My Life with Cleopatra (19 page)

I went to the Lion Book Shop and bought her some books. Liz is the most voracious reader I know—at least one book every two days. She reads everything: memoirs, historical novels, plays, and the current best sellers.

Then I went out to the villa on the Appian Way to see how she was feeling. One of the servants directed me to her bedroom—the most beautiful room in the villa, carpeted with a three-inch-thick white sheepskin carpet.

Liz and Eddie were in bed reading, the spread covered with magazines and papers. They seemed happy as two birds in a nest. Eddie had just had an accident with his Rolls-Royce—a gift from Liz. Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt, though the car was damaged.

I gave Liz a fairly detailed report on the progress of the picture up till now and an idea of the work still to be done. I always regarded Liz as a partner in the enterprise, and despite the unconventional setting, our relationship at meetings like this tended to be very businesslike.

She has sound ideas about script and dialogue and a remarkable insight into production problems. It is at meetings like these that I feel close to Liz. I’m very fond of her, but I chiefly respect and admire her as a tremendously talented person—as a fellow professional.

We are both deeply convinced that
Cleopatra
could be great and determined that it would be great, regardless of weather, illness, or emotional upheavals.

It was this “agreement” between us that enabled us to present a unified front when faced with studio pressures. Liz saw her role
as Cleopatra as the ideal woman’s role—and she was determined to be great.

M
ARCH
16, 1962

Once more I had to speak to Burton about his secretary bringing drinks on the set.

M
ARCH
17, 1962

Went to London yesterday and returned with a planeload of press people who were converging on Rome to cover
Cleopatra
.

This enterprise seems to be so appealing to the world that there is something in the papers every day—its truth or untruth is immaterial.

M
ARCH
19, 1962

Eddie Fisher to New York.

I think he is ill-advised to leave now. He didn’t ask me for advice, however, which is just as well. I was no expert in solving a similar problem myself.

M
ARCH
20, 1962

Looked at rushes. Was overjoyed with the action and quality.

When I went on set to tell JLM of my enthusiasm for what I had seen, he said Liz hadn’t slept the night before and told him she was not up to working today. Eddie’s departure has obviously upset her. I called Dr. Pennington and sent Liz to her dressing room.

At ten tonight Dr. Pennington said that Elizabeth cut her eye with a glass spangle while removing her make-up, and he doubts she will be able to work tomorrow.

Elizabeth’s make-up, conceived and designed by her, consists of one of the most glamorous eye-dos I have ever seen. To achieve the effect she wanted she stuck a lot of spangles on her lids, which
created a wonderful appearance, but it took two hours for her just to put on the make-up.

M
ARCH
22, 1962

Rex Harrison married Rachel Roberts, a marvelous actress, in Genoa today. We gave them permission to honeymoon for a few days.

Doc Erickson called to say that John Lee, who is Dick Hanley’s assistant, called him to say Elizabeth left word not to be disturbed today, as she is not working. A very roundabout way to get the news, I must say.

Skouras called to say he plans to send Liz and Burton letters requesting them to be more circumspect in their behavior.

From my point of view the situation here has improved. Eddie left, relieving much of the tension. Burton seems to have a good effect on Elizabeth’s work, which is what must concern me as a producer. Now she’s ahead of time and stays around after her scenes are finished. She knows her lines letter-perfect. Most of her scenes are with Burton, and he insists on rehearsals on their own time so that the scenes will play perfectly in front of the cameras.

“You’re not acting in the best interests of the picture to send such a letter,” I told Skouras. Just when I thought I had saved the day, Burton called me. He was furious. The letter had already been sent.

I telephoned Otto Koegel in New York and told him if we wanted the picture finished he had better withdraw the letter to Burton. “Do not send one to Liz.”

M
ARCH
23, 1962

Eddie Fisher called me from New York. “I miss my wife,” he said.

Was stopped by a reporter for one of the Italian papers. “Any new denials today, Mr. Wanger?” he asked me. Very funny.

