DURING THE MID-1950S, MARILYN’S fan mail averaged around five or six thousand letters per month. She received all kinds of correspondence. Young men would send marriage proposals and requests for signed photographs, while teenage girls would say how they too wanted to become an actress when they were older. One older lady fan even sent in underwear, just in case she was cold when wearing such skimpy clothing.
Of Marilyn’s fans and detractors, director Billy Wilder had the following to say to Pete Martin: “There are two schools of thought about her—those who like her and those who attack her, but they both are willing to pay to watch her.” Young film fan Maureen Brown was definitely one of the former. She remembers the days in the early 1950s when she first discovered the woman she has now admired for over six decades:
I first became aware of Marilyn after seeing her in cinema newsreels. She was so beautiful, so vibrant. Since I was a skinny, dark-haired twelve/thirteen year old, I wanted to be her!… I had seen quite a few of her early films, but it was seeing her in these newsreels that made me love her before she was even a big star. I would buy film magazines—mostly Picturegoer and Photoplay—with my pocket money and pin pictures and newspaper cuttings all over my bedroom walls.
For a time I also had photos of Jayne Mansfield, Diana Dors, and Brigitte Bardot, but they were soon replaced by new ones of Marilyn, as she became more famous. I loved all the pinup pics of her when she was a model. In fact, I loved everything about her! Most kids had Elvis or Cliff Richard inside their desk lids, but not me. I had Marilyn! I was so excited when she came to England because by now we had television and she was in the news constantly. My love for her has never diminished and in fact it has grown even stronger over the years. Marilyn was way ahead of her time in so many ways and I was devastated when she died. If I had one wish, it would be that I could have known her in real life, but I’m grateful that I was able to know her through film and television during the time she was alive.
Maureen is a true example of the kind of teenager who was fascinated by Marilyn as a person and image, but not everybody was enraptured. One young fan remembered being forbidden to see her films because his mother considered the actress to be a bad influence on young girls and boys. When his friends arranged a trip to see a Monroe film, he went along anyway, praying that his mother would never find out. Of course she did, and within minutes of taking his seat, he was dragged out of the cinema, disappointed to be caught and embarrassed to be shown up in front of his friends.
It wasn’t just middle-aged women who did not particularly care for her. Virginia Nicholson, author of Perfect Wives in Ideal Homes, remembers Marilyn being famous when she was a little girl: “Like everybody else, I watched and enjoyed her films. But I never had any aspirations to be like her, as although she seemed beautiful, funny, and sexy, in the world I grew up in, she was really the personification of the ‘dumb blonde.’ We all much preferred Greta Garbo, who seemed way more mysterious and sophisticated! Yes, obviously, Marilyn Monroe was very much a 1950s ‘type’: ultra-feminine, aspirational, with all the wily pseudo-submissiveness and glamour that was unfortunately expected of women at the time. Her personal story is also deeply sad. I have always thought of her as a very damaged human being.”
Virginia’s recollection of Marilyn being the personification of a dumb blonde is an important one, because it reflects exactly what the studio chiefs wanted the public to think. It also illustrates just what the actress was fighting against during her rebellion and beyond. Feminist author and advocate Gloria Steinem had similar feelings. She actually walked out of a screening of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes because she was embarrassed and believed that Marilyn was a joke—someone who was the complete opposite of everything Steinem wanted to be in her life. It wasn’t until the women’s movement some years later that she realized what had been going on in society and Marilyn’s life during that time and wondered if she could have saved her, given the chance. Steinem’s original negative feelings were forgotten, and in the 1980s, she contributed text to accompany George Barris’s photos in the book Marilyn: Norma Jeane.
While Marilyn was campaigning for acceptance and her rights as an actress and a woman, she was unknowingly starting a ripple effect that would filter down through the decades. Fans inspired by her determination and revolution sometimes go on to have creative lives themselves. Madonna and Mariah Carey are perhaps the most famous examples of how much Marilyn inspired subsequent generations, but they are far from the only ones. Filmmaker Gabriella Apicella finds strength and encouragement through being a fan:
Quite simply, I do not believe I would be working in the film industry if it were not for Marilyn Monroe. When I first saw her, I was only a child, skipping through television channels, and alighting on a fragment of a documentary. The clip on-screen was her performing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” As a child of the ’80s, I thought at first it was a clip of Madonna’s “Material Girl” video. While I looked and saw that this was not Madonna, but someone else, I was instantaneously hooked.
