Book Read Free

Hopper

Page 23

by Tom Folsom


  “There’s no light,” called László.

  “Shoot it anyway!” said Hopper.

  Standing at the overlook in the setting sun, Hopper searched for America, down there in Monument Valley. He couldn’t find her anywhere.

  It was the greatest moment of his life. The road beckoned. The journey continued.

  CAPTAIN AMERICA

  The brilliant thing,” said Peter Fonda, “the beautiful moment, the exceptional thing about it is, we had wrapped the film, we had a big wrap party, and we forgot to shoot the last fuckin’ campfire. It was what it was. It was 1968. We argued about that scene. We screamed at each other for forty-five minutes. He wanted me to say all this shit. I didn’t wanna say it. Mind you, this goes back to September 27, 1967, in Toronto at the Lakeshore Motel.”

  “All I wanna say is, ‘We blew it,’” said Fonda to Hopper.

  “What? Whaddya mean we blew it? What? Fuck, it looks so cool. Whaddya mean we blew it?”

  “He wanted me to explain why we blew it,” recalled Fonda. “I refused. He was yelling and yelling at me and it was this terrible.”

  “Well, tell me what you wanna do, man.”

  “I wanna do it like Warren Beatty.”

  “Warren Beatty? What the fuck do you mean, man?”

  “You know, Beatty cuts all his lines in half and mumbles what he does speak.”

  “Can you hear yourself, man? I mean, man, I mean, man, man, can you dig it, man? You sound like a fuckin’ child, man. They’ve been waiting forty-five minutes for us. So let’s just step out of this motor home and give each other a hug. They’ll just think we’re a couple of actors that have been, you know, working our Method up to do the scene and then we’ll go down and do it. We’ll do it two ways. First we’ll do it your way, then we’ll do it mine.”

  Hopper stepped out of the Winnie and threw his arms around Fonda.

  “I love ya, Fonda!”

  “I doubt it,” thought Fonda, throwing his arms around Hoppy. “I love you, Dennis.”

  BILLY

  We’re rich, man. We’re retired in Florida now, mister.

  WYATT

  We blew it.

  BILLY

  Whaddya mean we blew it?

  WYATT

  No, we blew it.

  “I’m lookin’ at him with my upstage eye,” recalled Fonda. “He had a furrow that maybe Botox removed from him in later life, I dunno, but he furrowed his brow. That Napoleonic furrow was going Grand Canyon, dude! He’s gonna hit me!”

  “Cut! Okay, man. Stay right where you are, man, you know, man, I, man, just, man, just. Man, just stay where you are.”

  “I’m stuttering now,” said Fonda, taking himself back to the moment. “It’s not for effect. If I could pull this tape through, you would hear exactly as it was said. My unfortunate memory is that I got saddled with all this fuckin’ junk. No, it’s not junk. In this moment, it’s not junk. ’Cause it’s about a brilliant man in my life. Hopper was always calling me saying—”

  “You gotta come, Fonda. You gotta see this!”

  “Whether it’s paintings, whether it’s films, you’ve gotta be a part. Irreplaceable. More instructive to me than anybody else in the business. Certainly anybody in my family. Dennis was right in there, delivered me out of the grasp of Hollywood and into the possibility of filmmaking.

  “I never would have seen Duck Soup had it not been for Hoppy. Never would have seen Viridiana. Never would have seen The Exterminating Angel. I never would have seen The Magnificent Ambersons. Never would have done the most incredible fuckin’ shit. It was Dennis who codified me in all those moments in that period of my life, who anointed me, and knighted me, and bouqueted me, and graduated me, and did all that. I don’t think on purpose. It was just—he was so bright—and he had such perception of art and form and substance that it infused my entire life as an actor, as a director, and it continually does that. ’Cause I always use that Cocteau reference. Ninety-eight percent of art is accident. You want that accident. We can’t make it happen. It’s contrived, but if it happens, you realize it and play with it.”

  “Stay right there, man. Don’t leave it. Don’t leave it, man. Don’t leave it.”

  “I’m in the moment. Okay, I’m not leaving.”

  “Okay, László, put the hundred millimeter.”

  “’Cause Hoppy would say, ‘I’ll shoot you with a hundred millimeter. Having photographed me a lot, he knew that my best lens was a hundred millimeter lens. That was the best close-up lens for me. That was the most flattering fuckin’ lens.”

