Shirley, I Jest!: A Storied Life (9 page)

Six

Raw Talent

The Conversation
was referred to with love and humor by a small circle of friends as the movie Francis Coppola was making in between
Godfathers
. It was shot in eight weeks in San Francisco, and I was lucky enough to be cast (opposite Frederic Forrest) as Ann, the female half of the couple Gene Hackman’s character Harry Caul is spying on and believes is going to be murdered.

On one of the first days of shooting I wasn’t scheduled to work, but I was invited to drop by the set and say hello. The set was located on one of the highest floors of the Trans America building, which had not yet been completed. And on this day it was also predicted that California would experience a catastrophic earthquake and fall into the sea. I have to admit I was nervous about this prediction. And it was made eerier with the clear, plastic tarps hanging everywhere. I stood there mulling over the possibility that I could be floating out to sea like a Viking before the day was done. When who appeared all gussied up in his preppy clothes and haircut but Harrison.

He greeted me by whispering, “I’m trying to get them to buy me a $300 suit to wear in this movie, but wardrobe says they don’t have the budget.”

“A $300 suit?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think my character would wear an expensive suit.”

Before I could respond he was gone; called to the set for rehearsal. The set was very exciting and no one seemed to be worried about the prediction but me. As the day went by I realized I was not going to become part of the Lost Continent.

My first day of shooting was in Union Square. I remember watching Francis directing background actors for the opening scene. He went to each person or couple individually and very quietly gave them each a direction; a backstory, subject, or personal theme he wanted them to be discussing during the scene. If you see the movie, you will notice how seamlessly natural and interesting the people are as they move around Union Square in the background. And you might catch snippets of their conversations. I believe this was part of Francis’s vision for the movie. He had said sometimes you might overhear a part of a conversation and assume things to be true that aren’t. This is the very thing that undoes Harry Caul, Gene Hackman’s character.

While we were shooting I came down with the flu (the Russian flu, to be exact). I felt awful about having to stay in bed, at the hotel. I knew the production schedule would have to be rearranged, and they were already having trouble with the city because of the fog machines they were running in the park. But I was too sick to stay on my feet. At the time, I wasn’t sure who did this, but two days into my illness there was a knock at my door. I stumbled around to answer it. I asked who it was.

A man from the other side of the door said, “I’m a violinist and I’ve been sent here to play for you.”

I opened the door a little and he handed me a card. I was too bleary-eyed to read it. But from what I could make out, he had been hired to play for me. I told him I had the flu. The Russian flu!

He said, “Miss, I’ve been paid a lot of money to play for you.”

“All right,” I said. “Come in, but try and keep your distance. I would feel terrible if you caught this from me.”

I climbed back into bed.

He stood as far away as he could from the foot of my bed and for half an hour this lovely musician played the most beautiful music. I wanted to tip him, but he wouldn’t allow it. I don’t think he wanted to touch my hand! Then, he was gone. When I was feeling better, I read the card and it was Frederic and Harrison who had sent him. I was so flattered, I blushed.

We were back in the park shooting with the fog machines (by now the production had been granted permission by the city to operate them). The scene involved Harry Caul following me through the park in the fog until I got halfway up a flight of cement steps. Francis directed me to stop at one point, turn around and give Harry a look as if to say:
If you continue following me, I will run up these steps and disappear in this fog
. I tried it twice and wasn’t getting it.

Francis said, “Cindy, try this. Run all the way up the steps except for the last two. When you stop, turn and look at him, then start to take the next step.” On the next take I followed his direction, and he was right. That did the trick.

The movie and Francis were nominated for numerous awards: Best Picture, Best Writing, Original Screenplay, Best Sound. At the Cannes Film Festival, Francis won the prestigious Palme d’Or. Not bad for a little movie that was in between
The Godfathers
.

