It’s very regrettable that so many people think of you as a special problem

The critically and commercially successful Splendor in the Grass (1961), directed by Elia Kazan and starring Warren Beatty and Natalie Wood in the leads, was Beatty's screen debut. At age 23, Beatty was an ambitious young man who —in Kazan's words— "wanted it all and wanted it his way". Natalie Wood said in interviews that throughout production of Splendor she and Beatty had not gotten along, describing the actor as being "difficult to work with". Others shared her opinion, including Don Kranze, assistant director on Splendor. "Warren was a pain in the ass", recalled Kranze. "He was very young, anyway, but his emotional maturity was about thirteen... we all sort of felt about Warren that he's an immature boy playing a man's game." According to Splendor's production designer Richard Sylbert (a good friend of Beatty's), Beatty was going to do whatever he wanted to do, not caring what anybody thought.

Warren Beatty, Elia Kazan and Natalie Wood on the set of Splendor in the Grass. Long after production of the film had ended Beatty and Wood entered into a tumultuous two-year relationship.

A few years and a few films later, Beatty apparently hadn't changed his tune. During the shooting of Lilith (1964), co-star Jean Seberg wrote to a friend of hers: "Warren Beatty’s behavior is just unbelievable. He’s out to destroy everyone, including himself". While the entire cast and crew had to endure Beatty's behaviour, it was director Robert Rossen who received the brunt of it. Beatty was constantly arguing with Rossen, changing his lines, asking for his character's motivation and wishing to analyse each scene (which led Rossen to eventually remark: "I hired you because I thought you knew how to act, for Christ's Sake. Don't ask me how to play the part. You're supposed to know how to play the part."). Assistant cameraman Tibor Sands said that Beatty's behaviour grew increasingly worse "until Rossen slapped him in front of everybody. That calmed him down." 

At some point, word of Beatty's insufferable conduct on the set of Lilith reached Elia Kazan. Worried about what he had heard, Kazan next wrote Beatty a letter, addressing the actor's behaviour while also offering a bit of advice. Beatty was reportedly "upset" by the letter, seeing that the reprimand came from Kazan, whom he considered a mentor and a friend. (According to Beatty biographer Suzanne Finstad, during production of Splendor in the Grass Beatty and Kazan had actor-director discussions prior to every scene, something Beatty apparently wanted to have with Rossen too.)

May 22, 1963

Dear Warren:

Forgive the impertinence of a friend. I really do like you, and it disheartens me when I hear from the underground that you are giving everybody a bad time in Maryland. I know rumors are unreliable and it’s not right to repeat them. But, damn it, they dishearten me. I always say: "Warren at bottom is a damn fine guy!" But there’s some contradiction all through your behavior. On the one hand you say that you want to be a movie star. You’ve said it again and again not only to me but to lots of people. But I must tell you that becoming a first flight movie star depends, as you well know, on working with the elite directors on the real good stories. And when these director-glamour boys hear that you are being "difficult" their only reaction can be: "Who needs it?"

It seems to me that you must find a way of legitimately asserting yourself and even forcibly making your opinions and impulses felt. While, at the same time, being agreeable to work with, decent to deal with, fun to be with, and a contributor to an overall effort. It’s very regrettable that so many people think of you as a special problem. You have so much: intelligence, talent, sensitivity. You are handsome, vigorous, physically able. But all this can be nullified or badly handicapped by the kind of stories — true, part true, quite false, whatever — that have been getting back to me here.

As I said, it’s possibly impertinent of me to write you this way. I am not your father or your brother, only a friend. But think about what I say.

Yours,

Source: The Selected Letters of Elia Kazan (2014), edited by Albert J. Devlin  

Warren Beatty, Robert Rossen and Jean Seberg during filming of Lilith. The film was to be Rossen's last film. Rossen had previously directed the now-classics All the King's Men (1949) and The Hustler (1961). The director reportedly said following the clashes he had with Beatty, "I was making Oscars when Warren was a baby pissing in a pot."

Warren Beatty (an actor I don't particularly care for) pictured here with Elia Kazan. Beatty later said that Kazan "had given him the most important break in his career." Once called by a journalist "the most enfant of the enfants terribles", Beatty eventually became —next to being an actor— a successful producer, director and screenwriter. His first achievement as a producer was the acclaimed Bonnie and Clyde (1967), in which Beatty also played the male lead opposite Faye Dunaway. Other successes include Heaven Can Wait (1978) and Reds (1981), both films as actor, producer, director and screenwriter. Beatty was nominated for an Oscar 14 times (in different categories) but only won for Reds, for Best Director.

