I think you’re the only actor who can play the Godfather

Published in 1969, Mario Puzo's novel The Godfather tells the story of the (fictional) Corleone mafia family, headed by patriarch Vito Corleone. The book covers the years 1945 until 1955, with its main storyline following son Michael who eventually succeeds his father as head of the mafia clan. Puzo's novel became a huge success, remaining on The New York Times bestseller list for 67 weeks and selling more than nine million copies in just two years. 

Before Mario Puzo had even finished his novel, Paramount Pictures bought the film rights for $80,000, on the basis of a 60-page treatment. To direct the film, Paramount hired Francis Ford Coppola after several other directors had declined (including Sergio Leone, Peter Bogdanovich and Otto Preminger). Coppola would work on the script with author Puzo, the latter hired by the studio in April 1970. They worked on the script separately, Puzo in Los Angeles and Coppola in San Francisco. While writing their respective screenplays, the men kept in touch with each other, their combined efforts ultimately resulting in a completed script in March 1971.

From the start, even before he was hired by Paramount to work on the picture, Puzo already knew who should portray the family's patriarch —Marlon Brando. (Brando was also Coppola's first choice.) In order to entice Brando to play the role, on 23 January 1970 Puzo wrote him the following letter.

Source: Gotta Have Rock and Roll

Transcript:

Jan 23

Dear Mr Brando

I wrote a book called THE GODFATHER which has had some success and I think you’re the only actor who can play the part Godfather with that quiet force and irony (the book is an ironical comment on American society) the part requires. I hope you’ll read the book and like it well enough to use whatever power you can to get the role.

I’m writing Paramount to the same effect for whatever good that will do.

I know this was presumptuous of me but the least I can do for the book is try. I really think you’d be tremendous. Needless to say I’ve been an admirer of your art.

Mario Puzo

A mutual friend, Jeff Brown, gave me your address

_____

Brando was not interested in the role despite Puzo's letter. The actor later said in his autobiography Songs My Mother Taught Me (1994): "Alice Marchak [Brando's secretary] remembers my throwing [Puzo's letter] away and saying, "I'm not a Mafia godfather". I had never played an Italian before, and I didn't think I could do it successfully. By then I had learned that one of the biggest mistakes an actor can make is to try to play a role for which he is miscast .... But Alice took the book home, read it and said she thought I should take the part if it was offered me. She didn't change my mind, though I did call Mario without having read the book and thanked him for his note." 

While working on the screenplay, Puzo called Brando every now and then, pleading with him to reconsider his decision. Puzo was also lobbying at Paramount on Brando's behalf (without the actor's knowledge) but his attempts proved futile. The studio didn't want Brando for the role, partly due to his notorious bad behaviour on set and his recent box-office failures. Paramount's preferred choice was reportedly Orson Welles, and other actors who were being considered include Laurence Olivier, Anthony Quinn and Ernest Borgnine. Unable to make the Paramount executives change their minds, Puzo typed this letter to Brando in March 1970.

Source: RR Auction

Mario Puzo and Marlon Brando on the set of The Godfather, pictured here with Red Buttons (left). (Buttons and Brando had become good friends after co-starring in the 1957 Sayonara.)

In the end, after reading both the novel and the screenplay, Brando decided he wanted to play Don Corleone after all. Paramount finally regarded him as a serious option but wanted to do a screen test first. Afraid that a test would offend Brando, Coppola thought of a way to do one secretly. He visited Brando at his home with a video camera and told him, after first having discussed the role, that he wanted to test some things on tape. With Kleenex stuffed in his cheeks and shoe polish in his hair, Brando then did his interpretation of Don Corleone for Coppola, not realising he was being screentested. The footage impressed Paramount and they finally agreed to Brando playing the role. Brando was cast in January 1971, just a few months before production was to start. His performance turned out to be one of the most iconic of his career, earning him the Oscar for Best Actor (which he famously declined).