  “Stay right there, man. I may ask you to say it like sixteen times, but can you do it?”

  “Yeah, man, yeah, no problem. Yeah. I can do this, no problem.”

  “Okay, and cut!”

  “All right and action!”

  “We blew it, Billy.”

  “I think we probably blew it in sixty-seven, but I allow myself the opening gate because I wrote it in sixty-seven, so maybe I wrote it before we blew it. There’s no g, Dennis! In Yin/Yang. Doesn’t matter—this close to genius. Thinking we missed it, and suddenly—oh no, we didn’t miss anything. We did fuckin’ genius. We didn’t do it thinking we’re geniuses. At least, I didn’t. I know Jack didn’t. Just fuckin’ did it.”

  Peter wasn’t invited to the funeral, but he just thought it was the right thing to go. He landed in the small Taos airport and took the stretch of highway to the adobe church across the street from Hopper’s old El Cortez movie theater. The leathery men and women employed by High Desert Protection Service stood guard, expecting to be overrun by a pack of Glory Stompers.

  Guarding the “no” list by the church doors—with Victoria Duffy Hopper getting top billing, was the chunky publicist-type gatekeeper of fabulous velvet-rope events. She barred Fonda from entering the church. Fonda got back on the plane.

  “Dennis went to his grave thinking I cheated him,” said Fonda. “I never cheated him. And he never cheated me. Even though he did some stuff that was unhappy for me, he never cheated me. That he would carry that so far into his life, that he would die with that in his heart, upsets me because I would prefer he would die thinking—”

  “We did it, man. We’re retirin’ in Florida, mister. We’re rich, Wyatt!”

  “Aw no, Billy, we blew it.”

  “Whaddya mean, man? We got the money, we’re rich! That’s what it’s all about. You get the money, you’re free.”

  “No, Billy, we blew it.”

  “On the trip back I didn’t say goddamn because I had flown in. I made that ride. We did this film together. Regardless of what happened afterward and how we viewed it, doesn’t make a difference. We did this film together. And I am so happy and proud of that. Regardless of everything else that happened on the negative side, what happened on the positive side is much more important. Yin Yang. Or The Yin(g) and the Yang.”

  THE FUNERAL

  On a hot and dusty afternoon in Taos, Dennis Hopper led a procession of outlaws of one breed or another on a ride to the cemetery. They wore black suits, bolo ties, and paraded a variety of facial hair that would’ve made them clear picks for that two-hundred-dollar best beard contest back in Dodge City. There were plenty of arty goatees, but the two real contenders were a guy with a woolly white beard à la Rip Van Winkle—outlaw historian Peter Mackiness, whom Hopper had cast as Jesus Christ in Backtrack, and a real dude, Kansas-born Doug Coffin, whose pointy mustache stuck out two inches straight on each side like feelers for trouble. He looked like a sheriff out of Tombstone. Somewhere in the mix was movie star Val Kilmer, well baked by the New Mexico sun, looking like a professional wrestler in a cowboy hat. There was the mayor of Taos, who’d finally given Hopper the key to the city. Back when Hopper was locked up in the local jail, the joke was they were going to throw away the key. There were veterans from those wild and woolly days, including Hopper’s personal belly dancer, swathed in blue leopard print. The international press mistook her stone-faced spiritual-healer boyfriend for P
eter Fonda. After the real Fonda was turned away.

  Fans came to Taos from far and wide. An old jazz cat was dressed in his Harlem best—pinstripes and white-and-black spats. A few LA guys wore Crash hats, having worked on the TV series in which Hopper played a deranged music producer. Stoic Tiwa Indians represented the Taos Pueblo. Billy and Captain America once rode through on their way to the movie commune. Coming back full circle after a thousand years, ready to join the riders, were bikers clad in leather and cutoff jean vests, veterans of the bike events “Red River 2010” and “Los Compadres 13th Annual 1991 Bike Run.”

  Blasts farted from their American hogs. Real hogs to be ridden flat out onto the open road, not stuck in some graveyard museum. No Euro crotch rockets here.

