Marcel Marceau signed a deal in 1965 to write an autobiography. He titled it My Silent Cry. It was slated for release in 1970.
In 1983, he said in an interview, “Now they are desperate. But I don’t think the book is late. It’s ripe to come out now. I feel I’m in my prime. If I had died during the sixties I would not have been ‘achieved.’ I know time is running out. I have now ten years of full power. If I’m not better now than I was ten years ago I would have stopped. How could I tell? The public.”
By 2007, the year he died, the memoir was still not published. And the world never knew what Marcel Marceau wept for, openly or privately, silently or aloud.