DFZ’s statement placed him smack in the middle of the factional fight within the studio’s board as to who will succeed Spyros. I think DFZ may be the man we are hoping for. Although his recent record as a producer is not good (most of his pictures lost money) he has a good record as a studio head and should be in Hollywood.
JULY 1, 1962
Sunday. The Italian crew refused to work today and I must say they are right.
Along with our American crew the Italians have been working days and nights all week long; most of them sleep in their clothes near the set at Ischia. Doc Merman has done a magnificent job prodding them. But we have been driving them too hard in order to finish here quickly, so they insisted on a day off.
JULY 2, 1962
Still no firm stand on Egypt.
One day we are going to shoot there, commitments are made, schedules planned. The next day Egypt is called off and we are to shoot the battle sequences in Spain and/or the United States.
JULY 5, 1962
Egypt is back on the schedule. We are returning to Rome to get ready.
— ROME —
JULY 7, 1962
Cable from Liz’s lawyer Martin Gang.
LEVATHES REFUSED TO REVOKE ORDERS TERMINATING ITALIAN PRODUCTION CLAIMS MAUSOLEUM SCENES NOT NEEDED PHARSALIA TOO EXPENSIVE
JULY 9, 1962
Liz wants to go to Egypt with the company but Doc Merman, who has talked with some of our Egyptian production people, says definitely not.
He was told that if she goes to Egypt there is a good chance she will be killed or there will be riots, because when she was married to Eddie Fisher, Liz made a large contribution to Israeli charities. Sounds ridiculous and improbable but Merman is convinced it would be dangerous for her.
JULY 11, 1962
Woke up tired on my 68th birthday.
Felt better after a visit with my doctor, who said I am in good health. Surprisingly, I am one of the few people on the film who hasn’t been sick a day.
We leave for Egypt on the 15th.
JULY 14, 1962
Up early and dictated a letter to Jerry Wald. At 8 A.M. I got a call from Giulio saying Jerry had died last night. A terrible blow. Jerry was a wonderful character, a great friend and he loved making movies. The rest of the day was gloomy.
— ALEXANDRIA —
JULY 15, 1962
Settled in at the Hotel Salamlek-Montazah, one of Farouk’s old palaces.
Alexandria is just as Lawrence Durrell described it in Justine—“long sequences of tempera. Light filtered through the essence of lemons. An air full of brick-dust—sweet smelling brick dust and the odour of hot pavements slaked with water. Light damp clouds, earth bound yet seldom bringing rain. Upon this squirt dust-red, dusty-green, chalk-mauve and watered crimson lake. In summer the sea damp lightly varnished the air. Everything lay under a coat of gum.…”
JULY 17, 1962
Confusion and misrepresentation as always.
One of the reasons we decided to come to Egypt was the government’s promise that we could have 5,000 soldiers of the Egyptian Army at $1 per man per day. When Doc Merman arrived here he met with a general who said nothing was settled yet and tried to raise the price to $4 a soldier. Doc is now trying to make arrangements to use local townspeople as extras in the battle sequence, which we always felt would be the eventual method of working.
None of our equipment—generators, trucks, jeeps, etc.—has arrived as scheduled yet. The costumes are not here nor are the barges, and we are scheduled to start shooting tomorrow!
JULY 18, 1962
7 A.M. Left for Edkou, a small and primitive village about an hour outside of Alexandria, where we shot one brief scene with Burton, then returned to the hotel for a production meeting.
General confusion: no manifests, Misair didn’t deliver the make-up and wigs required for tomorrow, the ships haven’t delivered the cargo needed tomorrow, twelve promised jeeps are nowhere in sight, our equipment is failing, trucks breaking down. It’s hot and everyone’s nerves are frayed to the breaking point.
JULY 20, 1962
No shooting.
Yesterday I got Fahti to call the Vice President of Egypt, who ordered customs to remain open all day for us, a major concession as Friday is normally a holiday here.
