Rehearsals for The Prince and the Showgirl finished on 3 August, and filming began on the 7th. Marilyn later described her role as ‘an actress from six in the morning until noon, and a producer during lunch. Then I was an actress the rest of the afternoon – and a producer from 6.30 until 9 p.m. when we looked over the day’s rushes.’
For the first two-and-a-half weeks, Marilyn reported for work every day but her punctuality left something to be desired. At no time during those first weeks was she on time, and she repeatedly kept her co-stars waiting, so that by the time the film finally wrapped in mid-November, she had been on time on just three occasions, out of a total of fifty-three days on set.
That said, although she was continually late throughout the shoot, she doesn’t deserve many of the stories that have been written about her lateness over the years. Various tales have been woven about Marilyn keeping cast and crew waiting until late afternoon while she went cycling with her husband. However, on 9 January 1957, a document was written that detailed what time Marilyn arrived each day. Yes, she was continually late, but on most occasions it was less than an hour. Furthermore, according to the document, the latest Marilyn ever showed was on 30 October, when she arrived at 12.35 for a 10.30 call-time.
From the beginning, Marilyn’s ‘Method’ approach to acting clashed with Olivier’s classically trained ideas. When he apparently told her to ‘Be sexy’, it put her on edge; she had no idea what Olivier meant by this comment, and despite reassurances from her friends, her confidence never recovered. From that moment on, she referred to him as ‘Mister Sir’.
Marilyn did, however, get one-up on Olivier when she discovered that someone in the crew – she suspected it was Olivier himself – was running a book on how many takes she would need for a fairly tricky scene. Pianist Alan remembers: ‘Marilyn got wind of this and was not amused at the overt insult to her capabilities . . .’
She went home and studied hard so that on the day of shooting she was more than prepared. She delivered the line and then left the room, closing the door behind her as directed. However, within seconds the door flew open again and Marilyn stuck her head through the gap. ‘Pretty good huh?’ she exclaimed, before shutting the door for a final time. This line was not in the script and was an obvious dig at those who doubted her ability to do the scene. However, it fitted in so well that it wasn’t reshot and can now be seen in the final cut.
Marilyn’s continued distrust of her director made her reliance on acting coach Paula Strasberg even more apparent, and completely alienated her from other actors on the set. Whenever Olivier cried ‘Cut’, Marilyn was ushered away to discuss the scene and to rest, and on one occasion, when the director was in mid-sentence, Marilyn turned to her drama coach to ask what he was talking about. At one point Olivier became so enraged by Strasberg that he had her removed from the set, but his satisfaction was short-lived when an enraged Marilyn stormed to her dressing room, refusing to return until Strasberg was reinstalled.
Writer Wolf Mankowitz remembered that he visited the set during a hiatus in shooting, which had been caused, ‘because the relationship between Olivier and Marilyn was very, very bad. He couldn’t stand her at all and found her acting – her way of setting about acting – and Mrs Strasberg’s presence, absolutely unbearable.’
Many of the actors who worked on The Prince and the Showgirl have passed away, but the few who remain remember the influence Paula Strasberg had on the set of the film. Strasberg was witnessed telling Marilyn she was the greatest woman living, and that she was more popular than Jesus. Marilyn endured this kind of flattery, but the crew found it amusing if not a bit irritating, and as a result most of them didn’t attempt to befriend Marilyn, finding her inaccessible and remote.
Daphne Anderson, who played Fanny, remembered that she was often unable to speak to Marilyn because she was reserved and spent so much time with Strasberg; while Vera Day recalled there weren’t many amusing incidents on the set, as Marilyn was always surrounded by her group and kept strictly to herself. This sort of behaviour led many of the actors and crew to think of her as aloof, and it won her no points when it came to popularity.
But Paula Strasberg wasn’t the only person invading the set of The Prince and the Showgirl: Marilyn constantly telephoned Lee Strasberg (running up a bill that was still being discussed months after she’d gone home); Vivien Leigh popped in occasionally and even watched the rushes; and Arthur Miller visited on a regular basis, giving Marilyn a perfect excuse to stop everything and walk off set.
As happened on most film sets, Marilyn had difficulty remembering her lines, and her scenes often required many takes as it was discovered she never said a line the same way twice. One cast member commented that Laurence Olivier aged about fifteen years during the making of the film, and Marilyn’s continuing reliance on Paula Strasberg caused considerable irritation. All this soon gained Marilyn bad press among many of her colleagues: Jean Kent, who played Maisie Springfield, remembered that she was more concerned with the bust line of her dress than anything else, while Esmond Knight, who played Colonel Hoffman, described Marilyn as ‘an absolute cretin’, such was the level of his discord.
