I can’t think of anyone who could do it as you could

Author Ayn Rand immigrated from her native Russia to the United States in 1926 and had her first big success with the novel The Fountainhead (1943). After selling the film rights to her book to Warner Bros. in 1943, Rand was hired by producer Hal Wallis to work as a screenwriter and script doctor (her work includes Love Letters (1945) and You Came Along (1945)). Adapting her own novel, Rand also wrote the screenplay for The Fountainhead, which was finally made into a film in 1949.

Barbara Stanwyck was an avid fan of Ayn Rand and desperately wanted to play the role of Dominique Francon, the female protagonist of The Fountainhead. For that purpose she had urged Jack Warner to purchase the film rights for her. As said, Warner bought the rights, but production got delayed and in the end Warner chose a different leading lady for the film. Patricia Neal got cast instead of Barbara, much to Barbara's dismay (read more in this post). 

While Barbara never got to play Dominique Francon, in a 1946 letter (seen below) she was approached by Rand to play one of Rand's other characters, the female protagonist in Red Pawn. Red Pawn was Rand's very first screenplay, which she sold to Universal in 1932; Paramount later bought it from Universal, reportedly as a vehicle for Marlene Dietrich. The script deals with the evils of dictatorship, in particular of Soviet Russia. The role Rand offered Barbara was that of an American woman, Joan Harding, who infiltrates a prison for political prisoners in order to free her Russian husband. Due to the anti-Soviet theme of the script, the filming of Red Pawn was postponed by Universal several times. In the end, Barbara rejected Rand's offer by telegram, simply stating that she and her manager found it not "the right kind of story". Red Pawn was never made into a film and was ultimately shelved.

Above: Barbara Stanwyck and Ayn Rand who eventually became friends. Below: Rand on the set of The Fountainhead, flanked by the leads, Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal. 

 

September 7, 1946 

Dear Barbara: 

Now that I have a better idea of the kind of story and characterization you like, it occurred to me that I should show you Red Pawn, a synopsis of which is attached. 

This is an original by me, the first story I ever sold. Paramount owns it, but has never produced it. 

I would like you to read it, keeping in mind that if it were to be made now, I would suggest changing the locale and having the story take place in an unnamed dictatorship, rather than in Soviet Russia. It would give the story deeper significance. 

I called this story to Mr. Wallis’ attention, when I first started to work for him. He read it and liked it, but hesitated for a long time over the question of the locale, saying that he did not like to have a story in an unnamed background. I don’t agree with him on that. He did admit that the story has the same dramatic pattern and the same basic situation as Casablanca (I wrote it long before that), but he could not quite make up his mind to do it, so I let it go and have not discussed it with him since. 

As far as I am concerned, since Paramount owns the story, I would not get any kind of extra payment for it — so this is not an attempt to sell you an original of mine for any reason except that I love this story. I think it is still the best film story I ever wrote, and I would rather work on it than on anything I know. 

The starring role is an acting part of the kind which a writer can succeed in devising very rarely; I know it, because I’ve tried since. She is the only woman in the story—and a kind of advance echo of Dominique. After seeing [The Strange Love of] Martha Ivers, I can’t think of anyone who could do it as you could. 

Since you said that what you were anxious to find was a love story, a story about positive characters, and a story that had a quality of prestige — I could not help sending you this one. It is all three. 

If you like it, I think we can persuade Mr. Wallis to make it; and I would be one of the happiest authors in Hollywood. But if you don’t, I shall do my best with Be Still, My Love, as we discussed it. 

I will telephone you Monday morning to learn your reaction before I make an appointment to see Mr. Wallis. If the time is not convenient to you, would you leave a message as to what time I may reach you, and I will call then.  

[Source: Letters of Ayn Rand (1997)— via archive.org]

 

The 1957 novel Atlas Shrugged is Ayn Rand's best-known work, her magnum opus, and in the fall of 1957 Rand again approached Barbara Stanwyck to see if she would be interested to play the novel's heroine: "As you see, I don't forget, even if Warner Brothers do. I will be very interested to hear your reaction to Atlas Shrugged. ...  Before I make any decision in regard to the movie rights of this novel, I would like to know whether you feel about Dagny Taggart as you did about Dominique Francon". Barbara replied a few days later, saying that she loved the book and even "lost a week’s sleep" over it. Nevertheless she declined, thinking that Hollywood would probably want somebody "young, beautiful, and all the rest that goes with it." Rand was working on a screenplay of Atlas Shrugged when she died in 1982, with only one-third of the script completed. 

The Failed Screenwriting Career of F. Scott Fitzgerald

The popularity of novelist and short story writer F. Scott Fitzgerald, who achieved fame in the 1920s, began to wane considerably once the Great Depression hit. With the public no longer interested in reading about the extravagant lifestyles of the American elite, Fitzgerald was facing serious financial problems by the mid-1930s. Convinced that he could become a successful screenwriter, the author returned to Hollywood where he had briefly worked in 1927 and 1931.

