I Love the Illusion: The Life and Career of Agnes Moorehead (28 page)

Agnes’ good friend, Jack
Kelk, sent her a telegram of
congratulations upon the
news: “Congratulations and
best wishes for health,
happiness and newborn
freedom.” The initial tour
of
Don Juan
completed, a
new film completed, and a
divorce granted, Agnes was
off to England traveling
with Robert Gist aboard
the
Queen Mary
to begin a tour of
Don Juan
in Britain. One blurb in the
press would say of Agnes and Gist, “Those who have seen them around
London say he’s the Don Juan of Aggie’s personal life.”

There was a distinct possibility that one member of the Quartette would
not make it to England. Sir Cedric was having tax problems and the IRS
barred him from leaving the United States. In fact, Boris Karloff was
announced to be his replacement for the tour of Britain. Just as quickly,
though, Hardwicke was back in. He explained, “What proved to be a complete misunderstanding with the tax collector has been cleared up — even
more promptly than I had hoped.” How it was cleared up, in actuality, was
through the intervention of Paul Gregory. Gregory advanced him the
money in an effort to keep his original Quartette in tact. Paul certainly had
a great deal invested with his stars. He took the further guarantee of taking
out an insurance policy on each of his four players. If any of them died in
the next year, he would collect $213,000.

The tour of England would have to be made, to the chagrin of all, without any appearances in London. The Festival of London was presenting
John Clement’s production of
Man and Superman,
and Laurence Olivier,
the executive officer of the theatrical arm of the festival, supported
Clement’s belief that the rival show would adversely affect ticket sales for
the Festival’s presentation. Clement had also waited more than two years to
present his production and wasn’t about to let Laughton steal his thunder.
Laughton would never forget this and held Olivier in contempt for the rest
of his life. Agnes weighed in, “I can’t think why John Clements should be
perturbed, on Broadway no one would be worried at three Hamlets playing
at once!”

While London was out, the show was hardly consigned to the sticks. The
Quartette would appear for a week each in the provincial cities of
Manchester, Birmingham, Edinburgh, and Liverpool. Boyer let it be known
that he was, “quite happy to play the provinces.” Still, not to appear with
the show in London’s West End was like being booked into Albany instead
of New York City. It hurt.

For Laughton, the British tour was bittersweet. He was home for the first
time since 1939. His return brought enormous press — much of it positive
— and brought out his own sly sense of humor: “There for the grace of

God goes a hotel keeper.” Yet Charles was also haunted by his belief, with
justification, that the British public had not totally forgiven him or Elsa for
sitting out the war in the United States, despite helping to raise enormous
sums of money for the British war effort. Compounding the feeling of
desertion was the fact that he and Elsa had received American citizenship
in April 1950. Laughton’s biographer, Simon Cowell, best summed up
Charles’ feelings: “It saddened and enraged Charles to feel he was regarded
as a foreigner; his espousal of American citizenship had been an act of love
for that country, not a renunciation of England.” In many ways Charles
believed the London snub was pointed at him.

Prior to the provincial tour, beginning on June 18, Agnes had several
days to relax and see the sights with Gist. It was their first time together
outside the United States, but not her first visit to England. Together they
toured London, spending a good deal of time at museums or shopping for
antiques. The other part of the time was spent granting interviews with the
other members of the Quartette to help publicize the tour. She was asked
in one interview with the
Manchester Evening Chronicle
who she thought
was the most beautiful woman. Agnes chose one of her acting idols, Dame
Edith Evans. “I see her and I know there is a woman who thinks beauty,
and because of that it belongs to her.” She was asked her thoughts on
Englishwomen: “Well, I have many English woman friends, and I find
them so comfortable, less demonstrative and a little more conservative —
but very good friends.” She spoke about her high regard for her colleagues.
Of Boyer, she said: “He has a tireless capacity for work, after all, for D
ON
J
UAN
he overcame the difficulties of a foreign language, and mastered a part
longer than H
AMLET
.” As usual, most of her praise went to Laughton. “He
knows at once what mood you are in, and he plays on the moods of the
audience like a master on a violin.” Of herself, she said, “I’m a blotter — I
absorb impressions and atmosphere. For instance, five months — five years
from now, I could remember your face and the clothes you are wearing —
I’ve trained myself to do it. People are the raw material of my work.”

The first performance was in Manchester. The theatre held 2,200 seats,
and the show was not sold out. Britain was still recovering from the War,
and inflation was quite high. There were shortages on food, and wages and
prices were still being regulated. Ticket prices for the show were blamed for
the lack of a sellout. Still, nearly 2,000 people attended and saw Agnes
appear in a shocking pink gown with a tiara on her red head. The next day
the
Manchester Daily Dispatch
called the performance a “triumph” and
singled out Agnes: “Agnes Moorehead, like her three companions, achieved
success with a minimum of gesture. Here outraged Donna Ana . . . was
perhaps the most inspired portrayal.” As good as this review is, it takes a
back seat to the notice she received a week later when the show performed
in Birmingham. “Her Donna Ana is a radiant, terrifying example of what
we poor men are up against. She is magnificence itself.” Agnes couldn’t have
put it better had she wrote it herself.

But the icing on the cake was a handwritten note she received from one
of her favorite actresses, Vivien Leigh. Leigh apologized for not being able
to come backstage to express her “admiration” in person, but wanted to let
Agnes know that “it was really a wonderful experience in the theatre.” The
tour continued playing to solid, if unspectacular, box office and strong
reviews. What pleased Agnes most was to be part of a touring company of
international actors — two born in England and one from France, with
Agnes being the only American, and to be so warmly accepted by the
British public. She hated leaving, but was hopeful that in 1952 the
Quartette would return to play an engagement in London, a desire which
would go unfulfilled. As she and Gist sailed back to the United States after
the conclusion of the tour in mid-July, she would have a break from the
almost nonstop work of the past year. But in the fall the
Don Juan
troupe would hit the road again, culminating in playing the creme de la
creme — Carnegie Hall.

