Pink Triangle: The Feuds and Private Lives of Tennessee Williams, Gore Vidal, Truman Capote, and Famous Members of Their Entourages (Blood Moon's Babylon Series) (110 page)

Kenneth would later tell friends that Gore and Marlon spent the night together in a double bed in his guest room.

Gore told Tennessee, Kenneth, and Howard Austen that “I didn’t actually have an affair with Marlon. We went to bed and we had sex, but that was hardly an affair. Actually, it was nothing memorable. Neither of us wanted to repeat the act or advertise the fact of our mutual conquests. Marlon and I disagreed on too many subjects to want to maintain a longtime relationship. Besides, both of us had too great an ego.”

Over breakfast, after Marlon left Kenneth’s apartment for an early appearance at the film studio, Gore told Kenneth, “One of my real reasons for wanting to sleep with Marlon was a one-upmanship I play with Tennessee and that creature who calls himself Truman Capote. I knew both of them had already had sex with Marlon—especially Tennessee.”

“Frankly, Marlon is not Stanley Kowalski,” Gore said. “Not at all. He was only acting the part, rather convincingly, I might add. Kowalski was a straight, macho, fucker. Marlon is far too kinky for that.”

“He did tell me that you’re the best butt paddler in London,” Gore said to Kenneth, “where the competition is keen for that title. In fact, as a nation, Britain has made butt paddling a fine art.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

In 1958, while Gore was still working
as a scriptwriter at the financially troubled Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, producer Sam Zimbalist called him in for his new assignment. With the studio on the verge of bankruptcy, the brass at MGM decided that it needed a blockbuster to lure potential movie-goers away from their TV screens and back into the movie houses.

“The studio was in such bad shape that its executives were like dinosaurs facing a dramatic change in the weather,” Gore said.

Gore had a lot of respect for Zimbalist, based on having worked with him before. Zimbalist had begun his career at MGM at the age of sixteen as a film cutter, and had moved on to direct
King Solomon’s Mines
(1950) and
Quo Vadis
(1951), both of which had received Oscar nominations as Best Picture.

Producer Sam Spiegel had told Zimbalist, “Vidal is not half as good as he thinks he is, but he’s twice as good as the others.”

As Gore walked into Zimbalist’s office that day, he remembered him “as a tall man with a wen
[a protruding cyst]
on the side of his neck. He was smoking a cigar from Havana before the importation of Cuban cigars became illegal. An assistant came in with a large mug of coffee only half filled. Sam took a cup of heavy cream and poured all of it into his coffee.”

Zimbalist got right to the point. “MGM has decided to remake
Ben-Hur
. We want you to come up with a new script.”

“My heart sank,” Gore recalled. “One year before, I had turned down the job of writing a new script for
Ben-Hur
, and I was placed on temporary suspension.”

Ben-Hur
had originally been announced as an MGM candidate for a re-make in December of 1952, starring Robert Taylor and Stewart Granger, but plans for it had been shelved.

“MGM wants you to go to a screening with me this afternoon to see the silent screen version with Ramon Novarro, the fag actor, and Francis X. Bush-man,” Zimbalist said.

Needing the money, Gore agreed to work on the script. But he wanted to make a deal. He would accompany the film crew, which included the film’s director, William Wyler, to Rome for an agreed-upon period of three months, after which he wanted to be released to pursue other interests. Those included trying to find a producer to bring his play,
Fire to the Sea
, to Broadway.

That endeavor ended in failure when a medley of producers told him, “No one wants to see a play about the (United States’) Civil War.”

“If I recall,” Gore shot back, “that’s what many money people told David O. Selznick when he went to them with
Gone With the Wind.”

Gore also wanted to write a novel entitled
Julian
, about a 4
^th
Century, C.E., xsRoman emperor.

After sitting through a screening of the 1925 silent version of
Ben-Hur
. Gore told Zimbalist, “It holds up pretty well. That chariot race between Ben-Hur and Messala was amazing—as dramatic as ever.”

Over dinner that night, Gore was introduced to William Wyler, who had reluctantly signed to direct
Ben-Hur
, with the understanding that it would be shot in Rome. Ironically, Wyler had been a production assistant on the first version of
Ben-Hur
some thirty-five years before.

When Wyler met Gore, he told him, “Be assured that it takes a Jew like me to make a good film about Jesus Christ.”

Wyler was a formidable choice as director, having previously helmed such pictures as
Mrs. Miniver
(1942) and
The Best Years of Our Lives
(1946), both of which had won Oscars for Best Director.

