by Lorna Luft
Upon their return, the Deans rented a Chelsea Mews house, but it didn’t take long for the inevitable downward spiral to manifest. Mickey was preoccupied—other things to do, other places to be. She had stopped eating and her brittle, starved body was more fragile than ever. Early on June 22, a Sunday, Mama locked herself in the bathroom, which she often did, but did not answer Mickey’s knock on the door, or respond when he repeatedly called out her name. He scrambled outside and to the roof to let himself in through the window, but it was too late. My mother had slipped away. When he finally found her, she was slumped over and lifeless—and apparently had been for hours—the victim of a barbiturate overdose. (Mama had taken another dose of Seconal to enable her to sleep until morning.) Coroner Gavin Thurston wrote in his report that her death was accidental.
As much as Liza, Joey, Dad, and I loved her (and as much as she loved us), we were unable to save Judy Garland from herself. Toward the end, she needed constant caretaking, supervision, and reassurance, but somehow, I always thought she would pull through. I never believed her life would end so suddenly, without any of her family present. For a long time, I blamed myself for not being there. We all did. But now I see that it was inevitable. If it hadn’t happened that night, it would have happened soon thereafter. Her addictions, her demons had already taken away the mother of my early childhood memories, and now it had taken her away completely. For me, my sister, and my brother, the shock and the loss were almost unbearable.
My mother’s body was flown to New York, then taken to the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Chapel on the east side of Manhattan, where a public viewing would take place. A somber line formed, and grew, as over 20,000 fans and friends filed by the glass-enclosed coffin early Thursday afternoon, June 26, into Friday morning, to pay their respects and bid her farewell. The simple service commencing at one o’clock was spontaneously accompanied by the sound of Judy Garland singing from radios and portable record players outside, on the steps, and down the street. My sister, Liza, my brother Joe, and I, were joined by Mickey Deans to represent the family. Ray Bolger, Lauren Bacall, Kay Thompson, Harold Arlen, and my father were among those in attendance. (Mickey Rooney appeared briefly that morning, but did not stay for the service.) The Reverend Peter A. Delaney conducted the Episcopal service. “Here’s to Us” and Mama’s personal tribute to President Kennedy, “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” resounded through the room. James Mason delivered the eulogy. Standing in front of a blanket of yellow roses covering the coffin, he spoke of his Star Is Born costar, his colleague, and his friend.
I traveled in her orbit only for a little while but it was an exciting while, and one during which it seemed that the joys in her life outbalanced the miseries. The little girl whom I knew, who had a little curl in the middle of her forehead, when she was good she was not only very, very good, she was the most sympathetic, the funniest, the sharpest and the most stimulating woman I ever knew. She was a lady who gave so much and richly, both to her vast audience who she entertained and to the friends around her whom she loved, that there was no currency in which to repay her. And she needed to be repaid, she needed devotion and love beyond the resources of any of us.42
Since I first caught it on late-night television, it took me a few more viewings to understand why A Star Is Born is so special, and why it was my mother’s favorite of all her films. Now I see: it is her movie all the way. The whole thing—every song, every line of dialogue—is tailor-made to showcase her specific talents, quirks, and endearing qualities. The film is also deliberately self-referential to her own life and career. The catch in her throat when she belts the climactic notes in “The Man That Got Away.” Her distinctive, musical laugh when she spots herself in the mirror in Norman’s dressing room, her face slathered with cold cream. The sparkle in her eyes when she wipes her tears and opens her arms wide, grinning in her straw hat. These moments are so Mama, so quintessentially Judy Garland. It’s her moment to shine. And in this film perhaps, more than any other, her spirit does shine on.
One-sheet poster from A Star Is Born (1976). Francesco Scavullo photographed the sexually provocative embrace of Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson. This image became the cornerstone of the advertising and publicity campaigns for both the film and the soundtrack album.