In 1937, Fitzgerald was hired by MGM where he would earn $1000 a week (raised to $1250 after six months), his highest salary up till then. While under contract to the studio Fitzgerald was given three major script assignments: Three Comrades (1938), the only film for which he received screen credit; Infidelity, a Joan Crawford vehicle, which was abandoned after he had worked on it for several months; and The Women (1939), on which he and Donald Ogden Stewart collaborated but were eventually replaced by Jane Murfin and Anita Loos. In addition, Fitzgerald also worked (uncredited) on screenplays for A Yank at Oxford (1938), Marie Antoinette (1938), Gone With the Wind (1939) and Madame Curie (the project was shelved and not released until 1943).

F. Scott Fitzgerald (above) enjoyed great successes in the 1920s with his first two novels This Side of Paradise (1920) and The Beautiful and the Damned (1922) as well as his short stories for popular magazines. While his novel The Great Gatsby (1925) was not a success at the time, it is now regarded as one of the greatest American novels ever written. The Last Tycoon, Fitzgerald's unfinished novel about Hollywood, was published after the author's death. 

After eighteen months MGM decided not to renew Fitzgerald's contract. Much to the studio's annoyance, the writer often disregarded the rules of screenwriting, providing stylised dialogue and long descriptions that would be right for a novel but wrong for a script. Director Billy Wilder once said about Fitzgerald's screenwriting efforts that he was like "a great sculptor who is hired to do a plumbing job”. Still, Fitzgerald was determined to succeed in Hollywood and not only because of the money he could make. He was passionate about films and at one point even dreamed about being both screenwriter and director. (In a September 1940 letter to his wife Zelda, Fitzgerald wrote: "They've let a certain writer here [probably Preston Sturges] direct his own pictures and he has made such a go of it that there may be a different feeling about that soon. If I had that chance, I would attain my real goal in coming here in the first place.")

In the end, Fitzgerald's Hollywood career ended in failure. After leaving MGM in 1939, the author went freelance, taking on assignments like Winter Carnival (1939), with his contributions again uncredited. A few other projects he had high hopes for were eventually shelved, most notably Cosmopolitan, a film that was to star Shirley Temple. Fitzgerald's screenwriting career just wouldn't take off and this prompted him to start drinking excessively again. On 21 December 1940, after years of severe and chronic alcohol abuse, Fitzgerald died of a heart attack, only 44 years old.

__________

As mentioned, the only film for which Fitzgerald had received screen credit was Frank Borzage's Three Comrades, produced by Joseph L. Mankiewicz. Fitzgerald didn't even receive sole billing, being later paired with screenwriter Edward Paramore. Mankiewicz was not at all happy with the script, saying about it years later: "The actors, among them Margaret Sullavan, absolutely could not read the lines. It was very literary dialogue, novelistic dialogue that lacked all the qualities required for screen dialogue. The latter must be 'spoken'. Scott Fitzgerald really wrote very bad spoken dialogue." The producer, who had started his career as a screenwriter, made many changes to the script, and not just to the dialogue. Outraged by what was done to his work, Fitzgerald wrote to Mankiewicz on 20 January 1938, excerpts of his letter seen below. (His impassioned plea to undo the changes was ignored.)

Dear Joe: 

Well, I read the last part and I feel like a good many writers must have felt in the past. I gave you a drawing and you simply took a box of chalk and touched it up. Pat [played by Margaret Sullavan] has now become a sentimental girl from Brooklyn, and I guess all these years I've been kidding myself about being a good writer. 

[....]

To say I'm disillusioned is putting it mildly. For nineteen years, with two years out for sickness, I've written best-selling entertainment, and my dialogue is supposedly right up at the top. But I learn from the script that you've suddenly decided that it isn't good dialogue and you can take a few hours off and do much better. 

I think you now have a flop on your hands— as thoroughly naive as The Bride Wore Red [another Mankiewizc production] but utterly inexcusable because this time you had something and you have arbitrarily and carelessly torn it to pieces. [...]

You are simply tired of the best scenes because you've read them too much and, having dropped the pilot, you're having the aforesaid pleasure of a child with a box of chalk. You are or have been a good writer, but this is a job you will be ashamed of before it's over. The little fluttering of life of what's left of my lines and situations won't save the picture. 

[....]

My only hope is that you will have a moment of clear thinking. That you'll ask some intelligent and disinterested person to look at the two scripts. Some honest thinking would be much more valuable to the enterprise right now than an effort to convince people you've improved it. I am utterly miserable at seeing months of work and thought negated in one hasty week. I hope you're big enough to take this letter as it's meant — a desperate plea to restore the dialogue to its former quality — to put back the flower cart, the piano-moving, the balcony, the manicure girl— all those touches that were both natural and new. Oh, Joe, can't producers ever be wrong? I'm a good writer — honest. I thought you were going to play fair. Joan Crawford may as well play the part now, for the thing is as groggy with sentimentality as The Bride Wore Red, but the true emotion is gone. 