For the sake of everyone working on the film, Laurence Olivier ordered a closed set and banned all members of the press. Despite this, however, one eager fan dressed as a window cleaner and climbed on to the roof to try and catch a glimpse of Marilyn in her dressing room. He failed, but several others succeeded, such as the Daily Mail reporter who bumped into her in the corridor. His colleague, Edwin Sampson, took the opportunity to snap the star and although his camera was quickly confiscated, it did lead Laurence Olivier to release two photographs in a bid to calm the reporters. It wasn’t enough though, and several months later, reporter Marcus Milne gatecrashed the studio and spent several hours pretending to be an extra before being removed by one of the third assistant directors.
The banning of the press both at home and at work just succeeded in making them even more determined to ‘dig the dirt’ and write whatever they could about Marilyn. When the Oliviers sent her a large bouquet of flowers, the press chastised her for not sending a thank you letter, but this particular rumour was unfair and untrue, as she certainly did write a note of thanks, which Olivier kept in his personal files until his death in 1989.
Still, few journalists were concerned with reporting on Marilyn’s grace and kindness and in August 1956 they were more concerned that the butler was the only person seen riding the bicycle presented to Marilyn at the Savoy press conference. When she was eventually spotted cycling, on 12 August, journalists were so pleased to see ‘that girl’ on ‘that bike’ that they failed to notice she was riding a completely different cycle to the one she’d been given by the press.
One person who spotted Marilyn on her bike was Gerald Searle, as he cycled home towards Egham one evening. As he arrived at the junction with Wick Lane, he was surprised to see the Millers turning on to the A30 road on their bicycles. Searle noticed that they were not accompanied by bodyguards or entourage, and both looked extremely happy together.
However, not everyone recalled Marilyn’s cycling outings with such warmth. Joyce Jackson was walking through Windsor Park with her husband, their three-year-old toddler and twelveyear-old nephew, when Marilyn and Arthur cycled up behind them. According to Mrs Jackson, her nephew was trailing a long stick behind him, and this made Arthur Miller angry that his wife could somehow be knocked off her bicycle. Unconvinced, Mrs Jackson aired her concerns that the couple shouldn’t be riding in the park, to which Miller allegedly said, ‘But this is Marilyn Monroe, and I am her husband.’ The couple then went on their way, leaving Mrs Jackson very unimpressed with her ‘Marilyn encounter’.
Shooting continued until 22 August, when Marilyn was suddenly struck down with a mystery illness and was unable to work. Newspapers reported that she was suffering from a stomach illness and this led to rumours that she could be pregnant. The pregnancy rumour would not die down for the remainder of her stay, and indeed there is still discussion now as to whether or not she lost a baby whilst in England.
The idea of Marilyn miscarrying during the making of The Prince and the Showgirl seems unlikely. The actress was very open about subsequent miscarriages, and the official announcement of a lost baby would have won her a great deal of sympathy both on and off the set. But no official announcement ever came, and both Amy Greene and the daughter of the Strasbergs, Susan, denied any knowledge of her being pregnant. Arthur Miller rubbished all reports of a pregnancy at the time, made no mention of it in his autobiography and declined to comment when asked about it some fifty years later.
Furthermore, aside from the third assistant director, Colin Clark, no one on the set seems to have heard about any such pregnancy. There is no record or mention of a miscarriage in any of Olivier’s production files and the first Dolly Stiles, Marilyn’s housekeeper, heard of it was when she read Colin Clark’s book. It seems surprising that household staff wouldn’t have had at least some inkling of such an intense situation.
What seems more likely is that Marilyn was suffering once again from endometriosis, since many of her absences occurred around the same time each month. Susan Strasberg remembered Marilyn requiring special pills to get her through a bad menstrual attack, while Esmond Knight later wrote that Marilyn didn’t come to the set one day because of menstrual problems. This seems to have been the case on several occasions.
Adding to the pressure surrounding this bout of poor health was the discovery that the Millers’ cook and butler had been trying to sell their stories to the press. This came as a huge shock to everyone involved, and on 24 August it was announced that the couple had been relieved of their duties. What is surprising about this incident is that before the Millers moved into the house, there were no meetings to discuss confidentiality; it was just expected that the staff would not talk. Added to that, although PC Hunt was in charge of Marilyn’s safekeeping, he had very little to do with the staff, which lead to there being gaping holes in her security. Thankfully for Marilyn, Dolly Stiles fiercely guarded her confidentiality, and when she too was approached to sell her story, she adamantly refused.
As if all this wasn’t enough, Marilyn’s world fell apart when two weeks into the production she apparently found a notebook that Miller had left open on a table at Parkside. In the notebook, Miller had poured out his thoughts of what was happening during the making of The Prince and the Showgirl, detailing problems between Olivier and Marilyn, and saying how disappointed he felt with his wife and how he was ashamed of her.
