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) (31 page)

The filmed version of
The Glass Menagerie
did not do well at the box office. Even Kirk Douglas expressed his disappointment. “Unfortunately, the movie was not well directed,” he said, “and Gertrude Lawrence’s vanity had to be appeased. She insisted on a flashback, where she was young and glamorous, so no one would think she was the old lady that she actually was. The elements didn’t mesh; the movie just didn’t come off.”

Years later, Douglas would recommend that moviegoers wanting to see
The Glass Menagerie
should, in lieu of the version he was in, catch the one Paul Newman directed, starring his wife, Joanne Woodward.

Tennessee himself later claimed, “I detested the film. As I predicted, Lawrence was a dismal error in casting. The film version was a dishonest adaptation of my play. I would soon get used to that in Hollywood’s other attempts to film one of my dramas.”

Bosley Crowther of
The New York Times
agreed with Tennessee about the miscasting of Lawrence. He called her “a farcically exaggerated shrew with the zeal of a burlesque comedian to see her diffident daughter wed. Her Southern accent has an occasional Cockney strain.”

Tennessee would also be disappointed with other filmed versions too, notably a 1966 TV premiere of
The Glass Menagerie
, starring Shirley Booth as Amanda, with Pat Hingle and Hal Holbrook as the two male leads. He retained his low opinion, even after actress Barbara Loden as Laura won raves for her “transcendent performance,” and some reviewers called the film “one of the greatest broadcasts in the history of television.” Booth was nominated for an Emmy.

“Whatever it was, it was not my play,” a disheartened Tennessee said.

Although reluctant at first to take on the role of Amanda, Katharine Hepburn agreed to play the role in a 1973 version for television, along with fellow cast members Sam Waterson, Joana Miles, and Michael Moriarty. The teleplay marked Hepburn’s first appearance in a made-for TV movie.

Hepburn feared her sharp New England accent was wrong for that “Steel Magnolia” she was playing. She was right. Many critics noted how Hepburn’s Southern drawl came and went. She also infuriated Tennessee by rewriting much of Amanda’s dialogue “to make it right for me.”

He forgave Hepburn when she told him that his character of Amanda “was the most tenderly observed, the most accessible woman you’ve ever created.”

For yet another film, Paul Newman directed his wife, Joanne Woodward, in a 1987 film version of
The Glass Menagerie
. Woodward joined the long list of actresses who had attempted the role of Amanda. In his critique of that rendering, Desson Howe (known after 2003 as Desson Thompson), in
The Washington Post
criticized the acting and found much of the dialogue “time consuming, inflated, dated, and theatrical. The film’s few good moments happen when mouths are firmly shut. Woodward is a disappointment, speaking in a low, squeaky voice—a kind of laryngitic falsetto. Newman emphasizes the artificiality of the theater and distances you from the play.”

The critic for
Variety
found it “a reverent record of the Williams play that one watches with a kind of distant dreaminess rather than an intense emotional involvement. There are brilliant performances well defined by Newman’s direction.”

In Tennessee’s ultimate summation, he said, “Nothing ever equaled that night of March 31, 1945, when Laurette Taylor as Amanda came out and cast a glow over the theater.”

Charles Feldman had not only produced
The Glass Menagerie
, but he arranged with Audrey Wood for the acquisition of the film rights to Tennessee’s
A Streetcar Named Desire
.

Therefore, with the intention of introducing Tennessee—Broadway’s hottest new playwright—to the movers and shakers of the West Coast’s entertainment industry, Feldman decided to “throw a big blowout” at Ciro’s, where Tennessee would meet
tout
Hollywood—directors, producers, A-list stars, gossip columnists, and studio chiefs.

The producer even convinced Wood to fly across the country to attend the party.

At the time, Tennessee was engaged in a torrid affair with a hot young Sicilian lover, Frank Merlo. On Sunset Strip, Tennessee took Frank to rent white dinner jackets for both of them, even though the invitation read “black tie.”

The rentals turned out to be a mistake. At the door, Tennessee and Frank found that their names weren’t on the guest list. Just as the doorman was rejecting them, Feldman arrived with a beautiful blonde starlet on his arm.

It turned out that Feldman had not included the guest of honor on the list for the doorman. He quickly ushered Frank and Tennessee inside without introducing them to the starlet, who uttered a brief “hi,” in a sexy, rather breathy voice.

Once inside, Feldman, with Tennessee on his arm, made the rounds. Frank was left at the bar. Tennessee met the top guests, including both Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons, who would write about him in their gossip columns.

Even though she was fully aware that Tennessee was gay, like her son, William Hopper, Hedda cattily asked Tennessee, “Which of our beautiful stars would you most like to date?”

“Ethel Barrymore is my favorite dame,” he answered. “I like the motherly type.”

Then Louella approached him. “I understand
Streetcar
is a dirty play and will have to be cleaned up for the movies.”

“I based the character of Blanche DuBois on myself, and my impulses were never dirty,” he said. “If anything, I’m like a character in the Bible. Mary Magdalene comes to mind.”

“Is it true your agent is going to ask one million dollars for the film rights to
Streetcar
, which would be an all time high?” Parsons asked.

“Audrey Wood is here tonight,” he answered. “You must ask her. I’m a poet and an artist, and never concern myself with money matters unless I don’t have any.”

Moving on, Tennessee was introduced to such producers as Samuel Goldwyn, David O. Selznick, and Jack Warner. “I also got to shake hands with many of the men I’d had wet dreams about—Clark Gable, Errol Flynn, Gary Cooper, Glenn Ford, and sexy Robert Stack.”

Tennessee was delighted to be associated with an iconoclastic, avant garde producer like Feldman. He told people “Charles has more balls than any other producer in Hollywood.”

John Wayne came up to Tennessee. “I just heard that Feldman, my agent, has bought the rights to that play Brando did on Broadway. Is it true it’s about incest and homosexuality?”

“Not at all,” Tennessee said. “It’s about the enemy of the delicate everywhere.”

“I think I’ll skip it,” Wayne said, sauntering off.

Feldman also introduced Tennessee to some of his clients, including Charles Boyer and Irene Dunne.

When Tennessee broke loose and wandered about on his own, he ran into confusion. Because of his white dinner jacket, many of the guests sitting at tables thought he was the bar waiter. They called him over and placed their drink orders with him.

“Not knowing what else to do, I took down their orders and returned with their drinks,” he said. “Nearly every table, except that of George Sanders, gave me a dollar tip, which was good money for the time. Before the night ended, I had made at least twenty-five dollars.”

Near the end of the party, Feldman introduced Tennessee to the blonde starlet he’d seen at the door. He said she’d changed her name to Marilyn Monroe because it looked better on the marquee.

“In a town of phonies, she was refreshingly honest,” Tennessee said.

She congratulated him on his success.