She was like all Charlie Chaplin’s heroines in one

Elia Kazan met Marilyn Monroe, by his own account, on the set of Harmon Jones' As Young as You Feel (1951), a comedy in which Marilyn played a small role. The two would later embark on a brief love affair. At the time, Kazan —seventeen years Marilyn's senior— was married to his first wife, dramatist Molly Day Thacher (their marriage lasted from 1932 until Thacher's death in 1963). Kazan was a very close friend of playwright Arthur Miller and was the one who introduced Marilyn to Miller. Marilyn and Miller (the latter also married then) fell for each other immediately but wouldn't become romantically involved until 1955 and eventually married a year later. Marilyn and Kazan reportedly remained friends after their affair.

Top photo: Arthur Miller (left) and Elia Kazan were close friends until Kazan named names before HUAC (House of Un-American Activities Committee) in early 1952, thereby destroying their friendship. Marilyn Monroe was reportedly instrumental in reuniting them years later. After her death, the two men worked together on Miller's 1964 play After the Fall, which Kazan directed. Bottom photo: Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller who were married from 1956 until 1961. When they met, Miller was still married to Mary Slattery whom he divorced in 1956; Marilyn would marry Joe DiMaggio in 1954, only to divorce him nine months later.  

_____

Seen below are two telegrams and a letter written by Elia Kazan. First shown are the telegrams, sent by Kazan to Marilyn during their affair. Noteworthy is that the first telegram was signed "B", which stands for "Bauer". Kazan and Miller had adopted Marilyn as their "mascot" and nicknamed her "Miss Bauer" following a prank they had played on Columbia boss Harry Cohn. In a meeting with Kazan and Cohn —during which Kazan tried to sell Cohn Miller's script The Hook— Marilyn had posed as Kazan's private secretary Miss Bauer, without Cohn ever recognising her. 

Source: Bonhams

The following letter —not shown in full but the part that deals with Marilyn— was written by Kazan to his wife Molly Day Thacher on 29 November 1955. In it, the director confesses to his affair with Marilyn four years earlier. The "boy friend, or keeper" to whom Kazan refers was Marilyn's agent Johnny Hyde. Thirty-one years Marilyn's senior, Hyde was in love with Marilyn and even left his wife for her. Marilyn didn't return Hyde's feelings but did love him dearly and was heartbroken when he died on 18 December 1950 (a few days after production on As Young as You Feel had started). When Kazan met Marilyn, she was grieving over Hyde's death. 

In one sense it’s true to say that it meant nothing. On the other hand it was a human experience, and it started, if that is of any significance, in a most human way. Her boy friend, or “keeper” (if you want to be mean about it) had just died. His family had not allowed her to see the body, or allowed her into the house, where she had been living after the death. She had sneaked in one night and been thrown out. I met her on Harmon Jones set when I went over to visit Harmon. Harmon thought her a ridiculous person and was fashionably scornful of her. I found her, when I was introduced, in tears. I took her to dinner because she seemed like such a touching pathetic waif. She sobbed all thru dinner. I wasn’t “interested in her”; that came later. But I did feel terribly touched by her and did think she had a lot of talent. .... I got to know her in time and introduced her to Arthur Miller, who also was very taken by her. You couldn’t help being touched. She was talented, funny, vulnerable, helpless in awful pain, with no hope, and some worth and not a liar, not vicious, not catty, and with a history of orphanism that was killing to hear. She was like all Charlie Chaplin’s heroines in one. 

I’m not ashamed at all, not a damn bit, of having been attracted to her. She is nothing like what she appears to be now, or even appears to have turned into now. I don't know what she is like now, except I notice Lee Strasberg [Marilyn's acting mentor and friend] has the same reaction to her that I did. She was a little stray cat when I knew her, total possession a few clothes, and one piano. I got a lot out of her just as you do from any human experience where anyone is revealed to you and you affect anyone in any way. I guess I gave her a lot of hope, and Arthur gave her a lot of hope. She had a crush on Art, not me. I was more interested in her, especially humanly than he was. She is not a big sex pot as advertised. At least not in my experience. I don’t know if there are such as “advertised” big sex pots. I didn't have anything to do with her when I went out during the testifying. She was sleeping with [Joe] DiMaggio. She told me a lot about him and her, his Catholicism, and his viciousness (he struck her often, and beat her up several times). I was touched and fascinated. It was the type of experience that I do not understand and I enjoyed (not the right word) hearing about it. I certainly recommended her to [playwright] Tennessee’s [Williams] attention. And he was very taken by her. 