She was magical to me. I could not believe at first that she was a real person who had actually existed! (In some ways I still catch myself feeling that way!) The following day, my mother bought me a second-hand copy of Marilyn Among Friends by Sam Shaw and Norman Rosten. It so happened that this was during some difficult changes in my home-life, and while chaos reigned around me, I sought solace in images and films of Marilyn. I became immersed in her world as much as I could, covering my walls with every image I could find.
As I grew older, I wanted to read what she read. I watched the other films of the directors she worked with, and actors she knew, or respected, or performed alongside. I read plays and books that she admired. All of my knowledge of film history is a spider web with Marilyn Monroe at the core.
When I went to university and discovered Italian neo-realist films, I was elated to discover that the iconic director of Bicycle Thieves—Vittorio De Sica—was on Marilyn’s list of approved directors. As a new dimension of understanding about film and its history opened up to me, Marilyn was still there in the heart of it all!
As a screenwriter, I am fixated on visual storytelling, and how the language of cinema has the power to translate emotions through the screen to millions via nuance, gesture, and behavior. Marilyn taught me this in Bus Stop, The Misfits, The Prince and the Showgirl, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and The Seven Year Itch. The tremor of lips, a wink, a raised eyebrow…. In cinema, these convey more than words can hope to.
Because Marilyn Monroe made me feel so very much through the power of film, I know in every cell of my body that cinema is the most powerful art form on earth. While I spent a long time keeping this world at a safe distance while working in office jobs, never risking my dreams seriously enough to see if I could succeed as a filmmaker, I am now a few years in to my own magical journey, and will always thank Marilyn for her inspiration from the very beginning.
ON JUNE 12, 1955, Marilyn gave a short but revealing interview to NBC’s David Garroway. During the chat, she revealed that she kept a journal; did not mind if she fell from the top of show business, as long as she could be a great actress; was grateful to be famous but missed her anonymity; and when she retired, she would like to move to Brooklyn. The last revelation raised laughs from Garroway, but Marilyn insisted that it was true—that she loved walking the streets, meeting the people, and looking at the view of Manhattan.
While this might have been the case, Marilyn’s affection for Brooklyn might also have come as a result of a new, unexpected love. Arthur Miller was the famed playwright of such theatrical works as Death of a Salesman and The Crucible. He had met Marilyn some years earlier, when she was still a starlet and he was hoping to sell a script to Hollywood. She was mourning the loss of her agent and lover, Johnny Hyde, after his death in December 1950, and Miller gave her a shoulder to cry on. They also found a lot to talk about, and spent hours discussing great works of literature. Miller realized that Marilyn was far more than the image she portrayed on-screen, while she discovered that in addition to being a great writer, he was also a skilled carpenter, tennis player, and could strip down a car engine just as well as a mechanic.
However, Miller was married at the time, and fearing that he’d fall in love with the starlet, he’d quickly fled from Hollywood and headed back to New York. The two kept in touch for a while, exchanging book lists and notes, but there was no romantic attachment. Interestingly, in 1954, when asked by Pageant magazine to name ten men who interested her, the current Mrs. DiMaggio gave Arthur Miller a glowing report:
He is one of the few contemporary playwrights who has found a way to successfully mirror our times. Like in Death of a Salesman. Or, he’s also adapted Ibsen’s Enemy of the People. Like in his new play, about a witch hunt. In his plays, he has a way of waking people up with what he says. I know there are wonderful things to come from him still. Yes, I’ve met him. He’s very attractive personally. I think his play that meant the most to me was Death of a Salesman, but the thing I liked most was a book he wrote, called Focus. It was about anti-Semitism. I wish he’d write more books. It was a very serious, wonderful book.
While she may have raved about him in 1954, it wasn’t until a year later, when Marilyn was in Manhattan and Miller’s marriage was crumbling, that they reintroduced themselves properly. This time, he did not run away. Instead, he became even more estranged from his wife and fell madly in love with Marilyn. Because the DiMaggio divorce was not yet final, and Miller was still living in his marital home, the romance remained a closely guarded secret. During this time, whenever asked if there was any relationship in her life, Marilyn always—without exception—told reporters that there was nobody and she wished there was.
