Running Wild

I'd written this and then heard Tony Curtis died, so I guess this will be my remembrance.  Check the second link for my discussion of his autobiography.  I did see him in person a couple times at local showings of his classics, Some Like It Hot and Sweet Smell Of Success.  One of the perks of living in Los Angeles, I guess.


I just read Tony Curtis's book about making Some Like It Hot. He's written about his life before, but never in such detail about one picture. SLIH is probably his best known film and he's justifiably proud. It helped get him into the big leagues back in 1959, and will likely be his legacy a century from now.

What I enjoyed most is the day-by-day process, describing where they shot (much of it at the Goldwyn Studios, walking distance from where I'm writing) and what order the scenes were done. (Perhaps all this stuff, as well as the wonderful photos, many in color, can be found in the 50th Anniversary Companion, but my library doesn't have it yet.)

Much of the book is taken up with Marilyn Monroe's antics. I'd heard some of these stories before, but it's still hard to believe what a handful she was. By the time of the shoot, she was already a legend (with only a few years left, though no one could know that). But she was also pretty neurotic. Add to that she regularly drank and took sleeping pills, and you've got trouble. Worse, she brought along Paula Strasberg from the Actors Studio as a coach on the set, and seemed more interested in pleasing her than director Billy Wilder.

Curtis (and he's not alone) says Marilyn may have been magic on screen, but was selfish. She just didn't take into account how her antics affected others. Because of her, the production went way over schedule. Afterward, Billy Wilder swore he'd never work with her again (it was his second time) and even got into a public feud. Monroe regularly showed up late and would flub take after take. Sometimes she'd stop and demand to do things over. Especially infamous is the day she had to say "where's that bourbon?" and went through 81 takes. Remember that co-stars Curtis and Jack Lemmon not only had to stand by (in heels), but also understood as soon as Marilyn got it right, that take would be printed, so had to be perfect every time.

Curtis and Monroe, about a decade earlier, had an affair. Since then they'd become stars, and Monroe had married and divorced Joe DiMaggio. During the shooting she was married to Arthur Miller, who often came to the set. Then one night, Monroe invited Curtis to her room, where (for old time's sake?) they made love. (Some readers have said Curtis is willing to attack people--even his wife of the time Janet Leigh--but tends to let himself off easy.) Fine, that's how it works in Hollywood. In one of the last scenes shot, the love scene between Monroe and the "impotent" Curtis character, she ground away at him and got--let's say--a noticeable reaction. (I'm still amazed when I read how Wilder and his writing partner Diamond wrote the the script at night as the shoot went along, and hadn't decided on some major scenes until late in the production.)

Next thing you know Marilyn wants to meet Tony in her dressing room, where Arthur Miller is also waiting. Miller now knows the two slept together, and there's almost a knock-down-drag-out fight. This was one story I'd never heard. It's such a good one I almost have to wonder if it really happened, but I'll take Curtis's word. There were only a few scenes left (including the famous ending) so they finished the picture, but I have to wonder what might have happened if this confrontation came earlier. (I also learned the reason we don't see Marilyn and Tony in the final shot is she saw the last bit was between Jack Lemmon and Joe E. Brown, so didn't even bother to show up.)

I could have used more with Jack Lemmon, but I guess he was easy enough to work with that Curtis just didn't have much to say--even though they share more scenes than either does with Marilyn. (Or could it be Tony is jealous? Jack obviously impressed Billy Wilder, since he went on to work with him regularly, while Curtis never did another Wilder film.)

There are other stories, such as why Edward G. Robinson decided not to be in the film (probably continuing his feud with George Raft--too bad since he would have been the cherry on top of all the old stars). And how the first preview was the most disastrous Wilder ever had. But when it's all done, you have to think it's amazing that a two-hour comedy about a couple guys in drag became the classic it did. The idea shouldn't have worked, and the miserable shoot should have made it worse. But sometimes you get magic.