Hollywood Hellraisers (41 page)

And what of poor Anjelica? She walked out of Jack’s life, this time for good, her dream of him fathering her children obliterated, leaving only painful thoughts of what might have been. The double blow of Karen’s kiss-and-tell revelations and the media scrum surrounding Rebecca’s pregnancy was the kind of public humiliation undeserved by a woman who had loyally spent the last seventeen years of her life devoted to the Jack project. Her fury must have been incalculable, as must her feelings of loss and abandonment.

I’m getting too old for this nonsense.

I
t was one of cinema’s greatest gags, Marlon Brando sending up his Godfather image as an ageing mobster in
The Freshman
(1990). It also marked the first time he’d shot on location in New York for something like fifteen years. On that first day of shooting in Manhattan, around Little Italy, word soon got out and the streets quickly filled with paparazzi and fans. Director Andrew Bergman was at a loss as to how he was going to get Marlon out without him being photographed or mobbed. A solution was found: Marlon was put into the trunk of his car, which was no easy task, and driven out.

For everyone concerned the film was a memorable experience. Producer Mike Lobell remembers receiving an alarming call from Marlon midway through filming, saying he was in a friend’s Lear Jet, flying out to Tahiti for the weekend. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back by Monday.’ It turned out that Marlon was phoning from his hotel and had rigged his room with sound effects to make it appear he was aboard a plane.

William Fraker was the cameraman on
The Freshman
, his first film with Marlon since
Morituri
back in 1965, and recalls the big man’s final day on the shoot. ‘We finished in the afternoon and Marlon brought a whole stack of photographs of himself and he sat on the tailgate of the grip truck for two hours and signed those pictures for every member of the crew.’

Still despising Hollywood, Marlon was adamant that none of his children would become actors. One of them, Miko, did gravitate toward the glamour of showbiz, for a time becoming Michael Jackson’s bodyguard, famously saving the singer’s scalp when his hair caught on fire during the filming of a TV commercial.

Quite naturally, Marlon felt closest to his first-born, Christian. Ironically it was Christian who was the most troubled Brando sibling, at various points in his life addicted to alcohol and drugs. After an abortive attempt to become an actor he’d worked at a host of menial jobs, including tree surgeon and welder. Christian didn’t get on that well with his brothers and sisters. His closest relationship was with his half-sister Cheyenne, a beautiful but troubled young girl who also dabbled in drugs. On the night of 16 May 1990, Christian, Cheyenne and her boyfriend Dag Drollet were over at Mulholland Drive. By the end of the evening Drollet was dead, a bullet in his brain.

There were stories and claims that Drollet beat Cheyenne, even though she was pregnant with his baby, and Christian wanted to teach him a lesson that night, scare the shit out of him. He got a gun and pointed it at Drollet; the two struggled and it went off. ‘And I saw the life go out of him,’ said Christian. Brando was at home that night, so too was Cheyenne’s mother Tarita. Both ran to the scene when they heard the shot. Brando took the gun from Christian’s hand, then he phoned the police.

Christian was charged with first-degree murder and the subsequent trial was a press sensation. It fitted horribly into the stereotype of the dysfunctional Hollywood family, something Brando had so desperately tried to avoid. ‘I think I perhaps failed as a father,’ he confessed on the witness stand. It was an attempt, genuinely felt or otherwise, to shoulder some responsibility for the crime, recognising that his tumultuous relationship with Christian’s mother Anna Kashfi had caused his son irreparable damage.

The full truth of what happened that night will never be known. Cheyenne fled to her father’s paradise island, safe from any attempt to extradite her back to the States. There she attempted suicide several times, distraught at being denied legal custody of Tuki, her young son by Drollet. Though she was placed in hospital and well cared for, nothing could be done for her state of mind and eventually in 1995 she hanged herself in her bedroom at the Brando estate. She was twenty-five.

Because the absent Cheyenne had been the only witness to the crime, the first-degree murder charge was reduced to voluntary manslaughter, to which Christian entered a guilty plea and served five years in prison. In 2005 Christian was in court yet again, this time pleading guilty to two counts of domestic violence after his ex-wife claimed he frequently beat her and threatened to kill her. This troubled man’s life ended in 2008 when he died in a Los Angeles hospital after suffering from pneumonia.

There’s something going on here that I really don’t understand, but I like it.