  Trailing was the scraggly Dutchman of Taos, the grandson of a Hudson River Valley artist. Hopper once admired his orange Indian chopper now navigating the narrow dirt trail. It was said the man over there with coyote-blue eyes and a silver-tipped cane could get you a buffalo skull if the price was right; he had arranged for Hopper’s burial in this Penitente graveyard, rangy with old crosses and plastic rainbow-colored flowers atop the rock mounds piled on the graves.

  “Wow, this is the hippest place to be buried,” remarked one of Hopper’s art pals to a writer.

  A rock-and-roller concluded this was Hopper’s final blow in the Chicano-hippie war: he’d not only set foot on their turf and taken their women, but he’d also be buried on their land.

  In the shadow of mystical, smiling Taos Mountain, the white pine box was lowered into the earth. Hopper got his send-off, kicked off by that orange Indian chopper.

  VAROOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  VAROOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  VAROOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  VAROOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  VAROOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  VAROOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  VAROOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  The roar was deafening.

  Jack Nicholson burst into tears.

  Suddenly, a Tiwa Indian woman, who was known to have visions, saw Hopper shooting out from his grave on his customized orange-and-yellow Harley-Davidson with the Panhead engine and flames on the gas tank. He was heading higher and higher to a more monumental valley.

  Index

  The pagination of this electronic edition does not match the edition from which it was created. To locate a specific entry, please use your e-book reader’s search tools.

  Note: Page numbers in italics refer to illustrations.

  abstract expressionist movement, 30–31, 66–67, 74

  Academy Awards

  and Blue Velvet nomination, 242

  and Easy Rider nomination, 152, 153, 275

  and Hoosiers nomination, 242

  of Jones, 269–270

  acting career of Hopper

  and agents, 31, 76, 180

  blackballing of, 65, 66–67

  Broadway debut, 69

  Dean’s influence on, 55–56

  early television roles, 28–29, 31

  first leading role, 68–69

  inspiration for, 11, 15

  in youth, 22–27

  See also directors and Hopper; specific films and television shows

  Actors Studio

  Dean’s studies with, 44

  Hopper’s appearance on show, 64–65

  Hopper’s studies with, 65, 66–67

  Newman and Woodward as alumni of, 59

  reputation of alumni from, 62

  Adams, Ansel, 164

  Adams, Nick, 48, 50, 52

  agents of Hopper, 31, 76, 180

  Alabama and civil rights movement, 79

  alcohol

  and creativity, 52

  and Mad Dog Morgan shoot, 200

  rate of consumption, 241

  Alta-Light Productions, 156

  The American Dreamer (1971), 166–67

  American Dream of Hopper, 14

  The American Friend (1977), 209

  American International Pictures (AIP)