The Godfather (1972) was a huge success, both with critics and audiences. The film won the Academy Award for Best Picture (Albert S. Ruddy), Best Actor (Brando) and Best Adapted Screenplay (Puzo and Coppola). It was followed by two sequels, The Godfather Part II (1974) and The Godfather Part III (1990). Brando appeared only in the first Godfather film. 

On the set of The Godfather with director Francis Ford Coppola (left), Marlon Brando and Al Pacino, the latter playing the role of Vito Corleone's youngest son, Michael.

All three occasions cling to my memory as fun experiences

Barry Sullivan and Barbara Stanwyck made three films together. Their first picture was John Sturges' film noir Jeopardy (1953), followed by two westerns, Joseph Kane's The Maverick Queen (1956) and Samuel Fuller's Forty Guns (1957). Sullivan enjoyed making all three films with Barbara, even though —as he says in the letter below to Ella Smith from March 1972— "only Jeopardy [stuck in his] mind as having any merit". In his letter, the actor talks about working with Barbara, while elaborately singing her praises and jokingly admitting to being "in love with the lady". Ella Smith was the author of the 1973 Starring Miss Barbara Stanwyck, and Sullivan's letter was his contribution to the book. As can be seen in previous posts (here and here), other people had also sent letters to Smith about their collaborations with Barbara, each of them praising the actress for her character and professionalism.

Barry Sullivan and Barbara Stanwyck in Jeopardy

Source: eBay

Transcript:

10/3/72

Dear Ms Smith,

This note is probably too late for your deadline, but I do want you to know I am not really a rude SOB. Your letters re Barbara have just caught up. What circuitous route they traveled only God may know, but please understand I was not resisting a chance to expound on one of the more divine people I have known. (Allow me to throw down a few impressions for your personal edification and say good luck with the book)

Most of your replies to date, I am certain, have included glowing words about Missy's fantastic professionalism (and every word justified, by the way), but professionalism is nonsense if unaccompanied by heart.

Of the films I did with Miss Stanwyck only JEOPARDY sticks in my mind as having any merit, but all three occasions cling to my memory as fun experiences. This may seem a minor thing in discussing a fabulous artist, but, Dammit, in my book it looms very formidably. We start out in this business thinking of it as a glorious adventure and "fun", and all too often it seems like drudgery. You know you're not doing your best work when something is drudgery, right? When you work with the lady you know damn well it is fun and thus the glorious adventure you always dreamed about and you come up a couple of octaves.

All great artists have this one thing in common. Tracy had it, Bette Davis has it, George C. Scott has it, young Robert Foxworth has it -- They give it their very best shot regardless of the calibre of the material. And Barbara most certainly has it in large quantity.

We don't always get Arthur Miller or Lillian Hellman to perform. It is common knowledge that most of the material today borders on the mediocre. It would be easy, and perhaps forgiveable, if one were to sluff, or, as we say "walk through it" using only part of whatever God has given you. You'll never find Barbara doing that. I think maybe she might have worked harder when the writing was thin. She just damned well pulled it up to her level and everybody else in the cast could do no less.

I guess I am labeling her "inspirational", and she would laugh uproariously at that word. The ability to laugh, though, is perhaps what makes her so damn great. The set was always loose. No phony tensions that can distract from the job at hand. Young actors and actresses, perhaps on a first job and understandably somewhat nervous would lose the nervousness and begin to enjoy. I've seen her, too, with some of our senior performers who might be up tight (it happens at both ends of the spectrum, God help us). Her infinite patience, her joshing way, her generosity in blaming herself to reduce pressures when a scene would blow - all these things are marks of professionalism mayhap, but I rather feel they are the marks of one great human being.

This carried over to the technical people, too. She knew their problems always. Always their mechanical problems that beset all film making, and almost always their personal problems. If a director goofed because he had a hangover maybe, she was better than Bromo; If a prop man forgot something because the baby was sick at home, she was better than pediatrician; If a makeup man started applying the wrong color because he was preoccupied about a fight with his girl friend, she was better than Max Factor. What else can I tell you? One can go on ad infinitum. Bear in mind, however, that none of this was phony bleeding heart concern- it was and is all genuine.

