Errol was a proud, sensitive man ...

Tasmanian-born Errol Flynn became a U.S. citizen in August 1942. Eight months earlier, America had entered World War II, and Errol tried several times to join the U.S. Armed Forces. He was rejected, however, due to a number of health problems, including a weak heart and chronic tuberculosis. The press dubbed Errol a "draft dodger", seeing that the seemingly fit and athletic star was not serving in the military, as were so many of his colleagues.

Instead of going to war, Errol spent the war years working in Hollywood, making several films about the war, e.g. Desperate Journey (1942), Edge of Darkness (1943) and Objective, Burma! (1945). It was also during these war years that Errol faced a huge crisis in his personal life. In late 1942, the actor was accused of statutory rape by two 17-year-old girls, Betty Hansen and Peggy Satterlee, causing a major scandal. What followed was a high-profile trial, which took place in late January and early February 1943. Eventually Errol was acquitted of all charges —defended by famed criminal lawyer Jerry Giesler— but both his romantic screen image and his self-respect were damaged for good.

Playing a Norwegian resistance leader during WWII in Lewis Milestone's Edge of Darkness (1943), Errol is pictured here with co-star Ann Sheridan.

9 January 1943, Errol on the stand during his high-profile trial, while being questioned by his lawyer Jerry Giesler.

In the fall of 1989, film historian and biographer Tony Thomas was busy preparing his third book on Errol Flynn, which would be published the following year (entitled Errol Flynn: The Spy Who Never Was). The best part of his new book Thomas would spend refuting the allegations made by Charles Higham that Errol was a Nazi spy during WWII. (Read more about Higham's controversial biography Errol Flynn: The Untold Story (1980) here.) One of the contributors to Thomas' book was Olivia de Havilland, Errol's eight-time co-star. Below you'll find her letter to Thomas, written on 25 October 1989. Olivia talks about Errol's frustration at not being able to contribute to the war effort and how this, as well as the 1943 trial, had left an indelible mark on him.

Source: RR Auction

Errol and Olivia 

Olivia de Havilland's first Oscar win

On 13 March 1947, the 19th Academy Awards ceremony was held in Los Angeles, honouring the films released in 1946. Olivia de Havilland was one of the nominees in the Best Actress category, being nominated for her role as Jody Norris in Mitchell Leisen's To Each His Own. Also nominated were Celia Johnson for Brief Encounter, Jennifer Jones for Duel in the Sun, Rosalind Russell for Sister Kenny and Jane Wyman for The Yearling. The Oscar eventually went to Olivia, this being her first of two Oscar wins. 

A day before the Oscar ceremony, Margaret Herrick (Executive Secretary of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences) sent telegrams to the Oscar nominees with instructions regarding the ceremony. The following telegram was sent to Olivia.

Source: Bonhams

Olivia de Havilland with Ray Milland at the 1947 Oscars, holding her coveted prize. Olivia would receive a second Best Actress Oscar a few years later, i.e. for her performance in William Wyler's The Heiress (1949). Apart from her two Oscar wins, the actress also received nominations for the 1939 Gone with the Wind (for Best Supporting Actress) as well as Hold Back the Dawn (1941) and The Snake Pit (1948) (the latter two for Best Actress). 

Olivia de Havilland and John Lund in To Each His Own

_____

As instructed in Margaret Herrick's telegram, after receiving the Oscar for To Each His Own, Olivia exited off stage to meet the press. There to congratulate her was her sister Joan Fontaine who had just presented the Best Actor Oscar. "After Olivia delivered her acceptance speech and entered the wings, I, standing close by, went over to congratulate her as I would have done to any winner", recalled Joan in her 1978 memoir No Bed Of Roses. "She took one look at me, ignored my outstretched hand, clutched her Oscar to her bosom, and wheeled away just as Photoplay's photographer Hymie Fink captured the moment with his camera". The reason for Olivia's rebuffing her sister was reportedly a derogatory comment Joan had made to the press about Olivia's first husband, author Marcus Goodrich ("All I know about him is that he's had four wives and written one book. Too bad it's not the other way around."). The two sisters had a lifelong feud which lasted until Joan's death in 2013.

The infamous picture of the two sisters, shot by Hymie Fink

There is something I would like to straighten out with you ...

Olivia de Havilland was still working on Gone with the Wind (1939) when she started filming The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939). She had a minor role in the latter film as the queen's lady-in-waiting, playing third fiddle to Bette Davis and Errol Flynn and being billed below the title. It is said that casting Olivia in such an inferior role was Jack Warner's way of punishing her for doing David Selznick's GWTW. Warner, head of Warner Brothers and Olivia's boss, was at first unwilling to loan her out to Selznick, but Olivia was adamant about playing Melanie. In violation of her contract with Warners, the actress had secretly screentested for GWTW, and next secretly contacted Warner's wife Ann, pleading with her to make Warner change his mind. Persuaded by his wife, Warner eventually agreed to the loan-out but ordered producer Hal Wallis to cast Olivia in a secondary role on her return to Warners.

In early May 1939 —while still having to shoot retakes for GWTW— Olivia reported for work at Warners and later recalled that it was "torture for [her], leaving this wonderful atmosphere at Selznick for a very different atmosphere at Warner Brothers". A month later, on 10 June, an incident occurred on the set of Elizabeth and Essex, where Olivia had to do a scene but lost her usual calm in front of the cast and crew. The incident involved Warners' contract director Michael Curtiz, whom Olivia disliked working with (read more here). In a memo to production manager T.C. Wright, unit manager Frank Mattison described what had happened:

 

I had [a] display of temperament late SATURDAY afternoon from Miss DeHAVILLAND; to wit— at 5:15 PM when we started to rehearse a scene between her and Miss FABERES [Nanette Fabray], she informed Mr. Curtiz that she positively was going to stop at 6:00 PM, but Mr. Curtiz told her that unless she stayed and finished the sequence he positively would cut it out of the picture. Miss DeHAVILLAND expressed herself before the company and Mr. Curtiz came right back, with the result that it became necessary for me to dismiss the company at 6:15 without shooting this sequence. 