When the papers announced the Carnegie Hall engagement, all 2,800
seats sold out within eight hours. The Quartette would perform only one
show at Carnegie Hall and then take a month off and reopen on Broadway
at the Century Theatre on November 29. It would be the first production
of
Don Juan in Hell
to reach Broadway.

The fall tour of the Quartette was launched on September 23 in
Amarillo, Texas, and would go west to Denver then east to Nebraska and
north to Minnesota. In mid-October, just before the Carnegie Hall
appearance, the troupe made its way into Wisconsin where, on October 18
playing at the Memorial Union on the University of Wisconsin campus,
Mollie finally got to see her daughter in all of her glory as Donna Ana.

The show played at Carnegie Hall on October 22. Prior to the performance
Agnes received many telegrams, but two probably meant the most to her.
One was from Robert Gist, by now her fiancé: “This is the big one. My
thoughts are of you. Good Luck. Love Robert.” The other was from Charles
Jehlinger, still running the AADA after more than fifty years: “Welcome
Home — all our best wishes tonight.” As expected, Carnegie Hall was a
smash. The Quartette had no less than five curtain calls. It would seem like
one curtain call for each of them individually and one for them as a
quartette. The audience refused to let them leave.
Time
magazine’s critic
first paid tribute to the usually omitted Hell scene, “. . . It is not only the
finest thing in
Man and Superman,
but the most brilliant talkfest, the most
glittering dialectical floor show of modern times . . . The characters score
their points like polished duelists, flash their rhetoric like master showmen,
make ideas hiss and coil and spring like creatures of melodrama . . . Charles
Laughton, Charles Boyer, Cedric Hardwicke, and Agnes Moorehead standing
in evening clothes in front of the mikes, they merely read the scene with an
apparent absence of acting that conceals a great fund of it.”

Over the next two years there would be more tours of
Don Juan in Hell
to the delight of many more audiences, but, compared to this first tour, the
others would pale in comparison. These four actors — and Paul Gregory —
were the big winners, but another winner was the Hell scene from
Man and
Superman.
The Hell scene would no longer be treated as an unwanted
stepchild. It would be staged with more regularity, and usually as conceived
by Laughton and Gregory. This was their unique contribution to the
modern theatre and more shows would be produced which depended on
the written word and little else such as
John Brown’s Body
and
The World of
Carl Sandburg.
That they, and others, were successful is a lasting contribution
of the First Drama Quartette. Agnes would sum up her feelings years later.
“I must have given over three hundred performances in plays and films but
I really consider the role of Donna Ana in
Don Juan in Hell
as the highlight
of my career.” She never failed to thank her lucky stars for this part or
expressing her gratitude to Laughton and Gregory for selecting her to play
it. Laughton later paid tribute to “his Donna Ana.” “Agnes Moorehead is
great because, without being a dazzling beauty actually, she is able to create
the illusion of queenliness, regal bearing, and sex appeal in its loftier
connotation of magnetic femininity. Besides which she is a great talent
whose ability is matched by a real, not assumed, modesty, what I think may
justly be defined as the humility of genius.”

Professionally, 1951 was the highlight of Agnes’ career. The recognition she
received as part of the First Drama Quartette in
Don Juan in Hell
was beyond
anything she had experienced during her career up to that point — including
Sorry, Wrong Number.
The large audiences in the United States, Canada and
Britain, and the stellar reviews, generated endless publicity. It also wetted her
appetite for more. As early as the initial
Don Juan
tour, both Charles Laughton
and Paul Gregory had urged her to create her own one-woman show.

The Quartette would reopen in
Don Juan
in April, appearing through
the spring at the Plymouth Theater on Broadway. Prior to the opening
Agnes reported to MGM to shoot the anthology film,
The Story of Three
Loves.
The film comprises three parts, set on an oceanliner, and Agnes
appears in the first story, “The Jealous Lover.” The segment stars James
Mason and Moira Shearer, about a young ballerina who dies of a heart
condition. Agnes plays Shearer’s aunt, and her small part was completed in
a matter of days.

Agnes was increasingly doing quick movie jobs for big paychecks due to
her new love — the theatre. Her status in the industry over the years had
grown to such a level that Agnes Moorehead had become a draw herself
especially among women moviegoers. She wouldn’t have films built around
her, but like Thelma Ritter and Charles Bickford she was not a character
actress who faded in the background; audiences knew her face and name
and the studios recognized this. She continued to do her usual professional job
in a wide variety of roles, adding quality and name value to any film. But
many of the films were not on the same level as the ones she did during the
40’s. There are many explanations for this. Hollywood was making a
transition, moving from the studio system which kept their actors constantly
at work in one picture after another to the era of the independent producer
and freelance actor. There was more competition for parts in post-studio
system Hollywood and often actors — especially actors of a certain age — had
to accept what they could just to keep working. Agnes freelanced at all the
major, and some of the minor, studios during the 1950’s. Author James Robert
Parish summed up this phase of Agnes’ career well: “No longer was she the
striving actress seeking to reach a higher plateau. She had risen as far as it was
possible for a character star. Now she could offer her name and appearance to
grace a film, television show, or stage presentation as a celebrity of the first rank.”