Casting "How Green Was My Valley"

When producer Darryl F. Zanuck bought the rights to Richard Llewellyn's 1939 best-selling novel How Green Was My Valley, he intended to make a four-hour, lush Technicolor production to match David O. Selznick's epic Gone with the Wind (1939). To direct the film, Zanuck borrowed William Wyler from Samuel Goldwyn, and Philip Dunne was hired to adapt Llewellyn's novel into a screenplay. With Gregg Toland as cinematographer (also on loan from Goldwyn), the film was to be shot in Wales.

The first person to be cast was Roddy McDowall in the role of young Huw Morgan, the main character of Llewellyn's book. (In the book Huw is followed from boyhood to adulthood, the story of his Welsh mining family told from his point of view.) McDowall was one of several British youngsters who had tested for the role. Zanuck and Wyler were so impressed with the young actor that they decided to remove the adult Huw from the story —the part that was going to be played by Tyrone Power— and concentrate only on Huw as a boy. With the elimination of the adult Huw, the problems Dunne was having with his script were immediately solved. The overlong script could now be brought down to a manageable size. 

Above: Donald Crisp, Roddy McDowall and Sara Allgood in How Green Was My Valley. Below: John Ford directs 12-year-old McDowall in a scene from the film.

When Dunne's script was presented to the Fox executives in New York, they refused to give Zanuck the money for his film. Zanuck's bosses believed that Valley was heading for failure, with its script focusing too much on labour issues. Furthermore, they were very worried about William Wyler's perfectionism and his reputation for going over budget. Zanuck was furious and stood by Dunne's script, even threatening to take it to another studio.

In January 1941, with Valley being delayed, Wyler and Toland returned to Sam Goldwyn to shoot The Little Foxes (1941), their contracts with Fox having expired. Zanuck replaced Wyler with John Ford and Toland with Arthur C. Miller. A few months later, Fox's New York executives finally gave their approval for Valley, albeit under a few conditions. The film would have to be shot in black-and-white, its length reduced to two hours and the budget limited to $1 million. Due to the war in Europe, shooting on location in Wales was not possible, so a replica of a Welsh mining town was built in the hills near Malibu, California. 

Above: Maureen O'Hara and Walter Pidgeon, How Green Was My Valley was their only pairing. Below: Anna Lee (right) and Sara Allgood in the moving film's finale.

Darryl F. Zanuck

Shooting on How Green Was My Valley would start in June 1941, with John Ford at the helm as the film's new director. Several sources claim that most of the cast was already chosen by Wyler when Ford took over. However, in her autobiography 'Tis Herself (2004), Maureen O'Hara stated: "One of the first things Mr. Ford did was to recast the picture. Mr. Ford was far too proud to ever let another director cast his movie, and only one of the originally cast actors appeared in the film (...) The only actor originally cast by Wyler that Mr. Ford kept was young Roddy McDowall as the boy Huw." 

O'Hara's views seem to be supported by the following memo from Zanuck to Ford, written in April 1941, a few months before production was to start. In his memo Zanuck put forward his casting ideas, which indeed imply that of the principal players only McDowall was already cast. Of the actors mentioned by Zanuck, Walter Pidgeon, Sara Allgood and Donald Crisp eventually ended up in the picture (Pidgeon borrowed from MGM and Crisp from Warner Bros). Zanuck's choice for Angharad, Gene Tierney, was rejected by Ford who picked Maureen O'Hara. Neither Martha Scott nor Geraldine Fitzgerald, suggested by Zanuck for the part of Bronwen, was chosen; Ford cast Anna Lee instead. Walter Pidgeon, who Philip Dunne thought was "the one really phony actor" in the film, was cast as the priest Mr Gruffydd to provide Valley with the necessary star power. (Incidentally, Wyler's choice for Angharad had been Katharine Hepburn, Greer Garson for Bronwen and Laurence Olivier for Mr Gruffydd.)

 

DATE: April 7, 1941
TO: Mr. John Ford
SUBJECT: HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY

Dear Jack:

Over the weekend I went through the script again of How Green Was My Valley, and I think I have come up with some fairly good casting ideas.

You directed Gene Tierney in Tobacco Road and did a great job with her ...

In How Green Was My Valley, for the role of Angharad, where could we get a better actress? She has youth —a strange quality about her— and she has sex. We can understand her falling in love with the preacher and we can understand her marrying the miller's son*. We can also understand her going back to the preacher at the finish. There is a strange quality about her that might easily be adapted to this picture, and I think that with proper schooling she can master a slight accent.

For the part of Bronwen, who is the eldest of the two girls, what about the great actress, Martha Scott?

If there is some way we can borrow Ray Milland from Paramount, I think he would be great as the preacher. What about Walter Pidgeon for this role? He is giving a great performance in Man Hunt. Also, there is George Brent to be considered.

There is also another great actress who could play Bronwen. Her name is Geraldine Fitzgerald.

Sara Allgood cannot be beat for Beth.

Donald Crisp is perfect for the role of Morgan.

In order to get any of these people, we'll have to work far in advance— as you know what the casting troubles are.

