The Girl

by Michelle Morgan

  But Marilyn’s admirers still loved her. When she gave the press conference at the Savoy Hotel, it was noted that most of the five hundred fans outside were teenage girls and women. Even singer Alma Cogan was keen to express her admiration for the star. When asked who she might like to be if not herself, she responded, “Marilyn Monroe! I am not kidding. I think she is a great actress and she seems to have a wonderful sense of humor.”

  Irish dramatist Seán O’Casey was excited to learn that out of everyone in England, the two people Marilyn most wanted to visit were Dame Edith Sitwell and himself. “I would love to see her,” he told The Stage newspaper, “and I would like to meet her husband, Arthur Miller, one of the greatest American playwrights.” Laurence Olivier actually invited the author to visit with him and Marilyn in London, but the Devon-based O’Casey declined the offer. He did, however, come to regret the decision, especially on hearing the news of the actress’s death some years later.

  While in the end Marilyn was unable to meet O’Casey, she did follow through with her plans to visit Dame Edith Sitwell, whom she had previously met in 1953. When asked about the meeting in 1959, Sitwell explained that she had been visited by both Marilyn and Arthur Miller. Unfortunately, they could not talk for long as there were many people milling around outside and interfering with the meeting. Sitwell was concerned that the hangers-on might make up stories about the visit after the event, so it was cut short and postponed until their return to New York.

  Other luminaries were able to meet Marilyn at a party given by Terence Rattigan. These included Sir John Gielgud, Anthony Quayle, Sir Terence and Lady Nugent, Sir Hartley and Lady Shawcross, Dame Edith Evans, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., and the Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch. According to writer Radie Harris, the excitement from those wishing to speak with Marilyn was incredible.

  THE HARD AND PAINFUL work done on the set of The Sleeping Prince meant that Marilyn had little time for anything else, but she was able to make occasional day trips into London and Brighton. Her quest for culture was always apparent, and she spent hours studying art in the National Gallery or buying books of poetry and literature from Foyles, London’s premiere bookstore. There were also many trips to the theater, including one with her husband to see The Caucasian Chalk Circle by Brecht. True to form, afterward the press mocked Marilyn by saying that she could not understand the German language in the play and had to turn to her husband for guidance. Not so, said Arthur Miller. “The truth is she was very interested and I don’t speak German and she’d been talking to a lot of people about Brecht in New York and knew what it was about.”

  OFFERS OF WORK BEGAN flooding in months before Marilyn even arrived in England, and included stints such as standing for election as Lord Rector of Glasgow University, visiting a clothes manufacturer in Scotland, and opening a nightclub in the seaside town of Skegness. Any invitations were politely but firmly turned down.

  However, while it was easy to say no to the nonacting jobs, it was far harder to say no to the BBC, particularly as they offered Marilyn what could have been a thrilling role. Lysistrata by Aristophanes was an ancient comedy play that revolved around an intelligent woman’s efforts to stop a war by persuading women to withhold sex. The idea being that if the men were denied their most primitive desires, they would eventually be forced to negotiate peace. Before that happens, however, a battle of the sexes prevails.

  The story had interested Marilyn for some time, and she had actually been invited to play the role on US television earlier in the year, but nothing came of it. Now, in summer 1956, the BBC’s Third Programme radio service obtained the rights to a translation by Dudley Fitts and was anxious for Marilyn to take on the title role. The thought of playing such a part must have excited Marilyn greatly, but she ultimately turned it down. “I am familiar with Lysistrata,” she explained, “and I think it has a wonderful title role. I would certainly like to play it someday, but my commitments in The Sleeping Prince make it impossible to consider at the moment.”

  It wasn’t the first time Marilyn had turned down a part she was fascinated by; she had done so at least twice in 1955. In August of that year, executive producer Albert McCleery offered her the prized role of Grushenka in NBC’s television adaptation of The Brothers Karamazov, but she did not sign on to the project. Then, after hearing that she had wanted to play Adelaide in the film version of Guys and Dolls, an invitation was extended by actress Vivian Blaine to have Marilyn do a guest appearance—or longer if required—in a Las Vegas stage version. This too came to nothing, likely because at that time the contractual issues with Fox were still being fought.

  By summer 1956, there were no such worries, and yet sadly she also turned down the opportunity of starring in the Paul Osborn play Maiden Voyage. Sent to her by Miller’s friend Kermit Bloomgarden, the piece was due to be produced for Broadway in the winter of 1956. Marilyn was thrilled to be asked, but Miller explained to his friend that she would be too exhausted to do it. Undeterred, the man sent her a copy of the play, which was a satirical story based on Greek mythology and inspired by the poem The Odyssey by Homer. Bloomgarden explained that he wanted the actress to play Athena after she had greatly impressed him over dinner one evening. The project didn’t go ahead, but Marilyn still read the play and made various notes inside. Interestingly, while Bloomgarden wanted her for Athena, Marilyn’s jottings seem to suggest that she preferred the role of Hera, wife of Zeus.