If all this gush sounds like I'm in love with the lady, I plead guilty. My fondest hope is that I will walk on a set one day soon and and [sic] find her waiting. (as she will tell you, I am always late dammit). I know I will have one helluva good time and that's what it's all about, isn't it?

Sincerely

(signed) Barry Sullivan

Sullivan and Stanwyck in The Maverick Queen (above) and in Forty Guns (below). The Maverick Queen is, I think, by far their weakest film and Forty Guns their best.

You brought eggsactly the right flavor to Batman

Today, on what would have been Vincent Price's 113th birthday, I am sharing a letter sent to Price by Adam West in 1990, on the occasion of Price's 79th birthday. West was Price's co-star in the 1960s Batman television series, in which he played the lead role of Bruce Wayne/Batman. In season two and three of the series (1966-1967), Price had a recurring role as the villain Egghead, appearing in a total of seven episodes. Created especially for the Batman TV series, Egghead was —in the character's own words— "the world's smartest criminal", his crimes and speech patterns usually involving eggs. Price later said about the series: "I was thrilled to be on the Batman series. I really felt that it was one of the most brilliant television series ever done. The imagination and the creativeness that went into those shows were extraordinary. They were way ahead of their time..." The Batman series ran for three seasons (from 12 January 1966 until 14 March 1968) with 120 episodes. Ratings had dropped considerably by the end of the third season and, as a result, the show was cancelled. 

Vincent Price (l) and Adam West as resp. Egghead and Batman

Price as Egghead with Anne Baxter as Olga, Queen of Cossacks. Appearing in five episodes, Olga was Egghead's partner in crime and love interest. (Baxter played two villains in the series; apart from Olga, Baxter also played Zelda the Great in two episodes.)

Source: Heritage Auctions

I told you long ago that Walt Disney has the best idea

In a 1972 interview with Dick Cavett, Alfred Hitchcock was asked about the remark "Actors are like cattle" he had supposedly made in the 1930s. Hitch famously told Cavett: "I would never say such an unfeeling, rude thing about actors at all ... what I probably said was that all actors should be treated like cattle." Later Hitch would make another derogatory remark about actors to filmmaker Peter Bogdanovich: "Actors are like children. They have to be coddled, and sometimes spanked." What seems clear is that Hitch didn't think very highly of actors and considered them a necessary evil in order to make films. It wasn't "the acting" or "the subject matter" Hitch really cared about, but most important to him were "the pieces of film ... all the technical ingredients that make the audience scream" (said Hitch in a 1973 interview with Oui Magazine). 

Hitchcock certainly didn't care for stars or their egos. While he realised that stars were necessary to draw audiences to theaters, during his long career Hitch had several times complained about the star system, especially when stars who were not suitable for their roles were forced upon him by the studio. For Torn Curtain (1966), Hitch was very unhappy with his leads Paul Newman and Julie Andrews, but Universal insisted they were cast. At the time the actors were two of Hollywood's biggest stars and —much to Hitchcock's dismay— received a combined salary of $1.5 million, cutting very deeply into the film's $5 million budget. When Newman, a method actor, repeatedly asked Hitch for his character's motivation, the director (who hated method acting) famously retorted, "Your motivation is your salary".

Hitch with Julie Andrews and Paul Newman on the set of Torn Curtain

The exorbitant fees of Newman and Andrews were on Hitchcock's mind when he wrote the following letter to Grace Kelly. With Torn Curtain about to go into production —shooting would start on 18 October 1965— Hitch complains to Grace about the salaries of his leads eating up a large part of his budget. Also, he talks about the salary demands of Shirley MacLaine, another big box-office star at the time. Hitch concludes his letter saying that Walt Disney had "the best idea". With his actors drawn on paper, if Disney didn't like them, he could just erase them or tear them up.

Source: Alamy

Transcript:

Her Serene Highness

Princess Grace of Monaco

Palace Monaco

Principality of Monaco

Dear Grace (handwritten),

Alma and I want to thank you so much for your thoughtful telegram.

