How To Survive In Hollywood? Vintage Stars Reveal Rules Of Combat In New Book – Deadline

I’ve always been fascinated by the rules of survival in Hollywood. “Consistency is key — always present yourself to the studios as a total slob,” Bette Davis once confided. “Never fool yourself that a star can become a loyal personal friend,” advised Billy Wilder. “Since studios always lie, it’s a producer’s mandate to invent bigger lies,” said David O. Selznick.

As a collector of Hollywood war stories, I was delighted to discover a new book (741 pages) with the intimidating title this week Hollywood: The Oral History – one that has greatly expanded my inventory of intrigue.

For the past 50 years, AFI (the American Film Institute) has recorded and now published semi-secret interviews with accomplished stars and filmmakers, creating an intimate Hollywood story told in the first person (HarperCollins is the editor).

I considered a book of this magnitude summer reading and decided not to focus on thoughtful analysis but instead focus on combat. AFI’s collection of interviews is therefore akin to attending a cocktail party with the likes of Katherine Hepburn, Natalie Wood, Olivia de Havilland, Jack Lemmon, Wilder and George Lucas.

They are all at their best when it comes to exploring their rivalries and conflicts. Our “native guides” in the AFI book are Sam Wasson and Jeanine Basinger, two gifted film nerds who curated the collection (he wrote The big farewell and she is a film historian and professor at Wesleyan).

Case in point: Was Marilyn Monroe really emotional? For contemporaries, her depression was a ruse. “Marilyn always managed to get her way by faking breakdowns,” says Lemmon, her Harvard-educated colleague.

Was Humphrey Bogart aloof both on and off set? No, but he survived in “a profession not fit for adults” (his words) by repeatedly snapping “cut the crap” at everyone.

How did superstars of the 1930s and 40s deal with restrictive studio contracts? “They fucking owned us — you learn to deal with it,” Wood said.

Ann Rutherford, who was signed as a child and survived nine Andy Hardy films opposite Mickey Rooney, concluded: “The only way to find decent scripts is to steal them from makeup artists or clients .”

De Havilland eventually got so angry about her studio pact that she broke the rule — she sued Warner Bros and won: “They owned me and traded me like a commodity,” she said.

Few stars (like Cary Grant) emerged from the fray loved or admired by peers. Some were considered rudely distant (Bing Crosby), hopelessly unpredictable (Judy Garland), or just plain goofy (Montgomery Clift).

To deal with mood swings, every director of his time had his own strategy for dealing with narcissistic intrigue. “I’ve stayed away from stars socially — as much as possible,” Wilder said.

“When you run into an actor’s personality problem, an expensive dinner and lots of wine is the only way to melt it,” says Elia Kazan.

Initially appalled at the challenge of directing Bette Davis, Ron Howard humbly asked, “Please just call me Ron, Miss Davis.” To which Davis snapped, “First, I decide whether I like you or not.”

The most effective way to deal with a cantankerous actor was to say, “How about you shut up?” advised George Cukor, the gifted director who was fired in the fourth week Blown by the wind. His style didn’t appeal to Clark Gable, who basically found Cukor to be a “women director”.

Selznick, the producer, first brought in Victor Fleming, then Sam Wood, then Fleming again to calm Gable, and Vivien Leigh and de Havilland, the wild sisters.

So, overall, has the studio system worked for its illustrious collaborators in its prime? The film factories each released between 40 and 80 films a year and had a huge staff of players. Fox had 76 writers under contract and MGM had 250 actors under contract.

But while bossy studio bosses like Louis B. Mayer and Harry Cohn made the big decisions, they lacked the structure to handle talent. A novelist like William Faulkner would sign with Fox, then disappear for a year and still collect weekly studio checks. Notable talents like George Bernard Shaw or F. Scott Fitzgerald roamed the studios, but nobody knew how to use them.

Studio publicity departments run by bullies like MGM’s Howard Strickling would freely reinvent the careers and personalities of potential “talent.” Hedy Lamarr, who was born Hedwig Kiesler, was given the name of a deceased actress to become her new name. She protested sheepishly, but no one paid any attention.

Leslie Caron would never be able to pose for a studio photo without a cat present, but she hated cats. Lemmon was signed to test himself for a role as a serious businessman, only to be cast as a young comedian. Nelson Eddy, a singer and actor, stayed with MGM under a lush contract for five years but was never asked to appear in a studio film.

Sure, plenty of entertaining films were born out of the chaos, along with expensive duds. Thus, the AFI book begins with a quote from director Ridgway Callow, who declares, “Hollywood is the most cruel and despicable city in the world.”

Co-author Wasson, wading through the trove of interviews, came out with a different perspective: “Hollywood in its heyday was a happy and productive place. There were always arguments behind the scenes, but pride in their work and a sense of community carried through the filmmakers.”

Mind you, I wasn’t there personally at the time.