Although his entry in the international film encyclopedia described him as ‘the most freaked-out personality in films’, Dennis Hopper had calmed down greatly by the time the nineties began, though he still revelled in his image and was more than happy to let the old Dennis out of the cage for show. During one interview he was perfectly responsive and polite answering questions. Asked to, ‘get into character’ for a photograph, Dennis slowly removed his glasses, looked for a suitable place to put them, then walked over to the camera, stared straight into the lens and screamed ‘FFFUCK YOU!’

The success of
Colors
had also resurrected Dennis’s career as a filmmaker and he won two directorial assignments back to back, each presenting him with a unique set of problems. First off was
Catchfire
(1990), which Dennis also starred in as a hit man who first rapes and then falls in love with his target, played by Jodie Foster. Dan Paulson was the producer and still remembers his first meeting with Dennis. ‘This was one of my idols from the sixties, the counterculture,
Easy Rider
, he walks in with a white shirt, tie and a grey suit. He was driving a Cadillac Seville, not the chopper from
Easy Rider
, and it was a bit of a shock. He’d really changed his image; he was now more establishment, more of a serious artist.’

Working with a low budget, Dennis pulled in favours from acting buddies to swell the cast. ‘They all loved him,’ says Paulson. ‘And we got them for practically nothing: Dean Stockwell, Vincent Price, what a classy gentleman he was. I remember Joe Pesci on the set of the movie telling me he was going to leave the business, this was before
Goodfellas
, John Turturro, Charlie Sheen, it’s a great cast.’

Dennis’s relationship with Jodie Foster started badly though. On the first day of filming there was this long dolly shot of her in a hotel room and Jodie, who’d ambitions to direct herself, yelled: ‘Cut.’ Dennis wasn’t amused, as Paulson recalls. ‘He very discreetly took her off to the side to tell her, “Don’t ever do that again.” Ultimately he got on very well with her, but he’s in charge when he’s on the set, no doubt about that.’

Dennis’s next battle, however, he was never going to win. The backers were Vestron Pictures, who, when they saw the movie, didn’t like it at all, took it off Dennis and recut it themselves. He was furious – ‘I went nuts when I saw it’ – and ordered his name be removed from the credits and replaced by Alan Smithee, which is the standard Hollywood pseudonym used by any director who is too unhappy with the finished film to put his real name on it. It was like the good old days again, Dennis railing against the system. ‘He’s a guy that’s not afraid to speak his mind,’ says Paulson. ‘He has an opinion and he stands behind it. He just doesn’t cave in like a lot of filmmakers do who are thinking of their next job and play nice.’

Ironically, Vestron then went bankrupt so
Catchfire
didn’t receive a proper theatrical release. Years later Dennis returned to the movie and brought out a director’s cut on video, renaming it
Backtrack
. It’s a version Paulson prefers and he looks back fondly on working with Dennis. ‘As a director he knew exactly what he wanted, very decisive in making decisions. I knew the legend Dennis Hopper, and I saw beneath that and the legend was a very professional, buttoned-down guy.’

Dennis next took the directorial reins of a rather tired thriller called
The Hot Spot
(1990), casting Don Johnson despite never having watched a single episode of his TV hit
Miami Vice
, thinking him just right to play ‘An amoral car salesman/bank robber/fuck-the-women kind of guy.’ Asked if he had much in common with Johnson, Dennis gave a lengthy pause before answering. ‘We had some of the same girlfriends, which he pointed out to me.’

There was an air of tension on the set with Johnson scarcely endearing himself to either the crew or Dennis, who raised an eyebrow at the ancillary personnel that hovered around the star’s orbit: a cook, a helicopter pilot, a personal hairdresser and make-up man, a driver, a secretary. He also had a heavily muscled bodyguard on hand at all times. When the bodyguard sprained his foot and was immobilised, Hopper burst into laughter. ‘We had about ten people thinking, oh, good, now we can kick the shit out of Don Johnson.’

Wearing that dress is a step in the right direction.

In the new decade commentators wondered if a certain amount of lustre hadn’t worn off Warren Beatty, if his boyish looks had surrendered to the ravages of middle age and his box-office prowess faded. Out of all our bad boys the eighties truly belonged to Jack, who churned out eleven movies, critical and box-office smashes amongst them. Marlon was about as visible as Big Foot in a tutu, Dennis’s career resembled an out-of-control rollercoaster while Warren had managed a measly two features, both dubious in terms of bankability –
Reds
and
Ishtar
. Warren was now no longer considered a ‘star’ by the current cinema-going public, lapping up the likes of Cruise, Ford and Arnie. Luckily, Warren had maintained good relationships with high flyers within the Hollywood establishment such as Jeffrey Katzenberg at Disney, who’d bankroll his next film,
Dick Tracy
(1990).