Marilyn read the notebook in disbelief, and later broke down to the Strasbergs, who were concerned as to how Miller could write such things about his new wife. Although they tried to console her, Marilyn was convinced the notebook had been left open on purpose and took it to mean that her husband was now siding with Olivier. The incident could not have come at a worse time and no amount of comfort could convince her that perhaps what he wrote was just in the heat of the moment. Things were made worse when Marilyn’s staff – as well as the film’s crew – somehow found out about the incident, and although they were unsure of the exact details, they were fully aware that Marilyn was completely distraught by what she saw as her husband’s betrayal.
Alan, Marilyn’s pianist, remembers how the couple behaved around each other during this time: ‘I didn’t like [Miller] and found him very arrogant. He would look at me in a way that seemed like he wanted me to apologize for breathing. That wasn’t Marilyn’s way. She saw how he reacted to other people and this could have been the start of the rot. Marilyn was lovely with kids and old folk; in fact she was nice to everybody but had times when she could be “off” and then people just remember that. Arthur sized you up – you didn’t count if you weren’t in his group.
‘At Parkside I stayed in a corner and tried to blend in with the wallpaper; my mum said it was very vulgar to be seen. Marilyn was certainly ill, I could tell. She was miserable and puffy and her temper was short. She had a temper towards Arthur mainly – it was hot and strong [and] I couldn’t help overhearing stuff. There were rows but there were equally nice times too. I can’t remember the specific diary incident but tensions would blow due to something on the set.’
Marilyn felt betrayed by all sides: in her eyes her husband had been disloyal; Olivier was becoming more and more condescending; the press was turning against her; and even peacekeeping Milton Greene felt Marilyn’s wrath when he was accused of being on Olivier’s side. For Marilyn, her only allies were the Strasbergs and Hedda Rosten, but even that didn’t last long, since Lee only visited briefly and Hedda returned to New York just weeks into production, deciding she didn’t want to risk her friendship by staying in a situation that was quickly reaching boiling point.
Marilyn’s temper was witnessed by pianist Alan during a particularly stressful time at Parkside: ‘One day I wasn’t there when I was supposed to be, and Marilyn exploded at me. I was very careful after that. She seemed very lonely – like she was on her own in a little bubble. Marilyn was often full of fun but at times it was like talking to a black hole.’
Marilyn decided to take her mind off her problems by going on a shopping trip. Alan remembers: ‘The first time she went shopping in London, Marilyn asked Colin Clark where would be a good place to go. He said Bond Street and of course she was mobbed.’ Indeed, by the time she reached Regent Street she was surrounded by hundreds of fans and the police had to be called.
But while the first trip to London was something of a disaster, it didn’t put her off and soon Alan found himself executing various escapes into the city. ‘We used to get out of Parkside through the service route at the back,’ recalled Alan. ‘We’d go under trees and through the property to next door – the Gardener’s Lodge. Marilyn would wear various disguises – hats, overcoat and floppy hat with a shoulder bag. She always had a book or a poetry volume in the bag. Her bottom didn’t wiggle – she used nothing to associate herself with being Marilyn. Sometimes people would look to see who she was but they didn’t recognize her.’
Once in London, Marilyn would behave just like any other tourist. She squealed with delight when she heard Big Ben chime, declaring it ‘Just like the movies,’ and also made a point of visiting the National Gallery, Piccadilly Circus and Charing Cross. She also took the chance to extend her book collection, as confirmed by pianist Alan: ‘Marilyn would make a beeline for Foyle’s bookshop and once you got her in there, you would have to drag her out.’
One day Marilyn took a ‘sicky’ and she escaped into the city with Alan. Once there they did some sightseeing in Trafalgar Square, where she got much more than she bargained for, as Alan recalls: ‘A pigeon went “splat” on the brim of her hat and she didn’t want to take it off because it was part of her disguise. We had to use a hanky and nail brush to scrub most of it off using water from the fountain. Many years later that same hat came up at auction and it still had the stains on the brim!’
But pigeons weren’t the only ones to give Marilyn unwanted attention, as witnessed by Alan. ‘We were in Trafalgar Square and an old lady came up to her. She was about five foot tall, all in black, wearing a hat with fruit and carrying a shopping bag. She stood right in front of Marilyn, poked her between her ribs and said, “Ere, you’re that Marilyn Monroe tart ain’t ya?” She actually winded Marilyn with the poke. Marilyn looked down and in her “Queen” voice said, “Oh thank you, you’re so kind. I’m often being compared to her.” “Snotty cow,” said the old woman and stormed off. Marilyn was in hysterics laughing.’
Another escape came one evening when she wanted to get away from the stifling security at Parkside House. ‘I asked where she would like to go,’ recalls Alan, ‘and she said she’d seen a print of Salisbury Cathedral and had always wanted to see it. Off we went and we toured the cathedral and sat for quite a while. When we left she told me she was hungry and I panicked because I hadn’t thought about what we’d have to eat. We walked past a “chippy” and she said, “That smells good,” so she kept her head down, and we bought some chips and sat on a bench to eat them. She had never had fish and chips before but she wasn’t proud.’
