Σάββατο 3 Φεβρουαρίου 2024

"The Last Tycoon" film 1976 American Film magazine March 1976 Hollis Alpert "The Last Tycoon" Κινηματογραφικά

 




The Last Tycoon

film 1976

Hollis Alpert “The Last Tycoon”

American Film magazine March 1976

Κινηματογραφικά

 

 

 


Το εξώφυλλο  του περ.

American Film”, March 1976, vol. 1, Number 5.  

 ( Ingrid Boulting and Robert De Niro )

 

 

 


Robert De Niro as Monroe Stahr, Ingrid Boulting as Kathleen, in the forthcoming film version of The Last Tycoon.  

 

 

 

 

 

   Sam Spiegel, laden with Academy Awards, as producer; the vaunted Harold Pinter as screenwriter; the noted Elia Kazan as director; and a cast which includes Robert DeNiro as Monroe Stahr, Robert Mitchum as Brady, Jeanne Moreau as an actress, and, in somewhat lesser roles, Jack Nicholson, Tony Curtis, Ray Milland, and Dana Andrews.

 


Robert DeNiro in a tycoonish moment. Behind him is the actual intercom used by a Paramount executive in the late thirties.

 

 

  “What’s Spiegel like?” a friend asked me, afterward. I try to answer. I’ve met him several times over the years. He’s seventy-three now, and yet he has changed little, if at all. He’s a bit on the heavy side, but he always was. He has an accent, and it’s the same accent I knew before. Yet he speaks with precision, always searching for the right word, a little annoyed and dissatisfied until he finds it. “He has charm,” I say vaguely, “and a way of knowing what’s in your head. Say something he likes to hear, and he glows, almost boyishly. He can be kindly or very tough, and when he’s tough it comes across with regret and purposeful indignation.” I gave up. Sam Spiegel is Sam Spiegel, an immutable force.

 

   “I want this picture,” Spiegel continues, “to revert to that classical concept of movies which will attract audiences who have been alienated from theaters — from movie theaters — by violence. This picture has drama, but not melodrama. There is violence of temperament rather than violence of fists. Rather than a plot, there is a theme to this picture. No, there is both theme and plot. One without the other wouldn’t mean anything. I really hope it will be a picture that will bring back audiences who haven’t been to the movies in many years.”

 

   Sam Spiegel can afford not to make pictures, so it can be said that he’s doing this one for fun, and for love. Not that he doesn’t want it to make money. Perish that thought. A good producer produces successes, and he has more than enough to his credit: “The African Queen”, “On the Waterfront”, “The Bridge on the River Kwai , “Lawrence of Arabia”, to mention only a few. He’s had to wait three years for The Last Tycoon to get before the cameras. Another producer might have gotten something else into the works, but not Sam. This is the one he wanted to do.

   “Why?”

  “Before this Hollywood wave of nostalgia began,” he said, “I wanted to do a story about Hollywood as I had known it, to recapture the sense of what it was. I would walk onto a lot and see the emptiness, stages used for television series and commercials, if they were used at all, and I wanted to see them alive again.

   So I began making notes, putting down memories, notions for a story, and nothing jelled. I must have filled a few hundred pages, and I knew it wouldn’t work. Then it struck me that The Last Tycoon had already said it, and said it well. As it turned out, the rights were available. They had reverted some ten years ago to Fitzgerald’s daughter, Mrs. Frances Fitzgerald Smith. Lester Cowan and MGM had owned them for a time, and it had gotten as far as an Irwin Shaw script. I didn’t read that script, because I knew I didn’t want to do a Lester Cowan kind of picture. Others had been after the rights, but Mrs. Smith had very jealously guarded them and refused to part with them. When I approached her, she flattered me by saying that I was the only man she would let have the rights. That flattery was accompanied by a very exorbitant demand for money. But, why not?”

 

   Once he had the rights, Spiegel needed a director and screenwriter. He sent the book to a few directors he thought would be suitable for the project. Mike Nichols was interested; so, as it turned out, was Elia Kazan, who wrote him saying that The Last Tycoon was the one assignment that would turn him from novel-writing back to directing. Spiegel sent him the book. Meanwhile, negotiations with Nichols had proceeded to the signing point, and, as part of the deal, Buck Henry (whom Nichols preferred to work with) would write the screenplay. Kazan was hurt and indignant.