I’m not sorry about it. I don't think a man can go thru a life without lesions, faults, slips and all that. I have no will towards same, and I have no desire to harm you. .... I am human though. It might happen again. I hope not, and I have resisted quite some other opportunities. No loss. I got a lot out of this one, can’t say I didn’t. I think I helped her. I don't know the answer to all this. If you don’t like what I say and feel it necessary for your own sense of honor and cleanliness to divorce me, divorce me. ... I don’t think I should not be married or anything like that. If you divorce me, I’ll tell you plainly I will in time get married again and have more children. I feel I’m a family man and I want a family, and am a damned good one. I don’t care what your judgment is on that. .... Let me repeat: I had nothing to do with her getting into the Actors' Studio, or Lee Strasberg's classes. Nor am I coaching her, advising her, seeing her or cuddling her. I'm really weary of the whole subject just as you are. ....

Source: The Selected Letters of Elia Kazan (2014), edited by Albert J. Devlin.  

Above: Marilyn Monroe and Johnny Hyde pictured dancing at the Palm Springs Racquet Club on New Year’s Eve 1949. Below: Elia Kazan with his first wife Molly Day Thacher. After Thacher's death in 1963, Kazan remarried twice —to actress/director Barbara Loden (m. 1967 until Loden's death in 1980) and author Frances Wright (m.1982 until Kazan's own death in 2003).

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.

I know and appreciate your aversion to direction by a woman

Irene Mayer Selznick loved the theatre and after separating from husband-producer David Selznick in 1945, she embarked on a career as a theatrical producer. The first play she produced was Heartsong, which ended up being a big flop. Written by Arthur Laurents, the play premiered in February 1946, only to close again a month later. Heartsong was directed by Phyllis Loughton, a director Laurents had come up with after they couldn't get a "name director". Loughton proved inadequate, however, and was fired in the play's last week and replaced by Mel Ferrer.

Selznick's next production was Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire. After seeing the play All My Sons which was directed by Elia Kazan, Williams wanted Kazan for Streetcar and urged his agent Audrey Wood and Selznick to do everything possible to secure him. Selznick also wanted Kazan but the director was initially uninterested. Only after being persuaded by his wife Molly, Kazan accepted the job. 

The contract negotiations between Selznick and Kazan didn't go smoothly. According to Selznick, the director demanded to "own a chunk of the show" in addition to his "usual fee and top percentage of the gross" and also wanted to be co-producer. Selznick refused and the initial negotiations fell through.

Irene Selznick, Elia Kazan and Tennessee Williams pictured above, and Williams with his good friend Margo Jones below.

Williams had originally recommended three people to Selznick to direct Streetcar: Kazan (his first choice), John Huston and Margo Jones. The latter (whom I had not heard of before) was a stage director and producer, best known for starting the regional theatre movement in the US. Jones was a very close friend of Williams and had co-directed Williams' play The Glass Menagerie on Broadway and also directed/produced another play of his, Summer and Smoke. 

When the initial negotiations with Kazan failed, Williams felt Jones was a serious candidate to direct Streetcar and asked Selznick to consider the option. Knowing that Selznick was against hiring another female director following the failure of Heartsong, the playwright proposed to co-direct with Jones, emphasising how well they worked together. Williams even went as far as to say that this alternative would even be "preferable" to "Gadge" (Kazan) directing alone. Here is the letter in which Williams put forward his proposal, probably written on 9 May 1947.

Dear Irene:

Just had a talk over phone with Audrey. I am leaving early tomorrow morning for the Cape.

Audrey told me Gadge's terms and I must admit - though I have no idea what directors ordinarily receive -  that these seem pretty stiff.

Irene, I don't think you have yet given sufficient consideration to the idea of direction by myself and Margo Jones. I know and appreciate your aversion to direction by a woman. However this would actually be direction by the author through a woman who is the only one who has a thorough interpretative understanding of his work. Also I think you must have observed how much direction is actually incorporated in the script itself. In writing a play I see each scene, in fact every movement and inflection, as vividly as if it were occurring right in front of me. However I could not direct by myself as I am insufficiently articulate. However with Margo I could. We have a sort of mental short-hand or Morse code, we are so used to each other and each other's work, and with Margo it would be a labor of love. Love cannot be discounted, even in a hardboiled profession, as one of the magic factors in success. I have a profound conviction that the two of us, working on this script, with you and Audrey and Liebling [Wood's husband and business partner] as a supporting team - could do something a little better with the play than any other single director, including Gadge. I felt that all along but pressed for Gadge because I felt at the outset that you were irrevocably prejudiced against another woman-director. Well, there is only one woman director and that's Margo. Regardless of what anyone says, I know she has the stuff - and her shortcomings are exactly what I am able to supply. With her I could also continue to function as a writer, during the rehearsals, but with any other - perhaps even Gadge - I don't think I would be able to achieve much more. I mean we have a way of stimulating each other.

Irene, this is not to be construed as pressure. I just thought - in view of the stiff terms offered by Kazan - that you should know that there is an alternative and it is in fact an alternative which I think is even preferable. Needless to say my direction would be gratuitous and Margo's terms would be negligible compared to the others.