But while these adventures were fun, working in a strange country was still daunting, and made worse on 26 August when Arthur Miller returned to the United States in order to see his children. Still feeling betrayed after finding his notebook, Marilyn went with him to the airport, and the couple sat quietly together in the back of their car, saying their goodbyes. The following day, on 27 August, she was back on the set, but it didn’t last long; on 31 August, she was once again unavailable for work, and shooting had to be rearranged to make allowances for her absence.
Reports surfaced that she was suffering from gastritis, and various doctors were called to her bedside. ‘While she often went out when she was supposed to be ill, there were times when she was actually ill, there was no mistake about that,’ remembered pianist Alan. For the next week Marilyn remained at home, and housekeeper Dolly Stiles recalled that she spent all her time either alone in her bedroom, or pottering around the garden. Finally, on 4 September, Arthur Miller cut short his trip to the United States and returned to England.
Although Olivier had problems of his own when Vivien Leigh miscarried his baby, on the surface at least he appeared calm during Marilyn’s absence. In a letter to his friend Radie Harris, he said they had been able to fill the time perfectly well with scenes Marilyn was not involved with. However, the full extent of her absence was later revealed when it was estimated she had cost the film approximately £38,305 and it could have been finished three weeks earlier if she had been on set, and on time.
The stress of the England trip was certainly taking its toll on Marilyn: she was drinking and her reliance on sleeping pills was growing; she became hysterical when the pills didn’t work or wore off. Her New York analyst was flown in to help and finally she received treatment from Anna Freud, the daughter of her hero, Sigmund Freud.
Added to her misery was the increased security at Parkside House, overseen by PC Hunt, or Plod as he was known. According to pianist Alan, ‘Security was beyond all reason and she resented it. Curtains were drawn in the car; no waving allowed; police at the gate, on the drive and the porch . . . it was far too much and far in excess of reason.’
Disturbingly for Marilyn, she found out that PC Hunt was keeping a diary of her comings and goings at Parkside and then reporting them back to Olivier. ‘She reacted badly,’ remembered Alan. ‘There was no more politeness with Plod. He would go hopping mad – he was in cahoots with [Colin] Clark and Marilyn would like baiting them. One day Plod caught me coming back into the house with Marilyn and it was very unpleasant. “Where have you been?” he shouted at me. “Sorry, what do you mean?” I asked. “I’ve been out.” “Don’t be cheeky young man,” Plod said. I told him that I worked for Marilyn – to Plod she was always Mrs Miller – and that if he wanted to know, he should ask her. Plod got very worked up and Marilyn overheard. She came out and told him that he was very much out of order and what I did was none of his business. She told me to go with her into the drawing room, and closed the door. “Never mind him,” she said and gave me a kiss on the cheak. He had started out being an old uncle but there was more to him than that.’
But PC Hunt wasn’t the only one on Marilyn’s blacklist. She now considered peacekeeper Milton Greene as untrustworthy, and Miller found himself drawn into the business side of Marilyn Monroe Productions. Marilyn accepted Miller’s help until he tried to get her on set, which she considered as him once again taking sides, and subsequently began to resent his involvement. Additionally, she believed that Greene was buying English antique furniture and charging it to Marilyn Monroe Productions, which caused more mistrust between the business partners, and in turn resulted in her relationship with Miller becoming even tenser.
Still, during quieter moments Marilyn continued to share her dreams with her husband, detailing her plans to study history and literature; and her determination to have a quieter, calmer life in New York. They spent time travelling around the countryside, visited Brighton beach and ate at the Shelleys Hotel in Lewes, as remembered by receptionist Peggy Heriot: ‘One afternoon I was in reception at the Shelleys Hotel and in walked Marilyn with her husband Arthur Miller. She wore no makeup but looked really beautiful; they were both very casually dressed. They asked to look around the hotel then came back to reception saying they were hungry and wondered if I could give them something to eat. I telephoned our then chef who was resting in his room, saying that Marilyn Monroe would like some food. He thought I was joking but, once convinced, came down and talked to the couple. They ate in the drawing room and when they left they thanked the chef and me profusely and went on their way.’
On 7 September, although she was unavailable for work, Marilyn attended a production of The Caucasian Chalk Circle at the Palace Theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue. Once again the event made it into the newspapers, and rumours abounded that Marilyn visited the theatre manager, Harry W. Briden, during the interval in order to discuss acting. However, if this was the case, he certainly didn’t write about it in his desk diary. Instead, he revealed that the Millers arrived late and members of the press crashed their way into the theatre during the excitement.