This period of secrecy must surely have been difficult, but somehow the couple managed to carry out their romance with just a few rumors here and there. Together they explored Brooklyn, met in friends’ homes, and went to offbeat restaurants and on bike rides to districts not known to be frequented by fans or press. The relationship was so secret that even her hairdresser, Peter Leonardi, was surprised when it was eventually revealed. “I was with her morning, noon, and night during this time, and I never even heard the name Miller,” he said.
Years later, the actress told Louella Parsons about her admiration for the playwright: “I am in love with the man, not the mind. When I first met Arthur, I didn’t even know he was the famed writer of plays and the Arthur Miller I became attracted to was the man—a man of such charming personality, warmth, and friendliness. I won’t say that later I didn’t fall more in love with him after I grew to know him and to appreciate his great talent and intellect. But I would have loved him for himself without his fine achievements.”
IN EARLY SUMMER 1955, Milton and Amy Greene left on a trip to Europe to try to find suitable projects for MMP. This revelation intrigued and amused columnist Hedda Hopper, who quipped that they would surely need Zanuck’s permission before purchasing anything for Marilyn herself. In any case, Milton asked if the actress would like to go with them, but instead she decided to stay in New York to study and spend time with Arthur Miller.
While the Greenes might have been anxious to find work for the actress, she was being inundated with scripts and potential offers. The Jean Harlow biopic surfaced again, and there were The Girl in the Red Velvet Swing, Bus Stop, and The Blue Angel. Marilyn was also rumored to be interested in purchasing the rights to a civil war story called The Smiling Rebel. But work was not on the immediate agenda, and at the end of July, Marilyn spent the weekend in Connecticut, relaxing with Cheryl Crawford.
In early August, she attended the centennial celebrations in Bement, Illinois. Promoted as a day dedicated to President Lincoln and the arts, Marilyn was thrilled to take part, especially since she had long been an admirer of the former president. Photographer Eve Arnold captured the Bement trip with her camera, and the photos reveal a tired but determined woman, anxious to do her best and make people happy. Marilyn worked hard that day, and the residents greatly appreciated her taking the time to speak to them. A highlight came when she was asked to judge a competition to see who had the best beard in town. This had little to do with culture, but Marilyn went along with it in good humor, telling reporters that some of the beards were longer than her hair.
An obvious hit in Bement, days later Marilyn was invited to a Soviet embassy reception in Washington, DC. The aim was to meet Soviet agriculturists who were touring the United States, but the actress turned the organizers down, blaming a prior commitment. Shortly before the invitation, the delegates had viewed There’s No Business Like Show Business and gave their approval. “It seems to me she’s not there for the sake of the motion picture,” said one delegate, “but instead the motion picture exists for her.”
The summer continued on a calm and happy path. She spent a weekend with the Rostens and also took up residence with the Strasbergs in their summer house on Fire Island. While there, residents got used to seeing Marilyn on the beach, wearing jeans and no makeup, her hair uncombed and her feet bare. Beside her always would be a stack of books, several of them volumes of poetry. Most people stared quietly from afar, but there were those admirers who got a little too close. One day on Fire Island she was mobbed to such a degree that the police had to be called. A few weeks later, during a trip to Port Jefferson, Marilyn and Norman Rosten were forced into the sea by a crowd of fans and literally had to swim for their lives.
One person who saw a lot of Marilyn during her vacation time was Lee and Paula’s daughter, Susan. She was still a teenager, but shared a room with the actress and suffered equal amounts of jealousy and happiness while in her company. She cared for her surrogate sister, and the two would often gossip about all manner of subjects, including their love lives, makeup, and clothes. However, Susan was still insecure about the amount of time and attention the actress received from her parents and found it hard to accept that after searching for a father all her life, the one Marilyn actually found was Susan’s.