Inasmuch as this sequence of 2 pages was inserted at Miss DeHAVILLAND's request, I believe that we definitely should not shoot it and uphold Mr. Curtiz in the matter. I think this will put Miss DeHAVILLAND in a proper frame of mind so that she will take direction and instruction hereafter.  

[The scene was later shot and included in the film.]

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

Olivia de Havilland as Penelope Gray in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex

In order to defend herself and to explain the situation to her boss Jack Warner, Olivia wrote him the following letter on 18 July 1939. Long afterwards, Olivia said about the incident: "I lost my cool, which was not like me, and which is unforgivable." 

Incidentally, with "a certain man who means well" Olivia unmistakably refers to Michael Curtiz and the "famous blond actress" is Bette Davis. The Lady & the Knight was one of the film's working titles.

 

July 18, 1939

Dear Mr. Warner —

It is a shame that you are so busy this week that it is impossible to arrange a luncheon engagement. I should have enjoyed the experience so much.

There is something I would like to straighten out with you, something that is, I feel very important to both of us. I have not been at all happy about the situation that existed during The Lady & the Knight. I feel that a misunderstanding was created between us that had no business to be there. As you know, when you called me on the phone, full of indignation, I wanted to talk to you in person, rather than discuss so vital a matter through such an unsatisfactory medium, but you were busy or preferred not to do so ....

The first time you called, the conversation concerned my starting date on The Lady & the Knight. As I explained to you, I had, four weeks before, forseen the problems that would arise between the schedules of G.W.T.W. and The Lady & the Knight and had discussed the matter with Mr. Wallis, [co-producer] Mr. [Robert] Lord and Mr. Curtiz and come to a conclusion satisfactory to all of us. My principle in being concerned was simply this: I wanted to do a good job in G.W.T.W.  for it was a solemn responsiblity, & I wanted to do my best in The Lady & the Knight, for it is one of your big pictures for the year, & a bad performance on my part could weaken the film perceptibly. As you know it is impossible to perform two decided and different characters at the same time, so our problem was to work out the schedules so that they would not conflict ...

When I started my first important day's work on The Lady & the Knight, not having had a vacation since September, I was quite nervous, and as one always is on the first day of a picture, somewhat apprehensive of my first consequential scene. And that scene was a charming, well-written one, & I wanted to do it well.

I arrived at the studio at 6:45 A.M., shot a number of reaction shots beginning at 9. The morning passed, the afternoon passed, & finally at 5:30 P.M. with my nose shiny, my makeup worn off, my vitality gone, & my tummy doing nip-ups, we prepared to line up the charming scene. I mentioned that it was nearing six, that everyone was tired, and I hoped that we could shoot the scene another day since it required virtually no set. However, when the lights were arranged, at 6:15, with everything against me technically, I limped on the set prepared to go through with this thing. Unfortunately, to make matters much worse, I found that a certain man who means well wanted to get this charming scene over in a hurry — and then, bang! he said something very tactless, and to my horror I found myself shaking from head to foot with nerves, & unable to open my mouth for fear of crying— which would never do in front of so many people. The man, who meant well, realized he had gone too far, apologized, & dismissed the company assuring me that he could quite well shoot the scene another day for it required no set & could be done in a short time. He had said the same kind of thing a few days before to a famous blond actress who had gone home with the tears streaming down her face.

And someone went to you about all this! I know that if you had been present on that set, and had realized my problem, you would have dismissed the company rather than shoot that scene so late in the day. I know, too, that you understand that an actress, no matter how talented she is, is dependent very seriously upon her appearance & her vitality for the quality of her performance. When those two things leave her, whether it is after five years work or at the end of a day, she has nothing to rely on. And when I make suggestions to anyone at the studio, it is for the good of the whole ...

You have a tremendous business to conduct, one that you have built to astounding success & complexity, & your time is not to be wasted with trivialities. 

My very best wishes to you,

Olivia de Havilland 

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

Above: Olivia de Havilland and the "famous blond actress" in a scene from The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex. Below: Olivia and Mike Curtiz on the set of Captain Blood (1935), the first of nine films they did together. 

Remembering Michael Curtiz

Born in Hungary as Manó Kertész Kaminer, director Michael Curtiz arrived in Hollywood in 1926 at age 39. Having already directed numerous films in Europe, Curtiz was signed to a contract by Warner Bros, the studio where he would make nearly all of his Hollywood films. While Curtiz didn't have a signature style like some of his peers (like Alfred Hitchcock or Frank Capra), he was a versatile director who could handle a variety of genres, including adventure, western, musical, drama, comedy and film noir. A lot of films that are now considered classics were directed by Curtiz, among them The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), Casablanca (1942), Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), Mildred Pierce (1945) and White Christmas (1954).

Curtiz was a workaholic, working long hours without pausing for lunch and dismissing actors who ate lunch as "lunch bums" (which led Peter Lorre to remark: "Curtiz eats pictures and excretes pictures"). A lot of actors as well as crew members found the director very difficult to work with. Biographer Alan Rode said that Curtiz's "demonic work ethic approached savagery" and that the working conditions on his sets had contributed to the founding of the Screen Actors Guild. As mentioned in this post, Bette Davis hated working with Curtiz. Among the actors who also had problems with the director were Errol Flynn, Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney, and the latter once said: "Mike was a pompous bastard who didn’t know how to treat actors, but he sure as hell knew how to treat a camera". 

