our scenes with me. James Dean always worked hard and studied with many teachers.

  All in all, my difficulties working with Sean were completely overshadowed by my joy in being around Michael Jeter and the lovely director, Nicole Bettauer. They at least provided a little relief from the disaster with the hotel.

  Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: The Movie

  (LEGACY RELEASING, 1998)

  Another animated film, this one about Santa’s popular reindeer with a shiny red nose. I do the voices of Blitzen’s wife and Rudolph’s mother, Mitzi, as well as Mrs. Claus and Mrs. Prancer.

  Rugrats in Paris: The Movie

  (PARAMOUNT, 2000)

  Again, as a voice actor, I have little to report, other than I was delighted to be part of this lovely film about the popular Rugrats characters. My hotel was gone, I’d divorced Richard, and I had hopes for building a permanent museum for my Hollywood memorabilia collection.

  And who wouldn’t want to play someone named Lulu Pickles?

  My next three films were made during the period when most of my acting work was in television in Will & Grace, These Old Broads, and the Disney Channel series Halloweentown. If you’re wondering why I haven’t mentioned that series before, it’s because it was all work and no good stories.

  Connie and Carla

  (SPYGLASS ENTERTAINMENT, 2004)

  Two ladies who share a love for musical theater witness a mob hit, which causes them to hide out in Los Angeles as drag queens. I was cast as one of the Hollywood idols the girls use as inspiration, performing some numbers with a bevy of drag artists called the “Belles of the Ball.”

  Basically playing my stage persona, I enjoyed making this picture. My only trouble was with one line. I had to tell Nia Vardalos and Toni Collette that I was ready to do my act: “I’ve got sheet music, gorgeous gowns, and a gre
at underwire bra.” For some reason, I couldn’t get this line out. It took many takes until I could say it correctly. “Sheet” was sometimes “shit.” This embarrassed me horribly, even though everyone was good to me during our work together. Other takes were ruined when the girls started to giggle because they could tell I was going up on my line.

  Our director, Michael Lambert, was so nice to me, saying I was a great broad in spite of my “off” afternoon with that damn line.

  During breaks in filming the nightclub scenes, I entertained everyone with sing-alongs while we waited for the next setup. My favorite was “Thing Be.”

  First I got everyone to practice singing “Thing be”—over and over.

  The audience in the nightclub scene sang, “Thing be. Thing be.”

  As they continued their chorus, I sang: “The color of her hair is a fiery, fiery red.”

  (“Thing be. Thing be.”)

  “Oh, the color of her hair is red.”

  (“Thing be. Thing be.”)

  “The color of her hair is a fiery, fiery red.”

  (“Thing be. Thing be.”)

  “So what color would her . . .”

  (“Thing be. Thing be.”)

  You can see this in the DVD extras. It was a fun shoot.

  Light of Olympia

  (SANTOON PRODUCTION, 2008)

  Yet another film where I’m a voice actor.

  I adore doing voice-overs. You can be creative and yet feel free as an actor. You’re on your own, so to speak. I especially love accents. At the very least, I look for an unusual-sounding voice for the character I’m portraying. It’s really fun. Just like in Singin’ in the Rain, voice acting gives me a “glorious feeling.”

  One for the Money

  (LIONSGATE, 2012)

  In this movie based on Janet Evanovich’s first Stephanie Plum mystery from the popular series, I play Jersey girl Stephanie’s grandmother. I had to do an accent that wasn’t too broad (like a New Yorker’s) but still made you think you were near the Turnpike. During the weeklong shoot in Pittsburgh, I got to work on a small but fun part, which is the kind I like at this stage of my life. My memory isn’t what it was in the 1950s, when I could memorize whole pages of dialogue in one sitting. Now I have to keep a little card in my hand for reassurance. Also, the director needs to know my limitations. Julie Anne Robinson was wonderful, letting me read over my material just before the scene, then calling “Action” when she saw I was ready.

  It’s been difficult adjusting to the way movies are made now. They are so much faster at lighting, sound, and staging than they were when I was at MGM. I’m working to keep up. I was happy to play this feisty lady who supports her granddaughter’s antics, and Katherine Heigl was a delight, as was the fantastic actress Debra Monk, who plays my daughter.

  Behind the Candelabra

  (WARNER BROTHERS, 2013)

  I made Behind the Candelabra a year after the auction that broke my heart and saved my life. I was thrilled to be offered this part in a movie with a major director and big stars.

  Liberace and his family were friends of mine for many years. Lee (as he was known) was a superbly talented man whose private life remained relatively secret until the AIDS crisis in the 1980s. When I was asked to play the part of Lee’s mother in Steven Soderbergh’s film based on Scott Thorson’s book Behind the Candelabra: My Life with Liberace, I was happy for the chance to play someone I knew so well.

  Lee and his mother lived next door to each other. He had a slot machine installed in the living room of her Vegas house, and Frances was always at it. To practice for my scenes with the machine, I put together a big box and my mother’s old-fashioned meat grinder and worked on my lines while pulling the handle.

  My first scene is with Matt Damon, who plays Lee’s lover, Scott. Matt has the most beautiful blue eyes and was very patient as we went over our lines together.