  It remains a baffling question: why Marilyn was so vocal about doing particular kinds of roles, and yet when presented to her, she was loath to actually do them. Nerves certainly played a part, and so too did a lack of confidence—the fear that once again she would be laughed at or mocked by the media, other actors, or both. Elsa Maxwell described the situation well in an article she wrote during the summer of 1956. “[Marilyn] had the courage to challenge the big movie moguls. She has the ambition to want to know and work with fine artists. But she’s also like the scared young thing who stays on and on in the powder-room to postpone everything she has worked for and looked forward to.”

  WORK CONTINUED ON THE SLEEPING PRINCE, but tensions between Marilyn and Olivier grew worse as time went on. By the middle of production, she confided in cinematographer Jack Cardiff that she was unsure if the actor was really the genius she once thought he was. In Cardiff she found a firm friend, and he photographed her not only on set, but in her Surrey home too. So comfortable was she in his presence that Marilyn shared her artwork with him. “It was remarkable,” he said. “It revealed all her innate restlessness. I felt a great sympathy for her. I wanted to protect her from so much human weakness. Love should protect her but it doesn’t seem to be quite enough.”

  There were various anxieties to contend with on set. Despite Logan’s advice to keep Paula Strasberg away, Olivier had allowed her presence and came to deeply regret it. Not only did Marilyn look to her for advice far more than to her director, but the coach would often whisk the actress away to discuss script problems and teach hand exercises between takes. When publicist Alan Arnold asked if the exercises had been learned from Olivier, Strasberg snapped, “Definitely not. We have our own set.”

  Strasberg always insisted she was only there as Marilyn’s friend, though she became something of a laughingstock during the filming of the coronation scene when overheard telling the actress to think about Frank Sinatra and Coca-Cola as her motivation. Susan Strasberg later wrote that her mother unfairly shouldered the blame for much of Marilyn’s behavior, even though she was the one desperately trying to get her on set—prepared and on time. To try to calm matters, Lee Strasberg flew to London for a few weeks but became so anxious with all the drama that he spent much of his time trawling museums and longing to go home.

  Milton Greene had accompanied the Millers to London, and for the most part it appeared that he and Marilyn were still working happily together. One day he brought an expensive Jaguar car on set, and Alan Arnold had an idea to take publicity photos of Marilyn, the car, and some soldiers
. Associate director Anthony Bushell refused to allow her to do the shoot, however, claiming that the actress needed to rest. He bizarrely suggested that Laurence Olivier pose instead, but at that point Milton and Arnold insisted that it looked like rain and called the whole shoot off.

  Marilyn and Milton might have still been on speaking terms, but Arthur’s distrust of him was growing ever more apparent. He suspected that the MMP vice president was buying antiques with the company’s money, and drew Marilyn into the argument by telling her all about his theories. Tension between Milton and Arthur was the last worry she needed, and the situation became even more heated when she read an entry from Miller’s journal, berating her behavior on set. She was furious that Miller appeared to be on Olivier’s side and could not believe he had left the book for her to find. Paula stood on the sidelines, wondering why Miller was becoming involved in Marilyn’s professional life in the first place.

  Alan Arnold was asked by Olivier to release three photographs from the set, to stop reporters trying to break into the studio. He did as he was asked, and when one of the photos appeared in a newspaper the next day, he innocently showed it to Marilyn. She was furious. “What a terrible picture!” she cried. “Who put that out?” The shocked man mumbled something about thinking she already knew and then left as soon as he could.

  Marilyn took her complaint about the photos straight to Olivier. However, instead of the director making sure that nothing would be released in the future without her authority, Alan Arnold was reprimanded and told never to show the actress any pictures again. This kind of secretive behavior was totally unacceptable, but sadly nobody but Marilyn seemed to think it warranted any further discussion.

  Eventually, a major disagreement came when Olivier made the catastrophic mistake of telling Marilyn to be sexy. She objected bitterly to such a direction and walked off set, much to the director’s chagrin. If he had done more research, however, he would have discovered that such a request would always cause friction. Less than a year before the England trip, Marilyn spoke openly to reporter Logan Gourlay: “When a director says, ‘Marilyn, give us some of that old Monroe sex appeal in this scene,’ I just don’t know what to do. I really don’t.” She then added that the fuss surrounding her sexy look was frankly embarrassing, and that she was fed up with being referred to as an international sex symbol. “I just want to be called an actress,” she said.

  There wasn’t a lot to be happy about, but a high point of the England trip came when Marilyn was able to meet Queen Elizabeth II. She had made no secret about wanting to visit the queen, and publicist Alan Arnold found the request on his to-do list on a frequent basis. Olivier had found out about the desired invitation and told him to strike it off, but Marilyn won in the end and was presented not only to Queen Elizabeth, but her husband and sister too. Photos were beamed all over the world and the actress was thrilled.

  MARILYN COULD NOT WAIT to leave England and return to the States, but the trip actually proved beneficial to Arthur Miller. Banned in England because of homosexual references, his play A View from the Bridge was able to finally open thanks to a loophole in the censorship rules. In 1952, a membership organization called the New Watergate Theatre Club was formed, which aimed to show those plays deemed too racy for British audiences. This was done by selling tickets exclusively to club members, therefore giving the play an equivalent of an X rating in movies.

