by Kirk Douglas
I went yesterday to Vallauris, buying posters for us and Dr. Kupper. I also was so enchanted with one of Picasso’s latest pottery—a big vase—that I bought it. It will be sent directly. Cost me only $200. It is for our new house and I am sure you will love it.
Everybody from MGM told me that at their last great convention they saw Lust for Life which they consider as the greatest picture done after the war. Also they are prepared to give for this picture the greatest publicity buildup with charity opening at the Paris Opera for reconstruction and simultaneous openings in three key European cities. They would very much like for you to come. It will be sometime between the 1st–15th of October. By “they” I mean Metro Europe.
Never mind all the dinners you have with Michael and Joel—how about the dinner with Mary Preminger? Don’t think I have my information from Otto. [Preminger was a member of the Cannes Jury.] I told him, and boy, did we fix you. We immediately lunched together the next day. But—didn’t you tell me once that Mary would be your cup of tea? How many cups did you have?
It is misery without you and my little Peter. I take one look at his pictures and I cry like an idiot. Do you realize what he really means to me? Let’s have another one.
Darling, we are so happy and give each other so much and I need you deeply. I love you. That you must believe because it is true.
Stolz
CHAPTER SIX
1957: On Location in Arizona, Germany, and Norway
KIRK:
Nineteen fifty-seven started with me in Tucson for Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. I was Doc Holliday and Burt Lancaster was Wyatt Earp. I hadn’t worked with “Boit” since I Walk Alone, ten years earlier. We never seemed to run out of things to say to each other—much of it the kind of ribbing that good friends who are also highly competitive enjoy.
Burt had formed his production company, Hecht-Hill-Lancaster, shortly before I set up Bryna. We both knew the studio system was rigged against us; we wanted the freedom to choose our projects—whether or not they were deemed commercial.
Burt was still working off the seven-year contract he had with Hal Wallis—the one I had turned down years before. I convinced him to take the role in Gunfight; it would be his final piece of indenture. As a free agent, I was in a great bargaining position with Hal. Bogart had rejected the part, and preproduction had already begun. I got ten times what I would have received if I were still under contract, and double what Burt was making.
That would help pay the bills, because my next movie—Paths of Glory—was definitely not going to be a moneymaker.
This would be my first of two experiences with Stanley Kubrick, whom I have described over the years as “a talented shit.” I had contacted the young filmmaker after seeing his low-budget movie The Killing. I asked if he had any other projects, and he gave me the script for Paths of Glory. Stanley had adapted a 1935 novel about corruption and greed in the high command of France during World War I into a brilliant screenplay. He had been peddling it around Hollywood with no success.
I already had a deal with Arthur Krim of United Artists to finance The Vikings. I convinced him to give me a budget of $1.25 million to make Paths of Glory while we were setting up my “Norse opera.” We shot in and around Munich, using castles that looked French and fields where we could reproduce battle scenes.
Our home base in Munich was the Geiselgasteig Studios. The war had destroyed this once-thriving operation. Ironically, it took two American Jews, Douglas and Kubrick, to breathe new life into the dilapidated studio and the local economy. The studio was very close to Dachau, the notorious concentration camp.
My first fight with Stanley and his partner, James Harris, was over the script. I loved the one I saw in Los Angeles, even though I was frank about its lack of commercial appeal. In a misguided effort to remedy that, Stanley had rewritten it. It was terrible.
In the new version, my character, Colonel Dax, said stupid things. At the end, he goes off with the general he had bitterly opposed to have a drink. I threatened Stanley: “We will make the script I bought or we won’t make the film at all.” Stanley nodded silently, and we went to work.
Kubrick and I had a three-picture deal. After Paths of Glory, I was happy to honor his request to release him from our agreement. It amused me years later when Stanley told people I was only an employee on the movie. I have a healthy ego, but his was gigantic.
It was a lonely shoot, with Anne and little Peter back in Beverly Hills. Here’s what I wrote her on March 14, 1957:
Darling—
How is it that when I am away from you, such love for you overwhelms me that at 2:30 in the morning—as it is now—I awake to write to you.
Suddenly I look at your picture and my need for you and Peter is overpowering. How incomplete I seem without my family. How can any man live alone? To live just for yourself is to be dead. And yet I welcome this parting from you to rekindle my awareness of how much you mean to me.
The early hour brings out the poetic side of me.
By the way, Frances Goldwyn told me that her opinion of me went much higher when I married you! So many compliments for you. You’ll be spoiled!
So much for now—Goodnight to you & Peter.
K.
I was delighted when Anne decided to bring Peter to Munich to see Daddy, but first I needed to update her on The Vikings.
Darling—
It was nice to talk to you on the phone. I miss you and Peter very much. I’m so happy that you will both be coming soon.
After I talked with you, Arthur Krim called me. He says that Tony Curtis wants to play Eric and Janet Leigh will play the girl. At first I thought: gosh, no, but I told him I’d think about it. I feel it may be the solution. He’s not ideal for the part, but he’s younger than I and with a little rewriting I could make Hasting [Einar in the final script] a good part for me to play and try to make a big commercial box-office hit out of the picture. The cast would begin to look big—
Kirk Douglas, Tony Curtis, Ernest Borgnine, Janet Leigh, Michael Rennie, Etc.
