My Happy Days in Hollywood (29 page)

I, however, lost my temper while filming the infamous scene. It was very important for me to get the scene right. As I was filming one of the producers’ mobile phones went off. I walked over, picked up the phone, and threw it against the soundstage wall. It hit the wall and bounced off, breaking into many pieces. I am not normally a screamer or a man who loses his cool at work or at home, but in this case I just lost it. Later I apologized and we got her a new phone. But I remember being furious at the time that people’s phones were ruining my picture.

The supporting cast included the very talented duo Nathan Lane
and Kate Nelligan. Some people said Kate was going to be trouble, but she was not at all. My good luck charm Hector Elizondo played the manager of the diner where Al and Michelle worked. As always Hector was so consistently reliable and helpful that I was very happy he could be a part of the film. In the diner Al was a short-order cook and, although it was not essential, he wanted on-the-job cooking lessons. So I took him to Vitello’s, my favorite neighborhood Italian restaurant in North Hollywood. My actor-friend Steve Restivo owned the restaurant at the time and let Al spend some time in the kitchen training with the other chefs. Al worked two or three nights. He became a master at chopping celery, and he came up with great ideas for other things, such as carving a flower from a potato and having Johnny give it to Frankie. The restaurant patrons at Vitello’s could see into the kitchen as they were escorted to their tables. Some of them had to do a double take when they saw Al dressed in a chef’s uniform behind the stove. “Since when does Al Pacino work at Vitello’s?” one woman said.

I got to know both Michelle and Al pretty well on the picture, which was helpful in building their characters. Michelle has large, strong hands, and she doesn’t think they are particularly pretty. In the film I had her co-workers at the diner coming up to her and without saying a word, just handing her a jar and watching her open it. Al and Michelle worked differently in terms of preparing and mastering a scene. Al liked to do a lot of takes, almost obsessively, without even pondering that a scene might require just a few. I had to learn to respect his process because that was just the way he did things, even if it took eighteen or nineteen takes to get a scene right.

Michelle, on the other hand, was usually happy with the fourth or fifth take of a scene. Sometimes Michelle would bring magazines so she could sit off-camera and have something to do while Al was doing his nineteenth take. We even joked with Al that members of the crew would bet on what take would be the one in which he felt he got it right. But the truth was we couldn’t argue with him because on several occasions we saw him get it right on the twentieth take by delivering a moment that was absolutely brilliant. Then we would
all look at each other and say, in happy disbelief, “Of course. He’s Al Pacino!”

In my breeziest moments I felt like this was any other movie and I was just doing my job well. But the reality was that this was a tricky picture with two gigantic stars. People who come to see an Al Pacino or Michelle Pfeiffer movie expect the very best. Luckily I had Dante Spinotti as my cinematographer. He had worked with me on
Beaches
and knew how to light a scene beautifully. Dante spoke mostly in Italian and looked like a chef. He taught me about art and lighting, and he made me a better director. Albert Brenner, my innovative production designer, created a beautiful set. Transforming the two-person play into something like a hundred-person movie was challenging but creatively exciting for all of us. One day we were shooting on a soundstage and we opened up the big door and drove several cars by to create street traffic. It was just a simple thing, but it worked well in adding another layer of sound.

To do the music for the film I was lucky enough to get Marvin Hamlisch, whom I had met years earlier at summer camp. When I went to Camp Onibar, my two sisters went to Camp Geneva, the all-girls camp nearby. When my mother would talk about Camp Geneva, all she could do was rave about the impressive theater productions. My sister Ronny was the drama counselor, and she produced the shows. Penny was a bad waitress at the camp and was constantly dropping food on the heads of the campers she didn’t like. But the real reason the shows were so good was that a sixteen-year-old counselor named Marvin Hamlisch wrote them. All summer camps should be so lucky as to have Hamlisch on the creative team for their musicals.

Marvin and I discussed what type of music would fit the plot of
Frankie and Johnny
. One of the studio executives cautioned me not to let Marvin put in “too many violins” and make the movie too upscale because, after all, it was a love story between a short-order cook and a waitress. But I disagreed. I said, “You mean poor people don’t hear violins when they fall in love? What do they hear? Accordions? I don’t think so. I think we all hear violins when we fall in
love, no matter how much money is in our wallets.” I enjoyed working with Marvin to find the right musical combination for a story about two lost souls who have given up on love until they find each other. We needed the music to suggest a feeling of hope.

For most actors, doing publicity is not a favorite thing. To say Michelle and Al would have preferred getting a root canal to doing publicity is pretty darn close. For me sports is a big touchstone, so sometimes I made Al and Michelle do a little ritual together before we shot a difficult scene. For good luck we would put our hands together, on top of one another and yell “Frankie and Johnny” before we broke our grips. I did it during the shoot to signify that we were a team no matter what, and we had to be there for each other. When it came time to do the publicity tour, I knew Al was a little nervous. He loves acting, but not talking about himself. Right before we did the first press conference, he came over to Michelle and me and said, “Can we do that hand-holding thing?” We did. The three of us stood in a circle, put our hands on top of one another, and yelled “Frankie and Johnny” before we broke to do the press conference. It was hokey, but it made us relax—and smile.

When we wrapped the film I think we were all happy. Unfortunately, life doesn’t always line up perfectly to support you, and that is what happened with
Frankie and Johnny
. It came out the weekend of the Supreme Court hearings involving Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill, and a widely broadcast case of possible sexual harassment. Interest in Coke cans with pubic hair trumped the interest in my love story. The film’s soft opening weekend was no one’s fault, and nobody could have predicted it. All we could do was sit back and watch as people stayed home to view the scandalous hearing on television instead of going out to see
Frankie and Johnny
. Despite the low box office returns, we received some good reviews.

