Alan Jay Lerner: A Lyricist's Letters (47 page)

    
To Richard Burton

    
June 25, 1979

    
Dear Richard,

    
Don Gregory
⁴⁸
and Mike Merrick
⁴⁹
got in touch with me on Friday and told me to send you a script of
Camelot
. The fact that there is even a modicum of hope was enough to give me a three day high.

        
Having been out of the country so much over the last ten or twelve years, I wonder if you realize the almost legendary proportions that
Camelot
has taken on. Undoubtedly, a good deal of it is due to its identification with the Kennedy legend, but a great deal of it is due to the score and the cult that has grown up among those who were fortunate enough to have seen you in it. Only two weeks ago on TV there was one of those movie dramas about a man who became unhinged following the Kennedy assassination and during the entire two hour show he constantly sat at the phonograph listening to you sing
Camelot
. There is hardly a day goes by when there is not a reference to it in the newspapers. My son, who is at college, said to me recently: Dad, maybe you think you are known for
My Fair Lady
, but I can tell you that with the kids I know it is because of
Camelot
.

        
In short there is an overwhelming audience longing to see you in
Camelot
—most of them to see you for the first time. When one considers what happened to Yul Brynner and
The King and I
,
⁵⁰
there is no question that Richard Burton in
Camelot
would be the largest theatre attraction in modern times—even more than Rex in the revival of
My Fair Lady
.

        
In perusing the script after all these years, I found several places where, with a little bit of work, I could strengthen some of the scenes. I started to indicate them in the script but then decided to wait to hear from you. There were also several moments in the film which I would like to incorporate, ergo, I am enclosing the movie script also.

        
In thinking back over the original production, I think great mistakes were made in the designing of the sets and costumes. I would like to get more of the rugged, Dark Ages feeling into the show and a little less Disneyland. But again, more about that, if and when.

        
We missed you at the Lerner and Loewe night at the Winter Garden last month. It was an incredible evening and I know you would have enjoyed it.

        
Please give my warm regards to your dear wife and I look forward to hearing from you.

Aye,

Alan

    
The
Fair Lady
revival was a little more complicated. It was Harrison’s special ambition to take the show back to London as well as Broadway. But the British producer Cameron Mackintosh
⁵¹
had just put together a production of the musical that was touring the British provinces, subsidized by the British Arts Council, and he now wanted to bring it into the West End. Lerner had not been expecting this, but when he was invited to take over the direction of the production and tighten some of the performances, he was genuinely excited. However, he was unhappy with some of the musical changes that had been made to the show, particularly in the dance music, and wrote to insist that they be put back if he were to take on the job of director:

    
To Cameron Mackintosh

    
July 25, 1979

    
Dear Cameron,

    
I was delighted by the news—and deeply impressed with your hustle. I know that you are Scottish, but you must have some Jewish blood somewhere.

        
I am reasonably optimistic that with co-operation from the cast and an intractable point of view, which I have, the performances can be sharpened, made more exciting, more romantic, and—if you will—more Shavian (as I see it). I can only hope Peter Bayliss
⁵²
can be persuaded to join the company.

        
What I am deeply concerned about, however—and this is really for Gillian
⁵³
—are any and all changes that were made that changed the music. The intrusion of another style of orchestration, which happens any time the fundamental arrangement was not based on a Loewe composition, cheapens the entire production and, I am convinced, is an invitation to flying brickbats. I do not mind the shift in the ballroom sequence, and I do understand the scenic problems in returning it to its
traditional spot at the end of Act I, but tell Gillian that somehow a way must be found to preserve the “Embassy Waltz.”

        
This is also true of “Get Me To The Church On Time.” The attempt to individualize is admirable and I am sure would be more successful if it were done to the original music. Gillian must give her creative attention to reshaping that number. I probably would feel a little softer about it if it were more successful than the original version, but it is definitely not. There is a very structured shape to that production musically that was created by a genuine composer who knew what the hell he was doing. It must be restored.

        
I told Fritz, as lightly as I could, that there had been a few added modulations and his blood pressure rose alarmingly. It is one thing for changes to have been made when neither of us knew about it. If he thought that I would be involved in a production that would countenance the dismemberment of his music, I think he would have every justification for lopping my head off.

        
I say all this not because I am a traditionalist, but because I know that the musical fabric has been seriously discolored by the changes that were made, and the show has suffered accordingly. To me it is no different than if someone came along and rewrote the lyrics to “Get Me To The Church On Time.”

        
The restoration of the music bears very strongly on the amount of help I can give. So please, please give it your first priority.

        
I’ll call you on Monday and, knowing you, I’m certain you will have solved everything by then.

Aye,

Alan

    
Rex Harrison was palpably upset about the Mackintosh production, since he realized that it would be impossible for him to bring his version of the show to London at the same time, but Lerner wrote to comfort him that the public would always be interested in seeing Rex Harrison in
My Fair Lady
. Toward the end of the letter, he also mentions a project with Michel Legrand
⁵⁴
(to be called
The Mountains of Peru
) on which he was planning to work, though it never came to pass:

    
To Rex Harrison

    
August 3, 1979

    
Dearest Chum,

    
I know you and Mercie
⁵⁵
must have had a glorious trip and I can only tell you that sitting here in this sweltering city and thinking of you strolling the deck of your personal QE2 put a hell of a strain on our friendship.

