The Richard Burton Diaries (49 page)

After lunch with E. (roast beef, roast potatoes, string beans and gravy) saw first H. French about future plans [...] Then – Peter Evans of the
Daily Express
who I am to see again tomorrow.
¹²⁷
Then – D. Frost of the BBC.
¹²⁸
I also see him tomorrow.

We stopped at the Trattoria di Divino Amore for a bottle of wine – E and I only. Went home and saw the children who began school today. [...] F. Zeffirelli arrives back from his triumphant disaster at the Met – the one in NY.
¹²⁹
We should see him shortly. Looking forward to it too. How one changes. He has written many outrageously campy letters from NY.

Thursday 22nd
Something wrong with my days or dates – there appear to be two Thursdays this week!

Saw D. Frost and discussed doing life of WSC in five two hour films. It is a fascinating and unique idea – one man, five films. Starting with me as Churchill at 25 approximately to his death. Maybe too big a task to succeed. E just instructed me to say how adorable she looked yesterday so: My God! how adorable she looked yesterday. Gosh.

Had lunch with and was interviewed by P. Evans of the
D. Express
. Same old questions. Desperate searching for new answers. All rubbish. He's writing a book about P. Sellers – all about an actor searching for his identity.
¹³⁰
Rubbish too. [...]

Drank too much, came home, and fell asleep before supper. E unkindly calls such premature sleep ‘passing-out.’

Whew! How adorable E looked yesterday.

Friday 23rd
Things that have happened in the empty days of this diary.

My sister Edith (Edie) died at the age of 43. She was the youngest sister and the funniest. She died from an unsuspected clot of blood that formed after she had been operated on for a weak heart. We thought she had recovered from the operation (it seemed she had) but 5 or 6 days later she went out like a candle-light. She is the first child of my parents to die since 1907 approx.
¹³¹
The shock was considerable though I was less close to her than to Ivor and Cis for instance. We flew to London for the funeral – all my brothers were there Ivor (who came with us from Rome) Dai, Will, Tom, Graham and Verdun. Will, who is an idiot, when asked in the living room how he felt replied ‘In the pink. Never felt better in my life ...’ and then realized he should show suitable decorous sorrow and changed his face into pious conformity. He is almost
mindlessly self centred. Ron, the husband, was in a pitiful state.
¹³²
As were all the sisters and Edie's children. All the men, heads carefully bowed so that they could see nothing but neutral dispassionate carpet or chapel floor in the Crematorium, were stoic. I had to harrumph and snort a few times to stop the weeping. E behaved like an angel. She is splendid in a crisis.

Shot the catacombs today and started the day with the end of the Garden of Delights. Mephistopheles (Andreas Teuber) reached a new pitch of intensity in body odour.
¹³³
It is all imagined things dead – rotten seas, decaying books in the tropics, rats trapped dead in drainpipes, forgotten fish, cheese that has become flesh. Between his toes [...] is a sort of fungus growth that threatens to turn his feet into webbed feet unless he bathes in the next couple of years.
And
he is clear-skinned as a girl, while here am I, fanatically clean, pocked, pimpled and carbuncled as a Hogarth.
¹³⁴
It is not fair!

Franco Zeff arrived at the Studio at lunch time fresh from NY. Looking splendid – he has lost weight – he and E camped about with each other. He seemed to be pleased with the film which he saw this afternoon.

[...] Tonight we had dinner with Liza, Maria and Karen. Maria, who wanted to come up to the bedroom with me when I went to bed, said that she loved me and wanted always to be with me at all times.

I am reading a book called
A long way to Shiloh
by Lionel Davidson.
¹³⁵
Before that a detective story by Agatha Christie. Before that a book called
Utmost Fish
.
¹³⁶
Not very good though a readable yarn. Before that Randolph Churchill's biography of Winston Churchill, a massive tome which I read in two sittings.
¹³⁷
It is a perfect illustration of ‘the child is father of the man.‘
¹³⁸
I've read some scripts too.
Waterloo
– at least the first
¹
/
₂
.
¹³⁹
Reflections in a Golden Eye
.
¹⁴⁰
Advice to a married man
.
¹⁴¹
And also the story
Carmen
by Mirameé.
¹⁴²
Funny little story and totally unbelievable.