We should discuss this sometime tomorrow.

D.F.Z. 

[*This should be the mine owner's son.]

Source: Memo from Darryl F. Zanuck: The Golden Years At Twentieth Century-Fox (1993); selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Suggested by Darryl Zanuck for principal roles in How Green Was My Valley, none of these actors ended up playing in the film. Clockwise: Gene Tierney, Ray Milland, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Martha Scott and George Brent. 

Released in October 1941, How Green Was My Valley was a huge success, both commercially and critically. The film was nominated for ten Academy Awards, winning five, i.e. Best Picture (Darryl Zanuck), Best Director (John Ford), Best Supporting Actor (Donald Crisp), Best Cinematography (Arthur Miller) and Best Black-and-White Art Direction-Interior Decoration (Richard Day, Nathan H. Juran and Thomas Little). Valley famously beat other Best Picture contenders, like Citizen Kane, The Maltese Falcon ánd William Wyler's The Little Foxes. 

There is no one even second to her ...

From the mid-1940s until the early 1950s, Jeanne Crain was one of the biggest stars at 20th Century-Fox. After signing a long-term contract with Fox in 1943, Crain made her (uncredited) debut in the musical The Gang's All Here (1943). Her first substantial role was in the horse racing drama Home in Indiana (1944), followed by roles in Winged Victory (1944) and in such box-office hits as the musical State Fair (1945) —opposite Dana Andrews, with her singing voice dubbed— and the film noir Leave Her to Heaven (1945) playing the good sister to Gene Tierney's bad one. By 1946, Crain had become one of the studio's main box-office draws. The actress received more fanmail than anyone on the Fox lot (except for Betty Grable) and was also a personal favourite of studio head Darryl F. Zanuck. 

Since Crain was a big Fox star, Zanuck wouldn't let her play the relatively small role of Clementine in John Ford's western My Darling Clementine (1946). In the memo below, Zanuck informs director Ford of his decision not to cast Crain in the part, which eventually went to newcomer Cathy Downs. According to John Ford biographer Ronald L. Davis, the director later responded to Zanuck's memo, saying he didn't care much who played Clementine, "providing she doesn't look like an actress".

DATE: February 26, 1946

TO: Mr. John Ford

CC: Sam Engel [producer]

SUBJECT: MY DARLING CLEMENTINE

Dear Jack:

There will be no chance for us to get Jeanne Crain to play in My Darling Clementine. I know she would be delighted to be directed by you but the part is comparatively so small that we would be simply crucified by both the public and critics for putting her in it. She is the biggest box-office attraction on the lot today. There is no one even second to her ...

D.F.Z. 

Source: Memo from Darryl F. Zanuck: The Golden Years At Twentieth Century-Fox (1993); selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Crain with Zanuck and his children

Jeanne Crain went on to make successful films for Fox like Margie (1946) and Apartment for Peggy (1948), in the latter picture playing William Holden's young, chattering bride. Her most acclaimed films were still to come, however. Being top-billed, Crain starred alongside Linda Darnell, Ann Sothern and Kirk Douglas in A Letter to Three Wives (1949); and she played the titular role in Pinky (1949) as a light-skinned black girl passing for white. The latter performance earned Crain an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress, the only nomination of her career (losing to Olivia de Havilland in The Heiress).

It's interesting to note that the directors of A Letter to Three Wives and Pinky, respectively Joseph L. Mankiewicz and Elia Kazan, were both unimpressed with Crain's acting skills. Mankiewicz was unhappy with her performance in his film —against his will he would direct her again in People Will Talk (1951)— and once said about Crain: "I could only rarely escape the feeling that Jeanne was, somehow, a visitor to the set. She worked hard. Too hard at times, I think, in response to my demands, as if trying to compensate by sheer exertion for what I believe must have been an absence of emotional involvement with acting... She was one of the few whose presence among the theatre-folk I have never fully understood." And Kazan said about her: "Jeanne Crain was a sweet girl, but she was like a Sunday school teacher. I did my best with her, but she didn't have any fire. The only good thing about her was that it went so far in the direction of no temperament that you felt Pinky was floating through all of her experiences without reacting to them, which is what 'passing' is." While I agree that Crain was an actress of limited range, I have always liked her and I think she did a fine job in both A Letter to Three Wives and Pinky. (And I've just rewatched the delightful Apartment for Peggy and Crain is great in that.)

After appearing in several other films including Cheaper by the Dozen (1950), The Model and the Marriage Broker (1951), Dangerous Crossing (1953) and Vicki (1953), Jeanne Crain eventually left 20th Century-Fox in 1953. A few years earlier, Marilyn Monroe had (re) joined the studio and would soon become Fox's biggest star.

Clockwise: Jeanne Crain with Gene Tierney in Leave Her To Heaven (1945); Crain in Margie (1946); with William Holden in Apartment For Peggy (1948); with Linda Darnell and Ann Sothern in A Letter To Three Wives (1949), and with Ethel Waters in Pinky (1949). 

