Please enjoy some of my personal film-making memories. ~Shir

The Bliss Of Mrs. Blossom is one of those movies that you cannot remember filming…much less seeing. Although, it was a good film – I think! – it might have been a success at the box office if only the distributing studio, Paramount, had gotten behind it.

The Village Voice called it, “The sleeper of the year” and other reviews were very favorable to my co-star, Richard Attenborough and me. Variety called it, “A silly, and sophisticated material comedy, always amusing and often hilarious in impact.” One critic lamented that, “The financial failure of Mrs. Blossom could have been averted if they had changed the title to: ‘Adultery In The Attic.'”

My fondest memories from Mrs. Blossom was meeting and working with Richard Attenborough, now Sir Attenborough, a man of true gentility and style. His talents extended far beyond acting, and when we worked together in 1966, his mind and heart were already occupied with a picture he would ultimately direct, “Gandhi.” Richard was a lesson in passion. He was passionately obsessed with putting the life of Gandhi on the screen and talked continually about the concept. He made me question if I could feel that much of a committed passion for a project. He wanted me to play Margaret Bourke-White, a coveted role in the film. He was turned down for twenty years by every studio in town, and when he finally got the money to realize his vision, I was too old to play the part. Candice Bergen did it and the film “Gandhi” went on to win every award. It became a classic.

Richard is an Englishman whom I admire greatly, for his perseverance and a person who admits to guilt and responsibility for so much of his country’s past. He is ennobling and not afraid of seeming sentimental in his unabashed liberal point of view. He seems to want to wipe the slate clean and put the past right.

A far bigger disappointment to me than the failure of “The Bliss Of Mrs. Blossom” was the lamentable outcome of the 1968 election. For the first time, I began to take an active part in America’s political process, acting as a delegate to the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Perhaps it was Richard’s passion for wiping the slate clean that led me into a tragic, numbing experience, watching student anti-war demonstrators being clubbed into bloody submission by the Chicago police. This was my beginning, my baptism of fire into American politics, which turned into a long winding road that I still traverse even today.

Gambit was my entry in the crime caper sweepstakes that was taking place in films that year. My brother Warren had Bonnie and Clyde and I had Gambit, which was the story of an elaborate scheme to steal a priceless Chinese statuette.

The studio – Universal, had given me the power to select the director and leading man of my choice. At the time we were thinking of Sidney Furie as a possible director, so we screened his hot new film. Unfortunately Sidney was committed, but one of the actors in the film, the guy with the glasses, really caught my eye. His name was Michael Caine.

I selected him for my leading man and that was the beginning of a long, lustrous career for Michael. He would later say, “That’s how I got into Hollywood… she was very kind. All those stories I’ve heard about stars being awkward and standoffish – but here was a super star, one of the most powerful women in Hollywood, going out of her way for me. I’ll always remember her for that. She was the passport to glamour for me.”

I adore Michael’s acting ability and he tickled me with his dry sardonic wit. The media always felt there was a hidden agenda in my selecting him as my leading man in Gambit. I remember telling a reporter that there was no sexual chemistry between us off screen, if I would go to bed with Michael I’m sure we would just laugh all night. We couldn’t do anything else because we would be laughing too much.

When Michael arrived in Hollywood, he cut a wide swath through the single girls like a rocket with no resistance. He would report to work after a hard night’s play, stagger into his trailer, blast his Beatles records up to hyperspace, and try to get some sleep.

Michael was funny about his Hollywood escapades. He was most confused by American pantyhose and couldn’t figure a way to get into them, around them, or through them. I suggested he hang himself with them.

Michael takes a part and finds a laugh at every corner and I am so glad he never forgot his humble beginnings because that memory is the reason for the audiences’ continued identification with him. Long live Sir Michael.

The other studios said that it would be impossible for this opulent film, top heavy with international stars, not to make money at the box office. It was lavishly mounted and shot entirely abroad. But the film was internationally successful, as MGM had predicted.