Another theatre trip came on 9 September, when the Millers visited the Comedy Theatre in order to publicize the upcoming production of Arthur’s A View from the Bridge. The play had been refused a public performance licence by the Lord Chamberlain because it included references to homosexuality, but the New Watergate Theatre Club – a membership based organization dedicated to presenting banned plays – had agreed to put on the drama at the Comedy Theatre.
Marilyn sat on the stage with actor Anthony Quayle, while Arthur Miller introduced his play to the audience. However, the press seemed to forget that the event was really nothing to do with Marilyn, and some newspapers severely chastised her the next morning for not making a speech herself. The Daily Sketch, who had presented Marilyn with her own bicycle just a few months before, gave her a thoroughly bad review, calling her appearance a ‘strictly dumb blonde role,’ and criticizing the fact that she had giggled in Arthur Miller’s ear and even sucked her thumb.
Come Monday morning, she was back on the set and seemed ready for work. However, the difficulties surrounding the shoot never really eased, and Marilyn caused her fair share of conflict, especially when she had a row with a member of the crew who accidentally walked in on her whilst she was changing. Some of the cast complained that she didn’t bother to say good morning or goodnight, and there was trouble too when Bus Stop director Joshua Logan visited the set and Marilyn refused to let him in her dressing room. Still angry that a scene had been cut from the film, no amount of apologies would calm the agitated star, and Logan eventually left.
Vera Day recalled another episode when Olivier was setting up camera angles, and politely told Marilyn that he couldn’t see her in the position she was standing in. She immediately retorted, ‘Oh well, if you can’t see me I will go home,’ and swept off the set, leaving cast and crew completely dumbfounded.
In spite of that, and possibly even unknown to her, Marilyn still had her allies on the set. Dame Sybil Thorndyke, who was cast as Olivier’s mother-in-law, never gave up praising her, often telling Olivier off if she thought he’d been too hard on her. She once told him that Marilyn was the only one of them who really knew how to act in front of a camera, and later when interviewed she denied that Marilyn was ever hard to work with: ‘She’s the most charming person; I don’t think she takes direction very well, but then I don’t see why she should. [Olivier] wanted her to do certain things and I said why don’t you leave her alone? She is married to the camera; she is a darling girl and I never found any difficulties with her.’
Vera Day also cared about her co-star, saying that she was, ‘Difficult yes. But there was only one Marilyn and she jolly well deserved to be difficult . . . She was sensationally beautiful, [and] I know she irritated nearly everyone but she was surrounded by a lot of “po-faced actors” who gave her a hard time.’
One day on the way home from Pinewood Studios, Marilyn’s car broke down, much to the annoyance of the chauffeur, who had no idea how to fix it. As he stood gazing vaguely under the bonnet, Tommy Hand, a long-distance lorry driver, got out of his cab to help. His son, Tony, remembered: ‘The driver was happy to let him have a go and my dad soon had the car going again. As he was about to walk away the driver said that the lady he was driving wanted to say thanks, and the back window of the car rolled down and a blonde head popped out. My dad leaned down to say hello and noticed that the lady was with a sour-faced man wearing glasses. The man never so much as looked in his direction but the lady was nice and really grateful. She said she was always being accused of being late but this time it wasn’t actually her fault and laughed at her own remark.
‘My dad was no movie fan and rarely went to the cinema unless there was a James Cagney or John Wayne movie showing but he thought the woman was familiar. He asked if she was an actress and she said yes and he asked her if she was Diana Dors. The lady laughed at this but didn’t say yes or no so he thought she must be Diana Dors and she was laughing at him for not being sure. Dad told her that my mum was a really big film fan and she would never believe that he had met her, so the lady offered to give him an autograph to prove it. She asked if he had any paper but he said no, he only had a pencil, so she reached around and came up with a copy of a theatre magazine that someone at the studio had given her. The magazine showed Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh together as they appeared in the play The Sleeping Prince and the lady said she thought it was meant as a mean joke but dad had no idea what she was talking about and just nodded. She signed the magazine and gave it to him and he said goodbye and thanked her.’
Tommy returned home still thinking he had met Diana Dors, until some weeks later when his wife spotted the magazine and put him straight. However, this wasn’t the end of the story, as some years later son Tony was on a train to London when he spotted a familiar face: ‘I saw a guy in first-class reading a script of Brideshead Revisited. It was Laurence Olivier. I couldn’t believe it at first but he was alone and I summoned up the courage to say hello to him. He smiled in a very cold way and I told him that my dad had met one of his co-stars once. Olivier raised an eyebrow and said “Really?”, so I said yes and told him about the time my dad had met the woman he thought was Diana Dors but who was really Marilyn. Olivier didn’t laugh as I thought he might; he just said, “How disappointing for your father,” and went back to reading his script as if I had become invisible. I thought he was rude and left him alone after that. I didn’t ask for his autograph but wondered at the double entendre of his remark.’