        
I was in Europe at the beginning of the week and passed through London for one day and heard about (and read about) this irritating production of
My Fair Lady
that now seems to be coming into the West End. At the risk of boring you with details which you may already know, let me review quickly the background of this production.

        
Two or three years ago it was the idea of Cameron Mackintosh and some of his associates to create some kind of government-sponsored repertory of well-known examples of the musical theatre. To that end, he was able to persuade the London Arts Council to support him. All very noble, so far. It was decided that
My Fair Lady
was to be the first production of this new experiment. They wrote to Fritz and me and we saw no reason to withhold the rights. I personally felt it was very healthy for the musical theatre in general. We gave them our blessings along with a contract. In that contract, I may add, they were given the right to bring the show into the West End, if they decided to do so. There is no loophole in the contract that would make it possible for us to withdraw that right. I might further add that the London Arts Council contributed £150,000 towards the financing—a goodly sum. All of these arrangements took place almost a year before Merrick and Gregory came to you with the idea of reviving
My Fair Lady
with you recreating your original role.

        
In June, after we saw it in Nottingham, I had a rather tense and lengthy session with Mackintosh in which I told him how I felt about what we saw. I could not insist that he not bring it to London because, as I mentioned above, I do not have that right. I told him in no uncertain terms, however, that I thought the entire affair was disgraceful and he would be leaving himself open to a barrage of criticism. I told him it would not be
My Fair Lady
that would suffer—the judgment is already in on that—it would be he and his production. About a fortnight later when I was back in the States I received a phone call from him telling me
that they could not procure a theatre. I sighed with relief and thought that was that.

        
To my astonishment, I received a call from him a week ago informing me that he had indeed found a theatre, the Adelphi, and he intended to open his production in London on October 11th.

        
So now the dilemma became mine. Do I help and try to improve the show before it comes in, or do I simply let it sail into London and sink to the bottom? What disturbs me is that there is always the possibility that it will not simply sink to the bottom because it is
My Fair Lady
and there is a whole generation that did not see the original. However, I am convinced that at the very best it could not possibly run more than a few months.

        
Nevertheless, it seems to me that should you, two years after playing in the States, decide to bring it to London, Mackintosh’s production, or any other production, cannot possibly influence the success of Rex Harrison in
My Fair Lady
. If Mackintosh’s version receives bad reviews, when you open everyone will say: at long last, here is the real
My Fair Lady
. If he gets away with it, when you open the reaction must be: if you thought you saw
My Fair Lady
two years ago, you had better come and see it with Rex Harrison. Although I do not mean to compare
My Fair Lady
to
Hamlet
…for argument’s sake, if there is a bad production of
Hamlet
, it never prevents people from coming to see a good one.

        
The one thing I personally do care about is that any production that comes to the West End not be tasteless and vulgar, and Mackintosh’s is. As long as he has a theatre, I have pleaded with him to remove what I consider vulgar, and at least present it decently. Mainly, I would like the songs well-sung so that this new generation can’t say the score is overrated. Other than that, I frankly don’t give a goddamn what happens, and in all sincerity, neither should you. If I were you I would not waste one sleepless moment on it. It is not worth it. You are impervious. You are operating on a level so far beyond this that there is no way your production could be affected. It isn’t even worth saying: it’s too bad. It is not even a pain in the ass. As far as you are concerned it is nothing. Absolutely nothing. And it you ever think differently, I beg you to remember again that night at the Winter Garden theatre in May, just two years after a rather successful, tastefully produced revival of
My Fair Lady
, and how, when the audience heard you say “Damn, damn, damn” there was an ovation the like of which I cannot recall in the theatre, and they hadn’t even seen you yet! If you think anybody in the world can damage that magic, I suggest you change wines immediately.

        
So please, old boy, dismiss Mr. Mackintosh from your mind. I have told him in no uncertain terms to hold his tongue as far as the press is concerned or I will publically wash my hands of his effort. The only reason I am reluctant to do so now is because of the participation of the London Arts Council.

        
As you have undoubtedly heard, all the necessary approval was given for Patrick Garland.
⁵⁶
I understand when I first expressed my reservations, you misunderstood that expression as a sign that I would not approve of him. We must not have any more of that. We have known each other too well and I believe our friendship is too strong for me not ever to be totally frank with you at all times. If I was really trying to say no, believe me, I would have said it. I would expect no less from you. Of course, we are bound to have differences of opinion as we go along. But I am always on your side and you will never have to read between the lines to divine what it is I am trying to say. If I am not clear, ask me point blank—and I will do the same with you. If I am ever not detailed enough in my reasons for or against something, please tell me and I will try to be more explicit. You and I went through
My Fair Lady
together without one unpleasant word between us and there is no reason why that should change now. And it won’t. I love you, and you know it.

        
I hear you are playing a German general in Ireland. No doubt an imitation of Franz Allers.
⁵⁷
I am so pleased he will be able to help us.

        
In two weeks I will be off to Paris to start work with Michel Legrand. I think we have found an interesting subject. I will be there well into the autumn. As soon as I know my address I will pass it along to you and maybe we can join up somewhere for “a jaw over supper.”

        
Give my love to Mercie. I can’t wait for next August. Have a nice Ireland and I’ll see you very soon.