Struggling with the English language, Curtiz was known for his use of malapropisms. For example, a well-known anecdote is that Curtiz had asked for a "poodle" on the set of Casablanca; some time later the prop master brought him a little dog, not realising Curtiz had meant a "puddle" (of water),  not a "poodle".

Seen below are three letters from actresses who remember what is was like to work with Curtiz. The letters, all written in 1975, are addressed to Curtiz's daughter Candace Curtiz who was working on a book about her famous father. (I couldn't find any information regarding the book, so I guess it was never published.)

The first letter is from Olivia de Havilland who had quite a hard time with Curtiz, finding him "exigent, emotional, and even harsh". She was directed by him nine times, i.e. in Captain Blood (1935), The Charge of the Light Brigade (1936), Gold Is Where You Find It (1938), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), Four's a Crowd (1938), Dodge City (1939), The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), Santa Fe Trail (1940) and The Proud Rebel (1958). 

Not all actors found Curtiz difficult to work with, however. Claude Rains, for example, whom Curtiz had directed in ten films, got along with the director quite well. And there were others, including Ingrid Bergman and Rosalind Russell, who said they enjoyed working with the man. Bergman, who was directed by Curtiz in Casablanca (1942), and Russell, who worked with him on Roughly Speaking (1945), talk about their experiences in the second and third letter of this post, written on resp. 5 February 1975 and 22 August 1975.

On the set of Gold Is Where You Find It with Olivia de Havilland, George Brent and Mike Curtiz.

(The image on the left only shows the back of Ingrid's letter.)

I belong to the people who loved your father. He was extremely nice to me during the shooting of “Casablanca”. He was under such stress because the script was written day by day. All his actors were nervous not knowing what was going to happen, all of them asking for their dialogue. He sat mostly by himself in deep thoughts, while the lights were being changed. He was very impatient and couldn’t stand people that worked slowly. How wonderful, if he had known he was making a masterpiece, a classic that would be loved for generations! I never met your father outside of work, so I really only know him from the set. I think Hal Wallis, the producer and still here in Hollywood, could help you. They fought over the story every lunch hour!! 

I wish you best of luck —

Ingrid Bergman 

Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman and Mike Curtiz on the set of Casablanca.

Transcript:

Dear Miss Curtiz:

Forgive my not answering your letter. It was because I really had nothing to offer your book of great value.

I worked for your father but he did not use the "bon mots" many others said he did. He was hardworking + thorough, full of enthusiasm.

I enjoyed working with him + felt he put a good deal of his own unique energy on to the film he was making.

Good luck with your book about a splendid filmmaker!

Rosalind Russell

Mike Curtiz  and Rosalind Russell on the set of Roughly Speaking.

Source of all letters: One Of A Kind Collectibles Auctions

Let him look a little swashbuckling, for Christ sakes!

Inspired by the box-office successes of MGM's Treasure Island (1934) and United Artists' The Count of Monte Cristo (1934), Warner Brothers made its own swashbuckler film in 1935— Captain Blood, directed by Hungarian-born Michael Curtiz. Based on the 1922 novel of the same name by Rafael Sabatini, Captain Blood tells the story of Doctor Peter Blood who, after being wrongly convicted of treason and being sold as a slave, escapes with his fellow slaves and eventually becomes the most feared pirate of the Caribbean. (For a full synopsis, go here.)

Finding the right actor to play Peter Blood proved to be a difficult task. While Robert Donat was signed to play Blood in December 1934, due to ill health (asthma) he eventually bowed out. Clark Gable and Ronald Colman were considered for the role but they had to be borrowed from MGM, so studio boss Jack Warner and producer Hal Wallis decided to let them go. Other candidates were Fredric March, Leslie Howard, Brian Aherne, George Brent and Ian Hunter — all experienced actors who were ultimately uninterested or unsuited. And then there was also Australian newcomer Errol Flynn, who had previously played in an Australian film In the Wake of the Bounty (1933) and done bit parts in The Case of the Curious Bride (1935) and Don't Bet on Blondes (1935). By July 1935, after many months of casting, Warners still had no Peter Blood and eventually decided to take a chance on the inexperienced, 26-year-old Flynn (a considerable risk since Captain Blood was a big-budget project). On 8 July, Jack Warner wrote to studio executive Irving Asher, seemingly confident about their choice:"[I] am sure Flynn will come through with flying colors. His tests are marvelous. If he has anything at all on the ball he will surely come out in this picture and go to great heights. If he hasn't it will be one of those things, but we will do all in our power to put Flynn over in grand style."

In the end, Warners' gamble paid off. Captain Blood became a huge box-office hit and its leads Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland, who had been cast in favour of Jean Muir, became overnight stars. Having rewatched Captain Blood for this post —I had not seen the film in ages— I can only say that it was as great an adventure as I remembered. Errol is fantastic as the swashbuckling hero, brimming with infectious energy, and Olivia —very young (only 19) and radiantly beautiful— is perfect as his leading lady. With their chemistry jumping off the screen, it seems only natural that they would go on to make another seven movies together. 

Above, from left to right: Jack Warner, Michael Curtiz and Hal Wallis. Below: Errol Flynn with Curtiz on the set of Captain Blood. Giving the inexperienced Flynn a hard time, Curtiz was told by Wallis to "work with the boy a little" and not crush his confidence ("... the fellow looks like he is scared to death every time he goes into a scene.")