Betty Grable's legs are no joking matter

After signing a long-term contract with 20th Century-Fox in early 1940, Betty Grable soon became a major star, some of her biggest hits being Springtime in the Rockies (1942), Coney Island (1943), Mother Wore Tights (1947) and How to Marry a Millionaire (1953). In 1943 she was the number-one box office draw in the world and in 1947 the highest-paid celebrity in the USA. Despite her talents, Grable was most famous for her legs. Her legs are prominently displayed in the now iconic bathing suit photo which adorned numerous lockers of American soldiers during WWII, making Betty the era's number-one pin-up girl. At one point, her legs were ensured for $1 million. Grable herself maintained a down-to-earth attitude about the subject of her legs, once saying to LIFE magazine, "They are fine for pushing the foot pedals in my car". And asked to describe her film career, she said dryly, "I became a star for two reasons, and I'm standing on them".

Above: 1943— Photographer Frank Powolny, who shot Betty Grable's iconic bathing suit photo, poses with his model in front of his work. Below: The original caption of this photo, taken for LIFE by Walter Sanders, reads: "Going to studio in the morning, Betty steps into roadster. Once asked to comment on her hips, well displayed here, she said, 'They’re just where my legs hook on.'"

In late September 1948, Preston Sturges' The Beautiful Blonde from Bashful Bend (1949) was about to go into production and Fox studio head Darryl F. Zanuck had just received the sketches for Betty Grable's wardrobe from costume designer René Hubert. In the following memo to Sturges, Zanuck asks for the director's opinion regarding the finale of the film. Zanuck wanted to show more of Grable's legs, something they had failed to do in The Shocking Miss Pilgrim (1947). For the finale he suggests to have someone step on Grable's skirt, so that it comes off and the actress' legs are shown. While this was eventually incorporated into the scene, it didn't help the picture which did poorly at the box-office.  

DATE: September 20, 1948

TO: Preston Sturges

SUBJECT: THE BEAUTIFUL BLONDE FROM BASHFUL BEND

Dear Preston:

I looked at the wardrobe sketches this afternoon that René Hubert has for Betty and I think they are wonderful, particularly the first red dress. The main reason I wanted to see them is that once when we made a picture called The Shocking Miss Pilgrim we did not show Grable's legs in the picture and in addition to receiving a million letters of protest the incident almost caused a national furor.

I am glad that he has given her a split skirt, at least in the opening, and that later on we see her in her panties.

Right now, I have thought of another idea that I would like to get your reaction on:

Suppose in the fight to the finish she is wearing a simple two-piece suit, something like a bolero jacket with a long skirt. Someone steps on the skirt and it tears off in the start of the battle royal ...

Perhaps you have some other suggestion. I know it perhaps sounds like a silly thing to worry about, but from a commercial standpoint Betty's legs are no joking matter. 

D.F.Z.

Source: Memo from Darryl F. Zanuck: The Golden Years At Twentieth Century-Fox (1993); selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Incidentally, I recently watched The Beautiful Blonde from Bashful Bend at the recommendation of my sister who thoroughly enjoyed it and I must say, despite the film's bad reputation, I enjoyed it too. Admittedly, The Beautiful Blonde doesn't rank among Sturges' finest but the film —about a trigger-happy saloon singer who hides out in the tiny town of Bashful Bend after shooting a judge in the butt— is still good fun. I'm not too familiar with Betty Grable but she is delightful here and looks great in René Hubert's colourful costumes. Grable herself reportedly hated the film. 

A few scenes from The Beautiful Blonde from Bashful Bend, with Betty Grable in her panties and the red dress with a split skirt, as mentioned in Zanuck's memo. Top right, Grable pictured with Marie Windsor and Cesar Romero, and bottom right with Olga San Juan.

Betty in the finale of The Beautiful Blonde from Bashful Bend after someone has stepped on her dress, tearing off the skirt and exposing Betty's legs.

Betty and Preston Sturges on the set of The Beautiful Blonde from Bashful Bend

I am asking of both Budd and you that you treat me fairly ...

After the screenplay of On the Waterfront (1954) was finished, director Elia Kazan and screenwriter Budd Schulberg went to see Darryl F. Zanuck, producer and studio boss at 20th Century-Fox, to offer him the script. The two were very confident that Zanuck would like it and would be willing to produce it. During their meeting, however, the producer was not interested in Waterfront at all but kept talking about Prince Valiant (1954) and how wonderful it would be in CinemaScope. CinemaScope was Fox's new widescreen process (with all films to be shot in colour) and it was all Zanuck could think and talk about. (He knew full well that Waterfront was to be shot in black-and-white and in standard format.) In a 2004 interview with William Baer, Schulberg recalled Zanuck's reaction when Kazan finally asked him about the Waterfront script: "I'm sorry, boys, but I don't like a single thing about it ... What have you got here, boys? All you've got is a lot of sweaty longshoremen. I think what you've written is exactly what the American people don't want to see." Having previously worked with Schulberg on the script himself, Zanuck had now completely turned against it.