On October 20, 1955, Marilyn made the pivotal decision to officially say a firm good-bye to Los Angeles by having her belongings shipped to the East Coast. When they eventually arrived, she moved everything into her new apartment on Sutton Place. Then on October 27, her divorce from Joe DiMaggio was finalized. Earl Wilson was eager to hear if she had been in touch with him in recent months. “No,” she said. “At least I haven’t made any appointments to see him.” When Wilson asked if she’d like to be married again, Marilyn refused to give anything away. “I do, but it’s not as simple as that and I don’t see any time for that now.” She also assured Wilson—falsely—that there was no man in her life. When the same reporter caught up with DiMaggio and asked about the failed marriage, he shrugged and replied, “I never think about that anymore.”
In November 1955, rumors swirled that not only was Marilyn close to negotiating a new contract with Fox, but she had also secured herself a magnificent role in a new film called Bus Stop. This story was treated with caution by Marilyn, but she did speak to columnist Edwin Schallert about her immediate plans for the future. During the chat, Marilyn revealed that she would embrace the freedom of acting onstage, had every intention of staying in New York indefinitely, and wanted to continue her studies at the Actors Studio.
“The public deserves its money’s worth when I appear in a picture,” she said, before adding that was precisely why she wanted the best directors and training. When asked a little later which directors had been beneficial in her career, Marilyn showed no hesitation, listing John Huston, Billy Wilder, and How to Marry a Millionaire’s Jean Negulesco. However, while she certainly appreciated Negulesco’s direction, the film itself was not a favorite, and she saw the character of Pola as a gimmick and not at all genuine.
On December 12, Marilyn attended the premiere of The Rose Tattoo with actor, friend, and occasional love interest Marlon Brando. The performance doubled as a benefit event for the Actors Studio, and Marilyn seemed to revel in posing for pictures for Milton Greene and other photographers. She grew shyer, however, when a radio reporter pounced on her, Marlon, actor Sid Caesar, and playwright Tennessee Williams. Brando seemed to take over almost the entire fifteen-minute chat, and at one point he and Caesar were so busy talking and asking questions that the female journalist seemed irrelevant to the proceedings.
It was clear that out of the four people standing in front of the reporter, it was Marilyn she most wanted to speak to, but getting past Brando was quite a task. When she was able, Marilyn confirmed that she attended the Actors Studio twice a week, participated in Lee Strasberg’s private classes also twice a week, and then additionally observed at others. When questioned by Brando about the nature of her studies, the surprised actress revealed she was studying Ulysses and improvisation.
Once Brando and the others had gone, Marilyn further explained that she hoped her next film would be Bus Stop, and that acting on the stage was a definite plan for the future. At that point, Helen Hayes, the “First Lady of the American Theater” joined the conversation and Marilyn seemed rather shy in her presence. The veteran actress confirmed that the two had met just days before when they were both at the Actors Studio, but offered no further comment. At that point, Marilyn managed to find a way to escape and the radio interview was brought to a swift finish.
No doubt if the reporter had asked Marilyn about her stage plans while Marlon Brando was still nearby, he’d have had a lot to say. The actor greatly enjoyed working in theater and spoke about his feelings just a few months before The Rose Tattoo premiere: “On the stage there is a feeling of integration within the company, which is lacking in films. On the stage you’re dealing with art, pure and simple.”
IT HAD NOW BEEN a year since Marilyn walked out of Hollywood and into her new life. While it had been one of learning, making friends, and exploring the city, there had also been moments of frustration because of her ordeal with Fox. Marilyn mentioned this to Maurice Zolotow: “My fight with the studio is not about money. It is about human rights. I am tired of being known as the girl with the shape. I am going to show that I am capable of deeper acting.”
Milton Greene spoke about Twentieth Century Fox in an interview with John Gold: “They were pretty tough on Marilyn at times. Some of the things that were said came pretty close to intimidation. It took courage for her to sit it out all those months and not give way. But Amy and I told her we would win in the end—and we did.”
Milton was correct. On December 31, 1955, Marilyn finally signed a new contract with Twentieth Century Fox. After continuing to receive thousands of demanding fan letters over the past year, the studio bosses knew that they really had no option but to bow to her demands. Spyros Skouras was a seasoned businessman, and he knew that Marilyn was good for the studio, even if Darryl F. Zanuck refused to admit it. For a long time the two men argued about how many rights the actress should have, but Skouras was adamant that the contract needed to be finalized without any further delay. Eventually Zanuck conceded, gave in to the actress’s demands, and the feud came to an end.
