Madonna

by J. Randy Taraborrelli

  “I don’t know that he’s ever slept with a man,” she later said to a reporter for the gay magazine the Advocate. “But he’s certainly not homophobic. I asked him once, ‘Would you ever sleep with a man?’ and he said he was sorry that he hadn’t but that now because of AIDS he felt it was an unsafe thing to start experimenting with.”

  After she felt she knew him well enough to do so, Madonna suggested that Warren retrieve his former trim and youthful shape by exercising with her. When he told her that he wasn’t interested, she was perplexed as to why a person would not want to “better himself.” Rather than let it go, she pushed on, suggesting liposuction. He was either hurt or insulted — only he would know which. The two then became embroiled in a heated debate about whether she had a right to have an opinion about his body, the matter playing out in front of friends at the Los Angeles nightclub, the Club Nouveau.

  “You’re the one who is always telling people that they shouldn’t judge others by outside appearances,” Warren said to her. “How dare you judge me? It works both ways, you know?”

  “Oh, please,” Madonna said as she sipped a cocktail, looking terrific in velvet hot pants. “You older guys are too sensitive,” she said, taking a drag from a cigarette. “I’m just being helpful. If you want to be fat and flabby, Warren, fine with me. Go right ahead.”

  To whom did she think she was talking? Sean Penn? It was as if Madonna hadn’t learned much from her experiences with her former husband, at least in terms of diplomacy, discretion and sensitivity. It now seemed to observers that she was being purposely cruel to Warren, maybe continuing an explosive theme in her relationships, whether consciously or subconsciously.

  Warren’s eyes turned as cold as granite. He began to say something, but stopped himself. Typical of him — he was not Sean Penn — he probably didn’t want to make a scene in front of so many witnesses. Instead, he sniffed his brandy as if a connoisseur before quickly downing it. Nodding pensively to himself, he then walked away, careful not to make eye contact with any observers. “Now what was that about?” Madonna asked no one in particular. “I hate it when he does that to me. That is so like my father. He is so like my father!” She then began biting on her knuckles, as if suddenly nervous or fearful.

  The argument may have continued the next day in a Hollywood restaurant. “Keep your stupid remarks to yourself,” Madonna said to Warren in front of other diners.

  “Oh, Christ! Grow up!” Warren countered, this time visibly exasperated.

  “No. You grow up,” Madonna said, petulantly. She then reached into her bag and pulled out a Snickers candy bar, which she threw at Warren’s chest. Both were apparently unaware that their display had stopped all conversation around them. Finally, hockey star Wayne Gretzky charged over to them, “Hey, you two,” he said, “knock it off, will ya?”

  After five minutes, Warren began cutting Madonna’s fillet of sole into little pieces, and then delicately placing each into her mouth with his fork. (Though Madonna was said to have been on a strict vegan diet at this time, which prohibited fish, she did indulge now and then.)

  Madonna declared to a reporter, again for Cosmopolitan, “What I’m doing this time is starting out being good friends with somebody.” She loved Beatty’s self-confidence, she said. “I used to want to be president,” Warren told her. “But Hollywood is better than Washington. Here, I have more power, and I don’t have to put up with the bureaucracy. I’m the president of Hollywood.”

  Madonna also enjoyed the manner in which Warren continued to pamper her. For instance, on the set of Dick Tracy he paid for a masseuse to wait on her at all times. He sent her flowers every day of shooting. One night after a tough day of filming, Warren took Madonna out to dinner to an expensive Italian restaurant. Wearing a sheer black-and-red polka-dot blouse, black bra, black hot pants and a red bowler hat — and chewing on a wad of gum — she sat down and promptly demanded a Diet Pepsi, a drink not on the menu. Diet Coke, yes. Diet Pepsi, no. “Well, we’re leaving,” Madonna decided. Warren then asked the waiter to go to a convenience store and purchase a can of Diet Pepsi.

  When the waiter returned, Warren peeled off five $100 bills from a wad and handed them to him. He then waved toward the Diet Pepsi as if he had just conjured it up out of thin air. “There you go, my dear,” he said to Madonna, “the most expensive soda in the world, and it’s all yours.” As Madonna laughed gaily, the waiter popped open a can and poured its contents into a glass of ice. After dinner, Warren and Madonna held hands under the table. Later, Beatty would say, “Because she’s surrounded by so much stuff, I don’t think people quite realize how much fun Madonna is. She’s an enormous amount of fun to be around and certainly to work with.”