Devastated by Zanuck's rejection, Kazan took the script to other studios but they turned him down as well. Then quite unexpectedly, when Kazan and Schulberg believed Waterfront would never be filmed, independent producer Sam Spiegel came along and agreed to take on their project. With Spiegel as producer and eventually released by Columbia Pictures, On the Waterfront became a huge critical and commercial success. The film also won eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture (Spiegel), Best Actor (Marlon Brando), Best Supporting Actress (Eve Marie Saint), Best Director (Kazan) and Best Story and Screenplay (Schulberg). 

Above: Sam Spiegel (second from left), Marlon Brando and Brando's parents visiting their son on the set of On the Waterfront.

Darryl Zanuck regretted his rejection of Waterfront even before the film was showered with accolades and awards. In the following letter to Elia Kazan ("Gadg") from 15 July 1954, Zanuck admitted that "the advent and debut of Cinemascope was responsible more than anything else for [his] final decision against the property". He resented the suggestion made by Schulberg in a New York Times article that he had rejected the film because "he lost his courage and ran out on a "touchy" subject." (In the 11 July 1954 article Schulberg had said: "The head of the studio had changed his mind, Waterfront wouldn't fit in with the program of costumed horse operas he was lining up ... The picture was still too controversial, we were told. Too grim, too shocking. And, would the people care about the struggle on the docks?".) 

Annoyed that Kazan and Schulberg didn't acknowledge his role in the making of Waterfront, Zanuck also reminded Kazan of the important contributions he had made to the script and of being the one who had first suggested Brando to them.

July 15, 1954
Mr. Elia Kazan 

Warner Bros. Studios
Burbank, California
Personal & Confidential 

Dear Gadg:

Thanks for your letter of June 28th. I just returned from Europe and only received it today ...

The only thing in your letter that disturbs me is when you say that I let Budd and you come out to California on the Waterfront story and then gave you a cold turn-down— and that a telegram would have served just as well.

You have a short memory, Gadg. Budd came to see me more than once. I spent many hours on many days working with him and trying to develop and alter the script. He accepted all but one of my major suggestions. You accepted them. Four of them are a part of your finished picture, or at least I have been told so by those who have seen the picture and who also had read the original treatment and script and had also read the conference notes.

I am not asking for screen credit but I am asking of both Budd and you that you treat me fairly and that you recognize the facts. I have just reread my conference notes and my various communications on this story. I think both Budd and you should read them again and think of them in the light of your finished picture. I think you should also remember that I am the one who insisted in writing that only Marlon Brando should play the role and that I first suggested him in a telegram to you.

I have just seen an article in last Sunday's New York Times written by Budd in which he does not mention me by name but in which he indicates that I lost my courage and ran out on a "touchy" subject.

I am really astonished that Budd should write anything such as this. Even more than this, he knows how I sweated and worked with him in a conscientious effort to improve the dramatic construction of the story, and particularly the love story, etc. etc. The last day I saw him he shook my hands and told me that no matter how it turned out he had received valuable assistance and that working with me had been a "unique and exhilarating experience."

Actually the advent and debut of CinemaScope was responsible more than anything else for my final decision against the property. At that time I felt that since we had overnight committed ourselves to a program of CinemaScope "spectacles" I had no alternative but to back away from intimate stories even though they were good stories. I have since changed my mind as one of our most successful CinemaScope pictures [Three Coins in the Fountain, 1954] is based on an intimate story. 

I understand your picture has turned out to be wonderful. I am happy because every great picture is helpful to the best interests of our industry.

I am taking the liberty of sending a copy of this letter to Budd. I just cannot accept the idea that I lost my courage or gave you a quick brush-off. I spent more time on your project than I do on some of the pictures that we actually produce. In addition to this I invested $40,000 in the property. If this is a brush-off then I have a wrong interpretation of the phrase.

You and I are due for a hit next time we get together ...

I look forward to seeing you. Come over when you finish [East of Eden (1955) at Warners].

Best always,

Darryl

Source: Memo from Darryl F. Zanuck: The Golden Years At Twentieth Century-Fox (1993); selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Above: (l to r) Schulberg, Zanuck and Kazan. Below: Eve Marie Saint and Marlon Brando in a scene from On the Waterfront.

The Tragic Life and Death of Bella Darvi

Today's letter made me read up on Bella Darvi, an actress I had not heard of before. She had a very brief Hollywood career in the 1950s. This is her (tragic) story.

Bella Darvi was born Bajla Węgier in Poland in 1928. Her parents were Jewish and immigrated to France in the 1930s. As a teenager during WWII Darvi was interned in a concentration camp for several years. She survived, but her brother Robert who was also in a camp died there. In 1950, Darvi married businessman Alban Cavalcade and moved with him to Monaco, where she became addicted to gambling. A year later, she met 20th Century-Fox studio boss Darryl Zanuck and his wife Virginia in Paris. The couple took her under their wing, paid off her gambling debts and eventually brought her to the States.