Invariably, their dialogue turned to casting
Ben-Hur
. “We’re considering asking your buddy, Paul Newman, to play Ben-Hur. He and Liz Taylor are already shooting
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
on the lot, as you know,” Wyler said.

“Paul won’t do it,” Gore predicted. “But I’ll call him and make sure. After starring in
The Silver Chalice
(1954), he assured me he’ll never appear again onscreen in a cocktail dress showing off his skinny legs.”

Gore was right. When he telephoned Newman later that night, he rejected the role, even though it was one of the most sought-after star roles in Hollywood that year.

Within two days, a contract—revised to Gore’s specifications—was delivered to Gore’s office. It had been rewritten to expire after his completion of his agreed-upon three months of work on script issues associated with
Ben-Hur
.

“The messenger boy was a real good-looking kid,” Gore said. “He was hot, and smart as paint as they say. I felt he could be had. I made several suggestive remarks to him. I felt he was picking up on my vibes but pretending to be naïve. He didn’t fool me. This mother fucker looked like he’d been having sex ever since his tenth birthday.”

“Why don’t you tell me your name in case I need your services again?” Gore asked.

“I’m Jack Nicholson,” the boy responded. “I want to be an actor.

“That’s an original idea around here,” Gore said. He later recalled, “As the future bigtime star left my office, I checked out his ass. I decided it was a great ass, but that he was a fucker, not the fuckee.”

Three days later, at a luncheon in the MGM commissary, Gore was invited to have a meal with Wyler and Zimbalist as a means of bringing him up-to-date on their casting ideas for the film. Because shooting was scheduled to begin within a few weeks, there was an urgency to sign up actors, especially since Newman had turned the role down.

“We offered the role to Rock Hudson,” Wyler said. “He’s a fag, but disguises it. He’s got the physique. When we called his people over at Universal, they told us they already have their prize stud booked up. He’s just not available.”

“I called Marlon Brando,” Zimbalist chimed in. “He told me he hated himself on the screen in that 1953 version of
Julius Caesar
, and he’s not anxious to return to Rome for another of those ‘sword and sandals’ epics.”

“I thought Burt Lancaster would be ideal,” Wyler said “After I called him, he said he’d love to play Ben-Hur, but he had already committed himself to another film next week.”

With a sense of wry amusement, Gore noted that each of the actors mentioned during that casting pow-wow was either homosexual or bisexual.

“Guess who we finally came up with?” Zimbalist said. “Charlton Heston. He’s agreed to do it.”

Gore reacted skeptically. “He has the charm of a wooden Indian.”

Casting the key role of Messala, the Roman officer, was also convoluted. The idea choice was Victor Mature, who had scored a big hit in the 1949 release of
Samson and Delilah
for Cecil B. DeMille. But he was not available. Neither was Steve Cochran, the second choice. Finally, the handsome Irish actor, Stephen Boyd, agreed to play Messala. Again, to Gore’s private amusement, he knew that Mature and Cochran were bisexuals and Boyd a homosexual.

In 1958, aboard a plane with Wyler and Zimbalist, Gore flew to Rome, a city he hadn’t visited in a decade. It was still suffering economic devastation in the wake of World War II.

For his first day on the job, Gore arrived by taxi at the 150-acre Cinecittà Studios with its nine sound stages. MGM had rented the entire compound, and Gore heard the sound of hammers from the construction crews. Ancient Rome and First Century Jerusalem were being re-created on the back lot, centering around a sprawling rendition of a Roman hippodrome, a historically accurate replica of the ancient world’s venue for chariot races.

For this, the film’s 1959 version, its frantically scripted plot would revolve around the feud between figures interpreted by Boyd and Heston, instead of the 1925 version’s feud between characters played by Ramon Novarro and Francis X. Bushman.

The film was budgeted at $15 million, modest by today’s standards, but in the late 1950s, the most expensive ever allocated for a film.

Gore made it a point that day to introduce himself to the Italian director, Federico Fellini, who was also working at Cinecettà, on pre-production for his next film,
La Dolce Vita
.

Gore invited Fellini for a tour of the mammoth sets of
Ben-Hur
. As a scholar of ancient history, Gore instantly noted problems on the developing sets. In a facsimile of the kitchen of Ben-Hur’s mother, the set designer had placed a basketful of tomatoes. Gore told him that the tomato did not exist in the land of Ben-Hur at that time. He also criticized the re-creation of ancient Jerusalem with domes, pointing out that this form of architecture would not exist in Jerusalem for another five centuries, with the arrival of the Muslims.