This comment speaks volumes on what Olivier thought of his co-star, and the feeling was pretty mutual. But thankfully, during this difficult time, Marilyn was able to take a great deal of comfort from her fans and the local people at Englefield Green, and several admirers reported being invited into her home for tea. Margaret Gibbon, who lived in Englefield Green, recalled a touching story, as told by her daughter, Susan Elliott: On working in the front garden of her home on Tite Hill, my mother would sometimes see a limousine drive by with a bodyguard in the front and a lady in the back seat and she realized it was Marilyn Monroe going home from filming.’
Mrs Gibbon got into the habit of waving to Marilyn as she passed, and later, whilst having a Sunday drink at the Fox and Hounds pub, she was surprised to be recognized at the bar by the same bodyguard she had seen in the car. Recalls Susan Elliott: ‘As she waited for drinks they struck up a conversation, as he recognized her as “the lady who waves”. He told her that Marilyn was feeling lonely and not enjoying being alone. She cheekily asked if she could get Marilyn’s autograph and he said he would be on duty at the entrance gate the next day and would see what he could do. We drove down to the house, and sure enough, we now have a small signed photo of Marilyn Monroe Miller and I have a signature in my autograph book.’
Another signed photo was given to Beryl Belmont, the daughter of housekeeper Dolly Stiles, who recalled meeting Marilyn during a visit with her mother, in which the star jokingly asked if she could take the ten-year-old back home to America. In September she was also happy to participate in a local charity event, by donating a self-portrait entitled Myself Exercising. The yellow watercolour was signed Marilyn Monroe Miller and later purchased by Terence Rattigan at auction.
Marilyn’s pianist, Alan, remembers some happy moments at Parkside House, when she helped him with his study of poet and essayist Walt Whitman: ‘Marilyn came in and asked what I was doing. She chose a passage for me and we discussed it. One day I couldn’t find my manuscript and went into the drawing room. There was Marilyn propped up on cushions on the sofa with tatty robe and curlers and slippers, holding the paper. One passage had been causing me trouble and Marilyn told me how I should treat it. She wrote, “This has to be read loving, doesn’t it?” on the paper.
‘One day I was listening to Gracie Fields and Marilyn asked who it was. She listened and giggled, and got the drift of what it was about. She wanted to learn how to talk like her and did a pretty good job of it. She wouldn’t say “damn” though because she thought it was rude. She also liked George Formby and was fascinated by the fun and the banjo playing. Marilyn laughed like a drain at the rude bits. She would sing Gracie Fields around the house which was surreal. She was very quick to pick things up and didn’t do a bad job of it.’
Meanwhile, back on the set of The Prince and the Showgirl, Marilyn’s morale was helped along by comedy actor Norman Wisdom, who was working at Pinewood at the time. He recalled: ‘I was delighted to meet Marilyn Monroe at Pinewood Studios when she was making The Prince and the Showgirl with Laurence Olivier. At that time I was making my film A Stitch in Time, and on several occasions she came in to watch my work. In fact, she quite unintentionally ruined a couple of takes. Obviously, of course, once the Director has said “Action”, everyone must remain silent, no matter how funny the situation might be, but Marilyn just could not help laughing and on two occasions she was politely escorted off the set. The nicest thing that happened was that we passed each other in the long hallway one lunchtime. It was crowded but she still caught hold of me, kissed and hugged me, and walked away laughing. Everybody in the hall could not believe it, and I remember my Director, Bob Asher, shouting out “you lucky little swine” – I agreed with him.’
On 28 September Marilyn was once again unavailable for work, but her mood must have been lifted when she received a letter from TV channel ABC, offering her a part in The Brothers Karamazov. At any other time this would have been her dream job, but it was not to be; with personal and professional strains reaching boiling point, the last thing Marilyn needed was yet another project to complete, and the offer was turned down.
During Marilyn’s time in England, she was presented with various opportunities by the BBC to further her dreams of becoming a serious artist: her participation was invited for a production of Aristophanes’ comedy Lysistrata; her input was requested for a tribute to NBC in which she was asked to talk about how radio and television should be used for the education of children; and both Arthur and Marilyn were asked to take part in a serious interview for a series entitled At Home and Abroad, as well as a discussion on ‘Man’s Role in Society’ for the London Forum series. Unfortunately, none of these projects came to anything, and the only reply the BBC received was from agency MCA, stating that Marilyn would be unavailable for any engagements during the making of The Prince and the Showgirl.
On 11 October, after being off set all day, Marilyn and Arthur attended the opening of Miller’s play, A View from the Bridge, at the Comedy Theatre. To show a united front, the Millers left for the theatre from the home of the Oliviers, and caused a near riot when they arrived at the venue, with Marilyn wearing a scarlet satin gown and wrap from designer De Rachelle. The gown was extremely low-cut and photographers wasted no time in climbing to the balcony of the theatre to take photos that looked directly down the front of her dress.