Chapter Three
BARBRA STREISAND’S
A STAR IS BORN (1976)
WHILE SCREENWRITER MOSS HART CONCEIVED THE GEORGE CUKOR–Judy Garland version of A Star Is Born as a showcase for its star that would lead to a cinematic comeback, reestablishing Garland’s stature as a top box-office draw, the Barbra Streisand remake would take one of the biggest box-office draws of the 1970s and turn her from being merely a star into a superstar. The 1976 update would switch the setting from the glitz of Tinseltown to the gritty world of contemporary rock, and would delve into the evolving gender roles of the women’s liberation era. The previous film versions had emphasized a behind-the-scenes look into Hollywood, the motion picture industry, and its pitfalls, but the reboot would set itself apart as a hard-edged musical bursting at the seams with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. The idea began with husband-and-wife writers John Gregory Dunne and Joan Didion, as a vehicle for James Taylor and Carly Simon, who were married at the time. Little did Dunne and Didion realize that their concept for a rock-musical remake of the 1954 Judy Garland film would become one of the most talked-about, controversial, and turbulent productions of the 1970s.
Suggesting James Taylor and Carly Simon to star in a film together made perfect sense. At the time, Warner Bros. not only owned the remake rights for A Star Is Born, it also was affiliated with Warner Bros. Music Group, which had both artists under contract. When Dunne and Didion went to work on the screenplay, it was with Taylor and Simon in mind. The couple pitched their concept and the studio gave them a green light, declining to be incommoded by viewing the previous film versions or reading their scripts. Dunne remembered, “Warners wanted us to see the movie, but we assiduously refused to do it. We knew what it was about.”1 A front-page story in Variety formally announced the “third time around” remake, listing John Foreman as producer.2 The screenwriters may not have watched the Judy Garland version, but their film’s new working title had a very Garland ring to it: Rainbow Road.
The development of the project lost momentum until Barbra Streisand became involved at the urging of Jon Peters, an aspiring movie producer who was romantically involved with Streisand.
However, James Taylor and Carly Simon rejected the movie offer, citing that situations in the script hit a bit too close to home. When Hollywood talent agent Sue Mengers sent the screenplay to her biggest client, Barbra Streisand, Streisand also declined. At the time, the singer-actress was receiving some of the best notices of her career—as well as a Best Actress Oscar nomination—for her starring role in Sydney Pollack’s The Way We Were (1973), opposite Robert Redford.
The development of the project lost momentum until Barbra Streisand became involved at the urging of Jon Peters, an aspiring movie producer who was romantically involved with Streisand. Peters had entered the entertainment business as a hairstylist to the rich and famous, with a chain of salons and a reputation as a charismatic ladies’ man. Legend has it that Streisand noticed a woman at a party who was sporting a short shag haircut. Thinking that the look would be right for her latest film, Streisand asked the woman who had cut her hair, and the answer was “Jon Peters.” Shortly thereafter, Streisand tracked down Peters and scheduled a meeting, much to his pleasure, as the hairstylist was smitten with Streisand. The two hit it off, and he designed the wig Streisand wore in the screwball comedy For Pete’s Sake (1974).
Peters even served as record producer for Streisand’s 1974 ButterFly album. Upon its release, most critics savaged the album because of its novice producer and its cliché cover art of a fly on a stick of butter. But as brutal as the press and critics were to Streisand and Peters on ButterFly, the reaction was nothing compared to the onslaught awaiting them on
A Star Is Born.
During the production of Streisand’s next movie, Funny Lady (1975), the sequel to Funny Girl (1968) (her film debut, that had earned her an Academy Award as Best Actress), Peters read the script for Rainbow Road and thought it was an ideal vehicle to contemporize Streisand’s overall image, especially after playing an older character in a period film. Streisand recalled Peters telling her, “This is fantastic! You gotta make this movie, it’ll be a big hit,” to which she replied, “You know, it was made two times before.” But he had no idea it was a remake, a fact that charmed Streisand. “He came to it purely, and what I started to think was this movie seems to work every twenty years. And I adored Judy Garland and Harold Arlen, these were two of my favorite people. Brilliant movie, brilliant performance by Judy, and an incredible score by Harold Arlen.”3
With Streisand interested in the project, Warner Bros. faced a few major changes to the production. Their star agreed to appear in Rainbow Road only if the film was produced through her First Artists company and its soundtrack released on Columbia Records. She also wanted the title changed to A Star Is Born, a signal for audiences to expect a modern remake. Streisand said at the time, “I wanted to explore relationships today, as opposed to that of the 1930s and the 1950s.”4 Perhaps the most significant demand was Streisand’s insistence that Jon Peters produce the film. Warner Bros. gave A Star Is Born a $6 million budget with any overages to be paid by Streisand. In lieu of payment for her services, the star would receive 25 percent of the gross profits and maintained final cut rights on the film. The studio, leaping at the chance to make a Barbra Streisand musical, agreed to all of her terms.
