My Week with Marilyn (23 page)

Luckily I had Plod on my side, and he could speak to the police in their own language. But he is so unflappable and monosyllabic that we often did not get heard.

As the time of arrival grew near, everyone began to get very crazy. MM is like Desdemona: ‘It is the very error of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than she was wont and makes men mad.'
³⁶

By the time the plane from New York actually landed there were reporters everywhere. The first I saw of them was a bunch of yelling waving men in raincoats in Immigration. The Customs officers had lost their heads and been swept away. I suppose the very thought of searching MM's person had been too much for them.

In the middle of this rabble stood Arthur Miller, teeth clenched on an unlit pipe, grinning like an amiable crocodile. The girl he had his arm around was unmistakably Marilyn Monroe. She looked so exactly like her publicity photographs – blonde hair, white face, scarlet lips in a pout – that it was hard to see the person. Added to this she had on huge very dark dark-glasses.

Poor woman. She must have been very tired after the flight. I suppose her life is permanent chaos. As for Jacobs, on whom she depends for help and guidance, he clearly had only one aim – namely to create the maximum confusion and even physical danger. Then he could step in and appear to save her from the very problems he himself had generated. In the blur of faces and cameras, he would be the only one she would recognise, and turn to with gratitude.

AM had clearly decided to grin whatever happened and be steered by the crowd. He recognised no one, not even APJ.

Milton Greene was too small to have any effect. Plod and I are total unknowns. We flung ourselves into the crowd and only added to the confusion.

Somehow the police managed to steer this whole mad rabble into the hall set up for the press conference where SLO and Vivien were waiting. I left the main group and went to defend Vivien, with Gilman, as the riot spread all over the room. MM and AM were lifted bodily onto the podium, and I was glad to see one of the cops giving APJ a good jab in the solar plexus. (He later threatened to have all the police at Heathrow fired!) Everyone was shouting at once and MM just looked confused and frightened. Finally Rupert Allan got onto the stage and quietened them all down. He announced that MM would make a short statement and then leave for a private destination to rest, until the main press conference at the Savoy tomorrow. Then
MM took off her dark glasses and gave that famous smile and every flash bulb in the room popped at once creating such a blinding flash that she put the glasses back on immediately.

In a breathy little girl's voice, MM said that she was very glad to be in England at last, with her husband (looking fondly at Arthur), and how excited she was to be making a film with SLO. SLO got up to reply but no one took any notice and they all started yelling questions at MM. So he gave up and we literally strong-armed it to the exit.

MM and AM got into the Princess with Milton and APJ and they swished off with the four motorbike policemen in dangerously close formation. SLO and Vivien got into the Bentley with Gilman and followed right behind. I had to go to get the Bristol with Plod so the press cars got in between us.

When we arrived at Parkside House the press were lined up outside the gate with the four cops preventing them from going in. Plod persuaded them to let us through and we found AM and MM and SLO outside the front door on the gravel. MM had meant to thank the police outriders but who had got in and was trying to interview her but that little creep Donald Zec of the
Daily Mirror
. How
did
he get past the others? Plod and I moved across to chuck him out, but he suddenly put his hand round MM's waist. His photographer jumped out of the shrubbery and ‘flash', before they both raced off. I suppose MM is used to this sort of behaviour from total strangers, but it drove the pressmen at the gate crazy.

AM whispered in MM's ear, MM whispered to Milton and he nodded. Then he sent me over to the reporters to tell them they could all come up the drive for one last photo. MM and AM stood in the doorway and smiled, arm in arm, before disappearing inside. Plod and I followed and Milton introduced Plod (but not me) to MM and AM. I don't think MM took in a word, but as Plod is going to live in her house she will soon get used to him.

‘Well, we are going to bed,' said AM with a huge leer.

I thought this pretty vulgar. I saw MM notice it without much
pleasure, but she pretended not to catch on so perhaps she is smarter than she looks. AM certainly doesn't behave like America's most eminent intellectual. More like an overgrown schoolboy. But MM has a very appealing aura, even if physically she is not my type. A bit too exaggerated.