What do you think? Krim is all for it. This may be the solution. I’ll sleep on it.
I’m so tired tonight & so anxious to have you & Peter here with me.
All my love to both of you——K.
ANNE:
Kirk knew that I saw things from a business standpoint more than a strictly creative one. It made me feel much closer to him when he asked what I thought. I never hesitated to tell him, but I always made it clear I deferred to his judgment. I replied to his letter immediately:
Mon Liebling,
I surely don’t agree with Tony as a Viking—but who cares if he is box office and you can get a better deal. He is just like a kid. What a pity to give up your part of Eric. I thought that you and Van Heflin would be much better—but, again, who am I—I’m nothing!
I got bad news from Paris. They expelled me from the apartment. I don’t know how this happened—why nobody informed me about it! Well, that is tough luck!
Last night I went to the Vidors and saw the Wilders. I showed Billy all the clippings from your arrival in Germany. He was very pleased. Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh were there. (He told me they would consider to go to Norway!) Well, we’ll see.
I had my second typhoid shot and feel lousy again—but you know tomorrow I will be O.K. Oh, by the way, we got the other Palm Springs house—$68,000 including the maid’s room! Not bad! They consider this the best deal ever made for anybody. But now we have two houses in Palm Springs! The other one should go up for sale immediately, but Sam [Norton] wants to have it rented just for six months—but try to explain to Sam that nobody wants to rent a house in Palm Springs between June and October!!
Darling, I feel so lonely without you. I wish you were with me right now. I love you very much.
Stolz
KIRK:
I was still in Munich the night of the Academy Awards. I was nominated—my third time—for playing Vincent van Gogh. According to Mike Todd and all my ot
her Hollywood pals, I was the odds-on favorite to win. On Oscar night, I was a continent away from the ceremonies. There was a gaggle of journalists and photographers camped out overnight in the lobby of Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten [the Four Seasons] to get my reaction to my victory. I sent Anne this cable before I went to bed:
NO MATTER WHAT I STILL HAVE TWO OSCARS YOU AND PETER ALL MY LOVE=KIRK
I lost to Yul Brynner in The King and I. The media went away. I stayed in my room. Anyone who says they don’t care about winning is lying. It hurt.
While I was still brooding, the bellman delivered a package. The desk had orders from my wife to deliver it only if the prize eluded me once again. I opened it. Inside was a golden facsimile engraved “To Daddy who rates an Oscar with us always. Stolz and Peter.” It is one of my most precious possessions.
In 1996, when I received my Oscar for Lifetime Achievement, I fulfilled a promise I made to myself in Munich thirty-nine years before. If I ever got the real thing, I would give it to Anne. But on March 27, 1957, I could only give her this cable:
BELIEVE ME DARLING NO OTHER AWARD COULD MEAN AS MUCH TO ME AS THE OSCAR YOU AND PETER SENT ME ALL MY LOVE=KIRK
Filming The Vikings in fjord country
ANNE:
On Oscar night I was in the audience with Willie Wyler. When Tony Quinn walked off with Best Supporting Actor for playing Paul Gauguin in Lust for Life, my hopes rose. It was a hard night for me. Kirk wouldn’t hear the news until many hours later. I wrote him the next day:
My Darling,
This is not a letter of consolation. I feel and I always felt that you should have won—but things are not always the way they should be, so I feel we must be happy with what we have—and we have plenty. I am extremely happy with you and I hope you are too. We have our Peter in good health—beautiful houses, money in banks all over the world—is there anything more we can ask?
The show was quite an experience for me! I hated every minute of it. Afterwards, Willie Wyler and I went to the Vidors—thirty people had bets on you, everyone but Martin Gabel. Everybody was disappointed. But you too have now your Oscar to put on your mantel. I bet you never thought your old lady would be so clever!
How I love you, my Darling. Suddenly I would love to be alone with you somewhere. Please, my love, let us concentrate on us a little bit more—it would help our relationship tremendously. Also let us talk together a bit of your future business plans. Why do you want to compete? Make an occasional picture for your company, with a producer-director of your choice. You do not need a big organization.
I met Maria Schell tonight and she wants us to come to her house in Munich.
I love you so much and I want you close to me. Just you and me. Ich liebe dich.
Stolz
Kirk with his “Oscar” from Peter and Anne
KIRK:
The picture was moving along on schedule. I had a day off and decided to go to Dachau, which was open to the public, its grass growing on soil fertilized by the dead. I went into the shower rooms where so many Jews had breathed in lethal gas and into the crematoria, where their bodies were turned into ash. Of course, it had all been sanitized and downplayed for visitors.
None of the Germans we met during our stay admitted to knowing what went on at Dachau. But there must have been a perpetual cloud of noxious smoke blowing over their homes. I had immersed myself in a film about the insanity and brutality of war, so I was even more sensitive to the horrors of the more recent conflict.