Source:  The Letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald (1963) by F. Scott Fitzgerald, edited by Andrew Turnbull. 

Note: As the letter indicates, Fitzgerald was not at all impressed with Joan Crawford. In a 1938 letter to a friend, he wrote while working on the script for Infidelity: "Writing for her is difficult. She can't change her emotions in the middle of a scene without going through a sort of Jekyll and Hyde contortion of the face, so that when one wants to indicate that she is going from joy to sorrow, one must cut away and then cut back. Also, you can never give her such a stage direction as "telling a lie", because if you did, she would practically give a representation of Benedict Arnold selling West Point to the British." (Infidelity was eventually abandoned due to the film's taboo subject of adultery.)

Joseph Mankiewicz (above) was a successful screenwriter, producer and director. His films include box-office hits like The Philadelphia Story (1940; as producer), Woman of the Year (1942; producer), All About Eve (1950; screenwriter, director) and Suddenly, Last Summer (1959; director). On most of his films as producer, Mankiewicz also made uncredited contributions to the screenplay.

__________

One of Fitzgerald's freelance assignments was Cosmopolitan, based on his own short story Babylon Revisited. In March 1940, having bought the rights to the story, independent film producer Lester Cowan approached Fitzgerald and asked him if he would write the script himself. The author accepted, but after finishing the script he disagreed with Cowan about the casting of the lead, the youngster Honoria. Cowan wanted Shirley Temple in the role and it was only after Fitzgerald had met Shirley in July 1940 that he approved of Cowan's choice. Fitzgerald was optimistic about the project and wrote to his wife Zelda on 21 September 1940: "... the Shirley Temple script is looking up again and is my great hope for attaining some real status out here as a movie man and not a novelist." Despite Fitzgerald's high hopes, however, Shirley's mother objected to the film and the project was abandoned.

Below is a letter from Fitzgerald to his secretary Isabel Owens, dated 16 August 1940. A month earlier Fitzgerald had met Shirley Temple and the second paragraph of his letter refers to that meeting. 

Source: icollector.com

David Selznick and Hitler's "Mein Kampf"

When America entered World War II in December 1941, David Selznick very much wanted to join the Army. About his wish to be a soldier Selznick's then-wife Irene said: "His spirit was fine, his idea impractical— he was nearsighted, slewfooted, overweight, overage. He didn't need an enemy, he'd kill himself." 

While Selznick never fought in the war, he desperately wanted to make his contribution to the war effort. Apart from being Hollywood's chairman to the China War Relief, at one point the producer intended to make a film adaptation of Adolf Hitler's book Mein Kampf (1925). For his film Selznick considered hiring Ben Hecht to write the screenplay and Alfred Hitchcock to direct. In the end, however, the US government torpedoed Selznick's plans and the film was never made. (It would have been quite interesting to see what kind of film Selznick had in mind, especially with Hitchcock directing.) 

The war film Selznick eventually did make was Since You Went Away (1944) about an American housewife and her teenage daughters living life on the homefront, while the husband/father is fighting overseas (starring Claudette Colbert, Jennifer Jones and Joseph Cotten). Selznick had written a long speech about the war effort and shot the scene with Charles Coburn delivering it but in the end decided not to use it.

Three days after America had entered WWII, Selznick sent the following memo to his associate Kay Brown. Determined to turn Hitler's book into a film, he told Brown to immediately register Mein Kampf with the Title Registration Bureau of the Hays Office and to keep the whole affair "utterly secret". Even Alfred Hitchcock and Ben Hecht were not to know about his plans yet.  

December 11, 1941

To: Miss Katharine Brown

Immediately upon your receipt of this wire please drop everything and rush over to the Hays Office to register "Mein Kampf" as well as anything else necessary to protect it, such as "Life of Adolf Hitler" and "My life, by Adolf Hitler." I hope that there will be no nonsense about whether this is copyrighted or noncopyrighted work, and I hope the Hays Office has the good sense to realize that I consider it noncopyrighted and have no intention of buying rights or of paying royalties, which in circumstances would of course be ridiculous. Even before we were at war, publishers considered it in these terms... Keep it utterly secret until I have had opportunity to check with Washington on the making of this film... Will await wired word from you, but better address me to my home to further guard secrecy, and please caution not to leave any wires concerning it around the desks, and not to even discuss it with people in our own organization... For purpose of wires and letters suggest you refer to it as "Tales from History"... To point out importance of treatment I plan for subject, I am thinking about Hecht for script and Hitchcock for direction, but don't want anything said even to these two. 

David  

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

David Selznick and Katharine Brown, photographed in 1936 with John Hay Whitney and John Wharton.

Most of my pleasures today are vicarious

In the winter of 1959, Billy Wilder was on location in New York City shooting the exteriors for his film The Apartment (1960). While staying near the United Nations Headquarters, he got the idea to make a Cold War satire involving the U.N. and the Marx Brothers. Groucho Marx liked the idea and Wilder then wrote a 40-page treatment with writing buddy I.A.L. Diamond and gave the film the title A Day At The United Nations. The Marx Brothers were to play robbers who, after stealing suitcases full of diamonds from Tiffany's, are mistaken for the UN's Latvian delegation (read in detail here). 

