My Week with Marilyn (40 page)

At last we have done MM's entrance into the line-up. As the Grand Duke enters through the fire doors and walks onto the stage, Elsie Marina can be seen joining the line in the background. She is in full stage make-up with a feathered hat. MM had bolted in from her recliner next to her portable dressing room in such a hectic flurry that most of the cast, who were agog to see this incredible creature at last, were disappointed. Then the whole apparition vanished again
just as quickly when Tony said ‘Cut.' Up until now, the timing of her performance has been set throughout the film by her, and this is by design. SLO saw that was something that you could not alter. Today's entrance required split-second precision of the kind she absolutely hates. There were many false attempts and too many people trying to ‘cue her in'. We only just had time to do the two-shot where Daphne tries to calm her down – on screen and in real life. MM looked overexcited to meet the Regent. It was as if Elsie was already wondering if he would be attractive and whether she could seduce him, and this is not the way the plot works. But SLO could not throttle her back. Perhaps she is happier hiding behind the heavy ‘stage' makeup; perhaps she feels that the end is nigh; or perhaps she had had an extra glass of champagne. (It is not that MM drinks too much, but sometimes at unwise times.)

One last big scene with MM. The Grand Duke is coming down the line. MM is in the foreground. She is panicky.

‘What do I do?'

Daphne consoles her. ‘Just say “How do you do?”' etc.

The manager of the theatre says ‘Miss Elsie Marina.'

Grand Duke: ‘And the little American friend of our heroine. How do you do?'

By this time MM is desperately trying not to anticipate what is about to happen. ‘How do you do, your Regent,' she says. ‘Oops,' and her shoulder strap breaks. As she nearly popped out of the low-cut dress, she instinctively turned from the camera, as if from a prying eye, but it worked well.

‘The damage, I trust, can be retrieved,' says a delighted Grand Duke.

Elsie, panting for breath: ‘Oh yes, I can fix it with a pin.'

The GD looks round. ‘Has no one here a pin?' All the men feel
their lapels, where flower girls have pinned carnations on them in the past.

GD: ‘I would be most happy to assist you.'

Elsie, still confused (and MM even more confused!): ‘No, your Regency.'

Pause while she scrabbles to fix the dress.

GD: ‘Charming.' He goes to shake hands. ‘Better not tempt Providence again.' Laughs. ‘Charming. Good night!' He exits.

Actually it is the same stunt that MM pulled at her original press conference with SLO in the USA and one that I expect she has often used to get attention. The hard part was to include it in a pre-rehearsed scene for the camera. But it's all done now, and at one stage that was more than we dared hope. Of course this isn't the end of the job, for us or for MM. She doesn't fly home for a week. We have two days of ‘post-syncing' in which MM will re-do her voice for the sound track. She must record any lines which were said off camera, and re-record sentences where her voice wasn't picked up clearly enough. (There hadn't been anywhere suitable to put a microphone when she was face down on the sofa etc.) But at least this means that she doesn't need to be in until 9 a.m. – which she hasn't been for a couple of weeks anyway – and she doesn't need make-up and wardrobe before work. Having said this, Monday and Tuesday have been set aside for possible ‘pick up' shots, and for those she will need to be dolled up exactly as before. Elaine will see to that. Jack Harris and his assistant are frantically assembling a ‘rough cut' to see which shots need covering. There is no question that we might have missed a shot by mistake, but it is extremely hard, over all these weeks, to make a seamless pattern and overlook nothing. So they will work tomorrow and Friday and all weekend. One thing is for sure – once MM has caught that plane back to the USA, that is it. No chance for one more frame of film of her, no matter how great the crisis.

So there were no celebrations. Milton says that he has arranged a party for Tuesday afternoon, after the last retake. But actually David
Maysles tells me that he has been left to organise it. And quite frankly he couldn't care less.