I'm just about to start another movie, starring Paul Newman and Julie Andrews. But the money these people get these days! Between them, they are collecting as much as I have to make the whole picture. You would be astonished if you knew some of the sums of money now being commanded on account of the acute shortage of "names". It was told me, I believe by her agent Herman Citron, that Shirley MacLaine refuses to read any material of any kind unless a million dollar fee, against a percentage, was agreed upon.

You'll remember I told you long ago that Walt Disney has the best idea. He just draws them, and if he doesn't like them, he tears them up.

Love, Hitch (handwritten)

_____

Grace Kelly had left Hollywood almost ten years earlier to marry Prince Rainier of Monaco. She had been Hitch's favourite actress, having worked with him three times, i.e. on Dial M for Murder (1954), Rear Window (1954) and To Catch a Thief (1955). Grace and Hitch got along quite well and became close friends. While the pair had wanted to make a fourth film together, in the end they never did. In 1962, when Hitch was preparing his next film Marnie (1964), he asked Grace (by then already Princess of Monaco) to play the female lead. She accepted but ultimately had to withdraw from the project, due to the objections of the citizens of Monaco. (Grace's correspondence with Hitch about their failed project can be seen here.) The role eventually went to Tippi Hedren.

Above: Hitch and Grace Kelly on the sets of their mutual films, clockwise—To Catch a Thief, Dial M for Murder and Rear Window, in the latter photo also with leading man James Stewart. Below: 29 April 1974, Hitch with Princess Grace of Monaco on the occasion of Hitch's tribute at the Film Society of Lincoln Center in New York. 

Shearer does not seem to be associated with sex

Norma Shearer was one of the first serious contenders for the role of Scarlett O'Hara in David O. Selznick's Gone with the Wind (1939). On 21 March 1937, Walter Winchell, a famed newspaper gossip columnist and radio commentator, reported that Selznick desperately wanted her to play Scarlett. The announcement evoked a public response which was overwhelmingly negative. People felt that Norma, at the time a major MGM star, was not at all right for the part; while some could see her play Melanie, Scarlett she was not.

Above: Norma Shearer as the poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning in a publicity still for The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934). Below: Norma playing a loose woman in A Free Soul (1931), the first of three films she made with Clark Gable.

Two days prior to Winchell's announcement, Kay Brown (Selznick's representative and talent scout) had sent a memo to her boss, sharing the opinions on Norma Shearer of several people, including GWTW's author Margaret ('Peggy') Mitchell. Like the general public, none of them was enthusiastic about Norma playing Scarlett, feeling she was "not the type". Brown believed that the actress was being associated too much with her "good girl" roles in The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934) and Romeo and Juliet (1936), despite having also played less virtuous characters in films like A Free Soul (1931) and Riptide (1934).

Source: Martin Turnbull

Transcript:

TO  Mr. David O. Selznick

FROM  Miss Katharine Brown

DATE  March 19, 1937

SUBJECT  NORMA SHEARER

Dear David:

I am sorry to make this kind of report on Miss Shearer, as I was so terribly in favor of the idea when it was first discussed.

I selected three people, as we decided on the telephone, one of whom is the editor of RedBook, Edwin Balmer; Lois Cole of Macmillan, and a rank outsider to the picture business.

The suggestion in each case proved a shock and the response was "but, she's not the type." Then, as I advanced arguments about the fact that she is a great actress and could play Scarlett, they warmed up to the idea.

Mr. Balmer thought her selection would be analyzed as a compromise. They didn't feel that she could hurt the picture, but nobody reacted enthusiastically. This was all a great disappointment to me.

Peggy Mitchell was scared to death to say anything at first, but I reassured her that her conversation would be only for your ears. She, too, was very lukewarm; not against her but, like the others, not enthusiastically excited about the idea. 

Shearer seems to be tied up with pictures like JULIET and ELIZABETH BARRETT. People forget her first great success in THE FREE SOUL and RIPTIDE. Shearer does not seem to be associated with sex. Both Balmer and Mitchell said you couldn't imagine Shearer killing in cold blood and bargaining her body.