   But Buck Henry dawdled. He had other things to do first. Months went by, and finally Spiegel notified Nichols that another screenwriter would have to be found. Spiegel called Harold Pinter in London. Pinter hadn’t read The Last Tycoon; in fact, he had read very little Fitzgerald. But he promised a quick answer. The answer took two days to arrive at Spiegel’s yacht harbored in the south of France. Not only would Pinter be happy to do the script, but he would put aside all other work until it was finished.

 

    Spiegel had Harold Pinter meet him in California. They spent three weeks there together. The time was mostly spent with Spiegel showing Pinter Hollywood as he had experienced it and had known it. He toured him through the MGM lot, using a guide who had been at the studio—as a guide—for forty years. “One day,” the guide told them, “Greta Garbo came up to me and said she had seen me often and that she knew how much the studio meant to me. I cried.” The guide broke into tears again. Pinter made a note to include the moment in the script. It’s there.

   “Let me mull awhile,” Pinter told Spiegel, as he was about to leave for London, “and then we’ll see what I come up with.” Six weeks later he notified Spiegel that he had a complete first draft. “That draft,” Spiegel said, “is essentially the construction of the film as we’re doing it now. There have been changes, many changes; more than a year of changes. In fact, very early on, Mike Nichols was ready to proceed with it, but I felt it needed more work.”

   With the script close to being in shape, it was time to begin casting. “The Monroe Stahr part,” Spiegel said, “was simple. There were three names, and we could pick one of the three. The fourth doesn’t exist. Now you must remember that Pinter doesn’t exactly write an orthodox script. There are no technical directions, or directions for actors. The nearest thing to a direction is the word, 'pause’. The script is full of those 'pauses’.

   Even Kazan, when he came on the project, was puzzled by this, until he got to know Pinter and his methods. Harold does it deliberately. He wants the director and the actor to add their own creativity, their own cadenzas. He, in fact, forces them to do this.”

   The three names were Dustin Hoffman, A1 Pacino, and Robert DeNiro. No doubt the fourth name does exist somewhere, but it isn’t a star. An odd thing is that Spiegel simply won’t admit that the Monroe Stahr character is based on Irving Thalberg, yet Hoffman, Pacino, and DeNiro all bear at least a mild resemblance to the fabled figure. Is it, perhaps, that Spiegel sees a little of himself in Stahr?

   The Pinter script was sent to all three. Pacino never answered. Spiegel sent another, a slightly more refined version. Still no answer. Spiegel asked a friend who knew Pacino to call him. An associate of Pacino’s finally called to say that the script wasn’t right for the actor. “Thank you,” said Spiegel. “At least you had the decency to call up and let me know.”

   Dustin Hoffman did call. He wanted to talk about the part, but he was busy producing a play on Broadway, and, until opening night came and went, he was not in a position to read anything properly. Then there was the Lenny premiere, and Dustin was too tired to talk and wanted to head for London, from where he would send his observations on the script.

   “I received the observations,” Spiegel said, “through an actor friend of his, and was somewhat offended, but held my peace. In London, Dustin’s agent called Pinter, and gave him a kind of royal command: ‘Would you please come to see Mr. Hoffman at Grosvener House at such and such a time?’ Pinter sent him a wire to the effect not precisely to jump in the Serpentine but that he was unable to accommodate him.

   “Robert DeNiro, on the other hand, answered immediately, saying he would be delighted to do the picture, but he had two months to go to finish Bertolucci’s 1900 in Italy. So I waited, not two months but six months. But he had also arranged with Mike Nichols to start Bogart Slept Here, a Neil Simon comedy, as soon as 1900 was finished. That took precedence over my deal with him. So, a picture that was to start in the spring now had to be postponed until October, and it wouldn’t have started then if Bogart Slept Here had not been canceled.”

   There has been much gossip in Hollywood about that cancellation. Spiegel’s version is that DeNiro, the superb actor he is, was not suited for Neil Simon’s comedy, that Simon felt the casting was wrong, and that Nichols by now was dubious about the script. “Anyway,” Spiegel said, “everyone seemed pleased to stop the picture after two weeks of shooting.”

   But then there was another bombshell for Spiegel. Mike Nichols decided, regretfully, that he did not want to direct The Last Tycoon after all. “I don’t know,” Spiegel said. “Perhaps he was nervous, or wanted to get out of film directing for a while. But that left me with a script, a cast, but no director.