  Warren thought that the fact that Madonna had tried to have her breasts insured for $12 million was “hilarious.” During the filming of the movie in late winter and into the spring of 1989, makeup artist John Cuglione literally had to glue Madonna into some of the skintight gowns. “I was terrified that she’d have an allergic reaction to the glue,” he recalls. “If I’d discolored a breast or inflicted permanent damage, she could sue me for a fortune. Worse yet, I’d be known as the schmuck who destroyed a national treasure.” When Madonna had the idea to have her breasts insured — interesting considering the history of breast cancer with her late mother — she asked Warren for the name and number of his agent. The agent told her that the amount she was asking for her figure to be insured was too high. “But I think each one is worth $6 million, don’t you?” she asked Warren. He had to agree.

  Madonna tried to be realistic about the relationship with Warren. She said that she didn’t want to be swept away by the excitement of being with him. “Sometimes I’m cynical,” she said wistfully to one reporter, “and I think it will last as long as it lasts. Then I have moments when I’m really romantic and I think: My God, we’re just perfect together.” Indeed, hope does spring eternal . . .

  Working with Warren as her director was not as difficult for Madonna as some thought it might be. Warren is known for directing his actors to film a scene twenty, sometimes thirty, times before he is finally satisfied. Many observers thought Madonna would be intolerant of such demands. “Even I thought it would be a problem,” Madonna observed at a press conference for Dick Tracy after the film was released. “Because of our close friendship, I thought there would be problems. But there weren’t. I respect him. He’s been in the business for so many years, how dare I question his judgment about anything?”

  While there may have been harmony on the set of Dick Tracy, there were growing problems backstage as Madonna and Warren hit upon important differences in their personalities. For instance, while Madonna was the ultimate party girl, Warren was a “homebody.” One night in the spring of 1989, Madonna took Warren to a dance club in a seedy part of Los Angeles called the Catch One, a notoriously popular gay hustlers’ hangout in the ethnic South Central district. Woefully out of place in his tailored Versace three-piece suit, Warren declined to get up and dance with Madonna.

  “Hey, Pussy Man, come on out here,” she shouted at him from the dance floor. Wearing a hooded sweatshirt under a blue denim jacket, shorts, boxers’ shoes and a leather cap, backward, she laughed, tossed her head back and beckoned to him. “Let’s have fun!”10

  The author — observing Madonna for a feature about her — watched as Warren stuck out his lower lip and shook his head. “No, I’m just fine,” he said with a weak smile. He then took a small bottle of allergy nasal spray from his jacket pocket and sprayed the medicine into his nose. “I can’t even breathe,” he complained, “let alone dance.”

  “Oh my God,” Madonna hollered back at him. “Quit your whining, will you?”

  Clearly exasperated by Warren’s conservative demeanor, she danced with a couple of shapely young women. Beatty sat on the sidelines, watching, wheezing and looking as though he was truly feeling his age.

  “I shoulda’ come here with Rob Lowe,” Madonna shouted out at Warren,
referring to the young actor she was also rumored to be dating at the time. “Now, he’s a guy who knows how to party hearty.” (The two were not in a serious relationship.)

  Warren just shrugged.

  The next morning, Madonna was at the Johnny Yuma Recording Studio in Los Angeles recording the vocals to the Stephen Sondheim songs that would appear on the album I’m Breathless (Music from and Inspired by the FilmDick Tracy). Wearing a low-cut, pink satin minidress over leggings, she stood in front of the microphone and sang the song beautifully while a roomful of people, including Warren, watched, apparently agog.

  Recalled one studio technician, “Madonna and Warren were happy together, but mismatched just the same. I remember the night she recorded the vocals to ‘Hanky Panky’ — which is about Beatty’s favorite sport, spanking. The atmosphere was so charged and intimate, I felt like I was intruding on something private. She was flirtatious. He lapped it up. She definitely knows how to keep a man interested. Plus, she was proud to be there with Warren. She wore him like a badge of honor. Some people whispered that he was only using her to help promote his movie. That seemed possible to me. But she was definitely using him, as well.”