In 1952, Darvi divorced her husband and went to live with the Zanucks at their house in Santa Monica. She was encouraged to pursue an acting career and, at the suggestion of Mrs Zanuck, changed her last name from Węgier to Darvi (derived from Darryl and Virginia). Darvi took acting lessons and in 1953 signed a long-term contract with 20th Century-Fox. Hedda Hopper called the aspiring actress "an exciting new personality" and predicted that she would not only "make a splash" in her first film but also that she would be one of the "stars of 1954".

Hopper's predictions proved wrong, however. Darvi's debut performance in Samuel Fuller's Hell and High Water (1954) opposite Richard Widmark was poorly received by both the public and critics, with the New York Times stating that she "does not succeed convincingly". Her second role —the part of the courtesan Nefer in Michael Curtiz's The Egyptian (1954)— was not received any better. Darvi "smiles and postures without magnetism or charm", said the NY Times while Variety commented: "A weak spot in the talent line-up is Bella Darvi who contributes little more than an attractive figure". Co-star Jean Simmons was also unimpressed with Darvi, reportedly joking with other cast members that Darvi was "an actress who 'nefer' was". Criticised also for being very difficult to understand due to her heavy accent, Darvi would only make one more film in Hollywood —Henry Hathaway's The Racers (1955) with Kirk Douglas— before moving back to France at the end of 1954.

Darvi's lack of acting talent was not the reason why she eventually left Hollywood. While she was living with the Zanucks, Darvi and Zanuck had an affair and when Mrs Zanuck found out she kicked Darvi out of the house. Totally besotted with his protégé, Zanuck separated from his wife and followed Darvi to Europe. It was when he discovered that she was bisexual that he ended the affair.

In Europe Darvi continued her acting career but only appeared in mediocre French and Italian productions. She also kept gambling, losing huge amounts of money and increasing her debts (as late as 1970, Zanuck was still paying them off). In 1960, Darvi married restaurant waiter Claude Rouas, only to divorce him less than a year later. Suffering from depression, Darvi took an overdose of barbiturates in 1962 and 1968 but recovered. Then on 11 September 1971, she tried to kill herself again by turning on the gas stove in her Monte Carlo apartment. This time the attempt was successful. Darvi died, only 42 years old. Her body was not discovered until ten days later. 

Richard Widmark and Bella Darvi in Hell and High Water (above) and Darvi with co-star Victor Mature on the set of The Egyptian (below). Marilyn Monroe had lobbied to get the part of Nefer in The Egyptian which eventually went to Darvi.

Here is one of the many letters Darvi wrote to Darryl Zanuck during their affair (click on the source beneath the image for more letters, and some of her telegrams to Zanuck can be seen here). She reportedly never recovered from the affair, which may have led or contributed to her suicide.

Source: Heritage Auctions

Transcript:

Darling,

I really didn't think I would ever come to write you such a letter! but I am positive now that this is the right thing to do.

This letter won't be long, and what I will say won't be said in anger! I was angry at you but you know I won't be angry at you for a long time, I love you with all my heart but I realize I can not make you happy and neither can you! It is sad and I am sad too! but I thought it over and over and I want you to agree with me and to call it off!

I don't know what else to say, I only wish you would understand and not go crazy! If I only could write exactly how I feel! Oh sure I wrote you many letters but this one is a tough one and I want it to be so clear!

I am sorry if it makes you unhappy, this is a decision but don't think it makes me happy - I wish I was dead!

It is finished! Please don't answer and tell me things that will upset me, I know you and also know it will be one of your reactions!

Good bye my love -

B.

Above: Darryl Zanuck and his wife Virginia Fox photographed in June 1953; although they separated following Zanuck's affair with Darvi, the couple never legally divorced. Below: Zanuck and Darvi at a party in Ciros, Hollywood in January 1954, held in honour of Zanuck's daughter.

You must reduce further ...

After being denied membership to the Los Angeles Country Club because he was believed to be Jewish, 20th Century-Fox boss Darryl Zanuck decided to purchase the rights to Laura Hobson's 1947 novel Gentleman's Agreement and adapt it for the screen. Hobson's novel tackles the subject of anti-Semitism, which was a controversial subject at the time. Urged by Samuel Goldwyn and other Jewish film executives not to make the film as it might "stir up trouble", Zanuck went ahead regardless and his decision ultimately paid off. Gentleman's Agreement (1947), starring Gregory Peck, Dorothy McGuire, John Garfield and Celeste Holm, became an unexpected box-office success and at the Academy Awards also took home awards for Best Picture (Darryl Zanuck), Best Director (Eliza Kazan) and Best Supporting Actress (Celeste Holm).

Celeste Holm started her career in the theatre and earned both critical and public praise for her role of Ado Annie in Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical Oklahoma! (1943). Signed to a contract by 20th Century-Fox in 1946, Holm made her screen debut that same year in Three Little Girls in Blue. When Gentleman's Agreement was being cast, Zanuck reportedly didn't want Holm for the part of fashion editor Anne Dettrey but hired her at the insistence of director Kazan. Holm's performance proved to be one of the finest of her career and the only one for which she earned an Oscar (although she would receive further nominations for Come to the Stable (1949) and All About Eve (1950)). Preferring the theatre over film work, Holm made relatively few films during her career. Her other pictures include Road House (1948), The Snake Pit (1948), The Tender Trap (1955) and High Society (1956), the latter two co-starring Frank Sinatra.