Today, after an intensive drive to get a special case to location it proved to be the wrong one. It was mislabeled. In addition, much of our equipment and wardrobe was shipped from Naples here on one ship in order to save time. Everything was carefully marked so it could be found, but when the ship got to Alexandria the crane broke down. Since the ship had a schedule it took off—with most of our equipment—for Beirut. Now we have to wait four days for the ship to return.
JULY 21, 1962
The extras rioted.
When Doc Merman found he was unable to make a deal with the Egyptian government for soldiers he arranged with a local agent to deliver extras to the location at Edkou for $4 a head. For today’s scene we needed about 5,000 extras including 1,500 light-skinned Egyptians who were to be Romans.
The agent imported 750 students from the universities at Alexandria. When they arrived on the set, the local people rioted—guns, clubs, and rocks. The locals refused to work with the Alexandrians.
The riot overran the twenty or so Egyptian army men and police on set but, happily, it was quelled instantly when three camel-corps men appeared on the scene.
JULY 22, 1962
More riots and confusion, with everyone behaving like Beau Geste just before the big blowup.
Our living conditions are difficult. We sleep under nets because of the bugs. There are scorpions in the location and sand gets into everything. We have no privacy—even the telephone calls are monitored.
The Egyptian papers had a big story today about a telephone call Burton placed to Liz in Rome two days ago. He told her in detail of the hardships we are facing. She told him with equal color how she feels about the Egyptians refusing to let her into the country—and what they can do with their country.
Despite the hardships and confusion and problems, we are proceeding on schedule with the filming. Our crew is wonderful.
JULY 23, 1962
JLM is suffering from exhaustion and with good reason. He has something wrong with his leg and is walking with a stick I gave him.
The biggest scenes have been filmed, despite the most incredible hardships plus laziness on the part of the extras. We noticed one of our horsemen in the distance in a scene wearing a uniform that was outrageously big. When the horseman was called in to find out what the trouble was, we found it was the nine year old son of one of the extras. His father who was asleep nearby under a tree had put his son in the uniform, then mounted him on the horse and sent him in to work.
Tomorrow will see the end of Egypt and—I hope—the end of the picture for the first unit.
JULY 24, 1962
JLM still ill. Shamroy is having blood-pressure trouble. One of the horses threw a rider, who was hurt.
By the end of the day, we finished the location shooting with the first unit, however, which meant that most of us were finished with the picture. We returned in the evening to Alexandria where Fahti and the San Stefano Hotel were hosts at a party for the cast and crew in the main dining room.
This was the last time that many of us would see one another again, and the wine and the occasion made for a surprising sentiment. I was glad that the picture was finally over but sorry, too. It had been four hard years, but while the picture was being made it was my life.
Everyone was called on to make a speech. Most of them were like Oscar acceptance speeches—interminable lists of credits and thanks.
What my own speech lacked in content it made up for in heartfelt emotion. “Tonight we are gathered here, within hours of completing the greatest attraction in the history of entertainment,” I said. “I wish I could give you all the reward you deserve—a Presidential Citation to the entire company would not be too much.
“I want to pay tribute to Queen Elizabeth, the reigning monarch of the screen, a woman of character and a fighter for ideals. And, I salute that great Welsh hero, St. David Burton, who has won all of our hearts and who is destined to startle the world with his dynamic performance. Tribute also to Rex Caesar Emperatur Emperata whose magnificent, sincere performance has thrilled us all. And to Roddy McDowall’s brilliant Octavian.
“I also want to pay my respect and gratitude to those who made all this possible—the magnificent infantry of 20th Century-Fox’s back lot; the artisans and technicians who met every situation; Leon Shamroy and his great crew, Freddy Simpson and his flame throwers; Irene Sharaff, who never missed a date through the long experience and during problems that have never been equaled in the history of Hollywood.