I hope you will think about this. See you next week.

Love, Tennessee.

[Source: The Selected Letters of Tennessee Williams, Vol. 2: 1945-1957, edited by Albert J. Devlin and Nancy M. Tischler (2004)]

 

I wonder whether Selznick ever seriously considered Williams' proposal. At any rate, negotiations with Kazan resumed and a deal was eventually closed. Although not willing to share authority as producer, Selznick did compromise on the billing: "Irene M. Selznick presents Elia Kazan's Production of A Streetcar Named Desire." In addition she gave twenty percent of the show to Kazan while reducing her own share.

A Streetcar Named Desire opened on Broadway on 3 December 1947. It became a huge success and made an instant star of Marlon Brando. In 1951, Warner Bros. made a successful film adaptation of the play, again directed by Elia Kazan and with Brando, Karl Malden and Kim Hunter reprising their stage roles (Vivien Leigh replaced Jessica Tandy). Irene Selznick went on to produce several plays, including Bell, Book and Candle (1950) and The Chalk Garden (1955). I'm not sure if she ever worked with a female director again. 

Tennessee Williams and Elia Kazan with Vivien Leigh during production of the film adaptation of A Streetcar Named Desire.

James Dean is not an imitation of anybody

Bosley Crowther, famed film critic of The New York Times, was quite critical of James Dean after seeing him in his first big role in Elia Kazan's East of Eden (1955). In his review, published on 10 March 1955, Crowther wrote: "This young actor, who is here doing his first big screen stint, is a mass of histrionic gingerbread. He scuffs his feet, he whirls, he pouts, he sputters, he leans against walls, he rolls his eyes, he swallows his words, he ambles slack-kneed — all like Marlon Brando used to do. Never have we seen a performer so clearly follow another's style. Mr. Kazan should be spanked for permitting him to do such a sophomoric thing. Whatever there might be of reasonable torment in this youngster is buried beneath the clumsy display".

Crowther was not the only one to criticise Dean's acting and Kazan's direction. There were others, among them Lee Rogow of the Saturday Review, who wrote on 19 March 1955 that "Kazan [had] apparently attempted to graft a Brando-type personality and set of mannerisms upon Dean, and the result [was] less than successful". Dean, who idolised Brando, responded to the criticism in Newsweek: "I am not disturbed by the comparison, nor am I flattered. I have my own personal rebellion and don't have to rely upon Brando." 

Elia Kazan seemed more hurt by the criticism. Kazan greatly admired Brando — they had worked together on three films, i.e. A Streetcar Named Desire (1951), Viva Zapata! (1952) and On the Waterfront (1954) — but being accused of encouraging Dean to act like Brando was "really too ridiculous", he thought. In the following letter to Helen Bower of the Detroit Free Press (one of several critics who had written quite favourably about Dean and the film), Kazan defends Dean and with it his own direction. 

[New York]

March 22, 1955

Dear Miss Bower:

Thank you for your letter. The allegation about Dean was not concerted but was made in some rather disturbing places by people whom I felt know better.

Dean actually has a talent all his own and a sizeable one. He doesn't need to imitate anyone and was not imitating anyone. He admires Brando, as do practically all young actors today. In this respect I would say that he had excellent taste. Brando has no doubt influenced Dean to some extent but he has also influenced 100 others, just as Barrymore did 30 years ago, just as Cagney and Spence Tracy did 20 years ago. The thing about my grafting a Brando-like personality and set of mannerisms on Dean is really too ridiculous to answer. I supposed it was a way of speaking rather than a remark meant literally. I actually don't think he's much like Brando. He's considerably more introverted, more drawn, more naked. Whatever he is, though, he's not an imitation of anybody. He's too proud to try to imitate anyone. He has too much difficulty —as does any decent worker in our craft— thinking about anything except playing the part as written. Critics who say he's imitating Brando just reveal a naivete about acting, direction, and production.

I would love to see your review of the picture. I gather you liked it. It meant a lot to me and I was rather upset by Crowther's reaction in New York. The other critics here, however, liked it very much indeed and the picture is doing well.

Sincerely

 

Source: The Selected Letters of Elia Kazan (2014), edited by Albert J. Devlin  

Note: 
East of Eden was a big commercial success. Both Kazan and Dean were nominated for an Oscar (Dean posthumously) but didn't win. Of the four Oscar nominations the film received only Jo van Fleet won. East of Eden also earned the award for Best Motion Picture–Drama at the Golden Globes and Best Dramatic Film at the Cannes Film Festival. 

Elia Kazan and James Dean behind the scenes of East of Eden, below pictured with Julie Harris and Marlon Brando during Brando's visit to the set.