This story line consists of three episodes that are tied together by successive ownership of a superb yellow Rolls Royce, which figures prominently in all stories. In episode two, I portray Mae Jenkins, girlfriend to Mafia big-timer Paolo Maltese (George C. Scott) who are touring Italy together with Paolo’s henchman Joey (Art Carney). In route they encounter Stefano, a handsome young photographer played by Alaine Delou.

George C. Scott was addicted to chess. Perhaps he was using it as inspiration for his character (a gangster) I don’t know. I couldn’t find out because he never talked. We starred together for a few months and never exchanged more than a “Good morning,” if that. He was very much in character, impeccable with his lines, but he only talked to his makeup man. George would wander over to him after every camera setup to complete the chess move he must have decided on during our take.

Alaine Delon was a French heartthrob. He was prettier than most actresses I had worked with and took half the salary he could have made elsewhere in order to work with this cast in an American film. He protested angrily when studio censors threatened to snip his hot love scenes with me, which were considered too hot for the screen… at that time. He felt his romantic scenes would make him a star in the United States. They did not, although the scenes provoked the otherwise jaded Italian film crew to applaud at the end of our steamy takes.

After the picture was finished, Alaine asked me to take a drive with him in a new racecar – a formula something or other. It became a surreal experience as we drove all night, from Italy to Monaco at 110 miles per hour. He told me at the beginning of the trip not to speak, as it would break his concentration and warned me that if I did not adhere to these rules, he would stop the car and let me out. We made the journey in record time. But, I flew back to Italy via airplane.

Filming of The Yellow Royce became a lesson of silence. Alaine Delon wouldn’t let me speak, George C. Scott refused to talk, and the director was hard of hearing.

This was my fantasy film! Every young girl has a fantasy about starring in a film that has lavish benefits. Well, how about a half dozen superstar leading men, seventy-two costumes designed by Edith Head with a $500,000 budget, seventy-two hairstylists to match the gowns, and a three-and-a-half-million-dollar gem collection loaned out by Harry Winston of New York. Pretty good perks, I’d say.  

I kept pinching myself to see if I would wake from this incredible dream but it was real! Thank heavens! After all I had become the number six box office attraction in America behind Doris Day, Jack Lemmon, Rock Hudson, John Wayne and Cary Grant… what a way to go! And my leading men were certainly not chopped liver. There was Robert Cummings who lived on vitamins, Dean Martin who lived on Scotch, Dick Van Dyke who lived on comedy, Paul Newman who lived, Robert Mitchum who lived on life and Gene Kelly who lived on the perfection of song and dance.

Once filming began my fantasy soon turned to reality! The filming became difficult… for me anyway. I had to adjust to a different leading man every two weeks and this was not easy for every good actor has his or her idiosyncrasies and that at times can become quite disconcerting and sometimes disruptive. It’s sort of like having a love relationship with a different man every two weeks. The give and take of the relationships have different boundaries and barriers that must be overcome to insure a compatible relationship, and in my circumstance, a good performance on the screen.

Everyone on the film felt that it would be a blockbuster! Unfortunately, we were all wrong.

Ironically, What A Way To Go symbolized the dream of wealth with it’s lavishness but the title and symbolism were not prophetic in reality. The film was a dud. But, we would all bounce back. That’s what actors do. And some of us came back with a vengeance that could easily be interpreted as a personal commitment to work harder in better projects. The other irony here is that this picture is now, almost 40 years later, considered a cult classic by many.

One of the most publicized and eagerly awaited films of 1963 was my next vehicle – ‘Irma la Douce’. It was based on a highly successful 1960 Broadway musical about a Parisian prostitute. The film was to be directed by Billy Wilder, probably the hottest director in Hollywood at that time. He had done ‘Some Like It Hot’ and ‘The Apartment’. Both of those films had broken records for box office receipts for a comedy.