While Captain Blood turned out to be a big success, the shooting of the film was an often frustrating experience for Hal Wallis. After Darryl Zanuck left the studio in 1933 due to a salary dispute with Jack Warner, Wallis had taken over from Zanuck as head of production and Captain Blood was his most important project thus far. With so much at stake —the film had a budget of one million dollars — Wallis was determined to make it a success. His collaboration with director Michael Curtiz, however, was not without problems. Curtiz, who was a personal friend of Wallis, was someone who liked to do things his own way. Wallis, in turn, wanted to control every aspect of the production and throughout filming kept bombarding Curtiz with memos, demanding all kinds of changes and also giving advice to Curtiz on how to direct the cast (especially how to handle an insecure Flynn). 

Here are two of the many memos from Wallis to Curtiz, both written after Wallis had watched the daily rushes, clearly feeling exasperated and frustrated by what he'd seen. Much to the producer's annoyance, Curtiz simply ignored his memos and continued to direct the film in his own way. (Despite their professional differences, Wallis held Curtiz in high esteem and would later call him his "favorite director, then and always".)

 

TO: Curtiz

FROM: Wallis

DATE: August 28, 1935

SUBJECT: "Captain Blood"

I am looking at your dailies, and, while the stuff is very nice, you got a very short day's work. I suppose this was due to bad weather.

However, I don't understand what you can be thinking about at times. That scene in the bedroom, between Captain Blood and the governor, had one punch line in it; the line from Blood: "I'll have you well by tonight, if I have to bleed you to death," or something along these lines, anyhow. This is the one punch line to get over that Blood had to get out of there by midnight, even if he had to kill the governor, and instead of playing that in a close-up —a big head close-up— and getting over the reaction of Errol Flynn, and what he is trying to convey, and the crafty look in his eye, you play it in a long shot, so that you can get the composition of a candle-stick and a wine bottle on a table in the foreground, which I don't give a damn about.

Please don't forget that the most important thing you have to do is to get the story on the screen, and I don't care if you play it in front of BLACK VELVET! Just so you tell the story; because, if you don't have a story, all of the composition shots and all the candles in the world aren't going to make you a good picture. ...

Hal Wallis 

Despite Wallis' memo, Curtiz didn't go for a close-up and kept the candlestick and the wine decanter in the shot.

TO: Curtiz

FROM: Wallis

DATE: September 30, 1935

SUBJECT: "Captain Blood"

I have talked to you about four thousand times, until I am blue in the face, about the wardrobe in this picture. I also sat up here with you one night, and with everybody else connected with the company, and we discussed each costume in detail, and also discussed the fact that when the men get to be pirates that we would not have "Blood" dressed up. 

Yet tonight, in the dailies, in the division of the spoil sequence, here is Captain Blood with a nice velvet coat, with lace cuffs out of the bottom, with a nice lace stock collar, and just dressed exactly opposite to what I asked you to do.

I distinctly remember telling you, I don't know how many times, that I did not want you to use lace collars or cuffs on Errol Flynn. What in the hell is the matter with you, and why do you insist on crossing me on everything that I ask you not to do? What do I have to do to get you to do things my way? I want the man to look like a pirate, not a molly-coddle. ... 

I suppose that when he goes into the battle with the pirates (the French) at the finish, you'll probably be having him wear a high silk hat and spats. 

When the man divided the spoils you should have had him in a shirt with the collar open at the throat, and no coat on at all. Let him look a little swashbuckling, for Christ sakes! Don't always have him dressed up like a pansy! I don't know how many times we've talked this over. ... 

I hope that by the time we get into the last week of shooting this picture, that everybody will be organized and get things right. It certainly is about time.

Hal Wallis 

Director Mike Curtiz ignored Hal Wallis' pleas not to use lace collars or cuffs on Errol Flynn, as can be seen in the photos above and below. Above Flynn is pictured with Henry Stephenson and Olivia de Havilland and below he is shown dividing the loot, as mentioned in Wallis' letter. 

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

This post is my contribution to the THE 2021 SWASHBUCKLATHON, hosted by SILVER SCREEN CLASSICS. For more swashbuckling entries, go here.

Howard, Howard, Howard - could it be I love you a little?

Apart from competing for film roles and the attention of their mother, sisters Olivia de Havilland and Joan Fontaine also competed for men. Olivia was the first to date actor Brian Aherne but it was Joan who eventually married him (the couple was married from 1939 until 1945). Besides Aherne, both sisters were involved with eccentric billionaire Howard Hughes, which complicated their relationship even more.

Olivia was also the first to date Hughes. But while she was dating him, Hughes proposed to her sister. At a surprise party given in Joan's honour shortly before her wedding to Aherne, Hughes proposed to Joan on the dance floor, telling her it was a mistake to marry Aherne. In her autobiography No Bed of Roses (1978), Joan recalled:

I was shocked. Olivia had been seeing him steadily. I knew her feelings for him were intense, that the relative tranquility at Nella Vista now rested upon the frequency of his telephone calls. No one two-timed my sister, whatever our domestic quarrels might be. Not if I could help it. I had heard rumors that Howard saw girls in shifts (no pun intended). Olivia was on the early shift, while actresses such as [Katharine] Hepburn and [Ginger] Rogers were rumored to have later dates with him. Howard evidently needed very little sleep.

As I was leaving the nightclub with Olivia, Hughes slipped me his private telephone number, whispering that I was to call him as soon as possible. The next day I phoned him and arranged to meet him that afternoon. I had to find out whether he was serious or indulging in some ghoulish jest. [...] He seemed in deadly earnest and had not changed his mind from the previous evening. I, seething inside at his disloyalty to Olivia, said nothing.

