A Star Is Born: The Making of the 1954 Movie and Its 1983 Restoration (34 page)

But it wasn't. What had infuriated Cukor was that Luft had evidently
taken it upon himself to get another writer to shorten the scene between
Norman and Esther at the Downbeat Club after he has heard her sing. It
was four pages, primarily dialogue, and was due to be retaken on February
18. Luft recalls that, in the early part of the month, "I called Moss and
said, `Moss, Judy and Mason are in the goddamn banquette talking and
talking, and I'm starting to yawn.' Moss says, `Cut the goddamn thing, it's
too long.' I said, `George won't cut it,' and Moss says, `You cut it.' 'I can't
cut it-I'm not a writer.' He says, 'There's a guy on the lot-he's capable, get him to cut it.' George wouldn't let anybody cut it, but we finally had
to do it because it was static and went on and on. But listen, I was the
producer, I had to do it. So that was the run-in I had with George. He
didn't want to step on Moss's toes; he thought that everything that Moss
wrote was a jewel, and indeed it was. But George was hotheaded, you know,
and he didn't want Hart maybe saying someday, `You cut my scene,' so he
wanted protocol to be his guide, to have Moss cut it. But he couldn't."

Whoever did the cutting did indeed nearly ruin one of the most crucial
scenes in the early part of the story. Cukor had read the newly shortened
version to Hart over the telephone in Laguna, and this prompted a telegram
from the infuriated writer to Warner, Luft, and Cukor:

I want to protest as strongly as I can at the way this scene has been cut. It
is their big scene together, the scene that kicks off their relationship and the
scene that establishes Norman Maine as the kind of person he really is. I
wrote it that way and it should stay that way. Whoever cut it has calmly
proceeded to take all the character and juice out, leaving it as dull and cliche
as possible, and that is exactly the way it will play if you don't restore the
cuts. Further it seems to me that since you ask me constantly to rewrite and
since I have the interest and courtesy to come out on my own to help in
whatever way I could, you might return the courtesy by letting me know
when this kind of grotesque and harmful cutting is being done. I hardly think
I deserve this kind of dismissal.

Warner, upon receiving Hart's telegram, looked at both versions of the
scene and telegraphed Hart: "When I received your three-way telegram,
I knew exactly who the culprit was and I knew you did too. Since then I
have had the scene re-written just as you wrote it. As a matter of fact the
re-takes start ... Friday. It is too bad that Luft did not talk this over at
least with Cukor before he put through the [revisions]." Luft had, as has
been noted, told both Cukor and Hart about his unhappiness with this
scene; evidently, neither of them paid the slightest attention.

In the end, Luft did achieve his ends, for the scene was considerably
improved by the rethinking of it. As Cukor wrote to Hart:

Since I did the big scene from Troilus and Cressida when Sid Luft tried to
re-write your deathless prose, I think ... it would be a good idea if you could
... divide up this scene.... In light of the unceremonious way [Norman] treated [Esther] on the Shrine stage, and all the hurly burly that went on
between them, the scene at the Downbeat Club now could be pitched much
higher, as it were, played more boldly. Their relationship has progressed
further [than it is] in the present scene. I should think the rather genteel way
that James now plays it would seem wishy-washy. He will be more bossy,
imperious, and she is obviously swept in with him. I love me telling you
the plot of the picture. We expect to shoot this scene later this week, so
the sooner we get the new lines, the better. This, of course, is contrary
to the Luft school of dramaturgy, which feels that a scene is all the better
if it is transmitted by telephone to a phone booth at a gas station, preferably
in Laguna. All has been quiet on the Potomac. Let's hope it stays that way
from now on till the end.