  Later that day, in April 1989, Warren accompanied Madonna to an audition for the futuristic video of her song, “Express Yourself” (inspired by the 1926 Fritz Lang classic film, Metropolis). She had twenty dancers (some were only models who could also dance) in a lineup, finalists for the $1-million production (only Michael Jackson’s long-form “Thriller” cost more). Marching down the line, a gum-chewing drill sergeant, she sized up each candidate. To one long-haired fellow, she said, “Now, there’s no problem with cutting your hair, is there?” When he hesitated, she said, “Oh, give me a break. Yes or no!”

  Then, on to the next dancer. “What’s with that posture?” she asked. “Stand up straight,” she ordered. “Do you want this job or not?”

  Then, to the next one, “Oh my God,” she said. “Look at you.” She paused for a moment to scrutinize him. Then, she turned to Warren and said, “Look at the bulge in this guy’s tights. What’s that all about?”

  Warren didn’t respond. Instead, he just looked on with a bemused expression. “Man, she’s rather a bitch, isn’t she?” Warren observed to one of the choreographers.

  “Yeah, well . . .” answered the choreographer, his tone exhausted.

  “Or maybe she’s just showing off for me?” Warren wondered aloud. Looking troubled, he took out a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. Then he blew his nose.

  “Blonde Ambition”

  After they finished Dick Tracy, Warren and Madonna would have some time away from each other while busying themselves with other career matters. As he focused on editing Dick Tracy, she concentrated on her “Blonde Ambition” concert tour

  On Friday May 13, 1990, Madonna kicked off “Blonde Ambition” in Tokyo. With complete control over virtually every aspect of this extremely theatrical presentation, from music to sets to dancers to gowns, she would see the four-month tour through a total of twenty-seven cities worldwide. It was a truly spectacular show, the tour during which she wore the well-known gold cone bra designed by Jean Paul Gaultier (who had been designing such exaggerated bras since 1984). “With Madonna, it always comes down to clothes and shoes,” says her friend, background singer and dancer on the show, Nikki Harris. “Cone bras, bustiers, platforms . . . anything she could do to make it bad, she went for it.” Brazenly sexual dance numbers and moments of religious imagery commingled in a fast-paced, tightly choreographed, unforgettable extravaganza. Choreographer Vincent Paterson recalls that Madonna’s goal was that the cast “break every rule we can. She wanted to make statements about sexuality, cross-sexuality and the church. She did it.”

  Madonna brought her sexual image to a new, more controversial plateau by casually throwing in quips relating to sadomasochism. After performing the forties-inspired “Hanky Panky,” she joked, “you all know the pleasures of a good spanking, don’t you?” Then, in what may, or may not, have been a double entendre, she told the audience, “When I hurt people, I feel better, you know what I mean?”

  To add new life to classic numbers from her repertoire, such as “Like a Virgin,” Madonna lay on a scarlet bed attended by two male dancers, both wearing the cone bras strapped to their bare chests which they lovingly caressed throughout the number, the song reorchestrated somehow to sound Middle Eastern in melody. Then, to bring the song to a rousing climax, Madonna frantically humped the furniture while rubbing her body in a frantic, faux masturbation scene. If she was a “virgin” before the song started, she seemed determined to lose her maidenhead before it was through.

  At the time of the “Blonde Ambition” tour, Madonna was at the peak of her popularity. (When HBO broadcast the show on August 5, 1990, she reached her largest American TV audience: 4.3 million households tuned in, giving HBO its highest ratings ever for an original program. For those who thought the special was too racy for television, Madonna had a message during the broadcast. “You know what I have to say to America,” she said, employing a tough New York accent. “Get a fucking sense of humor, okay?” Then, pointing directly to the viewer: “Lighten up!”)