Saturday 24th
Things that happened while these pages were blank:

Monty Clift, possibly E's greatest friend and with whom she was about to start
Reflections
in one month from now, died of a massive heart attack in NY. He died in his sleep. [...] The news was told to E by phone from NY by Roddy McDowall. He said, to E's horror, that the death was caused by a combination of drink and drugs. This turned out to be totally untrue.
¹⁴³
Little Roddy, even when he loves someone, loves their attendant disasters almost as much. He, Monty, left E anything of his possessions in his will. She chose something I don't know what. His companion, nurse and major domo very kindly sent E his (Monty's) handkerchiefs which he had only recently bought in Paris and which he loved, delicate white on white.
¹⁴⁴
And to me – Monty's favourite soap! Should I use it or keep it? E was very upset and still cannot believe he's dead. A little Monty Clift cult has started since his death. It would have been more useful when he was alive. He couldn't get a decent job for the last 5 years of his life. Poor sod. I didn't know him very well but he seemed like a good man. [...]

We are down at Corsetti's at Tor Vaianica [...] for a month of weekends. She cooks, I clean – a little. She does hot dogs and hamburgers and steaks and omelettes and soup. I do salads and I clean – a little. Apart from people staring and the occasional autograph we are not much bothered. One fat young girl last weekend asked me to autograph her behind – only barely covered by a bikini. I declined and signed her arm instead.

We shot the Catacombs and my meeting with Lucifer Belzebub.
¹⁴⁵
It's an impressive set [...]

I saw the Garden of Delights – at least
¹
/
₂
of it – and was disappointed. It is much too slow. [...]

E has bur, arthr, or fibro situs and has great discomfort with her left shoulder and arm. Don't I know it. It is peculiarly maddening because you have nothing to show for it. No swelling, no wound, no bruise to boast of – just nagging infuriating pain.

Sat is an early day so we were here at Corsetti's by 4.45pm. I finished
Long Way to Shiloh
. It is very forgettable and too clever by half. The writer has promise though and I shall look out for his other two books.
¹⁴⁶

I am tackling Italian again. I might as well get it under my belt for the rest of my life. I'm here until the New Year and with my former knowledge of it I should be fairly fluent by then.
¹⁴⁷

Ron Berkeley, every night, after I've taken my hot shower and my pores are open, rubs my spotty back with alcohol. It will be interesting to see if it cleans up the skin. [...]

Sunday 25th
A lazy day by the sea. We both woke in the middle of the night (Saturday) and read. I woke again at 8.30 and [...] I took the dogs for a walk along the sand shore. Nobody on the beach except
¹
/
₂
dozen gesticulating Italians trying to launch a boat into the placid sea. Anyone of them could have done it by himself. The sea was so calm its waves could barely break at the water's edge. [...]

I made myself a [...] sandwich and drank a satisfying cup of tea. I read some Italian, went for a swim about 11am [...] I lighted the barbecue fire at 12 and after some frustration [...] E. finally cooked the steaks. They were delicious. It is the first time she's ever cooked a steak.

Some film people were about – Basil Fenton Smith (Sound) his wife, Dave Hildyard (Sound) his wife. Robert Jacks (Producer) his wife.
¹⁴⁸
[...] We exchanged pleasantries but didn't mix.

In the afternoon we read the papers, did crosswords, went for a swim (me) and other things.

[...] Gaston told us to change the time back one hour. It is the first time [...] that Italy has ever been on summertime and their puzzlement is so great that all trains wherever they were at midnight last night were told to halt for one hour. Is't possible? [...]

Monday 26th
A thoroughly unpleasant day. It began well enough. We arose early and were in the Studio by 7.45. I did endless pickup shots [...] in the Garden of Delights with Gwydion Thomas (R.S. the poet's son.)
¹⁴⁹
Infinite tedium. Then E did her bit appearing in the Crystal. [...] Then more shots of me and G. Thomas. Then shots of lesbian lovers and normal lovers and acrobats from a Rome circus working on trampolines. Then the set-up for tomorrow. I hate those days in which the script doesn't advance one single line of a page – not even one single stage direction – because these shots are of course added ones (apart from E's) and therefore not in the script. [...]