  Before filming began, Steven Soderbergh and I met at the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. To prepare, I put on one of my mother’s dresses, a gray wig, and a pair of glasses that would make any grandma happy, then waited for my new director in the bar of the hotel. When Steven came in, I waved to him. He probably thought I was an old hooker. He seemed a little surprised that I’d come in drag.

  Once we sat down together, Steven let me do most of the talking, which I adored.

  “Is this look all right for your film?” I asked him.

  I wanted his approval for the character’s appearance, which was a shocking transformation for me.

  “It’s fine,” he said.

  Steven is a man of few words.

  We agreed that I should wear a prosthetic nose for the part, as Frances Liberace’s features were much more prominent than mine. We talked at length about my friend and his mother.

  Steven is a wonderful director. He is soft-spoken but observes everything. He’s very knowledgeable about his shots, how he wants his scenes to play, and knows how to work with actors. I was thrilled to be directed by him. He’s so calm and easy on the set, using positive energy and feedback. He makes everyone comfortable in their work because he knows what he wants.

  My last scene is at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas. Sitting in the showroom where Lee performed for so many years, I had time to reminisce about my friend and the happy times we’d spent there. When all the news was full of reports that Lee was gay, I told people that I wasn’t surprised. After all, I had taught him how to fly. When he was doing his act at the Hilton, Lee would enter from the back of the showroom and fly over the audience to the stage. But first he had to solve a problem: his feet remained behind him and he kept landing on his face. Lee’s manager, Seymour Heller, asked for my help. By then, I had mounted so many shows myself that I was considered an expert at handling technical glitches. Fixing Lee’s entrance was simple. The rigging pitched him forward. Once that was corrected, Lee landed perfectly.

  Watching Michael Douglas play Lee was a treat. He worked so hard perfecting Lee’s smile and voice and mannerisms and did a superb job of re-creating Lee’s difficult piano performance. Doing that scene many times had to be exhausting, but Michael never complained.

  I knew Frances Liberace. She and my mother-in-law, Mrs. Karl, had the same heritage. I felt close to being able to perform her personality quite well. I’m told that I did. I wanted an authentic look to play Lee’s mother. She had heavy features and a thick accent. This is what I might look like without the face cream I’ve used for decades.

  During a break in filming, Michael’s lovely wife, Catherine Zeta-Jones, brought their children to my booth to introduce them to me. Dylan was twelve years old, and Carys was nine. I was so surprised and pleased when they started singing “Good Morning” from Singin’ in the Rain. Naturally I joined in. These beautiful children who knew my work touched me deeply.

  When we’d finished shooting, Steven announced that it was my last day so that people could say good-bye to me. I stood up and thanked everyone and offered to teach them an old vaudeville song. Then I led them in a chorus of “Thing Be”—just like I’d done on Connie and Carla. That always works well with a crowd and is a fun way to say good-bye.

  Thank you for listening to my tales of the real—and the unreal—things that have happened to me. Now that we’ve reached the end of this story, I realize that I’ve seen a few endings before.

  I caught the end of vaudeville when MGM sent seventeen-year-old Debbie on the road with Carleton Carpenter.

  I witnessed the end of the studio system, and with it the end of the spectacular movie musicals produced by the great Louis B. Mayer, Arthur Freed, and Roger Edens, with directors like Gene Kelly, Vincente Minnelli, and George Cukor. Working with talents like Gower and Marge Champion, Donald O’Connor, Bob Fosse, Fred Astaire, and all my costars and friends at the studios. I cherish the memory of them all.

  There were many who shared my love of Hollywood history. Jack Haley Jr., Mary Pickford, and other dear friends tried to save our memorabilia for future generati
ons. Now strangers will have to carry on that mission.

  For anyone who wants to become an actor today, the world is a very different place. The studios used to keep our secrets, protect us from the press, and choose our movie roles. They sent us on trips to every corner of the world. We met presidents and royalty. They educated us, dressed us, and gave us experiences few people have ever had. And in return for all this, we worked every day in a job that we loved—and got paid for doing it!

  In many ways, my life has been like a fairy tale. I kissed a lot of frogs, but I got a prince and Princess Leia. After thrilling triumphs and some terrible setbacks, I’m still here.

  I hope we all live happily ever after!

  AN EXCERPT FROM MAKE ’EM LAUGH

  3

  EARLY DAYS

  Some of my scrapbooks…

  I save almost everything!

  In the 1950s hardly a week went by when my picture wasn’t in some newspaper or magazine, or both. The same was true for Eddie Fisher, even more so when we got engaged and the press named us America’s Sweethearts. Once when I was still living in Burbank with my parents and Eddie was out of town performing, he sent me a telegram. (That was how you sent special messages in the days before the digital age— or even fax machines!) Eddie’s message was signed “Puzzled” and only half serious (I hope), but it shows what we were accustomed to:

  JUST PICKED UP A MAGAZINE AND DIDN’T SEE YOUR PICTURE OR MINE EITHER WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?

  In case you’re wondering, telegrams seldom used punctuation.

  But before I was a star and my picture was everywhere, there was my first magazine cover.

  LASSIE WITH A LASSIE

  When I was crowned Miss Burbank in April 1948, there was a flurry of activity surrounding the event. Not only were there talent scouts, one of whom eventually signed me to a studio, there was a lot of local excitement about the contest. I was in parades and other Burbank functions. My picture was in the newspapers in Los Angeles and Burbank.