Jack Lemmon was set and signed for the male lead, but Irma, it was reported, was to be played by Marilyn Monroe. After Marilyn’s death in 1962, Elizabeth Taylor was prominently mentioned around town as the front-runner for the coveted role. I felt the part would be disastrous for a Hollywood sex symbol like Monroe or Taylor. To me, Irma was more naive, wide-eyed and an innocent-looking, young thing, like I was in those days. I was surprised when Billy Wilder called me to say that he had been impressed with the chemistry between Jack and me in ‘The Apartment’. Then he asked when I could begin filming! I remember signing to do Irma without even reading the script because I believed in Jack and Billy.

Without Billy’s knowledge, Jack and I went to Paris’ ‘Les Halles’ district and spent two days in a house of ill repute to study and observe the working girls. This is where I met Danielle, the French hooker that I patterned my character of Irma after. Danielle spent hours with me. She explained the routines and skills required in her profession. I learned so much in those two days.

There are certain inalienable traditions in the world of prostitution such as never removing one’s shoes or the speed at which they accomplish their goals – sometimes turning seventeen tricks in an hour. There is an unbelievable sense of camaraderie and mutual respect among the girls, but there is also a sadness and spiritual emptiness in them. The realization that Danielle and many of the others were hooked on dope and were working only to satisfy their drug habits had a profound impact on my life. This experience reaffirmed my disdain for all forms of drugs and is still with me, even today.

Filming took place at the Goldwyn Studios where the Les Halles district was reproduced on several sound stages. Controversy surrounded the filming as many of America’s more prudish interests feared the film would border on pornography and there was concern that it might not pass censorship. After all, this was the 60’s.

The picture was released in June of 1963 and proved to be as controversial as expected. In some quarters it was criticized for its boldness and in others chastised for not going far enough. Still the picture had a healthy domestic gross and I received my third Academy Award nomination for Best Actress. I lost to Patricia Neal and her performance in ‘Hud’, but I did win the Golden Globe. During the ceremonies I was accepting the award and telling the television audience how moved I was during my sojourn among the Parisian streetwalkers. Then I cracked a joke about how I had enjoyed my research so much that I nearly gave up acting. Well, it was funny to those in the house audience, but not considered at all humorous for television. They pulled the plug on me! Such was the hypocrisy of the ’60s.

The movie Two for the Seesaw was based on a successful Broadway play. It was written by William Gibson and had starred Henry Fonda and Ann Bancroft. The movie version was originally prepared as a vehicle for Elizabeth Taylor and Paul Newman, but when casting was impossible to arrange, I was signed to play Gittel Mosca, a Jewish girl from the Bronx who lives a lonely life in Greenwich Village. Producer Walter Mirisch considered several actors for the part of Jerry, including Henry Fonda whom they considered too old at the time. (This Hollywood age thing does affect men, too.) Others under consideration were Gregory Peck and William Holden, but Mirisch chose Robert Mitchum!

Life is full of little mysteries and Robert was one of them. I had always had a crush on this man and it began to surface when the cameras began to roll. At first it was the kidding between us that Robert Wise, the director, couldn’t stand. Wise often displayed his displeasure. But, this thing between Mitchum and I had started and it was too late to turn back. Mitchum, a gentle giant of a man who seemed to have no ambition, no dreams to fulfill and no drive to prove anything to anyone, fascinated me.

I loved working with Bob. He was considerate and kind. He was never late and he always knew his lines as well as the lines of the other actors. He smoked his cigarettes, drank anything he could pour, and judged scripts by how many days he would have off. Yet, I believe he really cared about his craft. And about me but was to embarrassed to let anyone know we had fun together. We had a way of telling jokes and laughing right up until the time Wise called action. We enjoyed making the sudden, one hundred eighty degree transition from the light side into the depth of emotion that was required in any particular scene. Wise couldn’t adjust that fast and as a result I think he felt somewhat isolated from the party. And what a party it was. It was the beginning of a three-year relationship.