It was as if a great weight had been lifted off everyone's shoulders. SLO was looking relaxed and years younger. MM was cool and efficient. She never looks at SLO these days, or talks to anyone, but she listened intently to the sound editor's instructions and obeyed them to the letter. As a result she got through far more than we could have imagined, and, I must say, did it extremely well. Post-syncing is a knack, like formation-flying or dancing the tango. MM picked it up immediately, and even seemed to enjoy it. Her face and her voice would appear on the screen and she would watch intently, two or three times. Then she would wave her hand and her face would appear without the voice. She put her words in so exactly that we couldn't tell, in the director's booth, that it wasn't prerecorded. The song was the same. MM always enjoys music scenes and in the end we were all rather moved by this quiet, shy, firm voice. Just for once, MM could go back to Parkside feeling good about herself, but I don't think that is the memory which will endure.

This evening we had a long post-mortem. I was surprised by how much the Americans resented us. I have to admit that I had always assumed that we were the charming well-behaved ones, and the Americans were the trouble makers. Of course they see things quite the other way. They think we are cold, unwelcoming and clique-y. ‘Not you, Colin,' Milton put in, with a laugh, ‘or we wouldn't have let you in the house.' By and large, we have been as disappointing as hosts as they – well, some of them – have been as guests. In the end I felt sad and apologetic. We haven't exactly behaved badly, but
we have been very blinkered to other people's needs – to Milton's, to Paula's, to Arthur's and especially to MM's. It's not as if they had all been monsters in the Arthur P. Jacobs mould. Stupidly, I had assumed that we all had the same aim – to make a good film, on time and on budget. I see now that life is never as simple as that. Everyone, me included, has many other reasons for doing what they did. I really want to start a career, to make a good personal impression even if the film is a flop. I want to persuade SLO that he can't do without me and that he must take me into the theatre with him. MM wanted to change the direction of her career, to be taken seriously in a ‘classical' acting role, with a great ‘classical' actor. She couldn't expect to play Lady Macbeth straight away, but she wanted something that she could handle without relying solely on her sex appeal. For Milton, it was his first motion picture, his chance to prove to Warner Bros that he could deliver a film as executive producer. It was also a chance to make money. Being a photographer clearly hadn't made him as rich as he'd like.

What a pity that they didn't all sit down and work out what they wanted before the filming started. But then everything was excitement and optimism, and publicity. Serious thought was not encouraged. I understand why Mr Perceval was so grave, but he was the only one. SLO could claim that he'd scheduled rehearsals to be as well prepared as possible, but he and MM were both so on edge that a genuine dialogue was always unlikely. They should have had a quick affair together, and got onto each other's wavelength, at least. There certainly isn't going to be a ‘next time'. All that we can hope now is that we've produced a good film. At the moment it is impossible to tell.

Surely this was the hardest day of all. After lengthy conferences on Sunday between Jack (editor) and Jack (cameraman), Milton, SLO and Tony, they decided to do two more shots of MM, one more
shot with SLO, and, if possible, one shot of both of them together. We started with MM. Make-up, Hair and Wardrobe had all been called for a normal studio day. In a way they were pleased. It is so hard to change the habits you have acquired over 100 days of doing the same thing – we were like patients in a mental hospital when the front door has been left open. Carmen and Roger and Dario had been running round to find the right pieces of set. Jack had to match up the lighting, Elaine was at her strictest, scouring her notes and peering at frames of 35mm film through a magnifying glass. I wonder if anyone explained to MM that these shots are not to correct failures on her part, but to fill in gaps other people may have left. I doubt it, by her behaviour, but then it is pretty hard to explain anything by now. She turned up later than ever, fretted terribly and retreated again and again into her dressing room. All Jack (Harris) really needed were two shots of MM for insurance – one in her white dress against an out-of-focus purple room; and one in her dress and frilly coat in an equally out-of-focus hall. There is a piece of purple wall still existing (thanks to the foresight of Teddy Joseph), and many bits of hall, so that was all right. But MM behaved like a drugged prisoner of war. We did get both shots but goodness knows if they are remotely usable. I suppose they might be better than nothing. We will watch them in ‘rushes' tomorrow – in the morning for a change so – theoretically – SLO can ask MM to do them again if necessary. We also filmed SLO going to a window in the purple room, and looking back at camera. None of this seemed to harmonise too well with the original stuff, at least to my eye. It will depend on the skill of the two Jacks.