E is at work on the barbecue (We're at Corsetti's). I lighted the fire with one bottle of alcohol, then two, then a third then a fourth and have now decided to leave it to the Gods, E and Ron-next-door.

Astonishingly I have lost, temporarily I hope, my taste for alcohol in any form. I shall force a campari-soda-vodka between my clenched teeth before dinner or bust. I feel better without it but I look ghastly; great bags under my eyes. E is enjoying her booze as usual and I don't resent it – much. The fire is now, it appears, perfect, and I shall have my hamburgers any minute.

E's delight in cooking is lovely and I think she has a natural gift for it. So far she's done everything right. And has her own pet condiments and sauces. I'm still confined to boiled eggs and salads. I suppose you could live on them if the chips were down. No pun intended.

And now for the Campari-Soda-Vodka – known in this family as ‘Goop.’

Have now had my goop and my hamburger. Both delicious. It's extraordinary how one hamburger in a sandwich bun with a slice of raw onion, a slice of tomato, and a couple of lettuce leaves suitably salted and peppered, can be so filling.

Lovely here now. Maybe it's because I've eaten and drunk. [...] E's nerves have relaxed; she's frantic when she cooks – Quite incoherent, poised in the dark over the barbecue like a fury.

I shall mutter some Italian and go to bed – After I've had another goop.

I read today
¹
/
₂
of
Don Quixote
(script from Ronny Lubin) and
¹
/
₂
of
Oedipus
– by Lawrence Durrell.
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Both so far unworthy of their subjects. A standard cowboy script by Carl Foreman called
MacKenna's Gold
.
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Christ what a lot of rubbish one reads.

Tuesday 27th
Things that happened: Kate came to stay with us, from London, (in July?) with Ivor and Gwen as guardians. She looked bonny and long-legged and freckled and slightly pigeon-toed. She is so far physically like us (who's like us?) that she takes my breath away. There is no sign of Syb in her at all except for the mannerisms of proximity. She is loving and clearly loves E and E her. [...] They spent one entire gossipy day together in bed, both with temps, both with some ‘flu’ or other. I had to carry K to her bed at the end of the day because cunningly she thought, perhaps, that she could sleep the whole night with E if she Kate were already asleep. But I was firm and took her away. Neeeeeks! Neeeeeks is Maria's version of the word ‘snakes’ when she sees worms. Sybil only wanted her Kate to stay for 10 days, but, possession being nine points of the law, we kept her for an extra two weeks. She left, I think, reluctantly and brown and a good girl. Ivor and Gwen are now part of us finally and irrevocably. Were it not for Kate and Jessica I doubt that they would ever see Syb again unless she invited them which she wouldn't. Syb is so odd
now that, notwithstanding ‘love changing its property to the sourest and most deadly hate and hell hath no fury etc.,’ she did not send any word of commiseration on the death of Edie.
¹⁵²
And she purported to adore or like Edie. Funny lot those Williams. The odd thing is that nobody in my family ever mentions Syb and when I do, as I must, nobody responds. Nobody. [...] It will all resolve itself. Now and again, I look around and wonder how much we give away and realize how little we are given. I and my wife could live for the rest of our lives on what we have given away in the last 5 years. Not to taxes. Not to tax-deductive organisations but to private individual people. I've just discovered that in the last 20 months I have given $76,000 to one person! Over $1,000,000 to another. You have got to be an idiot. Anyway, we are lucky, we can always grow some more. Who's like us?! And anyway sitting on the edge of this central sea what should I write about now? [...]

Tea for breakfast and off to work. I have a slightly sore throat. Might be from smoking cigars, which I dislike, but they should stop me (and do stop me) from smoking and inhaling cigarettes [...] I mean I smoke less cigs than usual.

I am running out of energy and enthusiasm for
Faustus
. And I mustn't. A/It will show on the screen and B/the big stuff, meeting with Helen of Troy and the descent into hell is yet to be done.
¹⁵³
I long to laze. I drank some today. Two beers, two vodkas, a goop. [...]

We slogged away at the student scene. I didn't feel like working at all, but kept at it anyway. How lovely it would be if one were a highly paid amateur who worked only when he wanted to. But slog it is.