The film got mixed critical notices, but it did respectable business. Two for the SeeSaw was the seventeenth film I had done in seven years with Hal Wallis. It would be my last picture under contract with Mr. Wallis. I was tired of being a slave. I bought out my contract and headed for freedom in the land of make believe… Hollywood.

After my battle with story line on The Children’s Hour, I was ready for a change of heart and My Geisha was tailor made for that change. It was produced by my husband, Steve Parker, filmed in Japan, featured my young daughter, Sachi in a small part and was in some respects, almost autobiographical. My Geisha is the story of an American movie star, Lucy Dell, whose husband Paul (Yves Montabond) is tired of his reputation as the director of his wife’s films. He goes to Japan, determined to make an avant-garde film of Puccini’s Madam Butterfly, staring a young unknown Geisha.

What I thought would be a vacation with pay suddenly turned into a ritual study of the Geisha… not an easy task for a westerner. Although no westerner had ever been allowed to even enter the Geisha training school, I was granted permission to live with the Geishas for two weeks, learning the intricacies of the delicate tea ceremony, the Japanese dance and how to play the stringed instrument. I can remember the hardest part was the Japanese dance, an art so subtle that at times the movements were barely discernible.

Learning to act like a Geisha was easy for me, but what I had to go through to look like one – well, that was another matter. First, I had to wear contact lenses to change my eye color from blue to brown. Next, my eyes were pulled back with adhesive tape to form a slant and then I had to don a Zolb wig and 25 pound costume to complete the transition. At first the contact lenses made me feel sick to my stomach and once I fainted right off my chair and if wasn’t bad enough my heavy wig and costume caused me to slip a disc in my back. I had to wear a steel corset for four weeks. Attaching gauze, spirit gum and liquid adhesive to the corners of my eyes made them look slanted. Strings were then attached to the gauze and pulled tight around my head. I remember my temples getting so raw from ripping off the gauze that at the end of the picture they had to shoot me from the other side so that the red raw flesh wouldn’t show. Meanwhile the contact lenses were in my eyes grinding away, especially when – in the scene where I am singing on the hill – the smoke made my eyes tear and my throat burn.

My sojourn in Japan lasted seven months, although filming  My Geisha was only ten weeks. I spent happy time with Steve and Sachi in this wonderful land of ancient enchantment until I had to return to Hollywood for the film Two for The Seesaw.

1961 proved to be an uneasy mix for my career and personal life. I had lost the Oscar for “The Apartment” but had won the British Academy Award and The Venice film festival designation as Best Actress. My husband, Steve Parker, was having tremendous success with an international tour of “Holiday in Japan,” which played over a three-year period in New York, Los Angeles, Las Vegas and dozens of other American Cities. 

I was still locked into Hal Wallis’s contract, which eliminated any artistic freedom for my choice of films and roles. With the exception of “The Apartment,” I continued to find myself starring in thin, sex-farce comedies. And “All In A Night’s Work” was no exception.

The only excitement from “All In A Night’s Work” was working with Dino once again. This was my fifth screen appearance with Dean Martin (“Artists And Models,” “Some Came Running,” “Career,” and “Oceans Eleven”) so Dino and I had become good friends and yes, I had a big crush on him as well. I would do a picture any time, any place with him. Films were fun with Dino. You were laughing and playing gin right until the camera rolled. There was only one Dino! God bless him.

The only excitement from “All In A Night’s Work” was working with Dino once again. This was my fifth screen appearance with Dean Martin (“Artists And Models,” “Some Came Running,” “Career,” and “Oceans Eleven”) so Dino and I had become good friends and yes, I had a big crush on him as well. I would do a picture any time, any place with him. Films were fun with Dino. You were laughing and playing gin right until the camera rolled. There was only one Dino! God bless him.

While we were filming “All In A Night’s Work,” I developed a serious crush on Dean. By now I finally become a “girl” to him rather than a mascot. I didn’t know what to do about it. So, one night after work I stopped by his house to talk. I didn’t know what I was going to say when Jeanne, his wife, opened the door and ushered me into the living room where seven children who had just finished dinner were playing. It was mayhem. The air was thick with family interplay, as I waited on the couch while Jeanne called Dean.