Everybody says get someone with no name so Scarlett can be Scarlett and it won't be Miriam Hopkins making believe she is Scarlett, just as if we weren't all half crazy trying to do this!

(signed) Kay

On 30 March 1937, following Winchell's announcement and the public outcry it had caused, both Selznick and Norma issued statements in which they denied Norma being a candidate for Scarlett. Selznick said: "Miss Norma Shearer and we of Selznick International have jointly come to a conclusion against further consideration of the idea of Miss Shearer playing the role of Scarlett O'Hara in "Gone with the Wind". Miss Shearer has made other arrangement, and we are continuing the search begun several months ago, and never interrupted, for an unknown, or comparatively unknown, actress for the part ..." And Norma said: "... I have other plans, which I cannot divulge at this time, which preclude my giving the idea any further consideration. I shall be watching with great interest to see who Mr. Selznick selects and whether she will be a well known star or a newcomer. I know she will be wonderful, and I will be wishing her luck."

Dallas Morning News, 24 June 1938

Despite these statements, Norma's GWTW adventure did not end here. About a year later, the actress would again be a contender for the role of Scarlett. In fact, on 24 June 1938, several newspapers announced that she had already been cast, including The New York Times and The Dallas Morning News. And again, like Walter Winchell's announcement had done a year earlier, this announcement also evoked a great many negative reactions from people who felt Norma was unsuited for the role. On top of that, people were shocked by the fact that she had asked Selznick to change the script in order to make Scarlett more sympathetic. (In a previous post, I reproduced four of the many letters that Selznick received regarding Norma's casting as Scarlett; you can read them here.) Ultimately, due to public pressure, Norma withdrew from the picture and gave up the role for good. 

In November 1938, several months after giving up Scarlett, Norma wrote the following letter to Marjory Pollock, one of her fans who had been in favour of her playing Scarlett. Norma reflects on her decision not to play the part and in particular talks about the traits of Margaret Mitchell's heroine that had bothered her. 

Source: Bonhams

Transcript:

November 10, 1938.

Dear Marjory Pollock:

Reading some of the thousands of letters that came in after the announcement that I would play Scarlett O'Hara, I find your gracious note. I am so happy to know that you wanted me to play the role, even tho I have decided against it. Your confidence in me is most inspiring.

When the studio asked me if I would accept the role, I gave it careful consideration; but I was troubled by traits - such as her disrespect for the death of her husband, her neglect of her child, her marriage to a man for whom she even had no respect, her indifference to the revelation of Rhett Butler's love at the end of the story - which I knew would be unpleasant to portray on the screen. I think any woman - no matter how hard she has been - must be redeemed by such a great love as Rhett's.

It has always been my desire to vary my roles, as you know, but I felt I had been associated with such idealistic characters in the past few years that to play Scarlett whole-heartedly might be offensive and leave an unpleasant impression on the minds of the public.

I was so glad to read that your father recovered so completely from his illness, and the nice things he said about me were most pleasant to listen to.

My sincere appreciation, and good wishes to you both,

(signed) Norma Shearer

Miss Marjory Pollock,
Fine Arts School,
South Bend, Indiana.

Norma Shearer and Clark Gable at a Hollywood event in 1938; they played in three films together (i.e. A Free Soul (1931), Strange Interlude (1932) and Idiot's Delight (1939)) but their fourth was not to be. Instead of Shearer, Vivien Leigh would star in GWTW in her only pairing with Gable.

Dear Corse

When George Cukor decided to build three cottages on his Beverly Hills estate, his close friend Katharine Hepburn asked him if Spencer Tracy, her life partner and also a friend of Cukor's, might rent one of them. (Tracy was married to Louise Treadwell, but since 1933 the couple lived separately.) Throughout his adult life Tracy had struggled with depression and alcoholism, and with Tracy living on his estate Cukor could keep an eye on him and provide companionship whenever Hepburn was not in Los Angeles. Assured that Cukor would respect his privacy, Tracy moved into the cottage on St. Ives Drive in the fall of 1951 and lived there until his death in 1967. During the final years of his life, while in poor health, Tracy shared the cottage with Hepburn, this being the only time the two lived together. Hepburn rented the house from Cukor after Tracy's death. 