Frank Pierson and Barbra Streisand during production of A Star Is Born (1976). Tensions sometimes flared between the two during filming as the pair often disagreed on how a scene should be photographed.
Streisand envisioned the film differently from its predecessors. The new version would be a radical departure from the dreamy Technicolor glamour of the 1937 drama, and the crowd-pleasing highs and lows of Judy Garland’s 1954 musical tour de force. Streisand and Peters were dissatisfied with the Dunnes’ script. They felt the love story lacked power and that the male lead role—a self-indulgent rock star named John Norman Howard (the middle name Norman was a nod to the original story’s protagonist)—was superior to the female, nightclub chanteuse Esther Hoffman. The Dunnes soon realized that what Peters and Streisand wanted was to put more of their love story on the screen, something that didn’t sit well with them. After a year’s work and three drafts of the screenplay, the Dunnes left the production, but not before making a deal with the studio for 10 percent of the gross for their labors.
With the departure of the Dunnes, the studio agreed that Jon Peters would produce and direct the film, with Streisand serving as executive producer. The industry scoffed at the idea of a neophyte director helming such an important production. The film’s leading man posed another challenge. Kris Kristofferson had been connected with the project early on, and yet had refused to sign on officially. One of the reasons for his hesitation was that he wanted to be billed above the title with Streisand, a contract stipulation that Warner Bros. ironed out eventually. But before the studio finalized Kristofferson’s involvement, it considered a slew of actor-singers for the role of John Norman Howard, including Marlon Brando (who had been courted for Garland’s film version decades earlier), Neil Diamond, Mick Jagger, and Elvis Presley.
Streisand and Peters were still unhappy with the script. They approached Dog Day Afternoon (1975) screenwriter Frank Pierson for revisions. “Warner Bros. has asked me to ‘do a fast rewrite’—is there ever a slow one?—of a rock-musical version of A Star Is Born and in a moment of mad ambition I accept on condition I can direct it as well. If it’s okay with Barbra, it’s okay with Warners—the decision is hers,” Pierson wrote in 1976, prior the film’s release.5 Pierson was a seasoned professional, with two Academy Award nominations to his credit, for writing Cat Ballou (1965) and Cool Hand Luke (1967). However, Pierson’s directing work up to that point mostly had been in television. He had only one theatrical feature film, The Looking Glass War (1970), to his name. Yet Streisand accepted the challenge, hiring Pierson both to write and direct. As for original story credit, that would be given to William A. Wellman and Robert Carson, who developed the first A Star Is Born incarnation for David O. Selznick back in 1937.
Pierson’s screenplay revisions focused on further development of the Esther character, with considerable input from the actress who would portray her. As Streisand said at the time:
In the other film she just loved him. Well, I don’t believe it. As you experience life, you also hate the person you love—and we deal with that in this movie. She doesn’t stand around and watch him disintegrate through drink. She says, ‘Fight for me, goddammit, protect yourself or I’ll kill you!’ I want to show in this movie what it’s like to be a star—what the pressures are. The isolation. I wrote a lot of things into this movie that come from my own life. I will be revealed in this picture more than ever before. People watching will get to know Barbra Streisand a whole lot better.6
Further story updates revised the sexual stereotypes that audiences had become accustomed to in cinema: the man being the strong protector, who is physically and mentally superior to the woman, who passively stands behind her man. Updating Esther into a modern woman was essential for Streisand. Judy Garland’s fiercely talented but passive 1950s heroine was out, and a new breed of woman was emerging. Streisand’s Esther would be strong, independent, and indifferent to the role that society and the music business thought she should embody. “One of the things we’ve tried to do in this film is break down stereotypes, especially in relation to male and female role-playing,” Streisand said. “We have a fight scene, and Kris cries. It’s the man who cries. And we have a scene in a bathtub where I’m making him up as a woman.”7
In early 1975, A Star Is Born was in preproduction and Rupert Holmes was engaged to write an all-original score. (He was also producing Streisand’s 1975 album Lazy Afternoon.) After relocating to Los Angeles for the association, Holmes left the production on the basis of creative differences with the producer. Yet two of his compositions made it into the score: “Queen Bee” and “Everything.” After Holmes’s departure, Pierson suggested that songwriter Paul Williams write lyrics to Kenny Ascher’s music. Williams, although brilliant, was an unpredictable collaborator. Still, the teaming of Williams and Ascher yielded five songs for the film. There were several other writers brought on to add additional tunes to round out the score, including Donna Weiss and pop-music mainstay Kenny Loggins, along with Alan and Marilyn Bergman.