“We’ve had our defeats and dark moments but the light was always ahead. And when it looked as if the enemy was going to win, Field Marshal Montgomery Merman appeared at our Alamein with General Ike Erickson, and the tide was stemmed by Monty Merman’s hat and picturesque language and Ike Erickson’s calm and character.
“I wish I had time to tell you how much we are in debt to LaBella’s raiders, to Middlestat’s Marauders, to Jack Tait, Herb Cheek’s Shock Troops, Bundy Martin’s Reserves, Stuart Lyons’ handmaidens, Leo McCarey, Gilly, Ted Hall Moeller, Rosenberg, Rosemary Mathews, John DeCuir, Walter Scott, Eddie Wynigear—all capable soldiers. Each and every one of you deserves recognition for service beyond the call of duty, as do hundreds of others I don’t have time to mention. From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you all.”
It was a corny speech, but I meant every word of it.
FADE OUT
EPILOGUE
— NEW YORK —
MARCH 7, 1963
It would be pleasant to say that the trials and tribulations which characterized the making of Cleopatra ended with that day in Egypt eight months ago when I made my farewell speech. It would also be pleasant to say that the pleasures of fame and fortune made all our sufferings worth while and, that in the true Hollywood tradition, we lived happily thereafter. The truth is something else again.
A few weeks after we finished in Egypt, Darryl F. Zanuck was made president of 20th Century-Fox. He promptly terminated JLM’s services as director because, Zanuck said, Joe demanded full control over Cleopatra, a right Zanuck felt must be reserved for himself as president of the studio.
Ironically, Zanuck, who had earlier blamed “committee mismanagement” for the high cost of Cleopatra, reversed his stand once he came in as president of the studio. He blamed JLM for the high cost of the film.
When the smoke of charge and counter-charge cleared last month, Zanuck reversed himself again and reinstated JLM to rewrite and direct our additional scenes. As I write this, JLM has just completed filming in Madrid the Philippi and Pharsalia battle scenes—the same episodes which brought about our crises in Rome last June when the old management killed the scenes, saying there was not money enough for them. I am delighted for this vindication of our original script.
But this belated acceptance of our original program has caused an estimated $2 million to be added to our towering budget. The total cost of Cleopatra is now approximately $37 million.
The studio, following a plan outlined by Skouras a year ago, has already begun to sell Cleopatra to the public. People are lined up in New York to buy tickets. At this writing eighteen theaters have already guaranteed Fox $11.5 million on the picture—the largest advance exhibition contracts in entertainment history. From every indication it looks as if the picture will perform the miracle of making a big profit.
In a recent interview, Darryl F. Zanuck told the Wall Street Journal that Fox would break even with a gross of approximately $62 million. In reply to a question, he said he didn’t believe it is “impossible” for the film to gross $100 million world-wide in its initial run—the same estimate I made in December 1961, long before the picture was finished.
Meanwhile, what of the people who made the movie and whose lives form such an integral part of my story?
Spyros Skouras, who once ruled Fox with an iron hand and a Greek bellow, still sits at a big desk in Fox’s 56th Street offices—but only on Zanuck’s tolerance. Skouras’ bellow has been reduced to a whisper, but I believe there is plenty of fight in him yet.
Eddie Fisher has resumed his career and is successful again on records and in night clubs. He still loves Liz, just as I am sure she loves him.
Elizabeth and Burton are now in London making Very Important Persons, a modest-budget film in which they are partners, and which MGM is rushing to completion to capitalize on their tremendous publicity.
Thanks to Elizabeth and Cleopatra, Burton has become a very big star. His salary has more than tripled in the past two years.
As for Elizabeth, one thing is certain: she is made of far sterner stuff than most of us. When the day comes that she knows what she really wants from life, she will—I am sure—get it.