Before SLO left he had said: ‘I hope things are better organised tomorrow.'

I'll do my best but I think that even he has underestimated the press hunger for MM.

Except for the large crowd outside – and who organised that I wonder  — the press conference was orderly. In fact it was predictable and dull. SLO arrived without Vivien. He was already in a bad temper – nose out of joint, perhaps? Mr P came sniffing around to have a look at how things were going on and a squint at MM. Irving Stein and APJ were already there – what a pair. APJ had clearly lost centre stage to Milton, who arrived with MM and AM.

The Savoy Hotel had organised itself much better than the airport police. MM's party was 45 minutes late which allowed the flower of the nation's press corps time to make many ribald jokes. D. Zec was telling everyone who would listen that MM was a personal friend of his.

MM still had on her dark glasses and barely spoke above a whisper. AM mainly grunted past his pipe. I would say that they both had hangovers of several different kinds.

SLO made a speech of welcome, which I thought was a little bit patronising – although I'm sure not intentionally. Cecil Tennant,
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SLO's agent, was also on the stage. He is a bit of a bully and
interrupted most forcefully if he didn't like a question. Rupert Allan was much more diplomatic and more friendly. Tennant would not dream of acknowledging my presence, even though I am clearly attached to SLO's party. It is true that I'm pretty inferior but I don't like people who act as if they were ‘superior'.

Plod seems to be happily installed at MM's right elbow. He is like a lovely gruff uncle and when MM finally wakes up, she will be jolly glad to have him. I notice that she gives her coat to AM and AM gives it to Plod, so AM has already seen the benefit.

It's a bit like starting a new school. Everyone has to settle down and find out who the other boys are.

Very quiet day after the hectic weekend. Only Mr P, myself and Vanessa. We will leave the Tibbs group and the Parkside group to themselves, although I am sure there will be a lot of traffic between the two (about six miles). Everyone asks me: ‘What's she like? Is she beautiful?'

Well, she certainly looks like Marilyn Monroe, and not all film stars do look like their image. She has got a cute smile, but so far she only turns it on for the cameras. Her figure — and especially her bust – is fantastic but a little on the plump side. Problems – too much fakery: peroxide hair, dead white make-up, heavy lipstick, but that is her image. She looks confused too, lost, troubled. That's the MM image too, I know, but even when she's shut the door on the reporters, she still looks in distress, not just acting it.

She doesn't seem to be able to shrug off the image in private, to throw off her coat, slump down on the sofa and say: ‘Phew, let's have a drink.'

She gazes at AM as if he is a superhero, but I don't think he is that nice. He's clearly very handsome and very attractive, but good hearted, no. And she hasn't really got anyone else to depend on. A
girl like that really needs her mum, like Margot,
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but I'm told her mum is in a bin.
³⁹
Milton is clearly dependent on her, rushing round like all the others trying not to upset her, frightened of her even.

SLO is much too remote. He's going to be her director and that should be a close relationship, but he is quite clearly not in any way concerned with her personally. He is the supreme professional, expecting and assuming that everyone else will be professional too. (You can see why he and Vivien get on so well.)

MM does have the dreaded Strasbergs, one or both of whom are going to turn up any day now. (Their darling daughter Susan will not be coming for a month, I'm told. But Rupert Allan, who knows everything, says she is expected one day. Hooray – hope springs eternal.)

I wish SLO could be cosy with MM. He's strong and romantic with most women but he only gets ‘cosy' with men.

Speaking of which, Tony B is now permanently installed. He is delightful company, and he is going to be behind the camera most of the time. But I doubt if MM goes for that English charm stuff. She clearly adores the strong silent intellectual type, and Tony certainly isn't that. He is SLO's AdC at all times, and keeps his eye on him only.