Upon returning to Nella Vista, I showed Olivia the slip of paper with Howard's private number written in his own handwriting and told her about my afternoon's encounter. I gently tried to explain that her heart belonged to a heel. In addition to the rumors in newspaper columns, the warnings from her friends, now she had real proof. Sparks flew. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned ... especially in favor of her sister. This, plus my engagement to Brian, was very hard for her to take. 

 Joan, Olivia and Joan's husband Brian Aherne are having tea in the early 1940s.

While the relationship between Olivia and Howard Hughes ended, Hughes would ask Joan to marry him two more times, i.e. first after her divorce from Aherne and next when Hughes became her boss at RKO as she was divorcing producer William Dozier. On both occasions Joan again rejected him. In her autobiography Joan said she was never in love with Hughes and never had an affair with him. She felt he had "no humor, no gaiety, no sense of joy" and everything with him "seemed to be a "deal", a business arrangement." Still, judging by some of the letters Joan had written Hughes in 1949, she seemed to have been under his spell more than she would let on in her memoir. 

Seen below are three of Joan's letters, two in full and the third letter in part. The first two letters were written in Italy where in the summer of 1949 exteriors for the film September Affair (1950) were shot. After her film duties in Italy and seeing the sights there, Joan took a trip to Cyprus from where she wrote the third letter. In particular the last two letters show Joan's obvious adoration for Hughes. Ultimately, however, she realised there was no future for them unless she was willing to share him with his "6900 gals". (At the time of writing these letters, Joan was in the middle of her divorce from Dozier, a divorce which would not be finalised until 1951.) 

Transcript:

Saturday.

Hello:

I hated our telephone conversation in every way. You were so right to warn me how lousy connections were and all we seemed to do was say "hello, hello, can you hear me?" Wedged into that went something about whether I'd been on a binge or was someone in my room! Really, you are the most hopelessly suspicious guy. Why are you like that? 

You want to trust someone, then you defy her to be anything but honest with you. I simply couldn't live like that and I see only real, terrifying unhappiness for you. Hell! What a dog's life you lead without your trying to make it worse. 

I've just begun to live, I realize. The Italians have a superb philosophy which we might well adopt. They're all so happy— no psychiatrists in the country for the Italians are better intergrated [sic] than any people I've yet seen. Sure —  they have little ambition and their children run in ragged, filthy clothes about the streets — but they are enjoying life as few of us Americans know how.

Why are we all so ambitious, so intent on emphasising all our assets, talent, social position —all— and we ruin our health and never enjoy our life for one moment.

I am resolved to live a different life upon my return, by golly. I've roped myself down so many years during which I have had few moments of real happiness or real pleasure. I intend to be very selfish from now on and think of pleasing Joan for a change. Maybe I can teach you a little sense in the process.

Be a nice boy — stop quarrelling with me — it's such a waste of valuable time.

Will cable you next week when I know definitely what my plans will be.

Joan

Transcript:

Saturday Sept 2nd

Howard dear:

You've got me scared again! This time I loved our telephone conversation and every word was very clear - especially the "come home" part of it! 

That's all very well, you spoiled boy - but what happens to Joan? I see it quite clearly - I come home - empty house, divided friends, no "occupational theopathy" until "September" [the film September Affair] starts about Nov. 1st. I can't be seen with you, let's face it. You've got a lousy reputation - mebbe good for you but not the girls. No one would believe I wasn't one of your 6900 gals and there's no way to prove I'm not. (Bill does not believe I'm not one of them either, by the way.) 

So, then what happens? I stay home waiting all hours for you to telephone to say you got tied up and can't come over this evening? And this I do night after night like Olivia until you get bored with me or I go to the looney-bin? No, no, no - you've got the wrong girl, or rather - you just ain't got her at all. 

I do adore you - but I just can't see how it can work. Strangely enough, though I scarcely know you, I miss you- or perhaps I just can't bear being alone and I have to have someone to love. At any rate, I'm going to try to enjoy the remainder of this so-called holiday and leave tomorrow for, at this moment, an unknown destination.

Venice was so beautiful I could hardly bear it. The festival is the most ridiculous farce imaginable due to the fact they can't get enough good films to show + therefore must give awards to those they have. Selznick + Litvak brought theirs so they were a cinch to win - though Joe's performance in "Jenny" [sic] hardly warrants anything. The city was crawling with people we know so it was rather like an inundated Hollywood and Vine. The city itself is the most fabulous I've ever seen, however, fairly beyond the realm of possibility!

Do hope your 4 days' vacation did all the right things for you. Rupert Burns c/o Shell Oil, Nicosia, Cyprus will be my next address. Should reach there between Aug. 8th + 12th.

Just the same.

Joan

This is the last part of one of Joan's other letters, written on 11 September 1949 from Cyprus.

Transcript:

Darling Howard - either you should be with me or out of my life entirely - I DREAM of you every night - almost. I see you many times a day in other people - something about their walk or expression - something sometimes, when someone glowers at me - it's exactly like you!! 

I DREAD returning to California and probably would remain in Sicily for the rest of my life- but I miss you - I'm not just a little intrigued by you - and I desperately need a little bit of comfort and a soft shoulder to lean on. Have I at least one shoulder of yours?

Bill now writes me short cryptic notes when he forwards my mail - why can't people be nicer about these things? 

And look you - isn't this letter-writing a bit one-sided? Don't you think you could take the time to pen me just one postcard? Funny fellow- wish you were here or I were there right this very minute.

Hope you're so damned busy you haven't time to see all those gals every night - but not too busy so that you don't think of me just occasionally. 

Howard, Howard, Howard - could it be I love you a little?

