The Richard Burton Diaries (51 page)

[...] In case there is any mistake. This diary is written for my own benefit. [...]

Thursday 6th
Brilliant morning again and I left for work feeling somewhat shaky. Arrived about 7.45, shaved, had tea and was made up by 9.00. Baltimore won the ball game 5–2 – the Robinson boys hitting back-to-back homers off Drysdale in the first innings.
¹⁹¹

For the first shot I was locked into armour with what appears to be swords going right through my body.

Read something in a mag about Syb being a ‘late bloomer’ in company with
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/
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dozen other women. With me she was ‘dowdy and tubby’ but since me she
has lost 30–5 pounds and is a chic type. Cheek. She was never dowdy and dumpy! Just short that's all. [...]

E should work this afternoon I should think. It will be her last but one shot in the picture. Which latter is becoming endless seemingly. Bet E $500 that Orioles would win series. I deliberately bet to lose. Funny giggle if they do.

E found the World Series. Brava! Baltimore won again 6–0. Six errors by Dodgers, 3 to one man Willie Davis.
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That's a record equalizer. He's probably cut his throat. Worked till 8.30 tonight. Koufax lost.
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Friday 7th
Started on the dreaded but beautiful last speech of
Faustus
today after cleaning up yesterday's scenes. [...]

Slowly we are drawing to the end of the picture but no real immediate respite as we are doing what I guess may be two more days on
Shrew
. Close-ups here there and everywhere.

R. Hanley found me a short history of Africa so that I can find out something more about Dahomey. Sheran Cazalet sent me (us) a copy of her grampa's new book of short stories. He is P. G. Wodehouse.
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Not vintage so far but readable.

One of the boys from Oxford, one Nick Loukes gave us a dead mounted framed tarantula as a thank you present.
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Because ‘we doubtless had so many beautiful things an ugly one might be welcome.’

I feel jaded and sweaty and unactory today. One of those days when acting seems peculiarly silly. What a sloppy job to have.

[...]

Saturday 8th
It's now 11am and I have done one shot. Two more and I hope to finish this sequence up to the descent into hell. [...]

Received letter from Lord (Richard Rhys) Dynevor about his new art attempt in Dynevor Castle and grounds.
¹⁹⁶
It seems to have started rather well. We are to lunch with him next Wednesday. [...]

Report in the
Daily American
that the Welsh, under the King of Gwynedd discovered the USA 200 years before Columbus.
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Can't wait to show Elizabeth
and must send a copy to Harvey Orkin.
¹⁹⁸
Some Welsh maniac has spent 20 years proving it and the results of his researches are to be published in a couple of weeks.
¹⁹⁹
I may make it a party piece.

After this next scene I should be able to relax. I don't feel exhausted or anything extreme but simply uninterested in the work however much I double-think myself into enthusiasm. I must arrange more holidays for myself. And for E too.

[...]

E's hair in certain lights reveals a lot of grey hair. She accuses me of making all my wives grey haired before their time. (Syb comes from a family of prematurely grey haired people.)

[...] Went to the Party. The minute we entered Rome I wanted to leave again. The smell of petrol fumes – a smell I loved as a boy – is now loathsome to me. The Party was given by Ken Muggleston Assistant Art Director I think.
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It was obviously given for other art directors; there must have been six there. Afterwards we went to Dave's pub where in one hour I had one drink. [...]

Dodgers lost again 1–0 but because of the bloody party we were unable to listen to the match.
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Went to bed about 2.0 I think.

Sunday 9th
Woke at 8.30 and dressed, both of us, and went for a short walk as far as the stables. Back at the house I read a detective story by Josephine Tey, not very good, called
A Shilling for Candles
.
²⁰²
Gaston brought the barbecue from the beach and E made a tr[ul]y delicious steak. She is really becoming an excellent cook.

After the dinner (5.0 pm) E cooked hotdogs for the kids and Karen. I read another detective story [...] by Stanley Ellin.
²⁰³
Not very good.

Have now turned into Voice of America or AFM in the hope of listening to the Baseball game from Baltimore. It seems unlikely that the Dodgers can make up lost ground but let's hope they win tonight at least.

