Furious Love (40 page)

Unfortunately, Burton's apprehensions about working with Lucille Ball proved true. For an actor who was bored doing
Hamlet
night after night, he couldn't fathom Lucy's lockstep approach, week after week, for nineteen years. After one rehearsal, Burton was appalled when Lucy tapped him and two fellow actors on the forehead, summoning them to her dressing room where she instructed them on how they should play the scene. Burton warned the director that if Lucy attempted to direct his wife in that way, she “would see, in person, what a thousand-megaton hydrogen bomb does when the warhead is attached and exploded.” But Elizabeth managed to keep her serenity and was, as usual, a complete pro. Again, Burton marveled at Elizabeth's powerful stage presence. The audience adored her, and her every move, every gesture, found its mark. He'd witnessed her effect on a live audience twice before—when they did
Doctor Faustus
together at Oxford, “she held the audience like a vice,” and when she'd read poetry alongside Richard six years earlier, on Broadway, she had dazzled.

Despite the horrors of rehearsal and Richard's resentment of working with Lucille Ball, the episode was something of a triumph, showing that both Burtons had genuine comedy chops. The episode's ratings were the highest in
Here's Lucy
's long run, proving that the public was still fascinated by the Burtons. Elizabeth and Richard even considered a return to live theater—possibly
Macbeth
, which had long been on Richard's mind.

On May 18, 1970, Elizabeth entered Cedars-Sinai hospital for what would be her twenty-eighth operation in her relatively young life. Dr. Kenemer and her surgeon, Dr. Swerdlow, were concerned about the number of Seconals Elizabeth was already taking for continual back
pain. They were all hoping that this surgery would be the last one she would need. The operation was actually a success, but her recovery would prove a problem, as her doctors tried to cure her of her painkiller habit. She would have to suffer her postoperative pain without the help of strong narcotics, scaling back from 2
¹
/2 cc's of Demerol to a fraction of that amount. They quickly moved her from Demerol to a mild tranquilizer, hoping to wean her off painkillers. It was distressing for Burton to learn from Taylor's doctors that they weren't managing her pain so much as treating her for the side effects of withdrawal.

Adding to the surreal discomfort of being in the hospital—which Richard could barely stand under any conditions—Elizabeth's privacy was constantly being invaded by strangers. Given a lack of tight security at the time, people would wander into her room, sometimes just to gawk at her. A woman who claimed to represent “The Ministry of Love” was apprehended as she approached Elizabeth's bed. When a “hippie” entered her room, saying that he just wanted “to have a look” at Elizabeth, Richard threw him out. Later, when Richard was napping on a couch in Elizabeth's room, two other characters walked in with a bird's nest, and hung it on the wall as a tribute to Elizabeth. This was all unnerving, as the Charles Manson Family murders had just taken place in Los Angeles the year before and were still very much on people's minds. Dr. Kenemer added to the Grand Guignol atmosphere by joking that rapes were not uncommon in the hospital's vast corridors. Since Elizabeth was no longer being given injections, Burton convinced the doctors to let her recover at home, and plans were made to sneak her out of the hospital, away from prying eyes, and particularly photographers. With the film industry undergoing a sea change and production money drying up, a front-page photograph of Elizabeth in a wheelchair would have had a chilling effect on any future projects.

They recovered from the ordeal at Frank Sinatra's home in Palm Springs, which Burton described as “a kind of super motel, in shape and idea.” Elizabeth adored the rakish singer, and there had always
been speculation—never proved—that the two had had an affair years earlier. She had been disappointed when he'd pulled out of
The Only Game in Town
, and, in fact, they would never appear together in a film. The last time they were all in one room, back in March, Richard became jealous when Elizabeth had made “sheep's eyes” at Sinatra. He was equally mad at Sinatra for
not
making a pass at his wife. He noted, with a slight sense of superiority, that Sinatra's library consisted of books that had been chosen by the restaurateur “Prince” Mike Romanov.

Three weeks later, in 120-degree heat, one of Elizabeth's stitches broke and blood soon covered the bathroom floor. Burton rushed her to Desert Hospital, and Dr. Swerdlow drove in from Los Angeles. “I aged another ten years,” Burton wrote in his diary. As she was being wheeled down the hospital corridor for yet another surgery, she called out to him, “I love you, Richard.”

“I love you too, baby,” he answered. It dawned on him that she would have to remain in Palm Springs, recovering from her two surgeries, while he embarked on his next film, already set up to begin shooting that summer in the Mexican desert.

He had now been sober for three months.

 

Richard had decided to take on another macho, historical adventure story, the war epic
Raid on Rommel
for Universal Pictures. If those were going to be the only movies that made money, and if he were to continue to be snubbed by the Academy, why take on risky, artistic properties, why take on Shakespeare or Marlowe or even Tennessee Williams? So he agreed to appear in the Harry Tatelman production, which was originally intended for television, using footage left over from an earlier film, Arthur Hiller's
Tobruk
, released four years earlier. Veteran director Henry Hathaway added clout to the movie, which otherwise boasted no other stars even close to Burton's stature. (Ironically, the tough, take-no-prisoners director had just steered John Wayne through his Oscar-winning performance in
True
Grit.
) Because he could, Burton got his protégé Brook Williams a small part in the film (after securing him a part in the
Here's Lucy
episode they had taped the previous month, before a live audience). With
Where Eagles Dare
and
Raid on Rommel
, Burton was becoming more of an action star, but, given his worsening arthritis and neck pain, an action star who sometimes had trouble moving.