    

Spencer Tracy (left) and George Cukor. According to Cukor biographer Patrick McGilligan, Cukor was "endlessly fascinated by the sensitive and peculiar Tracy" and the two men became "the most unlikely best of friends". 

On 8 February 1951, Cukor wrote this humorous letter to Tracy about the progress being made on the "Tracy residence". The "Touring Actress" referred to in Cukor's letter is of course Katharine Hepburn. At that time Hepburn was still touring with the stage production of Shakespeare's As You Like It; the play had opened in January 1950 in New York City and after 145 performances went on the road until March 1951. Cukor's comment "She will be pleased to know that the sun hits this property regularly once a week..." is probably a comical reference to Hepburn's wish to have large windows installed in Tracy's cottage to allow sunlight to enter the house. Hepburn hated the lack of natural light in the small apartment Tracy was then renting on South Beverly Drive.

Incidentally, Cukor nicknamed Tracy "Corse" —after Corse Payton, a popular American stage actor, known for billing himself as "America's Best Bad Actor".

Source: icollector.com

Left photo (taken in July 2023): 9191 St. Ives Drive in Los Angeles, the cottage in which Tracy had lived and later Hepburn. Right: Tracy inside his home, sitting in a chair that Hepburn had reupholstered.

Cukor, Tracy and Hepburn on the set of Keeper of the Flame (1942), the second of nine films Tracy and Hepburn made together.

Tracy and Cukor on the set of The Actress (1953). Tracy was directed by Cukor five times, more than by any other director. The other four films were Keeper of the Flame (1942), Edward, My Son (1949), Adam's Rib (1949) and Pat and Mike (1952).

Casting "How Green Was My Valley"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darryl F. Zanuck

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

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

 

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

Dear Jack:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sara Allgood cannot be beat for Beth.

Donald Crisp is perfect for the role of Morgan.

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

We should discuss this sometime tomorrow.

D.F.Z. 

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

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

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

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

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 

Sam, I am frank to say that I don't understand you

David O. Selznick and Samuel Goldwyn were two of Hollywood's most successful independent producers, both with their own group of contract players. Among Selznick's contracted stars were (at one time or another) Joan Fontaine, Ingrid Bergman, Gregory Peck and Joseph Cotten, while Goldwyn had under contract such stars as Gary Cooper, Joel McCrea, David Niven and Danny Kaye. One of the people also under contract to Selznick was British director Alfred Hitchcock, who came to Hollywood in early June 1938 at the invitation of Selznick. 

Before being signed by Selznick, however, Hitch met with Samuel Goldwyn. Goldwyn was also interested in Hitch but made no serious bid to land him. (According to Selznick, Myron Selznick (David's brother and Hitch's agent) could "not get bids for [Hitch] at the time I signed him".) Eventually in mid-July 1938, Selznick and Hitch struck a deal, entering into a seven-year contract. The two worked together only four times, i.e. on Rebecca (1940), Spellbound (1945), Notorious (1946) and The Paradine Case (1947). More often than not, Hitch was loaned out by Selznick to other studios at considerable profits (much to Hitch's resentment as he didn't share in the profits).

Above: Selznick and Hitchcock — the men had a difficult working relationship. Below: At a dinner in Los Angeles in October 1953, (l to r) Goldwyn, Jennifer Jones (Selznick's second wife) and Selznick. The two producers reportedly admired and liked each other.

In late December 1942, Hitch had a meeting with Goldwyn about a production deal. Shooting on Shadow of a Doubt (1943) had already ended and Hitch's next project would be Lifeboat (1944) on loan-out to Twentieth Century-Fox. When Selznick heard about the Hitchcock-Goldwyn meeting, he was furious and next wrote a letter to Goldwyn. With Hitch still having a few years left on their contract, Selznick resented Goldwyn for trying to "seduce" Hitch into coming to work for him, and for telling Hitch not to waste his talents on projects like Shadow of a Doubt (which was not produced by Selznick but by Skirball Productions). Ironically enough, Shadow was to become Hitch's personal favourite.