They didn't. Frank Robinson hit a home run against Drysdale and that was the only run of the match. 4 straight to Baltimore. It would appear to be a fix if it were not for the last two games. What price the demise of the Dodgers as a great baseball power now.
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Monday 10th
Woke and arose at 7.00. E works today so we shall go in together, which means I shall be late. [...] Wrote two letters, one Mike, one Chris, saw the rushes. Saw the first reel cut with some music. Impressed for the first time. [...]

Aaron due for lunch today. Lots of business I suppose. I hope he's feeling better.

Aaron very nervous when he arrived but he relaxed after a short while. He has stopped smoking after the warning heart attack in NY. Bobby came later and we lunched on hot dogs.
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She is a lovely woman. Shot the hell descent about 3.30. And hell it was. The fear of heights conturbat me.
²⁰⁶

Became thoroughly drunk afterwards and went home and to bed (around 9.30) in silent fury. I really loathe drinking but what's to do if everybody around is drinking. And I don't just mean E but practically everybody Bobby Frosch, John Lee, Bob Wilson, Ron B, The Flanagans.

Tuesday 11th
Woke at 6.45 feeling drugged. Splashed myself with cold water. Ran in place for a count of hundred, did 20 push-ups, 20 knees bends, twenty touch-toes, twenty arms fling, twenty sideways bends. And felt better.

Brilliant sunshine to begin but has now clouded over. [...] The Churchill family according to D. Frost ask me to play Winston C on film.
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And De Laurentiis and J. Huston wish me to play Napoleon. I've already played Alexander the Great, Mark Antony and St. Thomas à Becket. I shall have delusions of reflected grandeur.

Aaron arrived after lunch with E who had just officially become a non-American. She is now British.
²⁰⁸
Hello there Ma'am welcome aboard.

Had lunch with Dave Crowley, former boxing champion, and propr of ‘The Pub’ in Rome. What a lovely man with all his cockney winks and sly nods. He bewitched me for a couple of hours with stories from his life. [...]

Wednesday 12th
Shot gold-making scene with Andy Teuber yesterday.

Today did some pick up shots on
Shrew
. [...] Then on to old age for three pick up shots as Faustus in the afternoon. Saw Richard Dynevor who talked about his castle and grounds and of his scheme to make it a cultural centre. Lovely man. Will try to help him.

Aaron was here all day being very legal. We shot ‘till 7.30 and drank ‘till 9.00 and home and bed. Dog weary. Last day tomorrow I hope.

Received letter from John Gielgud asking if I'd be interested in
The Tempest
as a film. Have written but not posted him a letter saying yes. He would be a splendid Prospero but persuade money men of that! I would again play Caliban. That would make 3 times. Old Vic and USA TV being the others.
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Am thoroughly tired and need relaxation sorely. [...]

Thursday 13th
Last day at last. Shot the last 4 lines of
Faustus
and finished about 6.30. Tomorrow they will shoot the nudes without me while we're on our way to Positano.
²¹⁰

Bobby Frosch saw the rough-cut of
Shrew
and enjoyed it immensely [...] if that's the general reaction we'll be very happy.

After the shooting we had drinks with the crew. They have been very nice especially ‘Gianni Props.‘
²¹¹
Everybody likes him.

And so to bed.

Friday 14th – Rome – Positano
Woke early, had hot toddies, we both have colds, and slept again until 11.45 or so. [...] Stopped for lunch on the Autostrada. [...] Then off again to the hotel in Positano. [...] Read reminiscences of famous baseball players from the turn of the century. Rather touching and funny sometimes. Read until I couldn't keep my eyes open.

Saturday 15th Positano. Hotel Sirenuse
Glorious morning. [...] We had café complet for breakfast with bacon. Must go out and buy some dog leads and some books if findable. Couldn't find dog-leads though in frustration bought a pocket dictionary to make sure I hadn't made a mistake in my Italian. I hadn't. [...] A lady [...] greeted me [...] she said we'd met at Ardmore studios, Bray, Ireland with Marty Ritt.
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Another man, very distingué, asked me if I were R.B. I said yes. He said he was a great admirer etc.

Had lunch down on the beach. [...] Walked up the hill home. It's a short walk but steep. We must drop two hundred feet in 400 yards. We went to bed for a time and then, I at least, sat in the sun and read. E. slept. I'm reading Cornelius Ryan's book
The Last Battle
.
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It is very readable but journalese. I'm afraid though I feel sorry for the Germans in Berlin in the last weeks of the war I am not overwhelmed with that passion.