During the year Cleopatra was in production I watched Liz mature as an actress as well as a woman. I have nothing but admiration for the way she stood up under fire for her personal and professional beliefs. It is to her credit that despite unprecedented personal criticism she has emerged as the most important star in motion pictures today. The same publications which chastise her in print put her picture on the cover to sell copies—a blatant form of hypocrisy.
The fact is that everyone everywhere is interested in Elizabeth. It is not a far stretch of the imagination to compare Elizabeth with Cleopatra. She has the intelligence and temperament of the Egyptian Queen—and she has the honesty and directness that characterize all big people.
She also has one other thing that sets her apart from any other woman today—the most outstanding talent I have seen in any actress in the past generation.
When Elizabeth and I began Cleopatra four years ago, we hoped it would be a great motion picture, one the world would be excited over. I feel we have achieved our goal. There will never be another motion picture like Cleopatra, just as there never was another woman like her—or Elizabeth.
AFTERWORD
It was, and remains to this day, a film drenched in superlatives. It was called the most publicized movie of all time, the most expensive, the most reviled, even, at its 4 hour and 3 minute original theatrical cut, the longest film Hollywood ever released. Its star, Elizabeth Taylor, received the highest salary ever for an actress, a million dollars plus 10 per cent of the gross, and threw up the first time she saw it. Her celebrated costar, Richard Burton, claimed never to have seen it at all. It could only be Cleopatra.
It’s been fifty years since Cleopatra premiered on a June night in 1963 at New York’s Rivoli Theater, an event that both required the services of more than 100 policemen, the largest group ever assigned to a Broadway opening, and caused beleaguered writer-director Joseph L. Mankiewicz to feel like he was being carted to the guillotine in a tumbrel.
In that half a century, other films have caused a fuss and salaries and budgets have gone so sky high that Cleopatra’s once astronomical cost (estimates range from $32 million to $44 million) now seems almost quaint by comparison.
But Cleopatra still lingers in memory and legend, a cultural milestone whose significance is not exactly clear. It is not often revived these days and rarely reconsidered. While other epics once viewed as fiascos, like Michael Cimino’s Heaven’s Gate, have maneuvered their way from purgatory to critical respectability, time has so stood still for Cleopatra that seeing it again feels like a trip back to the waning days of a formidable empire. Not the last days of Egypt’s greatness, but of Hollywood’s.
For the key thing that remains a constant abo
ut Cleopatra is that it’s still difficult to watch without the real world intruding. Even now the fuss and the film remain so fatally intertwined, like Holmes and Moriarty headed over Reichenbach Falls, that separating one from the other is challenging and perhaps not even necessary. Because the things that gave Cleopatra notoriety in its day remain the qualities that fascinate today.
Key among those aspects was the enormous, still-impressive physical scale of the film, the huge number of objects that in those pre-CGI days were actually built by hand. These included the construction of an authentic harbor, a twelve-acre Roman Forum set bigger than the actual Forum, and a royal barge built to Plutarch’s specifications that almost ended up as a restaurant at the 1964 New York World’s Fair.
Not to mention (though everyone did) the 26,000 gallons of paint, 6,000 tons of cement, 150,000 arrows, 8,000 pairs of shoes, and 26,000 costumes. These clothes weren’t all for Cleopatra herself, though it sometimes seemed they were: the queen had only 58 costumes, including one of pure gold that cost $6,500 back in the day. All in all, the physical Cleopatra still impresses as the last gaudy gasp of a way of Hollywood life that rising costs and shrinking audiences were bringing to an end.
It was not just the physical backdrop, of course, that remains compelling about Cleopatra, it’s the legendary romantic liaison between Taylor, Hollywood’s biggest star, and Burton, called by actress Jean Simmons “an enviable cross between Groucho Marx and John Barrymore.” It was a stormy relationship that lasted more than a dozen years and included two marriages and two divorces. Its specifics never ceased to captivate the world because it both began during filming and echoed in uncanny ways the story the film itself was telling.
My Life with Cleopatra Page 18