  and Easy Rider filming, 119–120

  and The Trip (1967), 98, 105

  Z pictures of, 87

  Amtrak, 191

  amyl nitrate, 217–18, 228–29, 235

  ancestors of Hopper, 239–240

  Anderson, G. M., 170, 277–78

  Angel in Hell (Scharf), 263

  Anspaugh, David, 235–37

  Apocalypse Now (1979), 202–9, 204

  Brando-Hopper tension, 205–6, 207–10

  Coppola’s direction of Hopper in, 204–5, 209

  machete incident, 203

  wild dog encounter, 206–7

  Archerd, Army, 88

  Arkoff, Samuel Z., 120

  Arnoldi, Chuck, 243

  arrests of Hopper

  for drug possession, on Sunset Strip, 121–22

  in Mexico, 222–23

  for shooting incident, in Taos, 198–99, 199, 284

  Arroyo Hondo, New Mexico, 123

  Arroyo Seco, New Mexico, 155–56

  art, accidental nature of, 110, 281

  art collection of Hopper

  auctioning of, 273–74

  and death of Hopper, 272

  IRS’s confiscation of, 197

  in Los Angles residence, 74–76

  in Taos residence, 164–65, 196–97

  in Venice Beach residence, 261–62, 272

  and Warhol’s Mao silk screen, 187, 274

  art films

  Hopper’s interest in, 80, 88–89, 97

  The Last Movie (1971), 93, 135

  and manifesto of Hopper, 84

  artistry of Hopper, Gordon on, 213

  The Art of the Motorcycle Guggenheim exhibit, 259–260

  art work of Hopper

  abstract paintings, 30–31, 71, 73, 275

  Bomb Drop piece, 165

  found after Hopper’s death, 275

  Found Object: Dennis Hopper, 83–84

  Hotel Green Duchamp/Hopper collaboration piece, 76, 273–74

  painting classes of Hopper’s youth, 241

  in Taos, 188

  See also photography of Hopper

  Australia, 200–201

  Autry, Gene, 14

  Backtrack (renamed Catchfire; 1990), 264–65, 284

  Baez, Joan, 79

  Baja California, 99–100

  Baker, Ruth, 15

  Banksy, 274

  Barrymore, John, 23, 77

  Basil, Toni, 109–10, 111–12, 116–17

  Basquiat (1996), 263

  Basquiat, Jean-Michel, 263, 274

  The Beard (McClure), 102

  Beaton, Cecil, 6

  Beatty, Warren, 61, 279

  Bel Air fire (1961), 71

  Belgrade International Film Festival, 191

  Bell, Larry, 73, 188

  Bengston, Billy Al, 73

  Ben-Hur (1925), 62

  Benton, Thomas Hart, 31, 241

  Berman, Wallace, 68

  Big H Motors Speedway, 220–21, 251

  bikers

  in The Glory Stompers (1967), 103

  Guggenheim Motorcycle Club, 259

  at Hopper’s funeral, 285

  Billy the Kid (1941), 60

  birthday party in France, 271

  Black, Karen, 109–10, 111–12, 113–14, 115–17

  blackballing of Hopper, 65, 66–67

  Blank, Les, 113

  Blue Velvet (1986), 226–230, 228, 242

  Blum, Irving, 73, 74, 188

  Bodie, Cheyenne, 59

  Bogart, Humphrey, 9

  bohemians of Hollywood, 23, 30

  Bomb Drop (Hopper), 165

  Bonney, William “Billy the Kid,” 59

  Boone, Daniel, 17, 19

  Booth, Frank (Blue Velvet character), 226–230, 242

  Brando, Marlon

  acting style of, 23

  on Apocalypse Now shoot, 202–3, 205–6, 207–10

  and the civil rights movement, 79

  and Dean, 202–3, 206, 209
>
  dislike of Hopper, 205–6, 207–10

  and Fonda, 106–7

  Broadway debut, 69

  broken-plate portrait of Hopper, 263

  Brown, James, 79

  Burch, Ruth, 28

  Burr, Raymond, 24

  Burroughs, William, 251

  Bush, George W., 263–64

  Byrds, 79

  Cameron, Marjorie, 68–69

  Campbell’s Soup Cans (Warhol), 73–74

  Camus, Albert, 37–38

  cancer diagnosis of Hopper, 272, 274

  Cannes Film Festival (1969), 132, 133

  Carradine, David, 197

  Carson, Kit, 166

  Cass, Elliot “Mama,” 101, 164

  Catchfire (1990), 264–65

  Catholic Church, 145–150

  Cavalcade for America (television series), 28–29

  chandelier in Taos residence, 266–67

  Charlie Rose talk show, 249

  Cheyenne (television series), 58–59

  Chicano-Hippie War, 155–58, 285

  childhood and youth of Hopper, 8–20

  acting-career roots in, 11, 14

  in California, 21–27

  cowboys of, 11, 15

  in Dodge City, Kansas, 8–20, 9

  and Dodge City premiere (1939), 8–11, 9

  education, 22, 25, 27

  on family farm, 11–12, 70, 268

  film depicting (proposed), 268

  grandmother’s role in, 12–13, 15, 18–19

  high dive incident, 20

  movies seen in, 14, 15, 23

  painting classes of, 241

  parents of (see Hopper, Jay; Hopper, Marjorie Mae Davis)

  theater exposure during, 22–27, 26

  trains of, 12, 13, 14, 18

  and World War II, 12, 17–18, 19, 20

  children of Hopper

  and acting role choices, 249

  and art collection, 76, 272

  with Brooke Hayward, 76, 188, 272

  with Daria Halprin, 192

  and divorces, 131, 192

  children of Hopper (continued)

  and hair of Hopper, 137

  with Katherine LaNasa, 249, 273

  Chincheros village, 7–8

  Christie’s, 274, 275

  A Christmas Carol (stage production), 22

  Citizen Kane (1941), 80, 159, 276–77

 

‹ Prev