Stanley cast his future wife, Christiane Harlan, as the German cabaret singer. I discovered that she was related to the Nazi filmmaker Veit Harlan, who had directed the virulent anti-Semitic propaganda film, Jud Suss (Suss the Jew). I hoped her relative was gnashing his teeth in hell to know his “pure” blood was mingling with Jud Kubrick.
After we wrapped the production, I left for Norway to start work on The Vikings. That proved to be an arduous shoot in inhospitable locations, fraught with unforeseen delays. Except for Tony and Janet, none of us were with our families. I was doing my best not to grumble, even though I had to insert a painful prosthetic shield over one eye each day.
Tony described in his 1993 autobiography how he and I huddled under a lean-to tarp waiting for the rain to stop (it never did) “shivering, miserable, thirty-five days behind schedule, hundreds standing around, money going down the drain.” He recalled my looking at him and asking, “Tony, do you want to buy a company cheap?”
When our Norwegian longboat crews threatened to quit unless I raised their salaries, I blew up. I had treated them like comrades-in-arms and they were trying to take advantage of me. We pared the rest of the location shots and wrapped, leaving behind the stunned Norwegians—now suddenly eager to go back to work at their old salaries.
Getting out of fjord country and its perpetual rain certainly lightened my spirits. Back at the Munich studio, things went more smoothly on The Vikings. Anne and Peter had visited for a few weeks, so I was more optimistic than I had been in Norway.
I scheduled a premiere of Paths of Glory for September 18, 1957, in Munich—the first one in the history of the city. It had opened in America to dismal box office. The reviews, however, were glowing. Hollis Alpert of The Saturday Review said it was “unquestionably the finest American film of the year… so searing in its intensity that it will probably take its place in years to come as one of the screen’s most extraordinary achievements.”
It certainly helped establish Kubrick as an important filmmaker. Difficult as he was, there was no question about his extraordinary talent. That’s why I was willing to put up with his less attractive qualities when I hired him for Spartacus a couple of years later. The Munich premiere was a big success; I wrote Anne about it the next day:
Darling,
How dreary Munich is without you and Peter!—
I went through the entire picture [The Vikings] yesterday and I think it’s quite good. We are making many cuts and revisions. The picture should run about 2 hrs.
Billy Wilder and Tola Litvak were here yesterday but I saw them very briefly. Frankly, I was miffed that they didn’t come over to the theatre to see Paths of Glory even for a short time to take some pictures with me.
I made a speech in German at the theatre—big hit. The movie has gotten good notices but is only doing fair-good business. Apparently the theme is much too strong for the women and also makes the Germans a little uncomfortable.
God, how I miss you and Peter. Last night, at the studio Elmo Williams’ [second unit director] baby ran to him yelling “Daddy.” Was I jealous!
I keep telling myself that I’m working for us and that keeps me going. I may have several days off next week while they are putting together the changes. Maybe I’ll go to Paris—look at some paintings, etc. Anything you want me to do for you?
(I’ve just noticed that on the other side of this page are some notes while I was working out my speech!)
Darling, I love you and Peter more than you will ever know—And I need you both.
Please take good care of yourself and I’ll write again soon.
All my love—-K.
ANNE:
I was very fond of both Anatole Litvak and Billy Wilder. I tried to calm Kirk down:
Dear Daddy,
I don’t know where you are—but wherever—I love you. I got two letters from you today. Don’t be angry with Billy and Tola. They are the greatest egos and egocentrics anyway and only Dr. Kupper could probably help them. Then again their egos would not permit it.—
When are you coming home? Willie [Schorr] and his bride have come down for two days. She is very nice and they seem to be very happy.
Come home. I need you so terribly and miss you like mad. Peter wants his daddy too and I want my man.
Stolz
KIRK:
I treated myself to those few days in Paris. I added to our art collection while I was there, but staying in the city I loved without Anne was torture. I wrote her this on September 23, 1957:
It’s 8 in the morning but I thought I would write you a few lines before going to the studio. Aren’t you glad you’re not with me now—stirring around so early in the morning?? We’ve got to work out many things—including fixing up my room so that all I have to do is quietly go in there when I want to wake up early.
I’m so anxious to get back and take things easy. You must help me. I want to really relax and work out lots of little annoying things. I want to be able to arrange my life so that I will work at peace when I’m working—have a quiet place to study—and live happily with my family at other times.
Last night I came back from Paris and Jerry [Vikings line producer Jerry Bresler] and I had dinner with Nascimbene, the composer. We had a drink and we all agreed on one thing—that it is terrible for a man not to be married. Nascimbene felt a man in the artistic field did much better when he was married. Here we were—three men—who each admitted they were very much in love with their wives. Surely, it comes as no surprise to you that I love you very much—you and Peter—and that I miss you very much.
I went crazy in Paris—bought paintings like mad:
1 Vlaminck [a Fauve master of the early 1900s]—$12,000, bargained from $15,000
1 Vlaminck—$10,000
2 Fass $1,000—you will love these paintings and I think this guy is really something.
About eight other paintings which may become something—but inexpensive.