Evidently it did, for on February 25, Warner wired Hart: "All re-takes
have been made on Downbeat Club dialogue and really are wonderful.
What amazing improvement by breaking up scene from Club to parking
lot to process in car. All dialogue remains exactly as you wrote it. Know you
will be happy to hear this. Very best ... Jack Warner." Cukor elaborated
on these retakes in his own letter to Hart:

We have redone the terrace of the Mocambo [nightclub], and I must say,
it seems mighty nice. I think we have generated a lot of sex. She looks
attractive and the whole thing is a great improvement over the original.
We've already done the Downbeat Club and the parking lot, and it comes
off with a lot of zip and pep. She looks perfectly charming in a new Jean Louis
dress, and I know that this too is an enormous improvement over the way
we first did it-it has fun and spirit. It's been like pulling teeth because Judy
has really been under the weather. Walt Disney is breathing down James'
neck so we have to get on with it. As for me, I think I'll be doing The
Shanghai Gesture in the summer theatres this year, with me in the Mrs.
Leslie Carter-Florence Reed part, because who better than I can read the
famous speech "I have survived"? I hope all is going well with both of you.

George

What Cukor was actually planning for the summer was his annual
vacation in Europe. With the production nearing completion, he made
plans to leave in late March, leaving postproduction in the hands of the
professionals at the studio but making certain that he would return in
plenty of time to oversee the last-minute details of the film before it was sent to the labs for final printing, which was now tentatively scheduled for
midsummer. However, there were still more retakes to be done, plus the
three remaining musical sequences, including the big production number
for the film-within-a-film, which would transform band singer Esther Blodgett into movie star Vicki Lester. There was still some uncertainty as to
which of the three numbers written for this spot would be used. Also still
to be done was the final dramatic musical number, "Someone at Last"dramatic in the sense that it was a song arising from a plot situation instead
of being strictly a production number as were "Gotta Have Me Go With
You" and "Lose That Long Face" (the latter, too, had yet to be filmed).
The script called for Esther to perform this number in the Malibu house
in an effort to cheer up a despondent Norman after he has been fired by
Niles. Hart had lifted the scene intact from the original: Esther rushes
home from the studio to be with a lonely Norman, who, since it is the
servant's night out, has "prepared a little snack with my own lily white
hands"-huge sandwiches, a massive salad, and glasses of milk; they have
a love scene. Then, Hart wrote in a new scene:

Norman: "We're forgetting we're hungry." (picking up a glass of milk)
"Cheers! What went on at the studio today? The old alma mater!" Esther
forces a bright laugh and brings a smile to her face: "We started shooting
the big production number today-and it's the production number to end
all big production numbers! It's an American in Paris, Brazil, the Alps, and
the Burma Road! It's got sex, schmaltz, patriotism, and more things coming
up through the floor and down from the ceiling than you ever saw in your
life." She launches into the production number, taking all the parts herselfthe ballet, the chorus boys, the show girls, the director, the leading man, a
burlesque of herself, singing the main song, using anything she can lay her
hands on in the room for props. She leaps on and off sofas, turns over
chairs-it is a tour de force designed solely to make Norman forget himself
and laugh. And finally he does-wholeheartedly. She falls into his arms,
exhausted. Her own laughter joining happily in his.

For this, Arlen and Gershwin had written a sixteen-bar refrain called
"Someone At Last". Even though the song was intended to be a parody
of musical production numbers, Gershwin's lyric very subtly set the undertext of Esther's emotional longing. Gershwin's genius for using lyrics to
illuminate character and comment on situations is one of the most underrated aspects of his work on A STAR IS BORN. As pointed out earlier, the titles of the songs not only indicate the progression of the story but are
also reflective of the emotional and mental state of Esther/Vicki. The lyrics
express the unconscious love and longing that she cannot articulate to
Norman until it becomes apparent that she might lose him. Gershwin's
lyrics for the first three songs speak of Esther's pent-up emotion ("You want
a love that's truly true, gotta have me go with you"), her fear of loneliness
("the winds grow colder, and suddenly you're older") and her sense of time
wasted ("All the years that I wandered and pondered were squandered").
"Someone At Last" speaks colloquially of the near fulfillment of a dream
and of Esther's need for a sense of self-worth ("With my someone, I'll be
someone at last.") This subtext is consistent with all of Gershwin's lyrics
for the film and is remarkable in view of the fact that the song, as positioned
in the script by Hart, is performed by Esther in an effort to cheer up a
despondent Norman.