M
ARCH 24
, 1962

Liz told me if she gets the same letter that Burton received she will quit the picture. “I won’t take that kind of nonsense,” she said.

M
ARCH
25, 1962

Kurt Frings is also in town. He complained to me about the letter Burton received from the studio, said he would not stand for such a letter being sent to Liz. I explained my position: their private behavior is not my business as long as it doesn’t interfere with a full day’s work.

Hugh French, Burton’s agent, had dinner with Elizabeth and Richard Burton. When he saw me at the hotel later in the evening he became very excited and emotional about the romantic couple. He wants to make another picture deal for them to work together. He realizes that Burton is now a top personality and important property, thanks to the publicity given the “romance,” and he intends to capitalize on it.

M
ARCH
26, 1962

The news weekly
Gente
, of Milan, published a photo of Liz and Burton kissing on the
Cleopatra
set.

They were wearing three-quarter-length bathrobes over their costumes, and from the fuzziness of the picture it was obvious that it was taken by a paparazzo with a long-lens camera.

The paparazzi, that raffish group of photographers so well portrayed in Fellini’s
La Dolce Vita
, have been the bane of our existence since we came to Rome.

Fellini called the intrusive and ubiquitous photographers in his film
paparazzi
—and the name soon was applied to all of Rome’s free-lance photographers, who usually travel in a pack and consider all celebrities fair game.

The paparazzi are incredibly patient and well informed. When Eddie and Liz chose a villa, they quickly discovered
that the trees by the pool afforded good observation posts. The paparazzi were already installed with their cameras before the lease was signed. They obviously had established contacts with the household help. Every time anything happened at the villa, no matter how private, the paparazzi were informed.

They scoot out from Rome on Vespas or in the fastest sport cars—or drop out of trees onto the front lawn—but they are always on hand.

Although the paparazzi are free lancers who compete against each other in selling their pictures all over the world to the highest bidder, they have a remarkable
esprit de corps
. In Rome they are tolerated with amusement and a perverse kind of pride since Fellini saw fit to take notice of their existence.

Their ingenuity is equaled only by their nerve. One day two priests knocked on the door of the Burtons’ villa asking for a donation. Fortunately the housekeeper was shrewd enough to ask them what charity they were asking alms for. She checked with the authorities, found out there was no such organization and threw them off the place—paparazzi!

They even invaded our own publicity department. One of our employees who visited sets frequently always wore her hair in a high coiffure. We soon discovered the reason for it—she had a small camera concealed in her hair-do. Some of the pictures sneaked on set were undoubtedly taken by her. The American crew members try to protect Liz, but we are working with 7,000 extras on some days, and our production is too big for us to use any effective security measures.

Because the paparazzi deal in pictures it is impossible to issue a denial. The photos, presumably, speak for themselves. Unfortunately, Liz and Burton have not always been too discreet, and at times they seem to be working for the paparazzi themselves.

Today we hired nine plain-clothes police to prevent the
paparazzi from snatching any more candid photos on set; we have probably given one or two paparazzi a steady job.

M
ARCH
28, 1962

A new crisis. The Harrisons vs. Italy.

Rex Harrison went to the airport to meet his wife, Rachel Roberts, who was returning from England after a few days of working in a picture. Rachel was not traveling with luggage, just a handbag. When the customs officials insisted she open the bag for inspection, she became incensed, as did Rex.

They said some things which were not flattering to the Italian government and the Italian people—something one cannot do in Italy. They would have been jailed for the night except for the consideration of the Italian officials.

M
ARCH
29, 1962

Eddie Fisher is reported in the hospital in New York with a nervous breakdown. Liz called the hospital and found he had the flu.

The “breakdown” story is getting a big play, with Burton emerging as “the other man.” All the European newspapers are sending photographers and reporters here to cover Burton, who is the talk of Europe and America.

M
ARCH
30, 1962

Rex Harrison apologized in court and the case was dismissed, thanks to the British Embassy and our press department.