The contract Marilyn and her associates were able to negotiate was nothing short of revolutionary. Gone was the clause that insisted she must work solely for the studio. Instead, she would have to shoot just four Fox movies in the space of seven years and would be allowed the freedom to make films for Marilyn Monroe Productions too. In addition, she could perform in a number of television and radio programs. The script, choreographer, and cinematographer of each film would be approved by her, but more importantly, the directors on her handwritten list were now the only ones she had to work with. These included Billy Wilder, George Cukor, Elia Kazan, Joshua Logan, William Wyler, Joseph L. Mankiewicz, Alfred Hitchcock, David Lean, John Ford, John Huston, Vittorio De Sica, Fred Zinnemann, Lee Strasberg, George Stevens, Vincente Minnelli, and Carol Reed.
Marilyn had won a huge battle both for herself and for other actors who wished to have some creative freedom. She spoke about the deal to reporter Earl Wilson: “What I have settled for is a compromise. It is a compromise on both sides. I do not have story approval, but I do have director approval. That’s important. I have certain directors I’ll work for and I have trust in them and will do about anything they say. I know they won’t let me do a bad story. Because, you know, you can have a wonderful story and a lousy director and hurt yourself.” Normally loath to discuss money, Marilyn was anxious for Wilson to know that her contract was worth $100,000 a picture. “The same $100,000 that they said I walked out on before!” She did not add, however, that there were several bonuses and other clauses that gave her the opportunity to earn much more than that.
Around the same time that the new contract arrived, a decision was made to relieve company director Frank Delaney of his duties within Marilyn Monroe Productions. After Marilyn’s death, he told her former business manager, Inez Melson, that he felt that Marilyn and others in the company could not wait for him to go. He regretted any negative feelings toward him, however, since he felt perhaps he could have helped in her future career.
To biographer Maurice Zolotow, Delaney revealed that by the time the new contract was signed, Marilyn had piled up a huge amount of expenses, all of which had been paid by Milton Greene. The money had become such a concern that if the contract had not been executed, he would surely have gone broke.
Ironically, just two months after the end of Marilyn’s standoff with the studio, Darryl F. Zanuck was accused of walking out on his own contract when he announced that he wished to step down from the helm of Twentieth Century Fox. In echoes of Marilyn’s battle, he then left Hollywood—only he moved to Europe, not New York—before coming back to negotiate a new contract for himself as an independent producer. He eventually returned to take control of Twentieth Century Fox in 1962.
ON JANUARY 2, 1956, the New York Times carried an announcement that Marilyn was to act in the screen adaptation of Terence Rattigan’s play The Sleeping Prince. Scheduled to be shot over the summer months, the film would apparently be directed by John Huston and costar legendary British actor Sir Laurence Olivier.
Dubbed “an occasional fairy tale,” the play was set in 1911 and revolved around the Grand Duke Charles, who invites a young American showgirl called Elaine Dagenham (who later reveals her real name to be Mary) to have dinner with him at his private residence. Unbeknownst to her, it is strictly a dinner for two, though the duke’s attempts at seduction do not go far, particularly when his eccentric wife turns up and takes a shine to Elaine, asking the young woman to accompany her to the king’s coronation. A thread running throughout the tale is Elaine’s theory that the duke does not have enough love in his life. By the end, both parties have decided that they love each other, though circumstances prevent them from continuing any further with the relationship.
The play opened to great applause at London’s Phoenix Theatre in 1953 and starred Laurence Olivier as the duke and his wife, Vivien Leigh, as the showgirl. Having played various American roles in the past, Leigh was eager to turn the part into a British one instead. However, being American was essential for the role, since there is a pivotal scene where Elaine reveals she has specific political opinions related to her country. Leigh relented, and according to Theatre World magazine, audiences “gave Vivien Leigh the most enthusiastic welcome of her career.”
Vivien declared Olivier to be her favorite leading man, though critics did sometimes question the partnership. “One wonders,” said a columnist for Theatre World, “if there might be some disadvantage in a leading lady having her husband for a leading man.” The same anonymous reporter did have to admit, however, that “by knowing each other so intimately in private life, they are bound together by a mutual understanding that enables them to communicate ideas to each other on the stage without so much as a suggestion of sign language.”