Raid on Rommel
was filmed in San Felipe in the Mexican desert, over a twenty-one-day schedule. It was the longest time that Elizabeth and Richard had been separated and the longest that Richard had gone without alcohol. After her two harrowing surgeries, Richard missed Elizabeth dreadfully, and he poured out his longing for her in a series of sometimes playful, sometimes mournful letters.

On June 30, he wrote to Elizabeth, describing the desert's rocky outcrops and mentioning the fact that their good friend Mike Nichols was nearby, filming
Catch-2
2, his third film since
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
, in the same stretch of desert. As both movies were about war, he noted that some of the local Mexicans were stealing guns and prop ammunition and shooting them off. “Dearest Scrupelshrumpilstilskin,” he typed in a three-page, double-space letter on Beverly Crest Hotel stationery, using one of his many doting nicknames for her. He urges her to visit him in Mexico, where “the air is like wine.”

What he doesn't tell her is that the town of San Felipe, comprising eight hundred souls, had a mean temperature of 113 degrees, only two decent restaurants, not more than two or three dozen beds for visitors in the entire town, and shark-infested waters. And it was hurricane season. After talking on one of the few telephones available in the desert, Richard was thrilled to hear that Elizabeth felt well enough to visit him and that she'd missed him so terribly that she mooned over the sight of a pair of his socks.

On July 9, Elizabeth flew to San Felipe. She arrived while Burton was still shooting, lying in the desert while sand blew into his mouth, looking up at the sky. He opened his squinting eyes and saw Elizabeth's plane flying overhead, buzzing the set. The plane carried not just Elizabeth but Norma Heyman and Liza, Maria, and Kate as well. Later, at their hotel suite, Richard was disappointed by Kate's nonchalant greeting, and by finding the hotel rooms blazingly hot, as no one had turned on the air conditioner. He stood there, dusty and filthy and covered in grease and greasepaint, when Elizabeth danced into the room and fell into his arms. That night, they all went out to dinner at Ruben's, one of the small town's two restaurants. But instead of enjoying a festive reunion, Burton sulked in silence. He had found himself becoming jealous when Elizabeth mentioned earlier that she'd called Marlon Brando and had talked to him on the telephone for an hour. He was angry when she told him that Brando was “keeping tabs” on him.

The next morning, Elizabeth showed up on the set. She stayed with him till well into the afternoon, which proved a tonic to the
cast and crew. Everyone—from gruff Henry Hathaway to the lowliest crew member—was delighted she was there, and they all told Richard it had been their best day of shooting. Elizabeth had always shown tremendous warmth toward film crews—the people she relied upon to make her look good—but it was a genuine affection. The goodwill lasted all evening, and Richard and Elizabeth finally returned to the hotel to make love. All their old sexual fire returned, despite her recent surgery and the energy-sapping heat. Her presence and her body lifted his Welsh gloom, and it was as if they had just met, as Burton made love to her while completely sober, amazed that all his energy had returned. The desert heat had brought out Richard's old cystic acne, the bane of his existence, but Elizabeth kissed his pustuled back and shoulders and thought nothing of it. Elizabeth always did flourish in hot climates, and now she positively glowed, the two of them devouring each other—hands, lips, tongues.

One hundred and forty days without drinking.

Elizabeth and the children returned to Los Angeles on July 13.

Nine days later, horribly missing Elizabeth, Burton typed a one-and-a-half-page letter to her, worrying that he'd get “another attack of gout” after kicking the jeep door while filming (“the foot is still sore but not gouted up…”). Elizabeth had just lost one of her tooth caps, and Burton commiserated with her. He closed his letter with “all my love. Never think of anything but you for very long. I fancy you a very lot, Shebes.—Rich.”

By now, Richard had decided to appear in a low-budget thriller,
Villain
, to be filmed in London. They planned to take the
Super Chief
to Chicago, then to New York, and then the
QE2
to England. They were also considering making what would be their tenth film together,
Hammersmith Is Out
, a comedic retelling of the Faust myth, set partially in a mental hospital. Faust again! The producer, Alex Lucas, brought Burton the script, and they discussed the possibility of filming the movie entirely in Mexico, which Richard had come to love. He wrote to Elizabeth on July 25:

The next day, on Sunday, July 26, after a morning of frying bacon and then reading, he again wrote to Elizabeth, encouraging her to accept a film offer that had come her way and would be made in London at the same time he filmed
Villain—
an adaptation of Edna O'Brien's novel
Zee & Co.
, for Columbia Pictures. “Dear Long-way-away-one,” he wrote,

They had another reason to return to London: Elizabeth's firstborn son, Michael Wilding Jr., was going to be married to his fiancée, Beth Clutter, in October at Caxton Hall, where Elizabeth had married Michael Wilding in 1952, a mere eighteen years ago.

On the
Super Chief
headed east, Elizabeth and Richard had a rare chance to be alone together, for the first time in over a year. It was idyllic, and they had the pleasure of making love in the swiftly moving train. Elizabeth giggled at what she called Richard's “new technique,” which he insisted was simply the movement of the train swaying and rocking as it zoomed down the track. Though her doctor had not wanted Elizabeth to make the trip, she had made a remarkable recovery from her surgery, and they took advantage of it. But the seeds of displeasure were planted on that train—for the first time in four months, Richard took a drink.