My Week With Marilyn. Colin Clark

the time I got the job on The Prince and the Showgirl in 1956, my diary had become a firm friend. However tired I was, I could not sleep before I had written down some of the things that had happened during the day, and confided some of the opinions that I had not dared to express to anyone, scribbling away in an old ledger which I kept wrapped up in my pyjamas. I did not always get things right, and as I never expected anyone else to read what I had written, I had no need to be what we now call ‘politically correct’. Even so, in this published version of my diary for June to November 1956, I have cut very little out. I was a well-brought-up boy, and when you see ‘f—’ in this book it is because I wrote ‘f—’ in my diary.

      When the filming of The Prince and the Showgirl was over, it was many, many years before I dared to read my diary of that time again, just as it was many, many years before I could bring myself to see the film in a cinema. Even now I have trouble seeing past the pain and anxiety in Marilyn Monroe’s eyes.

      This book is really all about Marilyn. For five months, whether she turned up or not, she dominated our every waking thought. I was the least important person in the whole studio, but I was in a wonderful position from which to observe. The Third Assistant Director is really a kind of superior messenger boy. I got to meet everyone and go everywhere, unencumbered by responsibilities which might tie me down, or narrow my viewpoint. No one can feel threatened by a 3rd Ast Dir (except perhaps the ‘extras’, who he has to keep under control), and most of the people involved in making the film felt they could be more open with me than with a possible rival. When the filming was completed I was almost the only person who was still on speaking terms with everyone else. That alone probably makes this diary unique.

       The Prince and the Showgirl

      Cast List

      ELSIE MARINA Marilyn Monroe

      THE REGENT OF CARPATHIA Laurence Olivier

      THE QUEEN DOWAGER Sybil Thorndike

      MR NORTHBROOK Richard Wattis

      THE KING OF CARPATHIA Jeremy Spenser

      MAJOR DOMO Paul Hardwick

      MAISIE SPRINGFIELD Jean Kent

      LADY SUNNINGDALE Maxine Audley

      FANNY Daphne Anderson

      BETTY Vera Day

      MAGGIE Gillian Owen

      FOREIGN OFFICE MINISTER David Horne

      THEATRE DRESSER Gladys Henson

      HOFFMAN Esmond Knight

      LADIES-IN-WAITING Rosamund Greenwood Margot Lister

      VALETS Dennis Edwards Andrea Melandrinos

       Production Crew

      PRODUCER AND DIRECTOR Laurence Olivier

      EXECUTIVE IN CHARGE OF Hugh Perceval

      PRODUCTION

      EXECUTIVE PRODUCER Milton Greene

      ASSOCIATE DIRECTOR Anthony Bushell

      FIRST ASSISTANT DIRECTOR David Orton

      DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY Jack Cardiff

      PRODUCTION DESIGNER Roger Furse

      PRODUCTION MANAGER Teddy Joseph

      ART DIRECTION Carmen Dillon

      EDITOR Jack Harris

      CONTINUITY Elaine Schreyck

      CAMERA OPERATOR Denys Coop

      SOUND RECORDISTS John Mitchell Gordon McCallum

      LADIES’ COSTUMES Beatrice Dawson

      MAKE-UP Toni Sforzini

      HAIRDRESSING Gordon Bond

      SET DRESSER Dario Simoni

      SCREENPLAY Terence Rattigan

      MUSIC COMPOSED BY Richard Addinsell

      DANCES ARRANGED BY William Chappell

       The Diaries

      SUNDAY, 3 JUNE 1956

      Now that University is behind me, I’m going to get a job – a real job on a real film. At 9 a.m. tomorrow I will be at Laurence Olivier’s film company to offer my services on his next production. The papers say it will star Marilyn Monroe, so it should be exciting.

      Two weeks ago, Larry and Vivien came down to stay at Saltwood¹ for the weekend. Mama told Vivien that I wanted to be a film director. I was mortified, but Vivien just gave a great purr and said ‘Larry will give Colin a job, won’t you Larry darling!’ I could see Larry groan under his breath. ‘Go and see Hugh Perceval at 146 Piccadilly,’ he said. ‘He might have something.’

      So that is where I have an appointment in the morning. And every night I am going to write this diary. It could be fun to look back on, when I am old and famous!

      MONDAY, 4 JUNE

      This is going to be really hard. I know absolutely nothing about making films. I’m totally ignorant. Did I really think they were actually shooting a film in Piccadilly?

      At 10 a.m. I turned up at the office of Laurence Olivier Productions, punctual and sober.

      The offices themselves are very few. A large luxurious reception area with sofas, a secretary’s office at the far end, and Mr Perceval’s office leading off that. It is clearly the ground floor of what was once a private house. The secretary, friendly but detached – would I wait. Mr Perceval was on the phone. Soon I was ushered in, anxious now. There didn’t seem to be enough going on. Mr P is a tall, thin, gloomy man with black-rim spectacles. His sparse black hair is brushed back and he has a black moustache. He puffs a pipe continually.

      ‘Yes. What do you want?’ (No introductions whatever.)

      ‘I want a job on the Marilyn Monroe film.’

      ‘Oh, ho, you do? What as?’

      ‘Anything.’

      I suppose he could see that I was a complete fool and he softened a little.

      ‘Well. We don’t start filming for eight weeks. You really should come back then. At the moment we have no more offices than you can see here, and no jobs. I only have my chauffeur and my secretary. I am afraid I misunderstood Laurence. I thought you were coming to interview me about the film.’

      Blind panic set in. I must say something.

      ‘Can I wait here until there is a job?’

      ‘For eight weeks??’

      ‘In the waiting room – in case something comes up?’

      ‘Grmph.’ Very gloomy, and bored now. ‘It’s a free country, I suppose. But I’m telling you, it’s going to be eight weeks. And then I can’t promise anything.’

      Gets up and opens door.

      ‘Good day.’

      I went out and sat down on one of the sofas in the waiting room. The secretary gave me a very cold look. She’s quite pretty, but is certainly not flirtatious.

      I just didn’t know what to do. I had expected huge offices, even studios, lots of work going on – willing hands needed in every department, and a bit like the London Zoo when I turned up there and asked for a job as a keeper in ’53 (and got one!²).

      So I just sat and waited.

      At lunchtime I was saved by a friendly face. Gilman, Larry and Vivien’s chauffeur came in, brash and cockney