The making of A Day At The United Nations was officially announced in the press in November 1960 but unfortunately the film never saw the light of day. Harpo suffered a heart attack and Chico died shortly thereafter, ruling out the possibility of another Marx Brothers film ever being made. Wilder did make his Cold War comedy eventually, i.e. One, Two, Three (1961) starring James Cagney.

In Cameron Crowe's Conversations with Wilder (1999), Wilder talked about the Marx Brothers and their aborted project. (Interestingly, in this interview Wilder mentions Zeppo as one of the four Marx Brothers to appear in the film, while Zeppo had already left the act in 1933.)

We had an idea of doing a Marx Brothers picture set against the background of the United Nations. They were the four representatives of a republic. And that is always good, because the Marx Brothers were at their best against a very serious, pompous background. They were very good in A Night at the Opera because it’s very pompous, the opera. They were also quite good at the race track in Day at the Races. But other things they did, they were not so good because there was nothing good to poke at. I wanted to do a Marx Brothers picture, but then Chico died, and Harpo was very, very unstable. But Groucho was a genius, absolutely a fabulous, fabulous man. They were at Metro. The movie would have been a combination of at least six of their top stars of the early sixties. Zeppo was the leading man. Zeppo as lead was incredible, absolutely incredible. When you went to see A Night at the Opera, you were not disappointed. [Irving] Thalberg was very smart, you know, because he treated it like a serious picture. [via]

And now the letter! Groucho Marx wrote to Billy Wilder on 13 December 1960 —in his typical Groucho way— with the last paragraph of his letter briefly touching upon the subject of their proposed film. (The rest of the letter mostly speaks of Groucho and Wilder exchanging newspaper articles and letters from esteemed screenwriter Nunnally Johnson.)

Source: icollector.com

I keep your face and figure in mind as I write it

Nearly twenty years after the release of John Ford's The Grapes of Wrath (1940), John Steinbeck, author of the novel on which the film was based, sat down and played a 16 mm print of the film on his home projector. Reluctant to watch the film again for fear it would be dated, Steinbeck was immediately hooked at the sight of Henry Fonda: "Then a lean stringy dark-faced piece of electricity walked out on the screen, and he had me. I believed my own story again". Producer Darryl Zanuck had initially wanted to cast Tyrone Power but Fonda was Steinbeck's first choice from the start, his portrayal of Tom Joad being everything the author had hoped for.

At the time of his rewatching The Grapes of Wrath, Steinbeck was working on what may have been a modern version of the famous Don Quixote story, which he titled Don Keehan, The Marshal of Manchon. The author had high hopes for the project and thought of Henry Fonda as the lead in a possible film version with Elia Kazan directing. In the following letter to Fonda, written on 20 November 1958, Steinbeck told the actor he was writing the book with him in mind. In the end, however, the project was abandoned and Fonda never played a Steinbeck character again.

(Incidentally, Steinbeck and Fonda were good friends. At the author's funeral in 1968, Fonda read Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem Ulysses.)

New York

November 20, 1958

Dear Hank,

It is strange but perhaps explainable that I find myself very often with a picture of you in front of my mind, when I am working on a book. I think I know the reason for this. Recently I ran a 16 mm print of The Grapes of Wrath that Kazan had stolen from Twentieth Century Fox. It's a wonderful picture, just as good as it ever was. It doesn't look dated, and very few people have ever made a better one — and I think that's where you put your mark on me. You will remember also that when I was writing Sweet Thursday* I had you always in mind as the prototype of Doc. And I think that one of my sharp bitternesses is that due to circumstances personality-wise and otherwise beyond our control you did not play it when it finally came up. I think it might have been a different story if you had.

Now I am working on another story, and again I find that you are the prototype. I think it might interest you. It will be a short novel and then possibly a motion picture, possibly a play — I don't know. But it's just the character and the story that remind me so much of you that I keep your face and figure in mind as I write it. I don't know whether you're in town or not — but if you are I wish you'd come over some evening, and maybe we can talk. I'd like that very much. And you might be very much interested in the story I am writing. It seems made for you. In fact it's being made for you — let's put it that way.

Yours,

John

Note*
Steinbeck's Sweet Thursday was a short novel which was made into the musical Pipe Dream, written by Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein. The musical premiered on Broadway in November 1955. Steinbeck discussed the part of Doc with Fonda who was interested to play it. As Fonda couldn't sing, he took singing lessons but after six months he said he "still couldn't sing for shit". Richard Rogers thought so too and the role eventually went to William Johnson, a regular Broadway actor/singer. Pipe Dream became a flop as well as a financial debacle for Rogers and Hammerstein.