Garland had previously recorded this sixteen-bar verse and refrain, but now
a routine, incorporating all of Hart's descriptions, had to be devised-a
veritable tour de force. The problem in achieving this with the song as
written lay in the difficulty posed for the choreographer, Richard Barstow.
He had been struggling for some time trying to find an approach to the
song that would manage to incorporate all the elements that Hart had
indicated in his stage directions; but weeks before the number was to be
staged, he still had not come up with a concept that would enable Garland
to display the full range of her versatility and especially her considerable
comedic skills. Luft and Garland, knowing of Barstow's block, surreptitiously turned to the man who more than any other had been responsible
for her early successes at MGM. Roger Edens was a composer-arranger at
that studio in 1934, when the thirteen-year-old Garland had been signed
to a contract; a former pianist for Red Nichols's orchestra, he had played
in the pit bands for several Broadway shows and eventually had become
accompanist/arranger for Ethel Merman in the early stages of her career.
When Garland was put under contract, it was Edens who coached her,
worked with her, and became her unofficial advisor and protector. It was
he who had written the variation on "You Made Me Love You," entitled
"Dear Mr. Gable," which gave the youngster her first taste of fame and
public acceptance when she sang it in Broadway Melody of 1938. Over the
years, she and Edens had stayed close, personally and professionally; he had
even written her show for the Palace Theater, albeit uncredited.

Now, she and Luft turned to him for advice on what to do with "Someone at Last." In early January, Garland and Edens began working on ideas
at her home in the evenings, the only time the two could work, as he was
still under contract to MGM and she was laboring during the day on the
film. Edens picked up on Hart's idea of lampooning a big production
number by setting the song in different parts of the world, arranging the
song so as to parody Hollywood's presentation of various cultures: Garland
would play it as a French torch singer a la Edith Piaf, a Chinese sing-song
girl, a big-game hunter in Africa, and a Brazilian samba dancer, with a side
excursion into what they both called "early Judy Garland." Edens's manic
inventiveness struck sparks off Garland, and the two of them recorded a
twelve-minute audition record of the piece as they envisioned it for Cukor
and Barstow. The latter thankfully seized on the zany ideas and bits in the
skit, while Cukor, liking the basic approach, sent the record off to Moss
Hart, who edited the scene down considerably and rewrote the dialogue
and ad libs that Garland and Edens had improvised during their wild and
woolly late-evening sessions. This new material was then orchestrated by
Heindorf, using the Edens/Garland record as a guide, and Garland recorded this new section. Meanwhile, Barstow worked out the routine, using
the furnishings of the Malibu home as props. His staging was done with
very little help from Cukor, who remarked candidly, "I am not a musical
comedy director. I just don't have the experience ... or the assurance of
Donen or Minnelli. . . . I am not very skillful about putting songs in.
... It has to be natural ... the screen is terribly logical." The beauty of
this number, as far as Cukor was concerned, was that it was so logical.
Everything in it stemmed from the reality of the situation: Vicki ostensibly
singing to a playback, using only furnishings and other household items to
represent a movie camera, a concertina, a harp, maracas, and a tiger.

Garland and Barstow rehearsed the number very carefully over a period
of weeks; then Cukor came in to set up the manner in which it would be
photographed. "It was carefully rehearsed," recalls Cukor, "very carefully
rehearsed to give it the effect of improvisation, of spontaneity."

Even with the careful rehearsals, it was still a complex number to stage
and photograph, due to its length, the many tempo changes, and the
challenge of matching the action to the playback. Cukor began filming on
February 4, and according to the production log: "Camera and set ready
at 1o:oo a.m., Judy Garland worked from 11:00 to Too. First shot at 2:15.
Six takes of start of number, bars 1-16. Adjust lights for added business and
light changes. Took bars 17-36 from 4:25 to 5:30. Five takes. Shot bars 37-52 from 6:20 to Too. Five takes." The work continued at this pace over
the next three work days; then Garland called in sick, leaving Cukor with
nothing to do but shoot close-ups of Mason's reactions. Recalled Mason:
"I personally could have done without [this number]. It was quite a long
one and all [I] had to do was to laugh, smile, and chuckle for about five
minutes."