  While she was still in rehearsals for “Blonde Ambition,” Madonna decided to market a video vehicle tie-in to the concert tour. Thus far, her attempts to play different characters for the movies had failed. While the public did not seem eager to accept her in an acting role, it did seemed constantly transfixed by the Madonna character she had created. Certainly the outrageous, sensational, sarcastic and petulant side of the Madonna persona was based in truth. It’s part of who she really was at the time. Her vulnerable side, though, is what she usually kept from her fans, and when she allowed that aspect of her personality to be exposed it was usually in a calculated attempt to generate sympathy. Her concept now was to produce a documentary of her life while on tour. Although she would soon be seen as the character Breathless Mahoney in Dick Tracy, perhaps she reasoned that if the role didn’t interest her fans, they would, hopefully, enjoy seeing Madonna playing Madonna — on and off stage in the self-produced documentary. “May St. Jude, the saint of lost causes, find a way to bring that girl to her senses,” the privacy-obsessed Warren Beatty said when informed by a mutual friend of Madonna’s new idea.

  To direct the documentary, Madonna chose Alek Keshishian, a young filmmaker who had directed music videos for Elton John and Bobby Brown. A Harvard graduate, he had directed one small film — a rock opera based on Wuthering Heights (his Harvard senior project) which Madonna had seen and enjoyed. In all probability, Madonna’s gut instincts told her that the handsome, long-haired filmmaker with fresh ideas was the kind of hip, cool artist who could lend the film the right edge. “There was a mutual attraction,” Keshishian now says, “but it wasn’t necessarily sexual.” That attraction would soon bring Keshishian into Madonna’s trusted circle; he would become one of her best friends. He flew to Japan, where she was kicking off the tour, and began filming her in March 1990 for what would become a documentary entitled Truth or Dare (or In Bed with Madonna, as it is known in Great Britain).

  Madonna gave Keshishian full access to her world, complete entrée to her life during the tour’s four months. He and his camera crew would follow Madonna’s every move, while on stage and off, while in makeup and without, while being nice . . . and not so nice.

  I’m Breathless

  By the time Madonna began working with Alek Keshishian on her “Blonde Ambiton” documentary, she had already finished her next album.

  No doubt, Warren Beatty had realized that hiring Madonna as an actress would be an added bonus attached to Dick Tracy: the possibility that she would participate in the soundtrack of his movie. To a film studio, the release of a Madonna record several weeks in advance of a film in which she is involved would automatically amount to millions of dollars’ worth of promotion. When Warren Beatty gave Madonna the role of the gold-digging Breathless Mahoney, Disney (the film’s
distributor) got the benefit of a hugely popular pop star on the soundtrack, and Warner Bros. Records a good reason to release Madonna’s seventh album, I’m Breathless (Music from and Inspired by the Film Dick Tracy) in May 1990.

  Once upon a time, a soundtrack album was just that: a theme or love song from the film among a collection of incidental music also heard in the movie. They were usually only marginally successful in the marketplace. It was the unprecedented seventies success of the biggest selling of all pop-music movie soundtracks, Saturday Night Fever, that ultimately inspired film producers and record labels to rethink the notion of the soundtrack album as a viable, money-making concept. By the eighties, and into the nineties, record labels had embraced a different kind of “soundtrack” LP, one on which just a couple of songs from the film were heard. The rest of the music was provided by various artists not heard in the movie, singing songs that had absolutely nothing to do with the film. The concept became a cash cow for the labels — the opportunity to release an album with the promotional distinction of being associated with a film — and in most cases, a corny, blatant misuse of the term “soundtrack” for the rest of us.

  Madonna’s album would feature three songs she recorded from the film. However, her real challenge would be to write and produce new songs for the collection as well, songs that would have an authentic lyrical/musical connection to the film. Hence, the album’s subtitle, Music from and Inspired by the Film Dick Tracy. It would be a difficult job because the three songs Madonna would record were written by theater legend Stephen Sondheim. So, the new songs Madonna chose to record would have to be at least comparable in style to his. In Madonna’s favor, she would have a hand in producing the entire album — including the Sondheim songs — and her participation would at least ensure some measure of continuity. To help her with this ambitious project, Madonna brought along Patrick Leonard (who had become her most reliable ally in the studio), and recording-engineer-turned-producer Bill Bottrell (whose work with Madonna would serve him well in securing production jobs with Michael Jackson and pop rocker Sheryl Crow).