   I went back to Kazan, shamefaced, I suppose, but putting on my best mien, so to speak. I told him, truthfully, the whole story, and said, “I’d love you to do it. Forgive me, but I feel at this point you’d be the right person to do it.” He was really very, very generous about it. Kazan is basically a very generous human being. He wasn’t always that way. But in recent years he has mellowed enormously.” Spiegel smiled, a bit mischievously. “Maybe it’s the therapy of writing his novels that has mellowed him. One inevitably has ups and downs in any relationship, but after the first flare of misunderstanding, or resentment, there is always an attempt on his part, or on mine, to see the other fellow’s point of view. We have never had a serious misunderstanding on this picture, only some minor ones.”

   Spiegel held up a thick folder which had been lying on his desk. It was filled with memos from Kazan, he said. Kazan was a compulsive typist of notes to him. “You have never seen so many notes, pages and pages of them. He wakes up at some ungodly hour and types notes to me.”

   The week before my visit, there was night location shooting on Mulholland Drive, which happens to be on the top of the mountain that looks down on Beverly Hills on the one side, and the Valley on the other. Even in balmy Southern California, it gets cold up there at night. Heated trailers for the three actors involved in the scene had been provided for comfort between takes. But no trailer had been provided for Kazan. “He wrote me a letter in the morning,” Spiegel said, “as if I were the dispenser of trailers.” Spiegel began reading the letter with impish amusement.

   “Dear Sam,” it began, “I want some personal advice from you, friend to friend. It’s about my feet and a certain psychological problem I have....” The problem had to do with cold feet during night shooting on location, perhaps the most difficult kind of all. There they were, wrote Kazan, somewhere out in the high reaches of this faceless city, attempting to conquer technical problems that took the crew a long time to handle.

   Kazan had long waits between each shot, and had nowhere to sit down, no shelter from the cold, no place to study the script. Robert DeNiro had a nice bungalow on wheels, and Angelica Huston and Ingrid Boulting even nicer ones. The property people had a large truck with heaters and refreshments on hand. Kazan felt that all deserved these excellent accommodations, but that there was a neglect of the director of the picture involved. Could something be done in the future?

   “The letter goes on for three typewritten pages,” Spiegel said. “All he had to do was say in advance he wanted a trailer, and he would have gotten a trailer. But someone forgot to tell the production manager. But this enormously talented man loves to be babied, as I guess we all do. I must tell you, I was touched by it. I called him immediately and said I would personally see to it that he got all the trailers he desired, and that I was taking the matter up with the production manager.

   He said, ‘Do me a favor and destroy that letter. I’m ashamed I wrote it.’ I said, ‘No, that letter is the perfect illumination of our relationship. I’ll never destroy it, because it’s really beautiful to know that we are all children at heart, and we like to have parental care, friends’ care, someone above all to complain to—a wailing wall to go and wail before.’ ”

 


Sam Spiegel and Elia Kazan between takes at Paramount during the filming of The Last Tycoon.

 

  Spiegel’s own company, Horizon Pictures, had done the preliminary financing of The Last Tycoon, and he had first arranged to shoot it at the MGM studios, using, for the films within the film, some old MGM movies.

   “MGM was an empty studio at the time, and I wanted an empty studio. But by the time the oral deal was to be reduced to contract, MGM abolished its distribution, and their films were to be distributed by United Artists. Well, I don’t need two distributors getting wealthy on a picture; I prefer to have some of it for myself. Paramount immediately came in and offered me a better arrangement. ’’

   There was one important casting area that had been left to the last. Who was to play Monroe Stahr’s love object, Kathleen? Here is how we meet her in the novel, and more or less as we will meet her in the film:

 

 

   One of the women came sliding smoothly down the cheek of the idol, and Robby caught and set her on solid ground.... Robby turned to Stahr for judgement.

   “What will we do with them, chief?”

Stahr did not answer. Smiling faintly at him from not four feet away was the face of his dead wife, identical even to the expression. Across the four feet of moonlight, the eyes he knew looked back at him, a curl blew a little on a familiar forehead; the smile lingered, changed a little according to pattern; the lips parted—the same.... The river passed him in a rush, the great spotlights swooped and blinked—and then he heard another voice speak that was not Minna’s voice.

   “We’re sorry,” said the voice. “We followed the truck in through a gate. ’’

 

   Not only would the actress chosen play Kathleen, but also the dead Minna, in scenes of her film. The daughter of producer Roy Boulting, Ingrid, (her stepmother is a young woman her own age, Hayley Mills) had heard about the production of The Last Tycoon, and spent close to two years applying for the part.