The play was brought to Marilyn’s attention by Charles Feldman in 1954, and later by Milton Greene, who was eager to purchase it for MMP. By the time Marilyn became interested in it as a vehicle, director William Wyler was in the running to buy the property, but the moment he withdrew, MMP stepped in and won the deal. Much was said about the fact that Vivien was dropped from the starring role, with some suggesting the harsh cinema lighting made her too old to play the part. There is possibly some truth in that theory, though more likely is the fact that with Marilyn’s company producing the material for the screen, she was certainly not going to pass up the opportunity of starring in it herself.
In early February 1956, Laurence Olivier and Terence Rattigan arrived in New York to meet with Marilyn and attend several other business meetings. It was not the first time she had met the actor; the two had been introduced during her starlet days, when she was in the company of agent Johnny Hyde. However, even Marilyn doubted that Olivier had actually remembered such a meeting, so when the two finally did get together, it was regarded as a brand-new experience for both.
Marilyn’s agent, Jay Kanter, remembers that the actress was enamored by the prospect of working with Olivier, and he was given the task of meeting both the actor and playwright at the airport. According to Kanter, the plan was to take them to a hotel and Marilyn would meet them there, but New York City was suffering a particularly awful downpour and as the car sped from the airport, Olivier announced, “No, let’s not have her out in the rain.” Instead, he wanted to meet at her Sutton Place apartment, so as soon as he could, Jay called Milton to let him know what was going on and to alert Marilyn.
After freshening up in the hotel, Jay took the men to the apartment, where they were met by Milton Greene. “Come in,” he said enthusiastically, and proceeded to serve them food and drink while Marilyn readied herself in the bedroom. Unfortunately, she took so long to get ready that everyone was left wondering whether she would ever come out at all. An hour went by and finally Jay told Milton that both Rattigan and Olivier would need to leave for another meeting fairly soon, which prompted the photographer to go see what was going on.
When he returned, Milton announced that it wouldn’t be too much longer, but after more time passed, Jay ended up going into the room himself. The actress was sitting in front of her dressing table mirror. “Marilyn, they’re waiting and have to leave soon,” he told her. Jay recalls that she was scared to death of meeting the English heavyweight, but finally got up and went into the living room. The two were introduced and Olivier was “so gracious and she was very silent but in total awe of him.”
Olivier charmed her throughout the meeting, to the point where Marilyn came away thinking that he really was the greatest actor in the world. The relationship had gotten off to a fantastic start, and this was cemented when Marilyn and Olivier attended a performance of The Diary of Anne Frank together. Unfortunately, a trip backstage was not as positive as it could be, after Susan Strasberg asked the actor what he thought of her performance as Anne. When Olivier criticized her, Marilyn without hesitation jumped to her friend’s defense.
Even this early in their relationship, there were rumblings of trouble. Olivier had attended a lesson at the Actors Studio and witnessed Lee Strasberg berating a student he believed to have many faults. Olivier thought the episode was a form of bullying, and he told Strasberg so, in the most polite way he could. He was not, however, the first to witness such behavior. Writer James Roose-Evans wrote in 1957 that Lee easily lost his temper with those refusing to take criticism. To one actress he was heard complaining, “I wish you would use some of that emotion in the scene. You waste my time, our time, and I’m insulted.”
Laurence Olivier did not support the Method, but he had actually read Stanislavski and found his teachings interesting. What he did not appreciate, though, was anyone who brought the man’s ideas and actions onto a film set. In his opinion, if one was to study Stanislavski’s System or Strasberg’s Method, one should do so at home and then leave them firmly at the studio door.
In addition to acting methods, there was also the problem of directorial credit. While Marilyn was extremely happy with the idea of costarring with Laurence Olivier, she had not initially thought about him as a director. That was why it had been originally announced that John Huston would take the job, because the director had already been in negotiations with Rattigan before the project was confirmed. Olivier had directed the play, however, and when Huston dropped out, the British actor was soon given that job on the film production too. Marilyn went along with the decision, but according to Susan Strasberg, her father Lee was not the least bit happy about it. To complicate matters further, the film would be released under the banner of both Marilyn Monroe Productions and Laurence Olivier Productions.