Joan

Note

The Venice Film Festival, mentioned in the second letter, held its 10th annual edition from 11 August until 1 September 1949. Joan mentions David Selznick, producer of Portrait of Jennie (1948), and Jennie's leading man Joseph Cotten who received the Best Actor Award for his performance (a performance apparently not to Joan's liking). Joan also mentions director Anatole Litvak, whose film The Snake Pit (1948) won the International Award. Interestingly, she doesn't say anything about her sister Olivia who was awarded the prize for Best Actress for The Snake Pit. (Incidentally, the date on the letter is "Saturday September 2nd", but Joan had mistaken either the day or the date as 2 September 1949 was on a Friday. Also, Joan said she would reach Cyprus "between Aug. 8th + 12th", but that of course should be September.)

Source of the letters: icollector.com

R.I.P. Olivia de Havilland (1916-2020)

I must have mentioned once or twice before that Olivia de Havilland and Errol Flynn were more or less responsible for my becoming a classic Hollywood fan. At a young age (I think I was around ten years old), seeing them together in Captain Blood (1935), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) and Dodge City (1939), I fell in love with them, Errol becoming my hero and Olivia my heroine. When I grew older I had other heroes, but Olivia (and Errol too, of course) always held a special place in my cinematic heart. It is therefore with great sadness that I heard of Olivia's passing last Sunday. She died peacefully in her sleep at her Paris home at the incredible age of 104.

The films of Olivia that I saw as a child and loved (and still do!) were not the films she herself was most proud of. Olivia was very unhappy with her career by the time she made Dodge City ("I was in such a depressed state that I could hardly remember the lines") and was quite eager to take on more challenging roles. She would soon get her wish when David Selznick cast her in the role of Melanie Hamilton in Gone with the Wind (1939), for which she received her first Oscar nomination. There were more challenging, dramatic roles still to come with films like Hold Back The Dawn (1941), To Each His Own (1946), The Snake Pit (1948) and The Heiress (1949), earning her a further four Oscar nominations. Olivia eventually won the statuette twice, for her performances in To Each His Own and The Heiress.

Among Olivia's dramatic roles, probably the most demanding was that of schizophrenic Virginia Cunningham in Anatole Litvak's The Snake Pit — the role often cited as one of her personal favourites. To prepare for her role, Olivia did extensive research, visiting mental hospitals and observing treatments, such as hydrotherapy and electric shock. Furthermore, she attended therapy sessions and also spent time with patients at social functions. Olivia's hard work eventually paid off, earning her good reviews, an Oscar nomination ánd praise from people in the psychiatric field.

One of the professionals who was very impressed with The Snake Pit and Olivia's portrayal of Virginia was Dr. William Menninger, a renowned psychiatrist and after WWII a leader in reforming state mental hospitals. Here is a correspondence between him and Olivia from March 1949, several months after the release of the film. As one can imagine, Olivia was "tremendously thrilled" to receive Dr. Menninger's praise and approval.

Transcript:

436 N. Rockingham Road

Brentwood Park, California

March 5, 1949

Dear Dr. Menninger,

Your kind letter, written in November, arrived while my husband and I were visiting out of the state, so that it was not until our return that I received it. The holidays, a New York trip, and a recent illness have kept me until now from telling you how tremendously thrilled I was by your approval and praise of "The Snake Pit" and "Virginia". As you have no doubt learned from Mr. Litvak, all of us associated with the film earnestly hoped to create both a work of art and one of service. Therefore to have won your commendation of it as "a perfectly wonderful service to psychiatry and the public" is, indeed, a great satisfaction.

With warm good wishes,

Gratefully, 

Olivia de Havilland Goodrich
[Marcus Goodrich was Olivia's first husband to whom she was married from 1946 until 1953]

Transcript:

March 10, 1949

Mrs. Olivia de Havilland Goodrich

436 North Rockingham Road

Brentwood Park, California 

Dear Mrs. Goodrich:

Your note of March 5 was indeed a very gracious and warm note and I appreciated it deeply.

It is possible that you may have had an inquiry, through Mr. Spyros Skouras [President of 20th Century Fox], from me recently.  I don't need to tell you how backward our state hospitals are and we in this organized group, The American Psychiatric Association, plan to have a mental hospital institute in Philadelphia for the entire week of April 11 to 15. We have written to the Governors of the various states and to the mental health authorities and urged them to send representatives and I am hopeful that most of our states and territories will send men to this institute. It was planned that we would have a mass meeting in Philadelphia on Monday evening the 11th to open the program and I contacted Mr. Skouras as to the possibility of whether we might be able to persuade you to attend this opening meeting. Mr. Skouras confidentially reported back to me of your great expectations for this summer and that it was extremely unlikely that you would feel that such an expenditure of effort was practical. I am certainly in full agreement with such a point of view and do hope that all things go happily and well for you. 

Charles Schlaifer sent me the brochure of many, many reviews and editorial comments about THE SNAKE PIT. He also told me of the enormous box-office returns, all of which made me very happy and I am sure it must make you happy too. To have the satisfaction of making a remarkable piece of art and at the same time doing such a phenomenal public service I think must be a source of great satisfaction to yourself. Again I say that all of us in psychiatry are deeply in your debt.

Sincerely yours, 

William C. Menninger, M.D.  

Source of both letters: Kansas Historical Society

"Rebecca": The Search for the Second Mrs de Winter

First published in August 1938, Daphne du Maurier's novel Rebecca was an immediate success. Before publication Alfred Hitchcock had read galley proofs of the book and thought about buying the property but felt the asking price was too high. In the end, it was David Selznick who purchased the film rights for $50,000 and then hired Hitchcock to direct. 