He came down stairs, saw me, walked over, and embraced me. “Hi sweetheart” he said. “Wow. You came to see me? Hey kids, look who’s here. Well, sweetheart, how can I help you?” He looked into my eyes. I swallowed hard wondering if he knew what I was feeling, but the reality of what I was doing hit me full force and I responded in a truly mundane manner. “Oh, I just wanted to let you know how much I’ve enjoyed working with you. I think you are brilliant.” Dean held my hand and smiled “I feel the same about you, sweetheart. You’re the best.” I excused myself as gracefully as I could and left. I felt like an idiot. To this day I don’t know if he knew what was on my mind, but he will always hold a special place in my heart.  

I had completed, Ask Any Girl at MGM and Career back at Paramount when I received a call from Frank Sinatra. “Hey kid, I want to do Can-Can. I like this! Do you like the music? Do you like Cole Porter? Do you want to dance”?

My response was, “Oh my God! Yes!”

What Frank didn’t know was that the night I replaced Carol Haney in Pajama Game on Broadway was the night I had planned on quitting the show. Carol’s record of durability was well known on Broadway and because of this I felt I would never get the opportunity for a starring role, so I had planned on going down to the Schubert theater that evening and applying as an understudy to Gwen Verdon. In fact, I had my notice in my pocket when I arrived at the theater and was informed that Carol had gone down due to an ankle injury and, as her understudy, I was immediately thrust into the starring role. I knew Can-Can front and backwards. I knew the Adam and Eve ballet, the French Lido numbers and I knew that there were two separate parts to the story, so Can-Can meant a lot to me.

I introduced Frank to Juliet Prowse, a beautiful, tall and fabulous dancer from South Africa and watched that love affair blossom on set and pretty soon they were engaged. I had introduced Mike Todd to Elizabeth Taylor while filming Around The World In 80 Days and they were married. So as a ‘Matchmaker’ (pun intended) I was batting 500… Frank and Juliet never consummated their engagement through marriage.

Frank never rehearsed, never shot a scene twice and rarely ever did more than one or two takes. So you had to be prepared when you did a scene with Francis Albert Sinatra, otherwise you might only get one chance. But, Frank was fun – on and off the set.

During filming I chewed gum excessively and I was always searching for a place to put my gum before I did a scene. Frank had noticed this and said, “Hey kid, put it here behind my ear. It’ll help both of us”. Very few people knew that Frank had been a forceps baby and had a large graphic scar behind one ear and was subject to makeup before his close ups. So the gum would serve a dual purpose and nobody was any wiser.

Russian Premier Nikita Khrushchev came on set with tons of bodyguards… his and ours and a slew of politicians, US officials and studio heads who had already ordered us to do an entire can-can number for these elite guests. There was only one problem. The costumes were genuine French velvet and weighed a ton. We had to do these splits, turns and jumps in one full take with no breaks in between. I thought I would die! I was sure my heart would give out, so I can easily say that it was indeed a work of will.

The film would receive world-wide publicity because of Khrushchev’s visit and the next day’s newspapers carried an interesting quote from him. When asked what he thought of Can-Can, he replied, “The face of humanity is prettier than it’s backside”. The press asked me what I thought of his comment and I said that I thought he was just jealous and mad because we were wearing panties.

Skouras was head of 20th Century Fox and he was honoring Khrushchev. Both were from the Ukraine and they got into a heated discussion as to who was the better Russian. Skouras stood up and said, “I am a Russian from the Greek sector and I came to this wonderful country and I am head of a major film studio”. Khrushchev retaliated by saying, “Look at me. I’m from the Ukraine and I am head of a wonderful country”.

I liked Khrushchev and apparently the feeling was mutual, because right after I finished my next film, The Apartment, I was having lunch at Sardi’s in New York and he was there, also. He sent a note to my table that read, “I have seen The Apartment and you have improved”.