We sat in the bar downstairs and had a couple of negroni vodkas. It's like a goop except for soda instead of tonic water I think.
²¹⁴
The place gradually
filled up with collared and tied gents with ladies in old fashioned dresses – not the remotest relation to a mini skirt. Almost everyone there was English speaking.

We ate in the hotel restaurant. [...] I read ‘till 11.30 and slept.

Sunday 16th
[...] I'm sitting on our balcony, with a pair of underpants on only, writing this. [...] There's quite a fresh breeze today but it's confortable in the sun.
²¹⁵
Quite a lot of people on the beach below us. It's a noisy little town. Surf breaking, traffic and horns, church bells, lots of hammering going on, dogs, whistles, boys shouting on the beach playing football, babies, all softened of course by the sea's ‘harsh withdrawing roar.‘
²¹⁶
We shall go out for lunch in
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/
₂
hour or so. E deeply engrossed in Iris Murdoch's latest.
²¹⁷
I must say that she writes and (jacket photo) looks like a lesbian. I have the feeling she smokes cigars and wears disfiguring trousers and sweaters.

Lunch today was splendid. Zuppa di Vongole (clam soup with the clams in their shells) and a delicious little pasta called Crepes al formaggio. Light pancakes stuffed with molten cheese and prosciutto. Cake to follow. All good. Rivera to drink. The whole thing was slightly marred by fans, a couple of parties of rowdy ones and a very persistent middle-aged whining female professional photographer. There were amateurs too of course and one frantic woman who ran along beside us screaming: ‘If she only takes off her glasses for me to see her beautiful eyes.’ [...] I loathe Latin fans (any fans for that matter); they make me intensely nervous and self conscious even after all these years.

Later, without E, I took E'en So for a walk up the hill from the hotel but, since I literally stopped traffic, I went back after a couple of hundred yards. Let's hope it's just week-end crowds otherwise we'll have to move on or back. Why do they do it? I never gaped at anybody in my life and much as I admire certain famed people, Churchill, and various writers – R.S. Gwyn and Dylan Thomas, T.S. Eliot, Spender, Greene, MacNeice etc. etc. I have never asked them for an autograph.
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I actually feel as embarrassed seeing a public figure as being one.

[...] Read late a very fat book called
The Detective
– a novel by a man called Thorp.
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Crashing bore and full of boring middle-brow sex talk but it
had a plot which I was determined to unravel. I'm afraid, rare for me, I skipped pages here and there. [...]

Monday 17th
Got up about 9.0. Very cloudy and threatens rain. Walked down to the beach. [...] A car stopped and a professional Yankee photographer asked if he could buy E flowers or clothes or something and snap her while she did it [...] I was fairly polite as there were children and wife (I guess) in the car with him, but left him no hope except perhaps a short snap of us walking down the street. [...] Photographers are all the bloody same. ‘It won't take you more than
¹
/
₂
hour
Dick
!’) Ugh.

Got back to the top sweating like a miner. Was hailed by a man with grey hair about my age who said ‘Hullo Richard, you won't remember me but we were at a party together at Stratford with Bob Shaw (1950!). I also know your wife through Peter Finch.’ I said ‘Ah yes old Boozy Finch.’ He told me his name was Tony Britton.
²²⁰
I remembered the name. I wasn't very polite. I'm sorry now.

[...] Slept and read all the afternoon. [...] Early to bed, a howling night, rain pelting, high winds. Ah pity all poor sailors. Had a hot toddy and read in bed. Nice and achy all over now – not as earlier.

Tuesday 18th
Woke at 9.00 feeling a lot better – lovely day and hot in the sun. We shall go to Sorrento for lunch – in the car.
²²¹
Gaston suggested we go by boat but the sea is quite swelly and getting in and out of small boats is a bore. Especially with 30 people watching your every move. [...]

We went by car and lunched in a dreadful little restaurant called Minervetta (?) I think.
²²²
It was one of those vast featureless restaurants which – upstairs and downstairs – probably seats 500. It was glass enclosed on the edge of the cliffs. The food was indifferent. There were only two waiters. It is recommended in Michelin.
²²³
So much for that lot. We drank Sambuca and said nasty things to each other. We drove back in silence to Positano. I slept most of the way. We had soup in the room and read and slept. Christ how I hate such days. Beware of Sambuca. It brings out evil things. It is a turner over of stones in damp caves.
Mulieribity
.
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