When casting Rebecca (1940), for the male lead Selznick fairly quickly settled on Laurence Olivier to play the role of brooding Maxim de Winter. The producer had initially wanted to cast Ronald Colman but Colman declined. Other actors considered for the part were William Powell, Melvyn Douglas, Walter Pidgeon and Leslie Howard.

The casting of the female lead — to play the second Mrs de Winter, in the book described as a nail-biting girl, "insecure", "awkward" and "tortured by shyness" — was a different and longer story. In 1938, Selznick started testing 21-year-old Joan Fontaine who until then had appeared mainly in B-movies. While Selznick immediately considered Fontaine a serious candidate, no one understood what he saw in her. Fontaine's studio RKO had decided to let her go (feeling she had thus far shown little promise) and also at Selznick's studio nobody was impressed with her. In Hollywood Fontaine was even dubbed "the wooden woman" by a number of people who felt she lacked talent. With nobody else seeing Fontaine's potential, Selznick decided to forgot about her and began testing other actresses, both established and unknown ("At one point, I weakened and decided I couldn't be the only sensible person in the world, and allowed Miss Fontaine's option to drop").

Vivien Leigh, fresh from Gone with the Wind (1939), was one of the other actresses tested. Leigh was quite eager to play the role after her lover Laurence Olivier had been cast as Maxim, but she was considered totally unsuitable. Joan Fontaine's sister Olivia de Havilland was also anxious to play the part but Warners was unwilling to lend her out and besides, she was already committed to Raffles (1939) on loan out to Samuel Goldwyn. Despite being interested in the role, De Havilland had refused to be tested since her sister was also up for it. (If De Havilland had been available, Selznick may very well have cast her instead of Fontaine; a memo from Selznick to his associate Daniel O'Shea on 1 August 1939 indicates that at that time De Havilland was the producer's first choice: "Before we finally decide on who is to play the lead in Rebecca, which I think we must do in the next couple of days, I want to make sure we have exhausted every possible means of getting Olivia de Havilland.") In all, about 30 actresses were tested for the role of the second Mrs de Winter, with most tests taking place from May through August 1939. Among the other candidates were Nova Pilbeam, Loretta Young, Anita Louise, Audrey Reynolds and Jean Muir. 

Screen testing for Rebecca: Joan Fontaine and a very young Anne Baxter who were the last two candidates (above) and Margaret Sullavan and Vivien Leigh (below). Leigh was tested twice, once with Laurence Olivier and once with Alan Marshal (in the photo). Leigh's screen test with Olivier can be seen here and Fontaine's test here. 

By mid-August 1939, with almost all of the candidates ruled out, there were three actresses left, i.e. Margaret Sullavan, Anne Baxter and Selznick's initial choice Joan Fontaine. In a memo to his business partner John Hay "Jock" Whitney (as seen below), Selznick talks about the ruled-out candidates, the final candidates and their pros and cons. With less than two weeks before filming was to start, Selznick was still undecided about who should play Du Maurier's heroine. While he felt that Fontaine was perfect in type, he still had doubts about her acting ability and wanted her to do more tests. At that point, the producer seemed more inclined to use sixteen-year-old Anne Baxter who he thought was more sincere and touching than Fontaine. Baxter had a lot of supporters, among them Hitchcock's wife Alma who thought Fontaine "too coy and simpering to a degree that [was] intolerable".

In the end, Selznick went with his first hunch, reminding himself that Fontaine would be directed by a great director. The film went into production in early September 1939 and Selznick's gamble eventually paid off. Fontaine proved to be the perfect second Mrs de Winter, earning herself an Oscar nomination for her performance (of course she should have won instead of getting the Oscar for Suspicion (1941)). Rebecca was nominated for a further ten Oscars (including nominations for Hitchcock and Olivier), winning only two, i.e. George Barnes for Best Cinematography and David Selznick for Best Picture.

Jock Whitney (far left) and David Selznick (center) photographed at the premiere of Gone with the Wind with Selznick's wife Irene, Olivia de Havilland, Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier.

  

August 18, 1939 

To: Mr. John Hay Whitney 

The situation on the lead for Rebecca is as follows: 

We have definitely ruled out Anita Louise as giving a very good performance and one that we should bear in mind for the road company. 

I feel Loretta Young is a very good bet, and that with a few good pictures, she is the logical successor to Joan Crawford — but we don't think she is right for Rebecca. 

Olivia de Havilland, despite our conviction that she might be superb in the role, and her own anxiety to play it, we have had to rule out because it would mean dealing with Sam Goldwyn and the Warners. 

Our feelings about Vivien [Leigh] are very clearly expressed in the attached radiograms which I have sent today in answer to a series of them from Larry [Olivier] and Vivien respectively. [Robert] Sherwood and [George] Cukor respectively, and without any prompting whatsoever, made the same comments that Hitchcock and I made — that she doesn't seem at all right as to sincerity or age or innocence or any of the other factors which are essential to the story coming off at all. Sometimes you can miscast a picture and get away with it, but there are certain stories, such as Rebecca, where miscasting of the girl will mean not simply that the role is badly played but that the whole story doesn't come off — with, in some cases, the maddening result that the player who has been miscast is credited with a great performance and the picture is considered very bad. 

I am convinced that we would be better off making this picture with a girl who had no personality whatever and who was a bad actress but was right in type than we would be to cast it with Vivien. Bette Davis is also an enormously effective actress and she would, in our opinion, be just about as right for it as Vivien would — in fact, more right, since she doesn't have the wrong qualities that Vivien has, and apparently can't get away from. 

This brings us down to three candidates, apart from any that may show up from [Jenia] Reissar or from New York or Hollywood at the last minute, which is, of course, an extremely long-shot chance — which never comes true except in the case of Vivien Leigh and Gone With the Wind! 