When MM left the studio, she did so quickly and furtively. She is supposed to come back tomorrow but we all know she won't. She didn't say goodbye to anyone, not even her personal dresser, who has been so loyal and patient, or to Gordon, her hairdresser.

We knew we would never see her again and, sad to tell, it was an immense relief. Poor Milton is very depressed. He feels a failure, but he would have needed the strength of ten men to have succeeded in all
his roles. He had been warned about what he was taking on by other producers of MM's films. But her appeal is so great that he shrugged them off. Even MM is not to blame. The great engine of publicity that surrounds her is unstoppable. Like some awful curse of the gods, it stalks her every moment, and one day it will crush her.

Back at Pinewood for the last time.

Another shot of SLO, this time with the camera looking up at him from the floor – the point of view MM would have had when she slid to the ground after too much vodka. No one can find the ceiling piece, painted with cherubs, to which MM refers, so we had to go without it. SLO was stony-faced. He is not a happy man at the moment.

By lunchtime it was crystal clear that we wouldn't see MM again.

Mr Perceval came in to supervise the winding down of the production. He has asked me to help him clear up in the London office for another 10 days, but he still has Vanessa, so he is just being kind. Then the production office will be closed and LOP will vanish, I suppose. SLO explained that he will start editing next week. To my great relief, he did make a definite date for me to come to see him in London at the end of January. ‘Don't worry, Colin. We won't let you starve. We'll find something for you to do.'

This is just as well as I got no encouragement from David at all. He sees me as part of SLO's team now – about to disappear with the rest of them. After lunch we did a shot of Dicky Wattis's stand-in's legs behind a screen – supposed to be in Elsie Marina's digs, while Dicky is waiting for her to get ready to go to the Embassy. MM had had a struggle to get into that tight white dress at the best of times. On camera, and helped only by Daphne, it had proved impossible. We desperately needed the ‘cut-away' to cover Bumble and the dresser going in to help sort it out. It was very sad not to see Dicky himself. He and Paul became great friends and I will miss them.

After the last shot was over, there was a great sense of let-down. Milton and David Maysles appeared and invited us all into the next studio, which is not in use. At one end there was a large trestle table covered with packages.

‘Men on the left, women on the right,' they called. ‘A parting gift to each one of you – from Marilyn.'

Everyone pressed forward to look. At the men's end the packages were obviously bottles – identically wrapped. At the other end were smaller objects which turned out to be identical leather purses. Each item had been labelled with the name of someone on the crew. People rummaged around, finding the present with their name on. Then one man, I didn't see who, walked across the studio to one of the huge round rubbish bins. He stood there for a moment, and then he just threw his bottle in. Immediately one of the ladies followed and threw in her purse. There was a sort of rippling murmur of anger and assent, and then everyone followed suit. Quite soon the bin was literally overflowing with bottles and purses, still wrapped and labelled – ‘Thank you from Marilyn Monroe' in David's handwriting. For Milton that was too much; he shrugged and grinned and left. I had already said my goodbyes as I loaded up the car this morning. I expect we will all recover. But it's going to take a long time.

We never saw Marilyn again, but we knew exactly what was going to happen. She would fall out completely with Milton Greene (she did, in 1957), and Marilyn Monroe Productions would never make another film (it didn't). Her marriage to Arthur Miller would collapse and end in divorce (it did, in 1961). She would become unable to work at all, and would eventually commit suicide (she did, in 1962). Had we been told about conspiracy theories and Kennedy connections, we would simply have shrugged our shoulders. The pressure of just being Marilyn Monroe was already making each day a painful struggle for her, and the end of the story was inevitable.