Sitting on seat 16, three rows from the front of the stage, Marilyn appeared relaxed and happy, with her husband on one side and Lord and Lady Olivier on the other. Any tensions from the set of The Prince and the Showgirl were well hidden, and during the evening Marilyn even found time to converse with members of the audience seated behind her.
After the production had ended, the Millers took a bow on stage, and then met with members of the cast and crew backstage. Author Colin Wilson remembered driving past the Comedy Theatre and seeing a huge crowd gathered around the stage door. Realizing what was going on, he and his companion gatecrashed the after-show party and met Marilyn in Anthony Quayle’s dressing room. Wilson found her to be very attractive and charming, while his companion was amused to see her quite shamelessly standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to heave up her low-cut gown.
The next day, filming continued but tensions were still tight, particularly behind the scenes. Marilyn’s expenses were now causing a great deal of concern, and on 17 October a letter was sent to Milton Greene, requesting a complete breakdown of expenditure. However, there was no response to this and subsequent letters, until a final demand had to be written on 12 August 1957.
On the other hand, it wasn’t all doom and gloom on the set and lighter moments were had when Elizabeth Arden’s assistant made a visit to Pinewood in order to pamper Marilyn, Olivier and Greene with manicures and pedicures. Marilyn was also thrilled when hairdresser Gordon Bond taught her rhyming slang in her dressing room. ‘She was a great mimic,’ said pianist Alan. ‘It was a hidden talent and living in Surrey, Marilyn would put on her English accent.’
Thankfully for everyone, the bulk of the work had been completed by this time, and Paula Strasberg returned to the United States for a holiday, much to the joy of Olivier. Marilyn shocked everyone by becoming more cooperative but this soon changed when it was claimed that Strasberg was unable to return to England due to a visa problem. Marilyn hit the roof, and Paula soon returned, much to the dismay of almost everyone – especially when her costs later showed up on Marilyn’s expense report.
The week beginning 22 October was an eventful one for Marilyn. On Monday she arrived some eighty-five minutes late, then kept cast and crew waiting for a further two hours and fifty-five minutes. On Tuesday and Wednesday she called in sick, whilst also taking delivery of clothes and shoes from Paris House, Anello & Davide and De Rachelle, and on Thursday and Friday Marilyn was on set, filming an exhausting ballroom scene. Finally, on Saturday she met with Dame Edith Sitwell, after turning down an invitation from Dame Margot Fonteyn to attend the Bolshoi Ballet. The meeting with Dame Edith was a very big deal, but it was nothing compared to the one that was to take place on Monday evening, when the Queen of Hollywood met the Queen of England.
On 29 October 1956, hairdresser Gordon Bond was sent to Parkside House in order to ready Marilyn for her trip to the Empire cinema, Leicester Square. It was to be a glittering night, full of celebrities and royalty, and she wanted to look her best. Bond created a very regal looking hairstyle, complete with a ‘bun’, and although at least one reporter complained that it was the untidiest he had ever seen Marilyn’s hair, she looked stunning and very confident.
She arrived at the Empire with her husband, wearing a gold lamé gown, with topaz straps and a gold cape. Her outfit included white gloves worn past her elbows and she carried a gold handbag, whilst expertly teetering on clogs with two-inch platform heels. The film shown that evening was The Battle of the River Plate, and afterwards Marilyn was presented to both Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Margaret.
Although she was anxious about where she should stand and what she should say, everything went well on the night, and Marilyn performed an expert curtsy. In footage of the event, Her Majesty can be seen looking at Marilyn’s revealing outfit, before the pair talked for a minute or two about being neighbours (the Queen lived in Windsor which was just minutes away from Englefield Green), while Marilyn claimed that although she was leaving England in a matter of weeks, she was doing so reluctantly.
The Queen then moved on to other stars in the line-up, while Marilyn talked to Princess Margaret about the possibility of her attending a performance of A View from the Bridge. Much was made of this in the newspapers the next day, as it was considered highly controversial that a royal should see a banned play, but Princess Margaret did indeed take Marilyn’s recommendation and attended a performance shortly afterwards.
As she emerged from the cinema, Marilyn declared that the evening had been one of the nicest things that had ever happened to her, adding that she wasn’t at all nervous and found the Queen to be warm-hearted and sweet. She even joked with reporters about her curtsy, giving them an impromptu replay in order to prove she could do it correctly.
Unfortunately, by the time the next day arrived, Marilyn had forgotten all about the success of the night before, and instead was highly agitated and angry on set. Complaining to Gordon Bond, she revealed the basis for her anger was another blonde star – Brigitte Bardot – who had been at the Royal Command Performance too. Upset that the French starlet had upstaged her, Marilyn was heard to call her ‘that silly little girl’ and ask, ‘Who does she think she is?’ The star’s anger was completely unfounded, however, and a look at the morning’s newspapers would have shown her that although Brigitte was mentioned in the stories, the bulk of articles were dedicated to Marilyn.