I must admit it is exciting to be working on this production. The most famous film star and the most famous actor. But they should change the name.
The Sleeping Prince
always confuses people. They think I mean ‘The Sleeping Princess', as in ‘Sleeping Beauty', and they miss the slight Rattigan pun. If the film was called ‘The Naughty Chorus Girl' it would be more dramatic and easier to explain, but I suppose that would be like the old MM image, the one she wants to shed.

Milton phoned in a nervous state. He has heard that MM's dressing room at Pinewood is not ready yet (true) and he wants to show it to MM tomorrow when she will be there for the make-up test. (This is what is called the screen test, which I always thought was an audition. MM hardly needs an audition since MMP own half the film.)

Mr P is grim because he was specifically told by Milton that MM would not need a full dressing-room suite until filming begins in three weeks' time; and the main dressing room isn't even hired yet. She would normally just go into a make-up room with Whitey and then go home. Teddy Joseph was reassuring however. The dressing-room suite will be ‘made' today, and if necessary it can be used by someone else for three weeks and then done again.

I pointed out to Mr P that MM might not like the decor, and then it would have to be redone anyway.

‘Hmph.'

It is true that Milton is a fusspot and a perfectionist, but then so is Mr P so he can't complain. At lunchtime I phoned Plod at Parkside.

‘What are they up to?'

‘Playing trains,' said Plod, with a chuckle.

I hope they are going to get to Pinewood Studios by 9.30 tomorrow morning. Whitey has created a new make-up to match her new hair (a wig, of course)
⁴⁰
and her new image.

‘We will be ready to leave here by 8.30,' said Plod. ‘I heard her mention it to Mr Miller.'

So not only does she remember her appointments but also Plod overhears her doing so, which is very good news.

‘You'll have to leave the house at 6.30 when filming starts,' I said. Another chuckle.

I will get to the studio by 8 a.m. to meet David. He is responsible
for getting everyone to the right place at the right time, and it is time I did some work for him.

It goes without saying that she was late – but not very late, only half an hour. She seems to have a tendency to leave the house about the time when she is due to arrive at her next appointment.

Milton arrived early and was quite cheerful. He was very relieved to see Whitey. ‘She'll be on time for
you
,' he grinned.

The dressing-room suite is beige of course, but very very pretty, like a film set in the 1930s. There is an anteroom and sitting room and bathroom, all covered with deep Wilton carpet. The curtains are permanently drawn shut, and low table lights give a soft glow. There are flowers everywhere – a big bouquet from SLO and Vivien in the front.

Of course the studios themselves are very forbidding and I wish the sun had come out. It didn't look at all like California – more like RAF Dishforth.
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When MM did arrive we all got a shock — except Whitey, I suppose. She looked absolutely frightful. No make-up, just a skirt, a tight blouse, head scarf and dark glasses. Nasty complexion, a lot of facial hair, shapeless figure and, when the glasses came off, a very vague look in her eye. No wonder she is so insecure.

She bolted into her dressing room with Milton and Whitey and stayed there for 20 minutes. Eventually they coaxed her out, looking very tense indeed, and walked her to the small studio.

The whole idea is to film her first without make-up on, so she sat on a stool, under the bright lights, like a prisoner of war.

Milton spoke to her and SLO spoke to her but she did not listen. Then Jack Cardiff
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stepped forward. Jack is going to be the lighting
cameraman. He is very well known in the business, and has some excellent films to his credit –
The Red Shoes
etc. He is also very charming in a completely natural way. MM is smart enough to know that the lighting cameraman is the one who makes her look beautiful, but she clearly liked Jack as a person. He is kind and tolerant and doesn't put on that awful old public schoolboy charm that Englishmen so often think is the best thing.

I hope I can be natural too. At least I was in the RAF not the Guards. Of course MM never noticed me, but then why should she?

David Orton was in charge of the studio, and he's the Sergeant Major all right. He has a very loud bark when he wants quiet. After half an hour of filming from every angle, MM dived back into her dressing room and Whitey got to work. We had taken a whole reel of MM sitting there like a naked sausage and it was time for the transformation to take place.