M
ARCH
31, 1962

Early today while on set Liz got a telephone call from Eddie, who was in New York holding a press conference. She was busy and didn’t take the call.

When the day’s shooting was over, Liz and Burton told me
they are so annoyed with the paparazzi chasing them every minute of the day that tonight they are going out to chase the paparazzi!

A
PRIL
1, 1962

Liz and Burton “found” the paparazzi.

This morning’s newspapers are full of pictures of them walking arm in arm down the Via Veneto, Elizabeth smiling and chic in a leopard-skin coat and cloche hat. The papers report, “They held hands, danced and kissed many times.” There are no pictures of them kissing, however.

Despite their late night, they were on set this morning for the Bacchus scene. Liz wears a figure-hugging green gown with a low neckline and a slit skirt. Burton wears a Roman toga. They eat, drink, and are merry with a rollicking cast of hundreds of seductive slave girls who dance around them while they gorge themselves on boars’ heads, whole sides of beef, jugs of wine, and grapes and fruit.

A
PRIL
2, 1962

First warm Sunday of the year. Burton and Liz went on a family-style picnic with Elizabeth’s children. The paparazzi went along, too, as uninvited guests.

A
PRIL
3, 1962

Elizabeth under fire of the Vatican.

Without mentioning her name outright, a Vatican radio commentator condemned the “caprices of adult children,” which he described as “an insult to the nobility of the heart which millions of married couples judge to be a beautiful and holy thing.” The Fox New York and Hollywood offices are wild.

This kind of criticism can hurt the picture as well as Elizabeth personally, so I went on set to see her about putting out a statement concerning the marriage. She said she had been in touch with Louis Nizer, her lawyer in New York. He is to issue
a statement saying, “Elizabeth and Eddie Fisher announced that they have mutually agreed to part. Divorce proceedings will be instituted soon.”

Perhaps now we can all concentrate on our principal project—finishing a great motion picture.

A
PRIL
4, 1962

Just when everything seemed to be quieting down, Burton cabled his wife in London. The message, written in Welsh, said, “Love to all. Everything fine.” Although Burton thinks he’s the only one in Rome who speaks Welsh, the message was instantly translated and put into headlines here.

A
PRIL
5, 1962

Received the script for the battle of Actium and JLM’s scenes for the throne room.

New York wants us to finish with Elizabeth by May 15, if possible. She is our top priority, because every day she works costs us $10,000. Every week she also is given $3,000 for expenses.

Another reason we are anxious to finish with Elizabeth is the insurance—the insurance we don’t have. After her illness in England we have been unable to insure her. That means if she becomes ill again the studio will have to carry the cost and this hazard has been their number-one concern.

As the newspapers have reported, “If Elizabeth coughs, Fox gets pneumonia.”

Up until today we have filmed 802 scenes and 213 pages of script. The normal average shooting schedule in the studio in Hollywood is two pages a day. Considering that we are on location and at the mercy of the miserable weather, we are doing very well indeed. And considering that JLM is writing as he goes along and directing with the badly co-ordinated production management, we are doing remarkably well. We have more than half the picture in the can.

A
PRIL
6, 1962

The Italian press front-paged a story quoting the usual anonymous but authoritative source claiming that Burton and Taylor are not having an affair. They say JLM is the man in the case. He got Burton, whom they describe as a “shuffle-footed idiot,” to take Elizabeth out to cover up.

Just before Burton began work today he shuffled up to JLM, cocked his head to one side and mumbled moronically, “Do I have to go out with her again tonight?”

Brodsky came on the set to ask JLM if he had any comment about the story. “Yes,” said JLM. “Actually, the truth is that Mr. Burton and I are in love—and Miss Taylor is being used as a cover-up.”

Later that night, after JLM’s gag statement appeared in the papers, I went out for dinner with some Romans. One of them said, perfectly seriously, “Isn’t it terrible about Burton and Mankiewicz having an affair and hiding behind Elizabeth Taylor.”

A
PRIL
7, 1962