It's Only a Movie: Alfred Hitchcock (40 page)

T
HOM
M
OUNT
, formerly head of production at Universal, talked with me about Hitchcock’s “bungalow” at Universal.

“One of the things that fascinated me as a young executive was the quality of a self-designed universe that was built for Mr. Hitchcock on the Universal lot. He had offices that were exactly the offices he wanted in the way he wanted them, meaning a very nice office, which he barely used, a little dining room, which he used a lot, a separate kitchen, areas for his assistants. Then, behind that in this sort of railroad car of a building, his cutting room, and behind that his screening room; and then, an additional room—bedroom, bath, a kind of wardrobe, so that if Mr. Hitchcock was working, if he wanted to, he could virtually live there.

“The commissary brought the food over. Mr. Hitchcock always ate the same thing every day: steak, mashed potatoes, and sliced tomatoes. And sometimes there was a dessert, if he felt he deserved it.”

After some critical and box office disappointments,
Frenzy
restored Hitchcock’s successful image. Costing $2 million to make, it brought back $16 million.

During the filming of
Frenzy,
Alma suffered a stroke. She wanted to stay at Claridge’s, and when she felt better, she was flown back to Los Angeles. Hitchcock, who could not imagine a life without Alma, had to direct the rest of the film alone. Barry Foster told me that Hitchcock became listless and seemed uninterested in his picture, though he was always able to draw on a reserve of energy when needed.

“Hitchcock was so pleased when Alma was able to view
Frenzy
and she approved it enthusiastically,” Foster said. “She had tears of happiness in her eyes.”

O
N
A
PRIL
29, 1974, the Film Society of Lincoln Center honored Alfred Hitchcock, who arrived in the limousine with Alma and Princess Grace.

Among those who appeared at the gala tribute were François Truffaut, Janet Leigh, Joan Fontaine, Teresa Wright, Cyril Ritchard, and Samuel Taylor.

The Film Society’s gala was still young, with Hitchcock being only their third honoree. Fred Astaire and Charles Chaplin had preceded him.

Martin E. Segal, the head of the Film Society of Lincoln Center, told me he noticed that Princess Grace had disappeared from the table where the special guests were eating, and she was nowhere to be seen. He went in search of her. He found her outside in the hallway, standing alone.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” he asked her. “Please come and have something to eat.”

Kelly declined. “Thank you, but I can’t. Do you like my dress?”

“It’s beautiful and you look beautiful in it.”

“That’s why I can’t eat anything. My dress is so tightly fitted, I can’t afford one bite, and if I go inside and watch everyone eating, I might be tempted.”

“Then please let me bring you a chair.”

“Thank you, but I can’t sit down because I don’t want to wrinkle my dress.”

When Segal told Hitchcock what Kelly had said, the director nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I understand.”

At the tribute, Hitchcock commented, “They say that when a man drowns, his entire life flashes before his eyes. I am indeed fortunate for having just that same experience without even getting my feet wet.”

He closed his acceptance speech in characteristic fashion:

“I’m sure you will agree that murder can be so much more charming and enjoyable even for the victim if the surroundings are pleasant and the people involved are ladies and gentlemen like yourselves.

“They tell me that a murder is committed every minute, so I don’t want to waste any more of your time. I know you want to get to work.”

T
HERE WAS GOSSIP
during the filming of Hitchcock’s next film,
Family Plot,
with people saying that he directed from a car rather than on the set because “he couldn’t be bothered to get out,” the implication being that he didn’t care about the film.

He cared desperately, but by then he was in constant physical pain. His legs no longer supported him, and he was afraid of falling. He believed a director could not direct if he lost his dignity. “My dignity is a heavy burden to carry,” he told me. The outside world, even most of the inside world, did not know the truth, because Universal was dedicated to protecting the director.

“I went to work for Mr. Wasserman in 1973,” Thom Mount told me, “so I knew Mr. Hitchcock from then until he died. For
Family Plot,
a lot of the work was done on the soundstage, but Mr. Hitchcock had a very hard time standing up for any lengthy period of time.

“Walking was not his strong suit by that time, so we took an old Cadillac convertible and a welding torch, and we cut the sides, and the back off of it, fitted a flat platform on the back of the Cadillac, and on that flat platform we put a chair for a cinematographer, as if it were a crane that was mounted on a hydraulic lift. Mr. Hitchcock would sit in the chair and move himself around in any direction and see in all directions. The Cadillac was moved all around the soundstage, even though they were interiors, just backing it into place, wherever it needed to be. And so Mr. Hitchcock could move around.

“Of course, it had the dual purpose of being able to move to outdoor locations. Mr. Hitchcock would listen to the boom mike on a direct feed through a little earphone. He could hear everything that was going on, every little nuance of the actors’ work and performance.

“Even if Hitchcock didn’t necessarily love all actors, as long as each actor was part of the film Hitchcock was creating, that actor was important to him.”

Before and during the shooting of
Family Plot,
Hitchcock’s health was a problem, for him and for the film.

Hilton Green remembered: “Lew Wasserman would come by the set when Mr. H. was shooting every morning, and he would come over to me and say, ‘How’s he doing? Is everything all right?’ Then he’d go talk to him.”

Production was delayed by Hitchcock’s health. After he complained of dizziness, a pacemaker was implanted. Then, there were operations for colitis and a kidney stone. Still, filming proceeded.