Elia Kazan and HUAC: I believe what I did was necessary and right

Despite being one of the great American directors, Elia Kazan will always be remembered for his damaging testimony before the House on Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) on 10 April 1952, a testimony which would taint his reputation for the rest of his life. During his first testimony earlier that year in January, Kazan had refused to name the names of people who had been members of the Communist Party with him during the 1930s. In order to avoid being blacklisted, however, Kazan testified again a few months later, this time volunteering the names of eight of his old friends (including Clifford Odets and Paula Strasberg), thereby destroying careers.

Kazan decided to cooperate with HUAC so he could continue making films. While he was an established stage director and could have kept working if he had been blacklisted —the blacklist didn't have much effect on Broadway — he didn't want to focus on the stage any longer, wishing to make motion pictures instead. To his close friend, playwright Arthur Miller, Kazan said prior to his testimony: "I hate the Communists and have for many years and don't feel right about giving up my career to defend them. I will give up my film career if it is in the interests of defending something I believe in, but not this".

And so, Kazan escaped the Hollywood blacklist and continued doing what he wanted to do most — make films. He would deliver some of his best work in his post-HUAC period, e.g. East of Eden (1955) and On The Waterfront (1954), the latter film regarded as Kazan's justification for informing. (Before 1952 Kazan had already made films such as A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945), Gentleman's Agreement (1947), Panic in the Streets (1950) and A Streetcar Named Desire (1951).)

His naming names cost Kazan several friendships (including his close friendship with Arthur Miller) and made him persona non grata in Hollywood. Even with the passing of time, Kazan remained a controversial figure whose actions could not be forgotten. In 1999 when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences decided to honour him with a Lifetime Achievement Award, the decision caused a lot of commotion in Hollywood leaving people clearly divided. While some felt Kazan deserved the Oscar for his body of work, others disagreed refusing to stand up and applaud at the ceremony (watch here).

Kazan never apologised or showed remorse for what he had done. While he admitted to regretting "the human cost" of it, in the end Kazan stood by his actions: "Maybe nobody agreed with me, but I thought that was the right thing to do. Maybe I did wrong, probably did. But I really didn't do it for any reason other than that I thought it was right."

Above: Elia Kazan and Arthur Miller, the latter would be blacklisted in 1957. Below: Marlon Brando as Terry Malloy in On The Waterfront shouting: "And I'm glad what I done to you, ya hear that?"; in 1988 Kazan said:" [... ] that was me saying, with identical heat, that I was glad I'd testified as I had."

And now, the letter!

Eleven days after he had given his HUAC testimony, Elia Kazan wrote to screenwriter Robert E. Sherwood, saying that although his informing was "difficult and painful", it was also "necessary and right".

Sandy Hook, Conn.

April 21, 1952 

Dear Bob:

Your letter meant so much to me that I found it a little hard to answer. What can I say? You have it exactly. It was difficult and painful. No one likes to "tell". And to say that something is difficult and mean it is to face the fact that it can never come out 100% comfortable. It didn't.

I believe what I did was necessary and right. The silence of so many of the House Committee's witnesses had disgusted me. I thought what the nation needed was a sense of proportion about the problem and, for this, cold facts. Yet the first time I was called down, though I answered every question about myself and my own activities, I refused to name other individuals. It was as if 12th. st.* had kept hold of a little piece of my conscience all these years. The Communists had done violence to everything I believed in, and still somehow I stayed silent and shrugged it off and minimized and looked the other way.

Enough of that! I've been trying during these last weeks to let the air in and the light and to take a good fresh look at what's in my damned head. Painful as its been, I'm really glad it all happened.

Most gratefully yours, 
Gadg.

Source: The Selected Letters of Elia Kazan, edited by Albert J. Devlin with Marlene J. Devlin; published in 2014 by Alfred A. Knopf.

Notes

On 12 April 1952 following his HUAC testimony, Kazan took out an ad in the New York Times, defending his actions. Kazan's full statement can be read here.  

*12th st. = 35 East 12th Street, New York City, location of the Communist Party headquarters.

I know it's a hell of a gamble

After reading John Steinbeck's novel East of Eden (1952), director Elia Kazan immediately wanted to turn it into a film. Admittedly, Kazan didn't like the first part of the book and was only interested in filming the latter section which deals with the conflict between Cal, his father Adam and brother Aron. To write the screenplay, Kazan didn't choose Steinbeck --Steinbeck did write the screenplay for Kazan's Viva Zapata! (1952)-- but he chose screenwriter Paul Osborn instead. Kazan felt that East of Eden was the toughest dramatisation job he had ever seen and wanted a professional screenwriter to handle it. While Steinbeck (a good friend of Kazan) was not happy with Kazan's decision, he was busy writing a Broadway musical* so he agreed to Osborn doing the screenplay.