Above: Celeste Holm with Gregory Peck in Gentleman's Agreement. About Peck Holm said that he wasn't much fun. Below: At the Oscars with (from left to right) Darryl Zanuck, Edmund Gwenn, Loretta Young, Ronald Colman and Holm.

A few weeks before Gentleman's Agreement went into production, Darryl Zanuck wrote the following letter to Celeste Holm. A hands-on studio boss who involved himself in all aspects of film production, Zanuck was concerned with Holm being too heavy for her role and suggested she'd lose weight. Apart from Zanuck's letter, a draft of Holm's reply to Zanuck is also shown.

Source: live auctioneers

Source: live auctioneers

Transcript: 

My dear Mr. Zanuck —

Nothing could make me happier than does this assignment in "G.A"!

To this end, nothing would be difficult — and I shall continue

Thank you  So I shall continue my reducing to achieve even lesser proportions [than] those I had in 3 Little G's in Blue.

Sincerely — in appreciation

C

Celeste Holm in a scene from Three Little Girls in Blue, while performing the song Always the Lady.

Your obedient servant, Alfred Hitchcock

During his career Alfred Hitchcock made only one film for Twentieth Century-Fox. In late 1942, while under contract to David Selznick, Hitchcock was loaned out to Fox for a two-picture deal, the deal having been closed with Selznick by Fox executive William Goetz. (Goetz was Selznick's brother-in-law and temporarily replaced studio boss Darryl Zanuck who served in the Army Signal Corps.) The picture Hitchcock made for Fox was Lifeboat (1944) —the second Fox picture was never made— based on a story by John Steinbeck and starring Tallulah Bankhead, William Bendix, Walter Slezak and John Hodiak. (For the plot of the film, go here.) 

In the summer of 1943, with pre-production of Lifeboat in full swing, Darryl Zanuck returned from military service. While he was usually involved in the scripting of Fox's A-films, in his absence Lifeboat was written by Jo Swerling (the only one eventually credited), John Steinbeck, Alma Reville (Hitchcock's wife) and Hitchcock himself. Upon his return Zanuck found Hitch firmly in charge, with producer Kenneth Macgowan more or less acting as the director's assistant. In August 1943, filming on Lifeboat finally began. Zanuck was not happy, however, feeling the pace was too slow and the screenplay too long. 

On 19 August, Zanuck wrote a joint memo to Hitchcock, Macgowan and Swerling, saying that he had the script timed with a stopwatch and that, according to his calculations, the finished film would last almost three hours. "Drastic eliminations are necessary", he said, and they had to be prepared "to drop some element in its entirety". Annoyed by Zanuck's missive, Hitchcock replied the next day, his memo to Zanuck seen below ("I have never encountered such stupid information as has been given you by some menial who apparently has no knowledge of the timing of a script..."). Zanuck answered Hitch the same day (on 20 August), his memo to be read below as well. (Zanuck's first memo from 19 August is not shown.)

The finished film eventually ran 97 minutes and cost a little over 1.5 million dollars. Despite Zanuck's complaints, Hitch was able to complete Lifeboat with little interference from the studio boss. In September 1943 when Zanuck saw the first reel of the film he was enthusiastic and later called Lifeboat "an outstanding film with awards potential". The picture would receive three Academy Award nominations, i.e. for Hitchcock (Best Direction), Steinbeck (Best Story) and Glen MacWilliams (Best Cinematography) but no one won. Although Lifeboat was a box-office flop, it is now considered an underrated entry in Hitchcock's impressive oeuvre.

Above: Alfred Hitchcock on the set of Lifeboat. Below: Part of the Lifeboat cast with (from left to right) Mary Anderson, Hume Cronyn, John Hodiak, Tallulah Bankhead, Henry Hull and Canada Lee.

Dear Mr. Zanuck:

I have just received your note regarding the length of LIFEBOAT. I don't know who you employ to time your scripts, but whoever did it is misleading you horribly. I will even go so far as to say disgracefully. In all my experience in this business, I have never encountered such stupid information as has been given you by some menial who apparently has no knowledge of the timing of a script or the playing of dialogue.

According to the note, in paragraph two you express your opinion, based upon this ridiculous information, that the picture will be 15,000 feet in length. I can only think that the person who did this for you is trying to sabotage the picture. Maybe it is a spy belonging to some disgruntled ex-employee.

Now let us get down to facts, and let us base our calculations on facts that come from persons of long experience and also the fact of actual shooting time. Through Page 28 of the script, which includes a fair amount of silent action, the shot footage is actually timed at 15 minutes. This, on the basis of a 147-page script, works out to actually 79 minutes. Add to this a maximum of 5 minutes, (which is generous for the storm sequence), we arrive at an extremely generous estimate of 84 minutes. Films run through at 90 feet a minute. Therefore, we arrive at a length of 7560 feet, which, in my opinion, is considerably inadequate for a picture of this calibre and importance.