   She first contacted, in Rome, where she was modeling, the then head of production for Paramount, Robert Evans, telling him she thought she was right for the part. He suggested she see Sam Spiegel. In New York, again modeling, and studying acting—she had done a few film parts in England—she contacted Spiegel, who thought she was too young for Kathleen, even though she was the same age. “But I am Kathleen,” she told him. Spiegel agreed to test her.

 

“I was searching and searching for the right girl,” Spiegel said. “And I still hadn’t found her by the time Gadge Kazan came on. I tested Ingrid Boulting twice —Gadge doing improvisations with her— and then took the tests to London to show Pinter. I wanted a consensus before making any decision. Harold Pinter was shocked when he saw the tests. ‘Can’t you find an actress?’ he said. ‘She couldn’t get into rep in England.’ But she looked right, and sounded right, and we cast Ingrid. I daresay Pinter is now eating his words. Worst comes to worst, you can cut together a performance, but in Ingrid’s case we don’t have to.”

   Time has begun to grow short; Kazan wants to see Spiegel about that night’s shooting. The golden head of Siva had not stayed on its underwater track, and Kathleen and Edna have nearly been thrown off into the studio tank. Can he look at the rushes and see what is usable?

  Spiegel, though, took a moment to reminisce. The mood of the film, the late thirties, reminded him of the time he came to Hollywood, and he wanted it understood that they were not telling a romantic, unreal story.

   “It was unquestionably,” he said, “a more romantic, more glamorous time. In those days, I was impoverished, but I used to give New Year’s Eve parties here. They were famous. A thousand people came. Charlie Chaplin came, and Hedda Hopper, and they were ready to kill one another. Bogey came, and Gable, and Howard Hughes. All Holly¬ wood was at my house at 702 Crescent Drive on New Year’s Eve. It was a corner house, and on New Year’s Eve the pool was covered with a dance floor, and over it was a huge tent. People came and went from ten in the evening until seven in the morning. The stars would arrive and sweep in, like royalty.

   “This New Year’s I gave another party, not at the same house, but a rented one in Truesdale, the newer section of Beverly Hills. Kazan was there, so was Willy Wyler, and Billy Wilder. They all used to come to my parties. We talked about the former days, and we all agreed that the quality of people then was different. Not better, but considerably more glamorous.

   Today a star doesn’t sweep in, he crawls. They come with disheveled hair and dirty hands and no ties. It was a black-tie affair. The young moviemakers who were invited came the same way. It would be condescension to put on a dinner jacket, and a concession to a life-style they don’t believe in. Without sounding too pretentious about it, I think people were more civilized then, had more breeding and grace—yes, grace—and it’s a quality that has gradually disappeared from the film scene. Those days people had it, some superficially, some substantially. Who in the hell really cares today?”

   Buttons on his telephone were blinking. He sighed, and shrugged. Back to today, and what to do about the golden head of Siva. I noticed he was not wearing a tie himself, but it seemed to me clear why he was so immersed in the making of The Last Tycoon.

    

 

The Last Tycoon (1976)

σκηνοθεσία:

Elias Kazan

σενάριο:

F. Scott Fitgerald (unfinished novel)

Harold Pinter (σενάριο)

μουσική:

Maurice Jarre

φωτογραφία:

Victor Kemper  

παραγωγός:

Sam Spiegel

έγχρωμον

διάρκεια: 123 λεπτά

Γυρίσματα:

Καλιφόρνια

Οι ηθοποιοί:

/ - Robert De Niro

/ - Tony Curtis

/ - Robert Mitchum

/ - Jeanne Moreau

/ - Jack Nicholson

/ - Donald Pleasence

/ - Ray Milland

/ - Dana Andrews

/ - Ingrid Boulting

/ - Peter Strauss

/ - Theresa Russell

/ - Morgan Farley

/ - John Carradine

/ - Jeff Corey

/ - Tige Andrews

/ - Diane Shalet

/ - Leslie Curtis

/ - Angelica Huston  

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[ ανάρτηση 3 Φεβρουαρίου 2024 :  

The Last Tycoon

film 1976

Hollis Alpert “The Last Tycoon”

American Film magazine March 1976

Κινηματογραφικά ]

 

 

 


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