The three candidates are Margaret Sullavan, Joan Fontaine, and Anne Baxter. 

Most of the people in the studio who haven't studied the picture or its casting, as have Hitch and Sherwood and myself, were more enthusiastic about Margaret Sullavan than about anyone else (until they saw the Anne Baxter test, which changed the opinion of a large number of them). Apparently, her voice and her personality are so appealing that they don't stop to think that there is practically not one scene in the picture the qualities of which would not be affected by casting Sullavan. Imagine Margaret Sullavan being pushed around by Mrs. Danvers, right up to the point of suicide! Imagine Margaret Sullavan wishing she were a woman of thirty in a long, black dress!! 

This then reduces it to two candidates. The first is Joan Fontaine. I had pretty well decided to forget her for the role since I couldn't get anybody on the studio staff, excepting only Hal Kern, or anybody in the New York office to agree with me that she was physically an ideal choice for the role and that from a performance standpoint she obviously (or at least, so I thought) was the only one who seemed to know completely what the part was all about. However, several things happened in succession — Hitchcock started swinging around to her after listening to discussions of the part by Sherwood, myself, etc.; John Cromwell (who had made her first test) in the course of a conversation stated that he thought we were out of our minds not to put her in the part; and when I ran the tests for Bob Sherwood, he stated unequivocally and without the slightest prompting on our part of any kind that apart from his liking for Sullavan, there was no question but that Fontaine was far and away the best for the role. Encouraged by this, I decided to get George Cukor over here to run all the tests, bearing in mind that George is a great enthusiast of Vivien's and a great personal friend of hers, and also that he and Cromwell are the two men who, in my career of producing, have demonstrated the most accurate sense of casting. I was careful not to give George any prompting whatsoever, and he looked at them all very seriously and quietly and conscientiously and with no comment at all during the running, except for some loud guffaws at Vivien's attempts to play it. When they were all over, he said that in his opinion the most touching test was that of Anne Baxter, but that if it were up to him and he had to start the picture immediately, he would without any hesitation select Fontaine from this group of six. (Leigh, Fontaine, Sullavan, Louise, Young, and Anne Baxter.) 

I neglected to mention above that Sherwood saw this same group, including the Baxter tests. But Sherwood voted third for Baxter. 

Now, the situation on Fontaine is curiously complicated since her engagement to Brian Aherne, whom she is marrying tomorrow, Saturday. I have told her of my feelings that she could not sustain the part and that she might be monotonous through the entire picture; and that as a consequence we would be very hesitant about casting her in the role until and unless we saw other tests of her which she had, for a couple of days before I spoke with her, refused to make (saying that she would be delighted and honored to play the part but that she didn't want to make any more tests). I said to her yesterday that what we would like to see is three or four scenes from various parts of the picture to get the full range of her performance. Unfortunately, her face is swollen with an impacted wisdom tooth (and not so good for a honeymoon), and therefore she couldn't make the tests today or any time before her marriage tomorrow. She said that she would be delighted to cut her honeymoon short, coming back after a week if we decide to put her in the part; and further that she would cut her honeymoon short to make further tests. 

As to Anne Baxter versus Fontaine: I think she has more sincerity than Fontaine, and that she is much more touching, in the word of Cukor, in the scenes. I think she is a shade young, although it is entirely possible that this would turn into an advantage. She is ten times more difficult to photograph than Fontaine, and I think it is a little harder to understand Max de Winter marrying her than it would be Fontaine. Yet I have decided that the best thing to do would be to try to work out a deal today with Baxter, closing with her, and gambling the comparatively small amount of money that would be involved if we don't use her. 

So at the moment, it looks as though the setup is about two-thirds in favor of Baxter, one third in favor of Fontaine. (Incidentally, Irene's vote is for Fontaine, with Baxter second.) 

I do wish you would be very careful not to let on anything about this final choice since it might affect our negotiations with one or both girls, since it would completely spoil our publicity breaking, and since it might get us in wrong with the press if it leaked and we should subsequently change our minds. 

I am in agreement with your comment that it would be a mistake to show the Baxter test to Vivien or Larry. And further, I think that if Vivien and Larry ask, as they almost certainly will, who is up for the role, it would be better if you both said that we have several girls from whom we haven't made our final selection.  

If there are any last-minute choices that turn up, please wire or telephone. 

DOS

Source: Memo from David O. Selznick (1972); selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Note

According to Selznick, at the time of dictating his memo, Hitch was just "swinging around to" Fontaine. Several sources claim that Hitch's first choice had been Margaret Sullavan. Hitch himself, however, remembered things differently in his 1962 interview with French director François Truffaut, saying he had wanted to cast Fontaine all along.

In the preparatory stages of Rebecca, Selznick insisted on testing every woman in town, known or unknown, for the lead in the picture. I think he really was trying to pull the same publicity stunt he pulled in the search for Scarlett O'Hara. He talked all the big stars in town into doing tests for Rebecca. I found it a little embarrassing my self, testing women who I knew in advance were unsuitable for the part. All the more so since the earlier tests of Joan Fontaine had convinced me that she was the nearest one to our heroine. 

This post is my contribution to THE 2020 CLASSIC LITERATURE ON FILM BLOGATHON hosted by SILVER SCREEN CLASSICS. For the other entries, go here, here and here!

Above: Joan Fontaine at the Oscar Ceremony, held in February 1941, with David Selznick, Alfred Hitchcock and Judith Anderson. The latter was the perfect Mrs Danvers. Below: Fontaine and Laurence Olivier on the set of Rebecca with Hitchcock.