A press conference was called to announce the project, but it was all rather stilted and formal. In fact, some reporters felt that Olivier answered most of the questions as if he were the prime minister, such was his rigidity and politeness. However, they were all intrigued by the announcement that the film would mean Marilyn moving to England for four months. Then when her dress strap broke in front of the entire room, the reporters went wild and the normal chaos of a Monroe press conference ensued.
When Olivier was due to leave the States, newspapers were filled with gushing quotes between the new business partners. “Marilyn is an expert comedienne and therefore a good actress,” he was quoted as saying. “Olivier has always been my idol” was her reply.
On his arrival at London airport, Olivier told reporters that he had adored spending time with Marilyn. “She is very sweet, very charming, very talented and very easy to get on with,” he said. “I am not in the least surprised to be playing against Miss Monroe. I am delighted. It seemed a very good idea to make a film with her.”
Even Vivien Leigh was quoted as saying she was thrilled that the part she had played onstage had now gone to Marilyn. “I cannot think of anyone better than Miss Monroe,” she said, before adding that the actress was more than welcome to live with her and Olivier in London. Anyone hoping that the Gone with the Wind star would laugh at Marilyn’s acting talents was left severely disappointed. Instead, Leigh expressed her belief that she was “an absolutely brilliant actress” and was sure that she could act in any Shakespeare play she wished to.
The teaming with Laurence Olivier seemed to bring out a new way of thinking toward Marilyn not only as an actress, but as a revolutionary too. Alan Brien from the Aberdeen Evening Express was first to recognize that she was undoubtedly leading a revolt of Hollywood actors against the studios. Noting that stars such as Jane Russell and Burt Lancaster had also taken up the fight in the past six months, Brien said that Marilyn was winning the battle and had achieved in one year the freedom it had taken Orson Welles and Laurence Olivier a lifetime to secure.
OLIVIER AND RATTIGAN BEGAN the mammoth task of changing elements of The Sleeping Prince to suit the screen. Out went the name Elaine Dagenham/Mary, and in came the prettier Elsie Marina. Then the part of the duke’s eccentric wife was changed into a vague and brusque mother-in-law. Along with the name change, Elsie’s character was also softened slightly, since in the play she was something of a political philosopher. “You can hardly expect Marilyn Monroe to depict a political theorist,” said Rattigan. “Shall we say that, as played by Miss Monroe, she will be a girl whose thought processes do not work quite so fast.”
When casting began, many of the actors who had appeared in the stage version were now enrolled to appear in the film. These included Richard Wattis as Peter Northbrook, Jeremy Spenser as King Nicolas, and Paul Hardwick as majordomo to the duke. While Vivien Leigh would not have a part in the film, her presence was everywhere apparent, particularly since Terence Rattigan never made any secret of the fact that by the time he had finished writing the original play, it had been her he was specifically writing it for.
During their time working on the stage production, Leigh and Olivier had rehearsed their parts for hours, and they shared secret keywords between each other to have perfect timing in every scene. Then after each performance, the couple would sit down to discuss how they could experiment with their parts to make them even better for the next evening. One scene when the duke makes a phone call while the showgirl eats caviar made a huge impression on audiences and critics alike. “Perhaps only a husband and wife would have the patience and endurance to rehearse that scene as frequently as the Oliviers did,” said Theatre World, “often at home, long after rehearsals were over at the theatre.”
It was clear to everyone that Marilyn had taken on a monumental task by optioning the project, and that through natural loyalty to Vivien and the story, it would be exceptionally difficult to win over the original theatrical cast.
OLIVIER’S TRIP TO NEW York happened to coincide with a momentous event in Marilyn’s life—that of changing her name legally from Norma Jeane DiMaggio to Marilyn Monroe. The significance of changing her name at this juncture in her life cannot be understated, particularly as she had used the stage name for almost ten years and had not taken any steps to change it legally before. She felt comfortable in her skin and with her name, and in February 1956 the time was ripe for her to officially own the identity of Marilyn Monroe.