For the principal role of Cal Trask, Kazan briefly considered Marlon Brando with whom he had worked on A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) and On the Waterfront (1954). Brando, however, was 30 at the time and Kazan thought him too old for the role. Paul Osborn then suggested 23-year-old James Dean for the part. (Osborn had seen Dean on Broadway doing a bit part in the play The Immoralist.) While Kazan didn't think much of Dean personally, he felt Dean did have that special quality which made him Cal. Later Dean was introduced to Steinbeck and, despite finding Dean a "snotty kid", Steinbeck also thought Dean wás Cal. 

When it came to the casting of Abra (Aron's girlfriend who later falls for Cal), Kazan chose experienced stage actress Julie Harris, 28 years old at the time. Jack Warner, studio head at Warner Bros, wanted someone younger and prettier than Harris but Kazan insisted on her being cast. Kazan never regretted his decision and later said that on the set Harris had been more important to Dean than he, the director, had been: "I doubt that Jimmy would ever have got through East of Eden except for an angel on our set. Her name was Julie Harris and she was goodness itself with Dean, kind and patient and everlastingly sympathetic. She helped Jimmy more than I did with any direction I gave him."

Other important roles went to Raymond Massey (Adam Trask), unknown actor Richard Davolos (Aron) and Jo Van Fleet (Kate, mother of Cal and Aron).

Pictured above: Marlon Brando visiting Elia Kazan, Julie Harris and James Dean on the set of East of Eden (1955); below: Dean and Kazan talking to some children on the set.

And now to the letter!

In March 1954, Elia Kazan wrote to his friend John Steinbeck, talking about the progress he and Osborn had just made with the script and about his wish to cast Jimmy Dean and Julie Harris in the roles of Cal and Abra. Kazan admits to it being "a hell of a gamble", seeing that Jack Warner was hoping for stars, but he was willing to take the risk. Well, as we know, Kazan's gamble paid off eventually. East of Eden was not only the start of what would later become a James Dean cult, but at the time it was also a huge success. The film received four Oscar nominations, i.e. for Kazan (Best Director), Dean (Best Actor), Osborn (Best Adapted Screenplay) and Van Fleet (Best Supporting Actress), with Van Fleet being the only one who took home the Oscar.

*Incidentally, the last paragraph of the letter concerns the Broadway musical which Steinbeck was working on with Rogers and Hammerstein ("R&H"); read more here. And at the bottom of the post I've also included a note from James Dean to a fan regarding East of Eden. 

Elia Kazan (pictured right) and John Steinbeck (left) were very close friends. In 1952 after Kazan had given his HUAC testimony, Steinbeck was one of the few people who stood by him. Steinbeck trusted Kazan implicitly and in the end was very happy with the way Kazan's East of Eden (1955) had turned out.

[Sandy Hook, Connecticut] 

[March 1954]

Dear John: 

Give our love to Elaine first of all. We had a hell of a time down there. A lot of new stuff like goggle swimming and all kinds of fishing esp. bone fishing. And esp real hot weather. I liked that. That was very welcome.

Now I'm back, feeling very different. I'm up in the country and Paul and I worked all day yesterday and today on the second draft. Yesterday was bewildering, but today was the day. Today we got somewhere.

We're reconstructing the first forty five odd pages pretty thoroughly. We feel it goes pretty well after that, but the first forty five were very bad. We're finally on a line for Aron. I hope you don't mind: we made him a Wilson (Woodrow, that is) enthusiast. We took out the two historical montages. We had Europe in the war at the beginning. And Aron convinced that we'd never get in, that Wilson would keep us out. Then, the night of the birthday party, Wilson lets him down. And a lot more. The script we had, it turns out, was simply what it was, a first draft. I kept saying that, but it was nevertheless a bit of a shock when it turned out to be what I had been saying: a first draft. We'll be working all this week up here, and then a couple of days in New York. Then I'll go to Salinas and look at your back streets (The ones you told me about). Then I'll go down to Burbank FUCK IT and make the film. I hate to leave N.Y.C. And maybe this will be the last picture I make in Cal. But this one belongs out there, so.  

I looked thru a lot of kids before settling on this Jimmy Dean. He hasn't Brando's stature, but he's a good deal younger and is very interesting, has balls and eccentricity and a "real problem" somewhere in his guts, I don't know what or where. He's a little bit of a bum, but he's a real good actor and I think he's the best of a poor field. Most kids who become actors at nineteen or twenty or twenty-one are very callow and strictly from N.Y. Professional school. Dean has got a real mean streak and a real sweet streak. 