  In 1956, the society chose to showcase Miller’s play at the Comedy Theatre, in what Theatre World described as “the most interesting event for the London Theatre during the past months.” Marilyn attended with her husband, dressed in a red velvet gown and towering platform shoes. Those in charge of dressing her for the evening were appalled when Marilyn asked for a red gown, and told her it would be far more fitting to wear black. Incensed, she replied that Miller’s favorite color was red, therefore that’s what she would wear. Inevitably, while the play received good reviews, it was Marilyn who stole the headlines.

  Talking to reporter Thomas Wiseman while watching rehearsals, Miller explained that he had no worries that his work would suffer as a result of his new marriage. He also revealed that despite any disagreements on set (which he emphasized as completely normal), The Sleeping Prince was the best film Marilyn had ever made in her career. He also spoke quite openly about the adulation received by his wife wherever she went. Describing her as “a very warm person who loves people,” Miller admitted that some of the fascination was unfortunate “and unhealthy. Like fitting people into categories. Making me in all situations behave like an intellectual, and making her behave how Marilyn Monroe is expected to behave.”

  Probably the most fascinating part of the interview was when Miller was asked about the life he and Marilyn would lead on their return to the United States. “We shan’t live in Hollywood,” he said. “We shall live in my house in Connecticut. Marilyn will only make one film in every eighteen months or so, which will take her about twelve weeks.” What about the rest of the time?, asked the reporter. “She shall be my wife,” Miller replied. “That’s a full-time job.”

  IF THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH showed Marilyn how much she wanted to flee the position of wife and embrace an acting career, The Sleeping Prince sent her in the totally opposite direction. Marilyn had forgiven Miller for writing about her in his journal, and during the last few weeks of filming, he was almost constantly on set. Sometimes he would not make his presence known and instead hide behind the set until Marilyn finally looked over and saw him. “You!” she would cry and then jump into his arms. Cast members noted that the two would laugh and hug, completely oblivious to anyone who was around them.

  This affection was in complete contrast to the way former husband Joe DiMaggio had behaved on movie sets. Susan Strasberg witnessed him standing in the shadows during the “Heat Wave” number on There’s No Business Like Show Business, looking like “an Italian marble sphinx.” When Marilyn tried to rush into his arms, he became completely closed off, causing her to stop dead in her tracks and give him a small peck on the cheek instead.

  When Marilyn and Arthur left England on November 20, 1956, they were accompanied to the airport by Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh. Reporters were anxious to know if there had been any truth to the rumors of fights and drama on set, but Marilyn would not say anything against her costar. Instead, she smiled patiently and told journalists that “[Olivier] is the greatest actor I have ever worked with. [There were] no rows, just the kind of agreements and disagreements one always gets. I have no idea how the stories of rows got about.”

  When asked what she intended doing once back home, Marilyn honestly replied, “I have nothing lined up for me right now except being a wife. We are going home to New York, where I want to be a wife, where I will be Mrs. Arthur Miller.”

  AFTER RETURNING TO THE States, Marilyn was impressed by her ability to survive the London ordeal and went back to classes at the Actors Studio. Unfortunately, after deciding that Milton was too sympathetic to Laurence Olivier during The Sleeping Prince, their relationship had soured considerably and Marilyn wasn’t sure she still wanted him in her company. The warning signs had actually been publicly revealed on November 13, 1956, when a British-based version of Marilyn Monroe Productions was registered in London. With a capital of £100 in £1 shares, newspaper reports of the formation were revealing. Whereas the announcement of the original MMP had come with a glamorous press conference and much fanfare, this time it was done quietly, with little attention at all. A statement was released to the press that disclosed that the British version of the company was designed to make movies in England that may or may not star Marilyn in the main role. “She will be president,” the release said, “and Mr. Milton Greene who is Vice President of Marilyn Monroe Productions Inc. the American company, will also serve in the British company, but in what capacity we do not yet know.”

  By 1957, Arthur Miller’s feelings toward the Greenes were still as negative as ever, and Marilyn found herself in the middle of th
eir squabbles. The relationship had crumbled irretrievably, and she accused Milton of mismanaging her company, making secret business commitments, and not informing her about the contents of particular contracts. After much bickering, she eventually fired Milton from the organization.

  The shocked photographer retaliated by releasing a statement that said he had given up his photography career for the star and although he was going to hire lawyers, he did not know exactly what the problem was in their relationship. “He knows perfectly well,” Marilyn retorted. She then fired lawyer Irving Stein as well, and he threatened to sue for failure to pay his salary.

  Before The Sleeping Prince was released, the title was changed to The Prince and the Showgirl. Milton’s proposed position of executive producer came under fire when Marilyn’s representatives told Laurence Olivier that they did not wish him to be billed this way. The actress told reporters that she had not been aware that Milton had promoted himself to this position, and accused him of having a false credit, which she would not be party to. Whether this was true is questionable. Certainly, when Olivier was working on the script, he had been advised that Milton had production ambitions. The actor told Joshua Logan that most of the work would be done by the time Milton arrived in England, but that he planned to talk about it as soon as he could.