 

January 6, 1943

Mr. Samuel Goldwyn
1041 North Formosa
Hollywood, California
cc: Mr. O'Shea

Dear Sam:

Recently, you have had a couple of occasions to remind us forcibly that you are a "frank" man, although God knows no reminder was necessary. However, I do hope that you grant to others —such, for instance, as myself— the right to be equally frank: 

Sometimes, Sam, I am frank to say that I don't understand you. You scream and yell about other people's ethics, and then behave in a fashion that makes my hair stand on end with a combination of anger and incredulity.

You recently have sent direct for one of my people, Alfred Hitchcock, and talked with him without so much as either asking us, or even letting us know after the fact. I wonder just how you would behave if I reciprocated in kind — or if any of the big companies did it with your people. I have always maintained that no one is in permanent bondage in this business, and that once a contract has expired, or is soon to expire, every individual in the business should be free to negotiate with anyone he sees fit, without giving offense to the studio to which he or she has been under contract, and regardless of the desire of the original contracting studio to make the bondage permanent. I am not talking about such a case: rather, I am referring to a man who you know full well is still under long-term contract to me. Or if you don't know it, everyone else in the business does, and you ought to know it. The very least you could have done was to find out. Ignorance is no more a defense in these matters, if that be your defense, than it is in the law. 

Hitch has a minimum of two years to go with me, and longer if it takes him more time to finish four pictures, two of which I have sold to Twentieth Century-Fox. And not alone did you try to seduce him, but you tried something which I have never experienced before with any company or individual— you sought to make him unhappy with my management of him. When you told Hitch that he shouldn't be wasting his talents on stories like Shadow of a Doubt, and that this wouldn't be the case if he were working for you, what you didn't know was that Hitchcock personally chose the story and created the script— and moreover that he is very happy about the picture, which I think he has every right to be. Further, that in the years since I brought Hitchcock over here from England (at a time when nobody in the industry, including yourself, was willing to give him the same opportunity...) and established him as one of the most important directors in the world with the production and exploitation of Rebecca, he has never once had to do a story that he was not enthusiastic about. This has always been my attitude about directors, and I happen to know that it has not always been your attitude toward directors under contract to you ...

By contrast with your own behavior, I have for months met criticisms of you with praise for your work, and for your contributions to the business, and for your integrity of production. I have said to literally dozens of people in important positions that you have never received as much recognition in the industry as is your due. And just yesterday, and despite my growing rage with you, I went even further than this with an important magazine writer who is doing an article about you. I not alone sang your praises, but I painstakingly corrected some impressions he had gained elsewhere, taking half an hour out of a very busy day for the purpose. When I hear of you doing the same thing, instead of doing your best (which would appear to be synonymous with your worst) in the opposite direction, I will believe your fine statements, and not before. I regret that I have to write you in this vein, and I do so not because I have any reluctance about rebuking you verbally, for you know from our past relationship that I have never been hesitant about such matters when I felt you to be in the wrong. I write you now, first, because I want it a matter of record, in connection with my future dealings with you; and second, because I have learned from experience that it is impossible to get you to listen to this many words unless they are in writing.

With best wishes for a fine and reformed New Year,

Sincerely yours ,

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

On the set of Shadow of a Doubt with Hitch (far right, seated) and Shadow's main players (l to r) Joseph Cotten, Teresa Wright and Macdonald Carey. The film was shot on location in Santa Rosa, California. It was  Hitchcock's own favourite of his films because —in Hitch's own words—  it "brought murder and violence back in the home, where it rightly belongs" .

Selznick's most successful achievement was his 1939 Gone with the Wind, and Goldwyn will probably be best remembered for The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). Both films won numerous Oscars, including Oscars for Best Picture.