I had an awful time with the girl. Terrible. The young girls are worse than the young boys. My god, they are nothing. Nothing has happened to them or else they're bums. Abra is a great part. I hope you don't die now. I want to use Julie Harris. Do you think I'm nuts? The screen play depends so on her last scene with Adam and on her strength, that I have to have a real, real actress. I couldn't find one aged twenty. They're nothing. Proms, dresses, beaus and all that, but nothing for my last scene. Finally I made a photographic test of Julie and she looks twenty when her face is in movement, I think. I'll just have to keep her face in movement. She's a marvelous actress. She is not Abra the way we saw her, but jeezuz I was stuck. 

One pro thing. She and Jimmy Dean look fine together. They look like People, not actors. I'm real pleased with that part of it. Two people. Dean has the advantage of never having been seen on the screen. Harris, practically.

Meantime WB? Jack esp. are dying. They hoped for stars. But they didn't come up with any names. And I haven't. I know you must be a little shocked with this casting. And I know its a hell of a gamble and all on my shoulders. But I'm delighted to take it. Its the kind of gamble I like. Write me. c/o Warner Bros. Burbank Cal.

I think R&H did fair on the lead casting. And I think Clurman is one of the three or four best directors in the world today. R&H will do the musical part of it. Lots of love to you and Elaine. Have a BALL!

Source: The Selected Letters of Elia Kazan (2014), edited by Albert J. Devlin.

Below: James Dean's letter to a fan, saying he found playing Cal "gratifying". Image of the letter courtesy of Heritage Auctions.

source

I'm not insane about Brando for this

When offered the lead role of dockworker Terry Malloy in Elia Kazan's On the Waterfront (1954), Marlon Brando initially rejected it. Brando, who had worked with Kazan before on A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) and Viva Zapata! (1952), didn't want to work with Kazan again due to the director's damaging testimony before the House of Un-American Activities Committee. In April 1952, Kazan had been a "friendly" witness for HUAC, naming names of eight colleagues who were former Communists and thereby ruining their careers. Kazan was heavily criticised for his actions and it is generally believed that On the Waterfront was his way of justifying them (read more here).

Following Brando's rejection, Frank Sinatra (who had just made From Here to Eternity) was approached to play Terry Malloy in September 1953. Sinatra was eager to play the role and made a verbal agreement with producer Sam Spiegel. Elia Kazan, however, had doubts about Sinatra due to his limited availability. Then Brando decided to play the part after all and Kazan went with his first choice, also because casting Brando meant having a bigger budget and more shooting time. Sinatra was extremely upset about not getting the part, and Spiegel then offered him the role of Father Barry which in fact had already been promised to Karl Malden. When Kazan refused to let Malden go in favour of Sinatra, Sinatra sued Spiegel for $500,000 damages. (The matter was later settled out of court.) 

The three letters for this post (or rather, excerpts from letters) were written by Elia Kazan in connection with the casting of Terry Malloy. The first letter is addressed to Budd Schulberg (the film's screenwriter who also named names before HUAC), showing that Kazan wasn't too enthusiastic about Brando at first; Kazan also talks about another alternative to Brando, an actor named Paul Newman who had just made his Broadway debut in Picnic. (Newman did a screentest with Joanne Woodward in the role of Edie, the role that later went to Eva Marie Saint.) In the second letter, written to Marlon Brando, Kazan tried to persuade Brando to take the role, even though he still considered Brando "not right for this part"; noteworthy is that Kazan admits that the script shows parallels with his HUAC experience. And the final letter is addressed to Abe Lastfogel, Frank Sinatra's agent, in which Kazan explains his choosing Brando over Sinatra.

In late July 1953, Elia Kazan wrote Budd Schulberg the following:

I'm not insane about Brando for this. In fact in my opinion he is quite wrong. But he's a fine actor and if he's really excited about it and will work like a beginner trying to get a start, he can be fine. [....] At any rate he arrives in town Sunday the second of August and leaves on the fifth, and it is imperative repeat imperative that he read the script and give us his yes or no. He cannot take the script to Europe with him. Our time is running short and we cannot wait for his majesty to get comfy in Paris and send us an answer when he feels it... If we don't get Brando, and I think it most likely we won't, I'm for Paul Newman. This boy will definitely be a film star. I have absolutely no doubt. He's just as good looking as Brando and his masculinity which is strong is also more actual. He's not as good an actor as Brando yet, and probably will never be. But he's a darn good actor with plenty of power, plenty of insides, plenty of sex. He and Malden are working on two scenes to show to Sam and yourself. I'm for him without seeing more.

Budd Schulberg (l.) and Elia Kazan won Oscars for Best Screenplay and Best Director. On the Waterfront won a total of 8 Oscars, including Best Picture (Sam Spiegel), Best Actor (Marlon Brando) and Best Supporting Actress (Eva Marie Saint). 