By this point the production of The Prince and the Showgirl was almost at an end. Marilyn was given four official days off in early November, and her last days on set were the 15–16 November. Eager to end filming as soon as possible, she managed to get to the set for her 6.45 a.m. call-time on both days, although she did keep everyone waiting for two hours and twenty minutes on the 15th.
Still, despite the hold-ups and lateness, the film finally wrapped for Marilyn on 16 November 1956, eleven days after it was scheduled to end. Before leaving the set, she found herself apologizing to the cast and crew for her behaviour, claiming poor health as the reason for the delays and begging them to forgive her. This proved to be a worthwhile thing to do, and although some members of cast and crew would never hold Marilyn in high regard, others proved very forgiving and would always speak of her in a respectful and honourable way.
Although Marilyn’s part in the film may have been complete, she did not leave England immediately. Miller had recently spent several days away from his wife, meeting Simone Signoret and Yves Montand in Paris, but now that he was back the couple spent a quiet few days together at Parkside House.
On 18 November, during a last public appearance in England, the Millers attended an intellectual discussion at the Royal Court Theatre. The event was supposed to be dedicated to the state of British drama, but was quickly transformed into a war of words between authors Colin Wilson and Wolf Mankowitz. The two writers had opposing views on most subjects, leaving the other members of the discussion panel, Arthur Miller, Kenneth Tynan and Benn Levy, lost for words. Sitting on the fourth row and dressed demurely in a black suit, Mrs Miller looked tired but calm as the discussion took place on stage. Wolf Mankowitz remembered there being a great deal of excitement when Marilyn entered the building, as once again there were rumours abounding that the star was pregnant. He recalled that there was a lot of fuss in order to find her a seat, and many people were ‘running around as if she were about to have a baby on the spot’.
Having been brought in to discuss great British drama, Mankowitz was disappointed to discover that Marilyn’s presence destroyed the point of the occasion, as the audience was far more interested in trying to see her, and Arthur Miller seemed so preoccupied that he could hardly concentrate on the discussion at all. Still, Mankowitz managed to say a few words to Marilyn at the end of the discussion, although he remembered she wasn’t too communicative – something he put down to the rumoured pregnancy.
Colin Wilson also remembered meeting Marilyn in the backstage of the theatre, after the discussion had ended. By this time the crowds had become huge outside, so Wilson found himself helping the Millers make their escape by the back door, and recalled Marilyn grabbing his hand during the ensuing escape.
A few days before Marilyn was due to leave England, she bid farewell to her pianist Alan, and presented him with a pen and pencil set and a card. But while Alan would forever hold his brief friendship with Marilyn in his heart, it wasn’t all a positive experience for him. ‘Working for Marilyn caused so much spite for my home life, with people asking “why him?” so my family clammed up about it. I went to see The Prince and the Showgirl but nothing else – we just didn’t talk about it; it was a non-subject.’
On 20 November 1956, the events of the previous four months finally came to an end for Marilyn, too. She said goodbye to her staff, bid farewell to the baby fish she’d befriended in the Parkside fish tank and climbed into her car for the last time.
She surprised everyone by arriving at the airport on time, and a scheduled press conference was held at 6.15 p.m., but contrary to the huge excitement that erupted when Marilyn arrived, her departure was treated in very unflattering terms. There were comments about her untidy hair; snide observations about the lack of autograph hunters at the airport; and absurd remarks about her intellect, with one newspaper commenting that she mentioned Charles Dickens ‘as if she read books every day’.
Photographer Horace Ward, who snapped two pictures of Marilyn that day, recalls: ‘I remember a crowded press conference in the old tin-hut terminal with dreadful drab green curtains they had up as a backcloth, which everyone moaned about. There were hardly any fans around; it was mostly airport staff and a few police.’
Before Marilyn climbed the steps, she told reporters how reluctant she was to leave the country, that she had enjoyed meeting the Queen, and took pleasure in attending the opening of Arthur’s play. She even tried to dampen the rumours of a rift between herself and Olivier, by stating that there had been difficulties on the set, but no more than usual.
Olivier returned the compliment by declaring that Marilyn was a wonderful girl; he was delighted with the film, and he’d do it all over again if he had to. Whether or not this was true is another matter, since when he later travelled to New York to show the film to Jack Warner, he made it very clear that the event was to be completely private, and Marilyn herself did not receive an invitation.
Perhaps it is best left to Marilyn to sum up her experiences of the England trip. When asked about it some years later, she exclaimed, ‘It seemed to be raining the whole time. Or maybe it was me.’