Even Warren’s Casanova image was dented, looking positively prehistoric in this age of women’s lib and a youth-obsessed society. But he was still out there, chasing like a good ’un, maybe in an attempt to latch on to the kind of girlfriend that would make the world sit up and say, wow, he can still do it. If that was indeed his intention he certainly hit the bull’s eye with Madonna.

The affair essentially sprang from a business deal. Warren was setting up
Dick Tracy
and Madonna was aching to play snazzy seductress Breathless Mahoney, seeing the role as vital in salvaging her dire movie career. After exploding onto screens in 1984 with
Desperately Seeking Susan
, Madonna hadn’t found another vehicle to match it. Her personal life was in turmoil, too, with her marriage to Sean Penn about as stable as Paris Hilton’s knicker elastic.

Warren didn’t want Madonna, he was thinking of more experienced actresses like Michelle Pfeiffer or Kim Basinger. But her persistence was such that Warren caved in and agreed to a lunch meeting. ‘I know you’ve heard a lot of terrible things about me,’ Madonna said as they sat down to eat. ‘And I’m here to tell you that they’re all true. How about you? I’ve heard a lot about you.’ When Warren remained silent, she said, ‘Just as I thought. All true.’ After their meal Warren, as always the perfect gentleman, took the pop star home and they kissed hungrily, we might imagine, outside the door, after which Warren is alleged to have said, ‘We have lift-off.’

Whatever the misgivings about Madonna’s acting ability she was signed on, Warren eager to exploit the singer’s huge popularity with the MTV generation, who now made up the bulk of the movie going public. Let’s face it, most teens hadn’t heard of Dick Tracy, or Warren for that matter. Everyone was happy then. Well, except Sean Penn. He was livid, since Madonna had promised she’d undertake no major work in the next year so they could try and rescue their marriage by having a baby. When he heard she’d signed for
Dick Tracy
he became so violent that studio security guards had to drag him out of Madonna’s bungalow. Penn was now a very angry man, and at this stage in his life it was not advisable to be in the same continent as he was, let alone shagging his missus in the same town. He started following Madonna and Warren around as they began to date more frequently. He once parked his car outside Warren’s house as the couple arrived and was still sitting there come dawn.

Then, in a blind fury, he broke into Madonna’s Malibu home and, she says, assaulted, bound and gagged the singer, leaving her bruised and bleeding for nine hours. Madonna finally broke free and went to the nearest police station. Fearing reprisals, she was forced to hide in the house of her manager. Penn was arrested, but Madonna ultimately dropped all charges. Penn would later deny Madonna’s version of events. For Madonna, being around Penn must have felt like living in Peyton Place on acid. She wanted out and Warren, two decades her senior, was perhaps the sort of fatherly influence she needed. There was a benign element about Warren that appealed to Madonna, in other words he could be pushed around, unlike Penn. She felt she could be the aggressor in this relationship, a role that she had always preferred. No matter how much she taunted Warren she knew he’d never physically hit out at her. At worst, he might leave the room until he controlled his anger. ‘I understand rebellion,’ said Warren, ‘so I understand Madonna.’

Of course another attraction for Madonna was the Warren image, the womanising legend. ‘Sometimes I think he’s been with the world’s most glamorous women I go, oh my God? Then there is the side of me that says I’m better than all of them.’ They certainly made an odd couple in Hollywood.
Rolling Stone
called the affair vampire love. ‘She needs his credibility, he needs her youth. They are evenly matched legends, hers is louder, his is longer.’

They matched sexually, too. ‘He’s into all aspects of sexuality,’ Madonna revealed. ‘He says to me, “If you misbehave, I’ll just have to spank you.” I love that. Everything to him is living out his sexual fantasies.’ According to a Hollywood insider, Warren once telephoned Madonna from his car as he drove to her home, demanding she remove item by item all of her clothing, one at each intersection or set of traffic lights. Pulling into the driveway, Warren instructed her to ‘get in bed and wait’. Madonna must have been quivering as Warren entered the bedroom, anticipating the greatest bang since the one God let off.