She was proud of what was happening in her life, and every day led her further and further away from the dumb-blonde sexpot. She was planning for her future. Just a week after the name change, Marilyn drew up her first will. In it she left most of her money to Arthur Miller and then split the rest between Lee and Paula Strasberg, her doctor Margaret Hohenberg, Michael Chekhov’s widow, the Actors Studio, Norman Rosten’s daughter, and the health care of her mother. With the legalities of the name change and will now in place, Marilyn was free to continue with her creative work.
So far, she had been classed as an observer at the Actors Studio, but on February 17, 1956, Marilyn acted in her very first scene, from Eugene O’Neill’s play Anna Christie. Perhaps the biggest surprise about the event was that despite her nerves, she actually volunteered to do the part. Nobody had pushed her, nobody had forced her into it; it was merely something that Marilyn herself finally felt happy and brave enough to attempt.
The scene was performed with actress Maureen Stapleton, and together they rehearsed furiously to make sure it was absolutely perfect. One evening, after many hours of going over the scene, the two women shared a cab home, but as Marilyn was to get out first, she offered to pay something toward the fare. Stapleton did not wish to take her money, and the two began a discussion as to who was right and who was wrong. At first it was somewhat lighthearted, but when Stapleton realized that Marilyn was not going to leave without giving her money, she lost her temper. “If you pay that driver, I’m finished with you and the scene!” she said. Marilyn kept her money and got out of the cab. Stapleton regretted being so forthright and intended phoning Marilyn as soon as she got home. However, Marilyn phoned first and it was clear that the taxi situation had really upset her. Because of Stapleton’s forceful tone, Marilyn had convinced herself that Stapleton did not want to act the part or appear onstage with her. It took a lot of consoling to convince the actress that that wasn’t the case at all. The two made up and rehearsals continued.
So as not to attract unwanted attention from those not normally due to attend class that day, Marilyn chose not to put her name on the board of upcoming scenes. Of course, word soon leaked out and the studio was packed with just about every student imaginable. “Believe me when I say that Marilyn got out there and did her scene in front of one of the toughest audiences in the world,” said Arthur Miller’s sister and fellow student Joan Copeland. It was certainly a harsh crowd, especially since many of the students still hadn’t forgiven Marilyn for being such a huge star.
Just before the two actresses were due to go onstage, Marilyn suffered a severe bout of nerves, which she later said had rendered her unable to remember a single word. Still, when Stapleton suggested they place a script on the stage as they performed, Marilyn was horrified. She would do this scene if it killed her, and there would be no script to help her along the way!
Despite her anxiety, in the end the scene was remarkable and the normally brutal audience gave Marilyn a round of applause. Fellow actress Kim Stanley recalled that it was the first time she had ever heard clapping in the Actors Studio and afterward felt obliged to tell Marilyn just how much she admired her. Joan Copeland described the performance as beautiful. “She displayed—you know—the kind of talent it was hard to believe she had.” Marilyn, she recalled, was absolutely thrilled when the students who had shown a definite dislike toward her actually came up afterward to say how good she was.
Still haunted by feelings of inferiority and a lack of confidence, after the class Marilyn cried to the Strasbergs because she felt that her performance had not been as good as it could have been. Later she told reporters that she did not have any feelings toward the performance at all, because it had all passed in a blur. She may have had reservations, but nobody else did. The scene went down in history as one of the most important and influential ever performed at the Actors Studio, and was still being talked about long after her death.
ON FEBRUARY 22, 1956, Marilyn did a unique and beautiful portrait sitting with famed photographer Cecil Beaton. From the beginning, the actress’s informal style—mussed-up hair and hardly any makeup—made a huge impression on Beaton. He later wrote that he was a little startled by her at first, and mistook her joyful manner for exhibitionism. However, he soon realized that it was merely a case of exhilaration, “like an over-excited child asked downstairs after tea.”
Marilyn greatly enjoyed working with the famous photographer, and one portrait of her, lying on a Japanese tapestry with a chiffon scarf ruffled around her shoulders, became her favorite. In the picture, she is holding a carnation to her breast, looking deeply at the camera, with her hair swept upward. Marilyn was fascinated with the piece. She bought prints for friends and told a reporter from the Los Angeles Times that the look actually reminded her of when she was a little girl.