Source of Steinbeck's letter: Steinbeck: A Life in Letters (1975), edited by Elaine Steinbeck and Robert Wallsten

Dear Mr. Kubrick

A few days ago, my sister and I went to see the Stanley Kubrick Exhibition here in our hometown Barcelona. The exhibition has visited several cities worldwide since 2004 (including Los Angeles, Mexico City, Seoul and Paris) before coming to Barcelona with some added material. (I saw that the exhibition was also held in Amsterdam in 2012 when I still lived there, but I somehow missed it then.) While I am not a Kubrick fan --I do like his earlier work though, e.g. The Killing (1956) and Paths of Glory (1957)-- I enjoyed the exhibition a lot. It was very well laid out, each of Kubrick's films having its own dedicated space, with on display original props, costumes, storyboards, photos and lots of documents, including production documents, screenplays and correspondence. Attention was also paid to Kubrick's early days when he worked as a photographer and also his unrealised projects were presented in detail.

(Photo by me)

Of course I was glad to see a number of letters displayed at the exhibition. For this post I chose one letter concerning Kubrick's unrealised film about Napoleon Bonaparte. Kubrick was fascinated by Napoleon and had researched his subject meticulously, putting together a massive archive of research material. In 1969, Kubrick completed his script and also drew up a detailed shooting plan. In the end, the film was never made since no studio was willing to take on the exorbitant production costs. (More about Kubrick's Napoleon can be found in the 2009 voluminous book by Alison Castle Stanley Kubrick's Napoleon: The Greatest Movie Never Made.)

Lots of photos were on display at the exhibit, including this one of Kubrick and Kirk Douglas on the set of Paths of Glory. (Photo by me)

Kubrick's preferred choice for the role of Joséphine, Napoleon's first wife, had been Audrey Hepburn. Audrey, in semi-retirement at the time, wrote to Kubrick in November 1968, kindly declining his offer while asking him to keep her in mind for future assignments. (Whether Kubrick ever asked her again, I don't know.) The image shown below is a photo taken by me of a fascimile on display at the exhibit, the original letter being part of the Stanley Kubrick Archive at the University of the Arts London.

Source: Stanley Kubrick Archive

Transcript:

Sunday 
17 Nov '68

Dear Mr. Kubrick

Thank you for the kind letter you wrote me - I am flattered and happy you would like me to work with you. 

I still don't want to work for a while so cannot commit or involve myself in any project at this time. 

I hope you understand this..... and will think of me again someday?

Thank you again

Warmest wishes

Audrey Hepburn

NOTE: The Stanley Kubrick Exhibition in Barcelona will have its final day tomorrow. From 26 April until 15 September 2019, the exhibit can be visited at the Design Museum in London (more info here).

An Errol Flynn-Ava Gardner project that never was

With filming on Henry King's The Sun Also Rises (1957) hardly wrapped, Errol Flynn and Ava Gardner, two of the film's principal actors, were already talking about doing another film together. According to a letter from Errol Flynn to Benny Thau dated 10 July 1957 (as seen below), the film Errol and Ava were planning to make was The White Witch of the Indies with a screenplay by James Edward Grant. Searching for more information about the project, the only thing I found was a newspaper clipping from The Daily Gleaner from April 1957 (see image) which talks about an Errol Flynn project called The White Witch of Jamaica. I can only assume that it's the same project but Errol decided to change the setting/title from Jamaica to 'The Indies'. Well, whatever the title, the film was ultimately never made and The Sun Also Rises remained Errol and Ava's only film together.

Benny Thau (often spelled Thaw) was studio head of MGM between 1956 and 1958. As said, Errol Flynn wrote to him in July 1957 regarding the film he and Ava wanted to make. Ava had a long-running contract with MGM and had told Errol that her contract would end in 1958. Errol wanted to make sure that Ava would indeed be free from MGM to make said picture with him, hence his letter to Thau. 

Source: ebay

Transcript:

Yacht Zaca
Club Nautico
Palma de Mallorca.
SPAIN

July 10th 1957

Mr. Benny Thaw
Metro Goldwyn Mayer Studios,
Culver City, Calif.,

Dear Mr. Thaw:

James Edward Grant has been over here, writing a script for me, THE WHITE WITCH OF THE INDIES, (presume you know Grant-  Johnny Egar, many of John Wayne pictures, etc., etc.,)

We are nearly half-way through our shooting script. In my opinion is [sic] is going to be first class.

I went with Grant to Madrid a few days ago to see Ava Gardner, who told me that her contract with M.G.M. would finish in a little over a year, and Ava appeared extremely interested in this property, and doing it with me, with a Grant script. As a personal favour, I would like to ask you personally, without, of course, any kind of reflection on Ava, if it is true that she will be free to make any deals outside of Metro in one year's time? THE WHITE WITCH is perfect for her as a vehicle- so you can tell me if Metro is of her opinion, i:e: that she will be free to contract for her services in about a year and two months from now?

I shall certainly appreciate a personal word from you, Benny.

I hope Life is as pleasant for you as it is for me here. Why don't you come take a look? Great Spot!