Also in late July 1953, Kazan wrote to Marlon Brando:

I cant pretend that its easy or simple to write you. Ultimately, in our little world, everyone hears everything. I will always feel most warmly and devotedly for you, but this does not blot out the things unsaid between us. I will for the time leave them unsaid. I will write you here professionally, and you can behave as you wish from whatever criteria you wish to act from. That's your business and even your problem. I'm sending you the script of a movie in a state of preparation. I'm very very hopeful of the script. I've worked very hard on it, and I'm going to do a lot more work on it. But you're a sensitive person and you will realize its not finished, you will sense its intention and the hope involved in it. Its yet not realized, though its a great deal closer than what you read before. Its meant very seriously. It is taken from living people, though distilled and compacted. The problem which it mirrors still exists and the moral problem it treats - the social responsibility of a citizen as it comes into conflict with his personal allegiances- is one of the oldest and most universal of all problems a man can face. My own point of view towards this problem and Budd's too, is clearly set forth. But the script is more of an involvment in the problem than an exhortation of any kind.  Make no mistake about it, there is a parallel inference to be drawn to the Inquiries into Communist Activities. This parallelism is not the main value of the script. This is the story of a human in torment, and in danger. The first thing I would do if you did become interested would be to take you over [to] HOBOKEN and introduce you to Tony Mike DeVincenzo who went thru exactly what our TERRY goes thru. This is a confrontation which would put flesh and blood on the issue on which our script is built. I've spent three evenings with him and its like being in the presence of a denizen of Dante's Purgatorio. And finally with him and with the whole waterfront of New York Harbor, the issue is not decided, and will probably be in the process of being decided as we shoot the picture.

I dont want to say more about the picture's theme. Just one word about the part. By the common measure which producers and directors use for casting, you are not right for this part. But you weren't right for the Williams Play either and you weren't right for Zapata. This boy is a former fighter, half pure, half hoodlum. He is a boy who has lost his sense of inner dignity or self-worth. At the beginning of our story he doesn't know when he lost it or how. He only discovers that he is behaving like a hoodlum and he has been a contributor to a murder. Slowly thru the unfolding of the incidents of the story and thru his relationship with a girl he discovers the shameful estate to which he has sunken. The body of the story has to do with his effort to find his own dignity and self esteem once more. He's a boy who suffers at the slightest introspection or self examination. He goes thru hell. Finally he acts to make himself respect himself, first putting his life in danger and secondly even going out to meet a violent end, so that he will re-establish himself in the sight of his own inner eye. With this "inside", there is a jaunty exterior which is the pathetic remnant of a career where he was once the white haired boy of the neighborhood, and etc.  There's much more to say, but you can go on from here, if you care to. I think its a giant of a part and a tremendous challenge. 

 [this letter was a draft letter and possibly never sent]

And on 2 November 1953, Kazan wrote to Abe Lastfogel:

Obviously from my point of view the decision to go ahead with Frank was a severe compromise. Not on artistic grounds. I was quite happy that way. Frank would have been fine in the part. Brando was my first choice, but since I could not have him and had completely abandoned hope of having him, Frank was a happy choice for me.... The alternate to Frank was an unknown boy in the cast of PICNIC. His release was a dubious matter. [.....] Then, after Frank was all set, Brando walked in one day, to my complete surprise, and said he wanted to go ahead. I wanted him. Not just Sam. I wanted him. Not that I was unhappy with Frank. But with Brando there would be no time pressure. My guess is that this picture will take 42 days, even possibly a few more. We now have a decent budget.... I dont like to get hurt and I hate to hurt any one. Nor do I feel that the thing was handled well by Sam. Sam says that's the only way he could have done it. I'm not all sure it was. I'm, on the other hand, not sure it wasn't. One thing sure: the change was necessary. We had done something desperate in accepting Frank with 27 days, desperate and foolish. Its terrible and regrettable that Frank had to be hurt. But couldn't the hurt be partially assuaged by having Frank announce that he withdrew because the schedule did not permit. And couldn't another part of his hurt be softened by my writing him and assuring him that the basis of the change WITH ME was time. I had gotten myself in a foolish and desperate (But by me, necessary) spot, and I had to get out of it when I saw a way out. I'm not callous to Frank's feelings. But say this much for us: when we went into it with Frank we went in on complete good faith. In fact our demands were craven. We begged him to give us a few more days. He was unable to, so I got us three more on the phone with Lew. We did not ask him to give up the Fox musical or anything like that. We were beggars. And we begged. But too much work and pain and time from Budd and myself are riding on this thing-- to do anything else than what we allowed Sam to do. I wish Sam had done it differently but Abe I want you to know I'm glad right now that we have Marlon. And make no mistake about that. 

Excerpts taken from The Selected Letters of Elia Kazan, edited by Albert J. Devlin with Marlene J. Devlin; published in 2014 by Alfred A. Knopf.