After the two-year roll I had been on with
Travels with My Aunt
,
American Graffiti
, and
The Conversation
, my career seemed to slow down. In 1974 Tom Gries hired me to play Betty, a cannery worker in a wonderful movie of the week titled
The Migrants.
The movie starred Cloris Leachman, Ron Howard, Sissy Spacek, and Ed Lauter. The story was about a family of migrant workers struggling to exist through poverty and emotional strife, and believe it or not once again I played Ron’s girlfriend. We shot the movie in Vineland, New Jersey, and one afternoon when we had a day off, Ron was antsy and borrowed a production vehicle to go for a drive. Sissy and I came along. Sissy fell asleep in the backseat while Ron drove and I tried my hand at navigating using my Native American skills, so it’s not surprising when we ended up lost in Atlantic City an hour later! We stopped to regroup, parking outside a place called the Le Boo Lodge, but not a lodge in a hotel sense, more like a moose or elk lodge. Ron was intrigued.

“The Le Boo Lodge,” he said. “What do you think that’s all about?”

“I don’t know,” I said, looking at the sign. We looked in the backseat and Sissy was still asleep. I had a slightly ominous feeling. I think Ron did too. We decided to find our way back to Vineland. We retraced the route we had taken, but we were out in the countryside and the sun was now going down. We realized we needed help. We pulled into the parking lot of a roadside bar. Two men spilled out of the door and onto the gravel parking lot arguing. Ron and I were startled, but made the decision to respectfully ask them for directions.

As soon as they were finished with their argument, Ron politely called one of the men over and said, “Excuse me, could you tell us how to get to Vineland?”

The guy hesitated, and looked us over. He was obviously drunk. Did he recognize Ron? He was friendly enough in a scary kind of way when he said, “OK! You’ze makes a jug handle outta here, go down about two miles. Cross the railroad tracks. Now you’re travelin’ west. You’ll see 40 up ahead. Just follow that until you see signs for Vineland. OK?”

“Right! Got it! Thank you! Thank you!” Ron said. We left the parking lot and Ron turned to me and asked, “What’s a jug handle?”

“Well,” I said, “I guess,” (I put my hand up and curved it.) “It’s like a handle on a jug!”

And so we made a semicircle out of there. And the directions proved to be perfect. We made it back to Vineland, with Sissy still sleeping in the back, blissfully unaware of her southern New Jersey misadventure.
The Migrants
turned out to be a critical success. It was, however, one of the last jobs I would have for a long, long time.

I was running out of money and headed toward “broke.” The success of
American Graffiti
had been phenomenal. George Lucas had been very generous and had taken one of his gross points from the movie and divided it equally, giving one-tenth of a point to each of the top ten cast members. This income supported me for a year.

Then I got a part on a TV show called
Insight
. I played a teenager who found herself pregnant and was in crisis about having her baby. That baby was played by none-other-than Mr. Ron Howard. Yep! Ron was my son waiting in heaven to be born, while I struggled with a health and moral dilemma on earth. We didn’t have a scene together. He would have looked pretty ridiculous swaddled in a blanket lying in my arms.

Traditionally the show’s producer, Father Kaiser, handed you your paycheck personally and if you so choose to, you handed it back to him for Catholic Charities. At this time I could have really used the money. As the wonderful smiling priest handed it to me, I had the mortal thought of grabbing it and running before either of us could say “Hail Mary!” But I didn’t. My Methodist Catholic guilt got the best of me and I dutifully handed it back. He graciously thanked me. Boy, I could have used that money at the time. As I was leaving Father Kaiser’s office, Ron was coming in. We greeted each other, and I wondered if he knew the drill. I also wondered if Ron would give up
his
paycheck. I never found out.

During this period, I auditioned for:

The Rocky Horror Picture Show:
I was up for the part of Janet. I was certain I could land it. I loved this script. It was so different, filled with high-camp characters and great music. I was told after the initial audition they wanted to see me again, and prepare to sing “Over at the Frankenstein Place.” Then I would be reading a scene with Tim Curry. My agent called and told me it was between Susan Sarandon and me. I was so happy even though there was that little
Susan Sarandon thing
to get around. My audition was scheduled for 1:00 p.m. at the Roxy nightclub on the Sunset Strip (my old stomping grounds). I got there a little early and was asked to sit in one of the booths near the stage. I was looking over my script when I hear a female voice singing “Over at the Frankenstein Place.” I look over and see Susan Sarandon on the stage singing away. I try to slump down in my seat. I don’t want her to see me halfway through the number. It might throw her. It would be unfair. But then again, I didn’t want to be there at all because she was good and it was throwing my confidence off. Someone had made a scheduling blunder. When her audition was over I put my fingers in my ears so I wouldn’t be able to hear any comments from the director, Jim Sharman. But I did and of course they were all very complimentary. Then when she left, it got even worse for me. I could hear all of them talking about how good she was. And just then the person who had seated me in the first place came to get me. I wanted to ask if I could come back later for my audition so I could pull myself together, but I didn’t. I got up on stage. I sang. I was pitchy. Then I read with the fantastic Tim Curry. I thought I was much too loud. When it all ended no compliments were given, only a hearty handshake, a thank-you, and a polite good-bye. Well, the rest is show biz history. And really, can you imagine anyone else playing that role of Janet?
Damn it!

Young Frankenstein:
Madeline Kahn was going to play the part of Elizabeth Lavenza, but had a conflict with another film she was supposed to do and so I was called in to read with Gene Wilder for Mel Brooks. I had the best darn time! It was such a funny script. And I had the part for a New York minute, until Madeline’s schedule was rearranged so she could be in both movies. And honestly, could you ever envision anyone else playing that role but her?

Mack and Mabel:
Gower Champion was directing this musical. I actually got up on stage at the Ahmanson Theatre in Downtown Los Angeles and sang for him. I got through my first song, “On the Radio” and from out in the darkness I heard, “Cindy, do you have another song?”

“Yes,” I said.

I sang “Rubber Ducky.” When I finished, I started off the stage and Mr. Champion said, “Wait! Stop!”

I stopped at the apron of the stage and he came up and looked at me and said, “I just wanted to get an up-close look at you.” He gazed at me intensely and after a few seconds said, “You are a raw talent!”

I was thrilled that Gower Champion had taken the time to acknowledge me as a talent, raw or otherwise. The part of Mabel Normand went to Bernadette Peters just because
she
can sing and dance!

Star Wars:
George Lucas sent me the script and wanted me to screen test for the role of Princess Leia. Now what you have to remember is that this was before
Star Wars
! There was no point of reference. Earlier, I had been to George’s house with some of the
American Graffiti
cast when he was writing it. I remember him talking about it and how he had gotten the idea of Chewbacca by seeing his wife pull up in the driveway with their dog, Indiana, sitting in the passenger seat next to her. He thought Indiana looked like her copilot. So there you go. Years later, I would think once again “what a genius,” when Sean Connery says to Harrison Ford in
Indiana Jones
, “You were named after the dog.”

Back to Princess Leia. After I read the script, I wondered how I was going to handle all of those words of very, very far off foreign references. They did not flow easily off my tongue, but I wanted this part. I memorized as best as I could. Coincidentally I screen tested with Frederic Forrest, who was also in
The Conversation
. It was a rude awakening to realize just how bad I was at screen testing. Even so, I held out hope that George would see past all my faltering with the lines and know that when it came down to it, I’d be perfect.

A week later I had a dream: I was looking at a girl, younger than myself. I knew she was younger because in my dream she was playing with dolls. George was also in the dream, arms folded, one hand up to his chin, rubbing it in deep contemplation, watching the young girl. He turned from watching her and looked over at me, then back to the girl. When I woke up, I knew I wasn’t getting the part.

Sure enough, he cast Carrie Fisher, who is younger than me. I was disappointed and wished I had tried harder in the screen test. But really, can you imagine anyone but Carrie playing Princess Leia?

First Nudie Musical:
I did however, get the romantic lead in my friend Bruce Kimmel’s musical film extravaganza,
The First Nudie Musical
. Bruce was my friend from LACC days and told me an idea he had for “sending up” X-rated movies by writing a low-budget musical about a film studio that is on the verge of collapse. The only way they can bail themselves out is by making X-rated films in the hopes of making enough money to then be legit again. Bruce’s initial idea, I thought, was so clever. He wanted to shoot it on 8 mm and blow it up so it would have that grainy “adult film” look. Bruce was masterful at writing the musical numbers as well as the dialogue.