Terrence Rafferty of
The New Yorker
wrote, “We understand why romance and comedy make an ideal inevitable couple.”
Rolling Stone
called it a “perfect love story.” Another reviewer said it was a romantic comedy for people who don’t like romantic comedies. Yes, there were still a few reviewers who said Michelle was too pretty to play Frankie. However, I had tried something new. Even though
the movie didn’t make a ton of money, I was happy with the way it turned out.

When we finished I wondered what to do again. With a television series you can have a steady job for years. As a movie director you have to make a new choice every year or two. So when
Frankie and Johnny
came out, I was fifty-seven years old. I wondered exactly how many movies I would make before I should retire. Would someone tell me when it was time? Would I figure it out myself? I wasn’t sure, but after
Frankie and Johnny
was completed, I knew I wanted to direct another picture. Someone gave me an erotic book by Anne Rice about an S and M island called
Exit to Eden
. I read the book and liked it. Suddenly I was about to enter my true experimental period as a director. My wife read the book, turned white, and said, “Are you kidding me?”

Taking a Wrong Turn into the Land of S and M

S
O THERE I WAS
, with a mask covering my face, standing at an S and M party in Hollywood.

I was there doing research for my next movie,
Exit to Eden
, which was based on the book written by Anne Rampling, otherwise known as the queen of all vampire writers, Anne Rice. I didn’t know much about the underground S and M world, so I contacted a woman who from time to time was my doubles tennis partner. I knew that in addition to having excellent ground strokes, she worked as a professional dominatrix. When I told her I wanted to do research on the subject, she offered to take me to a party. She said celebrities and other people in show business didn’t want to be recognized at these kinds of parties, so they often wore masks. She gave me one to wear to the party. That night as I was getting dressed and putting on my mask, my wife peered up from bed over the pages of her latest P. D. James novel.

“Where are you going again exactly?” she asked.

“It’s an S and M party,” I said.

“In a nightclub?” she asked.

“I think it’s someone’s house,” I said.

“Do people spank each other there in full view? Like in the living room?” she said.

“I’m not sure. I’ll find out,” I said.

“Why do you want to do this movie? It seems silly and unnecessary,” she said. “And kind of strange. You are going to get killed by
the press when they find out Mr.
Happy Days
is doing a movie about bondage.”

“I’m in the mood to do something different,” I said. Alex Rose, who had produced
Nothing in Common, Overboard
, and
Frankie and Johnny
with me, had suggested
Exit to Eden
and said she would come onboard to produce it.

“Okay. Suit yourself. Have a good time and remember to turn on the burglar alarm when you get back,” Barbara said, returning to her mystery book.

So that night I went to the party, thinking I was completely in disguise, on a secret mission to collect background information for my movie. I loved that I could go from room to room without anyone knowing who I was. At one point I went out on the patio where two women were smoking cigarettes.

“I’m ready to go home,” said one woman. “How about you?”

“As soon as Garry Marshall comes. I hear he’s coming to do research for a new movie about an S and M island, and I want to see him,” she said. “Maybe we can be in it.”

I ran over to my friend and said, “We’re not so undercover! They know we’re here.”

The truth was that I was again in the mood for something different. I adore love stories, and I felt like I had done so many in a row in different settings: everything from love between a fry chef and a waitress to love between a prostitute and a corporate raider. I thought love on an S and M island seemed like a new direction. Initially I conceived
Exit to Eden
as a serious romance with some comedy moments. Its turn in a completely different direction is simply what happens sometimes in Hollywood. You can’t predict all the twists and turns of making a movie. You just have to hold on tight during the ride.

Soon the announcement was in
Variety
and
The Hollywood Reporter
that Garry
Happy Days
Marshall would direct a new movie about an S and M island. An independent film company called Savoy was putting up the money. I was excited about the casting of Dana Delany in the starring role. Dana was best known for starring in the television series
China Beach
. She was now ready to shed
her “good girl” image and take on a role that required full frontal nudity. Plus, she got to spank her costar. She hoped that this movie would do for her what the very sexy feature
Basic Instinct
had done for Sharon Stone.

When it came to casting an actor to play opposite Dana, I had a very tough time. I couldn’t find a mainstream actor who wanted to get spanked by a woman on the big screen. So many actors who I thought would be good in the role flatly turned it down. I did get a meeting with one famous blond television actor who seemed very interested. We went to a bar to talk about the part. However, my interest in him began to wane when I realized that he was very drunk. He was so drunk in fact that at one point he fell off the bar stool. So I was back to the drawing board. When most American actors turned down the part, I decided to go to a different country: Australia. Up-and-coming Australian actor Paul Mercurio had starred in Baz Luhrmann’s film
Strictly Ballroom
. In that movie he was nothing but delightful and charming. He read the script for
Exit to Eden
and wasn’t afraid of taking on the part or the nudity that came with it. I finally had my match for Dana Delany.

I peppered the rest of the cast with some of my favorites, including Hector Elizondo, who explains some of the details of the S and M island. Through a series of flashbacks, he plays a therapist who initially trained Dana Delany’s character to become a dominatrix. I also cast my daughter Kathleen as a flight attendant. I think nepotism is healthy. Unfortunately the script called for Kathleen’s character to die in the opening minutes, thus setting off a mystery that would take several police officers to the S and M island. My wife, however, put her foot down. “You can’t kill your own daughter! Even if it is in a movie. That’s just not right!” Barbara is often the voice of reason in my life. So we rewrote the scene so Kathleen’s character didn’t die but instead got hit over the head and passed out for a few minutes. In the same scene my sister Ronny is an airport maid mopping the floor, and she finds Kathleen passed out.