Sincerely,

E.F (signed)
Errol Flynn.

Notes
- After having been under contract to MGM for seventeen years, Ava would indeed make her last film for the studio in 1958 (The Naked Maja). But instead of doing a film with Errol next, she subsequently did On the Beach (1959) for United Artists, co-starring with Gregory Peck and Fred Astaire.

- Flynn wrote his letter to Thau from his yacht Zaca in Palma de Mallorca (Spain) having just visited Ava Gardner in Madrid. Both Errol and Ava loved Spain. Errol fell in love with Mallorca after he and his third wife Patricia Wymore had spent their honeymoon there in 1950; his yacht was moored at Club Nautico in Mallorca from 1955 until 1959 (the year he died). Ava had moved to Madrid in 1955, where she lived until she permanently moved to London in 1968.

Ava Gardner and Errol Flynn with The Sun Also Rises co-stars Eddie Albert and Tyrone Power. Ava once said about Errol: "Of all the actors who worked with me on that film, I got along best with Errol Flynn. I adored him, but although I dated him a couple of times when I first arrived in Hollywood, we were never physically involved. Errol was probably the most beautiful man I ever saw, his perfect body equally at home in a swimsuit or astride a horse. And he was fun, gallant, and well mannered with a great sense of humor. When he walked into a room, it was as if a light had been turned on. As he grew older, he drank too much and was chased around by scandal and gossip. But Errol Flynn always had style, honey. Real style."

Projects that never happened

We all know the finished projects, the films that made it to the big screen. But of course, there were also plenty of projects that, for whatever reason, never came about. Interesting collaborations that never happened. 

Here are three letters that speak of such projects.

The first letter is dated 26 February 1963 and is from director George Cukor to Bette Davis. Cukor wrote to Bette because a friend of his, screenwriter DeWitt Bodeen, had plans for a film adaptation of Edith Wharton's novella My Son. Bodeen wanted Cukor to direct the film and Bette and Olivia de Havilland to star in it. The film was never made but the two actresses did eventually play together in Robert Aldrich's Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964). 

Cukor and Davis would never make a film together, although they did work together in the theatre in the 1920s. In 1926, Bette joined Cukor's stock company in Rochester, New York, and stayed with the group for only one season. Cukor later remembered: "Her talent was apparent, but she did buck at direction. She had her own ideas, and though she only did bits and ingenue roles, she didn't hesitate to express them." Bette kept insisting for years that Cukor had fired her even though Cukor kept saying that he hadn't. In the letter below, Cukor's remark about the 'Rochester Method' is an obvious reference to his theatre days with Bette. 

Via: we love bette davis (instagram)

Transcript:

AIRMAIL 
SPECIAL DELIVERY

February 26, 1963

Congratulations on your nomination- your tenth, no less*. It certainly proves that the Rochester Method pays off.

I am functioning as a Friend of Friends. One friend, DeWitt Bodeen, is a very nice man and a good screenwriter, whose last effort was "Billy Budd". He is presently negotiating for the rights of a novella by Edith Wharton called "Her Son". I must confess I'd never heard of it before. He has asked me to send it to you, which I am doing under separate cover. He thinks it would make a bangup picture for you and Olivia DeHavilland. The switch is that you would be the Good Woman and Olivia the Doxie.

I called your house yesterday and was told by your sister that you were in New York. Then I spoke to Olivia. She said that no time be wasted in getting the book to you because you were presently making Big Decisions in New York. So here the matter rests.

Every good wish and kindest regards.

signed 'George'

Note* The Oscar nomination was for Bette's role in Robert Aldrich's Whatever Happened To Baby Jane? Anne Bancroft would eventually win the Oscar for her leading role in The Miracle Worker.

Written on 16 January 1957, the second letter is from Kirk Douglas to Gary Cooper. The letter shows that Douglas was quite excited about a film he was planning to make based on the television show The Silent Gun. Douglas wanted to make the film with Gary Cooper and director Charles Vidor and to produce it through his own production company Bryna Productions. Eventually, the film was never made, and Douglas and Cooper would never work together. 

Source: live auctioneers

Transcript:

January 16, 1957

Mr. Gary Cooper
200 Baroda Drive
Los Angeles, California

Dear Gary:

This is the television show, THE SILENT GUN, I spoke to you about on the phone. I'd like you to see it just as a basis for a discussion that we can have when I get back from New York.

We have been in touch with the Colt people, and have worked out wonderful arrangements to use all their museum pieces of guns and old machinery used in the manufacturing of guns, to make this a completely documentary background.

As I told you, Charles Vidor is awfully anxious to do it. From my point of view, I'm completely wide open. I think this film can be made on a surprisingly reasonable budget. And, by the way, I just checked the records and I don't have $30,000 in the story in rough treatment but approximately $22,000.

I think this could be a really exciting one. I hope you think so, too. I'll call you when I get back.