Family Plot,
was based on
The Rainbird Pattern,
a novel by Victor Canning. Hitchcock asked Anthony Shaffer if he would like to write the screenplay, but Shaffer declined. With some misgivings about the story, Ernest Lehman agreed. The locale of the novel was changed, and California replaced rural England.

Though Hitchcock didn’t know it at the time, this last wink by Barbara Harris was to be his own last wink at his “public.” Hitchcock told me he had wanted Jack Nicholson for the part of George Lumley, “but Mr. Nicholson was too busy flying over a cuckoo nest.” Thom Mount said that Nicholson was not only busy, but too high-priced. The part went to Bruce Dern, who had played the sailor young Marnie kills.

“Hitch noticed me in
Marnie,
” Dern said. “I had a small part in it, but I got the lead in
Family Plot.
Hitch was very different when he was directing
Marnie
from when he was doing
Plot.

“With
Marnie,
he had everything storyboarded, and there wasn’t room to ad-lib. You didn’t get to know him at all.
Family Plot
was storyboarded, too, but if you wanted to try something, he was open, and if he liked it, he was ready to drop the storyboard and let you run with what you’d come up with.

“I thought it was because he got to know me better and trusted me, and I made him laugh. I told him jokes I can’t repeat which he enjoyed and which pepped him up. A lot of actors were so in awe of him they couldn’t do that. On
Plot
I found him friendly and always ready to listen to me, but maybe he’d just gotten weaker.”

Shortly after shooting began, Roy Thinnes, who had been cast as Adamson, the villain, was replaced by William Devane. Thinnes never knew why.

“I’d just finished
The Hindenberg
with Robert Wise,” Thinnes told me, “and he suggested me to Alfred Hitchcock. I was on top of the world.

“I met with Hitchcock in his office several times. He lifted his shirt and showed me his pacemaker. We tasted wine from his own cellar, had some amusing conversations, and talked a lot about my character. It doesn’t get any better.

“Our first work was at the Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. Hitchcock believed that absolutely anything could happen in front of a congregation at high mass, and everyone would behave, because they were on their church behavior. The criminal, dressed as a verger, and his accomplice, disguised as an old woman, inject the bishop with a hypodermic needle in front of everyone during mass, and drag him away.

“Since my character wouldn’t have wanted to leave fingerprints, I suggested using rubber gloves. I should have understood that you don’t mess with something that’s been storyboarded by Hitchcock. But he listened, and we shot with and without the gloves. But I sensed some tension about it.

“In the morning, my wife and I were invited to dine with the Hitchcocks at Ernie’s that night. It couldn’t get any better.

“Then, in the afternoon, we were dis-invited. This was after my suggestion of the gloves.

“At the end of each day, Peggy [Robertson], Hitchcock’s assistant, told me, ‘He just thinks you’re wonderful.’

“I had promised my wife we were going to Ernie’s that night, so we went to Ernie’s. We had the special table, center stage. Then, my wife said, ‘Look. In the corner.’

“It was Alma and Alfred, and the cast.

“During the evening, Alma came by, and she was so apologetic.

“Back in Los Angeles, my agent called, weeping, saying I had been fired.

“I’d worked three days with Hitchcock.

“About a month later, I was at Chasen’s, and there he was. I nodded to him and to Mrs. Hitchcock. She said, ‘He’s sorry, dear. It’s just that you’re so very nice.’ Hitchcock didn’t say anything.

“I’d played the villain in a rather nice way because I wanted to develop his evil side so the audience could go along with my character. I could have,
would
have, played the part in a more sinister way if he’d told me.

“About a year later, Bruce Dern told me that on the last day of shooting, Hitchcock had asked him to come over to his bungalow to see the scenes he had shot with me.

“Hitch said, ‘I made a terrible mistake, didn’t I?’

“It made me feel a lot better. This great man had gone all the way out on a limb with my fellow actor to say, ‘I made a mistake, didn’t I?’ He knew that Bruce would tell me.

“I was very upset when he [Hitchcock] died. I’d had the feeling that we would work together again.”

Lillian Gish wanted to test for the part of Julia Rainbird, but it had been promised to Cathleen Nesbitt. “I had no idea what the movie was about,” Gish told me, “only that the character was an elderly lady being directed by Alfred Hitchcock. It’s taken me a long time to achieve the first qualification for the part. I started out with Mr. Griffith, so, I thought why not end with Mr. Hitchcock?” Despite Hitchcock’s saying that his favorite chase film was D. W. Griffith’s
Way Down East
starring Lillian Gish, she did not get the part.

Henry Bumstead found
Family Plot
a much simpler picture to design than
Topaz.
“It was mostly done around the studio, but, you know, everything you did with Hitch was demanding.

“There was that car chase up the mountains, and I found this area. When I took Hitch up there, he told the driver, ‘Only a crazy art director would find this location.’ But the location did work. The thing with Hitch was, it was hard to get him out to look at these locations. I tried as much as I could to take pictures and show him, so he had to trust me.

“We had a cemetery exterior, and we made a deal with the cemetery to let the weeds grow, and that we would clean it all up afterwards.

“You go out in the morning, and there’s 150 people standing around the cemetery. They’re serving breakfast, and everybody’s got a sandwich, waiting for Hitch, and Hitch drives up. It is a little nerve-wracking.