The highlights of A Star Is Born (1976) are Streisand’s “live” concert performances. Her powerful performance of the “With One More Look at You/Watch Closely Now” finale is truly electrifying.
Streisand herself was the catalyst behind what would become one of the most popular and recognized songs of her career. She had taken up studying the guitar with weekly lessons the previous year. It was while strumming the guitar that Streisand composed a melody that she played for Paul Williams during preproduction. Williams later recalled the first time he heard it: “The first thing she did, she said, ‘Can you use this?’ She picked up a guitar and played the melody. I said, ‘Oh my God, it’s beautiful.’ She was like a little kid. It’s a side of her I’d never seen before. She was like, ‘You really like it?’ I said, ‘Like it? It’s our love theme.’ I wrote words to it.”8 “Evergreen (Love Theme from A Star Is Born)” became the breakout hit of the film and won the Academy Award for Music (Original Song).
With the majority of the music written, the studio hired Grammy Award–winning engineer and record producer Phil Ramone to step in and wrestle all the diverse compositions into a cohesive score. Streisand refused to lip-sync in the film. “I work in a very spontaneous way,” she had said. “I work ‘in the moment’ and I can’t lip-sync to something I recorded three months before.”9 She
decided early in the production that all the singing in the film would be done live.
Warner Bros. cast Gary Busey as Bobby Ritchie, John Norman Howard’s road manager. Busey, who had been acting in film and television for years, would get his breakout role in another rock-and-roll movie, playing the title role in The Buddy Holly Story (1978). In one of his appearances as an actor, director Paul Mazursky appears as Brian, John’s friend and manager. The studio cast Streisand’s friend and former supporting player in The Way We Were, Sally Kirkland, as the photographer, and Kristofferson’s then-wife, Rita Coolidge (along with singer Tony Orlando), played themselves in the Grammy Awards scene.
Barbra Streisand performs for the thousands of concert “extras” at the Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona, for A Star Is Born (1976). Not since her 1967 outdoor concert in Central Park had she appeared in front of such a large crowd.
Missing from the previous incarnations of A Star Is Born was showing the immediate aftermath of the suicide of the male lead. For the first time on-screen, audiences were a witness to Esther’s reaction to the tragedy. Streisand gives a very raw and emotional performance in the John Norman Howard (Kris Kristofferson) death scene.
With three-time Oscar winner Robert Surtees as cinematographer and Peter Zinner as editor, the behind-the-scenes talent matched the star power seen on the screen. One behind-the-scenes credit caused some controversy after the film’s release. In the end crawl, the credit “Miss Streisand’s Clothes From… Her Closet” appeared, which caused a very unnecessary stir at the time. It received ridicule and, according to Streisand, she was “viciously attacked” for some of the costumes.10 The press viewed the credit as Streisand’s self-indulgence for wearing her personal wardrobe. She defended the costumes and her credit with a logical, creative reason, “I collect a lot of antique clothes and that’s why it says in the credits, which was true, ‘Miss Streisand’s Clothes From… Her Closet’ because they were things of mine, just antique things, a lot of antique things.… We were also trying to save money, you have to remember. You know, I had to pay for anything over $6 million, right? Well, I didn’t want to have a big costume budget.”11