Best regards,
(signed 'Kirk') 
Kirk Douglas

Rare photo of Kirk Douglas and Gary Cooper together, here pictured with Patricia Neal. (Cooper and Neal had an intense love affair while Cooper was married; Douglas had also once dated Neal.)

The third and final letter comes from Cary Grant and is addressed to 'Dick', an associate of silent comedian Harold Lloyd. Grant had just received a script, meant as a possible vehicle for him and a potential new project for Harold Lloyd's production company. After reading it, Grant was not overly enthusiastic; he couldn't picture himself in the story and besides, a similar script had been offered to him once before (which he talks about in an amusing way). 

Grant's letter was written in January 1943, at a time when Harold Lloyd's Hollywood career was practically over. Lloyd would star in only one more film, in Preston Sturges' The Sin of Harold Diddlebock (1947), which became a big flop. As a producer, Lloyd had made two films for RKO in the early 1940s, i.e. A Girl, a Guy, and a Gob (1941) and My Favorite Spy (1942), which had proven unsuccessful too. A deal with Columbia to produce another film was signed in February 1943 but that film was never made. In the end, Lloyd would never produce again and a collaboration between him and Cary Grant never happened.

(Incidentally, while I have tried to find more information on 'Dick', unfortunately I could find nothing.)

Source: leading lights autographs

Transcript:

Jan. 16, 1943
1515 N. Amalfi Dr.
Pacific Palisades
Calif.

Dear Dick:

Many thanks for letting me read this---- I had a most enjoyable evening. It is undoubtedly a very funny and different idea, but with the script in it's [sic] present rough form I find it difficult to visualize completely it's [sic] possibilities as a vehicle for me. Incidentally, if Harold and yourself are keen to put this type of story into production, I think I should tell you that there is a synopsis lying around town, and which was submitted to me some time ago, embodying a similar idea-- though in that story the dog was the supposed reincarnation of the first husband who came back to worry the second husband and his former spouse--- it made for fun in a bed-room on a wedding night for two people and a dog-- you get the idea. I thought you both should know of it's [sic] existence although I have forgotten whether it is owned by a studio.

Hope to see you soon, Dick, and perhaps then we can discuss this story more fully, but in any case I'd be grateful if you would let me know what happens to it and the manner in which it is to be finally developed. Too, if we cannot get together on this one, I do hope I shall have the pleasure and the good fortune to work with you in the near future. Best personal wishes, and regards to Harold.

signed 'Cary'

While Cary Grant and Harold Lloyd never worked together, Grant's comedic performance in Howard Hawks' Bringing Up Baby (1938) was influenced by Lloyd. When Grant didn't know how to play his character (the nerdy paleontologist David Huxley) Hawks suggested Grant look at the films of Harold Lloyd. Grant did, and in Bringing Up Baby he imitates Lloyd's acting style and even wears his trademark black horn-rimmed glasses and ill-fitting suit.

I'm praying that you'll buy On the road

When Jack Kerouac's novel On the Road was published in 1957, it was an immediate success. Presumably that same year, Kerouac --wanting to see his novel made into a film-- wrote the following letter to Marlon Brando (at the time one of Hollywood's biggest stars) suggesting that Brando buy the film rights and that he himself and Brando play the lead roles. Kerouac never got an answer from Brando. It wasn't until after Kerouac's death that the film rights were bought by director/producer Francis Ford Coppola (in 1980 for $95,000); Coppola's production of On the Road was eventually released in 2012, directed by Walter Salles with Garrett Hedlund and Sam Riley in the leads. 

Source: wikimedia commons

Transcript:

Jack Kerouac 

1418½ Clouser St 

Orlando, Fla 

Dear Marlon

I'm praying that you'll buy ON THE ROAD and make a movie of it. Don't worry about the structure, I know how to compress and re-arrange the plot a bit to give perfectly acceptable movie-type structure: making it into one all-inclusive trip instead of the several voyages coast-to-coast in the book, one vast round trip from New York to Denver to Frisco to Mexico to New Orleans to New York again. I visualize the beautiful shots could be made with the camera on the front seat of the car showing the road (day and night) unwinding into the windshield, as Sal and Dean yak. I wanted you to play the part because Dean (as you know) is no dopey hotrodder but a real intelligent (in fact Jesuit) Irishman. You play Dean and I'll play Sal (Warner Bros. mentioned I play Sal) and I'll show you how Dean acts in real life, you couldn't possibly imagine it without seeing a good imitation. Fact, we can go visit him in Frisco, or have him come down to L.A. still a real frantic cat but nowadays settled down with his final wife saying the Lord's Prayer with his kiddies at night...as you'll seen when you read the play BEAT GENERATION. All I want out of this is to be able to establish myself and my mother a trust fund for life, so I can really go roaming around the world writing about Japan, India, France etc. ...I want to be free to write what comes out of my head & free to feed my buddies when they're hungry & not worry about my mother. 