I am gravely concerned at the suggestion of cutting the story for fear that after the shooting is completed we will find that the picture is so short that we will have to commence writing added sequences to make the picture sufficiently long for an important release.

In view of our previous discussions regarding the shooting time, I would like to repeat that we are all considerably misled by the cumbersome methods of shooting on an exterior stage which could never be repeated under normal conditions in the studio. As I pointed out to you in our previous conversation, I am at present shooting a sequence of 9 pages which will take approximately 2 days - which is exactly one day under the allotted time in the production schedule.

Dear Mr. Zanuck, please take good note of these above facts before we commit ourselves to any acts which in the ultimate may make us all look extremely ridiculous by giving insufficient care and notice to these considerations.

Your obedient servant,

ALFRED HITCHCOCK

__________

My dear Hitchcock:

The timing of the script was not done by an expert, nor by anyone who was deliberately attempting to mislead us. One person merely read the dialogue aloud, while the other person took down the timing with a stop-watch. Now, of course, they did not overlap any dialogue, and they might have read slowly, or they might have paused too long between speeches, and, of course, they are not aware of any of the cuts in dialogue or script pages that we have recently eliminated.

According to your calculation, the script will run to 7,500 feet. I will bet you $1,000, the winner to donate the amount to charity, that you are wrong by 2,000 feet. I am now speaking about the script as it stands, and I believe I am allowing myself plenty of footage for protection. 

A picture of this scope, in my opinion, should hold up very well at 9,000 feet, and perhaps even longer, but if we actually are over 10,000 feet, then I know that you agree the matter is serious, not only from the standpoint of economy.

You are making excellent progress, and certainly no one could complain about the amount of film you have exposed in the last few days.

It still remains my opinion, however, that our story is repetitious in places, and monotonous. I am certain that the cuts we have made in the last few days have not harmed the quality of the production one iota. As a matter of fact, I feel that they have been helpful [...]

I do not make a habit of interfering with productions placed in such capable hands as yours. Any interference in this case comes from an emergency problem, which I inherited. On all sides, I have been advised to call off the production. The picture was devised originally, so I understand, to be a million dollar cost project. Suddenly its cost has doubled, and no one could possibly dislike the idea of butting in any more than I do. I have plenty of worries on my own personal productions, and nothing would give me greater joy than to forget all about LIFEBOAT until the night I go to the preview. 

You felt you could make the picture in eight or nine weeks. You told me so. Lefty Hough [Fox's production manager] thought that you could. He told me so, and so did Macgowan. We took into consideration this fact, and arrived at a fair budget. We were all wrong. It would be folly now, in my opinion, to butcher the story in an effort to save a penny here and there, but it is also folly to fail to study each scene, each line and each episode, and see if we cannot find ways and means to eliminate non-essentials.

Darryl

Source of both memos: Hitchcock's Notebooks: An Authorized And Illustrated Look Inside The Creative Mind Of Alfred Hitchcock (1999) by Dan Auiler.

Darryl F. Zanuck in his military outfit

Our system must be an ideal one

During the 1920s, Darryl F. Zanuck worked as a screenwriter for Warner Brothers before becoming head of production in 1931. Around the same time Edward G. Robinson, one of Warners' contract players, was having his big breakthrough with Little Caesar (1931) and eventually became one of the studio's biggest stars. Growing increasingly unhappy with the scripts that were submitted to him, Robinson wrote to Zanuck in the fall of 1932, uttering his grievances. Unfortunately I don't have Robinson's letter to show you, but Zanuck's reply —in which he told Robinson that he had nothing to complain about and to just have faith in "the system"— can be read below. 

Mr. Edward G. Robinson

Essex House

New York, N.Y.

October 26, 1932

Dear Eddie:

To start with the last paragraph of your letter first and then go backward, you accuse me of not submitting to you some of the pictures that we have made recently with other people which have turned out to be outstanding hits, and you state that you are certain that anyone of them would have been acceptable to you.

In the first place, you have no complaint as you have received absolutely nothing but the best in stories and, in the second place, you have repeatedly rejected stories that later turned out to be successful pictures...

As I see it, Eddie, the whole fault lies in the fact that you want to be a writer. By this I mean that you want to put your views into whatever subject we purchase rather than to accept the views of the men I engage here who are specialists at a high salary in this specific work.

When I submit you a Grand Slam [1933], you say we have taken the wrong slant on the story —the idea is good but it should be something else. When I submit you a Lawyer Man [1933] or an Employees' Entrance [1933], you say the same thing.

By the way, Lawyer Man is the best picture [William] Powell has ever made and it would have been a perfect vehicle for you. It will be previewed in a week or so and I will send you the preview notices.

I have always wanted and asked for your suggestions and the suggestions of every star, as to story, etc., and those suggestions you made as to dialogue, etc., have, to my knowledge, for the most part been very effective and certainly appreciated by me.