Incidentally, my next novel is THE SUBTERRANEANS coming out in N.Y. next March and is about a love affair between a white guy and a colored girl and very hep story. Some of the characters in it you know in the village (Stanley Gould etc.) It easily could be turned into a play, easier than ON THE ROAD. 

What I wanta do is re-do the theater and the cinema in America, give it a spontaneous dash, remove pre-conceptions of "situation" and let people rave on as they do in real life. That's what the play is: no plot in particular, no "meaning" in particular, just the way people are. Everything I write I do in the spirit where I imagine myself an Angel returned to the earth seeing it with sad eyes as it is. I know you approve of these ideas, & incidentally the new Frank Sinatra show is based on "spontaneous" too, which is the only way to come on anyway, whether in show business or life. The French movies of the 30's are still far superior to ours because the French really let their actors come on and the writers didn't quibble with some preconceived notion of how intelligent the movie audience is, the talked soul from soul and everybody understood at once. I want to make great French Movies in America, finally, when I'm rich...American Theater & Cinema at present is an outmoded Dinosaur that ain't mutated along with the best in American Literature.

If you really want to go ahead, make arrangements to see me in New York when you next come, or if you're going to Florida here I am, but what we should do is talk about this because I prophesy that it's going to be the beginning of something real great. I'm bored nowadays and I'm looking around for something to do in the void, anyway—writing novels is getting too easy, same with plays, I wrote the play in 24 hours. 

Come on now, Marlon, put up your dukes and write! 

Sincerely, later, Jack Kerouac (signed) 

Dear Mr. DeMille

I had never heard of Lois Weber before today. A little ashamed am I to admit it, as she is one of the most important female directors the American film industry has known (film historian Anthony Slide even calls her the most important American female director ever). And not only was she a director, she was also an actress, screenwriter and producer. A filmmaker during Hollywood's silent era, Weber has often been mentioned in the same breath as her renowned colleagues Cecil B. DeMille and D.W. Griffith. She was a true pioneer, being the first American woman to direct a full-length feature film, the first woman to own a film studio, one of the first directors to experiment with sound and also one of the first to catch the attention of the Hollywood censors (she didn't shy away from controversy; her Hypocrites (1915) was the first film to contain full nude scenes). Her films were extremely popular and at one point she was even Universal's best-paid director. In 1960, because of her contribution to the film industry, Weber was given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Although Lois Weber continued to make films in the early 1930s, her greatest successes are from the 1910s and 1920s. In 1939, when she was no longer making movies (her final film White Heat came out in 1934), Weber was eager to make a comeback. In a letter to Cecil B. DeMille dated 24 June 1939, she told him of her plans to make a new film ("If this is as good as I think, it will make a sensational success"). The film, however, was never made. Later that year, on 13 November, a penniless Weber died of a bleeding ulcer at the age of sixty.

Lois Weber with Cecil B. DeMille

Source: women film pioneers project

Selznick abandons Fritz Lang project

Austrian-born director Fritz Lang decided to make the move to Hollywood in the early 1930s. On 1 June 1934, Lang met with producer David O. Selznick in London (Selznick still worked for MGM at the time) and they agreed to make a film together. However, as their film would be about a crazed group overthrowing the government, the Department of Justice strongly objected to the film being made. In the end, Selznick saw no other alternative than to abandon the project.

The following correspondence took place between Will Hays and David Selznick. As President of the MPPDA (the organisation responsible for the creation of the Production Code), Hays advised Selznick not to proceed with his project. A few days later, Selznick answered Hays' letter saying he would drop the idea altogether. 

Source: mppda digital archive

Transcript:

June 19, 1934.

Mr. David Selznick,

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer-Studios,

Culver City, California.

Dear David:

Following our conversation relative to the picture being considered for Mr. Fritz Lang: Mr. Pettijohn returned from Washington and I am enclosing his original office memorandum to me reporting his talk with the Department of Justice on this subject matter.

It is my reasoned judgment, in which Mr. Pettijohn concurs, that under all the circumstances it would not be wise to proceed with the contemplated picture and I so recommend.

With kindest personal regards, I am

Sincerely yours,

hst.

cc-Mr. Nicholas M. Schenck.

From left to right: David O. Selznick, Will Hays and Fritz Lang

Source: mppda digital archive

Transcript:

June 22, 1934.

General Will Hays

M.P.P. &D. of A., Inc.,
28 West 44th Street,
New York, New York.

Dear General Hays,

I am in receipt of a letter from Charlie Pettijohn stating the Department of Justice's violent objection to the picture idea suggested by Mr. Fritz Lang and proposed through me. I regret exceedingly that there is obviously no other course open to us but to drop the idea, although I think we could have done a real public service. 

Thank you for your co-operation in the matter.

Cordially yours,

David Selznick (signed)

*Note: Charlie Pettijohn who is mentioned in both letters, was the MPPDA's general counsel. Nicholas Schenck who is cc'd in Hays' letter was an important executive at MGM. And David Selznick addresses Will Hays as General, presumably because Hays had been U.S. Postmaster General in the early 1920s.