The point I am trying to make is that when we submit a Lawyer Man or whatever it happens to be, you must have some faith in us. After all, our record of successes and box-office hits places us as the A-Company in the industry today, recognized thus everywhere. Our system, therefore, must be an ideal one. You can't make a lot of hits with a lot of different directors and a lot of different stars and some of them with no stars at all unless "the system" is a perfect one as, in our studio, it isn't just a case of one director or one star continually making a hit and the other ones flopping. This should be the greatest assurance in the world to you that our judgment is more or less correct, especially on the selection of stories and if I were in your shoes, I would be greatly guided by this "system."

After all, our sole interest is getting great pictures out of anything we select and we will accept anybody's ideas or suggestions, but the treatment of the subject in script form should be left largely to the judgment and intelligence of our "system", at least until the day comes —if it ever does— when our flops are more numerous than our hits ...

Sincerely,

Darryl Zanuck

Source: Inside Warner Bros. (1935-1951) (1985), selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer. 

Edward G. Robinson in Mervyn LeRoy's Little Caesar (1931), the gangster film that made him a star.

Casting "My Cousin Rachel" (1952)

David O. Selznick made practically every decision for Jennifer Jones when it came to her film career. Having discovered Jones in 1941 -- she was still Phyllis Walker then, married to actor Robert Walker --  Selznick gave her a new name, a seven-year contract and then groomed her to stardom (and in 1949 he also married her). Selznick was responsible for getting Jones numerous parts, including her Oscar-winning role in Song of Bernadette (1943) as well as roles in his own productions such as Since You Went Away (1944) and Duel in the Sun (1946).

But as powerful as Selznick was, he didn't always get his way. In 1952, he wanted Jones to get the female lead in My Cousin Rachel, a film based upon the novel by Daphne du Maurier. However, 20th Century-Fox studio head Darryl Zanuck, who had purchased the rights to Du Maurier's novel, didn't consider Jones right for the role and director George Cukor and producer/screenwriter Nunnally Johnson agreed with him.

Jennifer Jones and David Selznick, who were married from 1949 until Selznick's death in 1965. 

In a letter to David Selznick dated 31 March 1952, Darryl Zanuck explains why Jones would be wrong for the part of Rachel, his main reason being that she was too young and not of British descent or foreign-born. Zanuck wanted to make sure that Selznick knew that the decision not to cast Jones was nothing personal and that it had nothing to do with Jones' acting abilities ("I am not going into a lot of nonsense about how much I admire and appreciate Jennifer's talent. It would be stupid of me to be unaware of it"). In the end, it was Olivia de Havilland who got the role of Rachel. She was three years older than Jones and of British descent. Other actresses considered for the role were Vivien Leigh and Greta Garbo. (Incidentally, I think De Havilland was perfectly cast, giving one of the best performances of her career.)

Olivia de Havilland in My Cousin Rachel with co-star Richard Burton as Philip Ashley in his American debut role. 

March 31, 1952

Mr. David O. Selznick

Selznick Releasing Organization

400 Madison Avenue

New York 17, New York

PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL

Dear David:

I feel compelled to write you about the role in My Cousin Rachel. George Cukor* and others have told me of their discussions with you, and our good friend Charles Kenneth Feldman** has been bombarding me daily with everything from bouquets to bombshells. Somehow he seems to feel that you hold him personally responsible for our failure to see "the light" in connection with the role of Rachel.

I am not going into a lot of nonsense about how much I admire and appreciate Jennifer's talent. It would be stupid of me to be unaware of it. I just want to tell you how we feel about the role of Rachel.

When I say we I mean Nunnally Johnson, George Cukor and me. From the very beginning when we purchased the story we thought of it in terms of an English actress or a foreign-born actress. We felt that this was absolutely essential. The perfect combination would be a woman who spoke with an English accent and was able at the same time to think "in Italian". Furthermore Rachel cannot be younger than forty years of age*** unless we destroy the whole premise of this odd love story. It is the love story of a twenty-five year old boy with a woman fifteen years older. It seems to us that if we eliminate this factor or compromise with it we will destroy the most unique premise in the book. This is exactly what makes it, we hope, "different". 

This was my thought when I purchased the book. Independently it was Nunnally Johnson's thought. And when George Cukor came on the assignment it was also his viewpoint. Now I grant you that we may all be entirely wrong. Time will tell. When I suggested Jeanne Crain to play the Negro girl in Pinky [Elia] Kazan thought I was nuts. When Kazan suggested Marlon Brando to play Zapata I thought he was nuts. It turned out in both cases we were both nuts in the right way.

The reason I wanted to write you directly is so that you would get the story straight and not feel for a moment that any other motives or considerations were involved.

Best always

s/Darryl

Source: Memo from Darryl F. Zanuck: The Golden Years At Twentieth Century-Fox (1993); selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Darryl F. Zanuck in his office in the mid-1940s. (The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images)

Notes
*  Unhappy with the script, George Cukor withdrew from the project and was replaced by Henry Koster. 
** Charles Feldman was a film producer and talent agent.
*** In Daphne du Maurier's novel Rachel is 35 years old and not 40, as Zanuck states, and Philip is 24 (at the start of the book), making the age difference between them 11 years. At the time Olivia de Havilland was 36 and Richard Burton 27.