Read Marilyn & Me for Free Online Page B
Authors: Lawrence Schiller
publicity that ours can generate.”
That made sense because the studio’s free handouts would be nonexclusive and wouldn’t be taken as seriously by magazine editors. Exclusivity would enhance the promotional value of our photographs. Billy said he knew Fox’s head of publicity, Harry Brand, and I knew the studio’s front man, Perry Lieber. We agreed to approach them separately and persuade them that our pictures would have more value to magazines if they had to pay for them rather than the studio giving out free images.
Remembering how Marilyn had had to squint to see the black-and-white contact sheets, and how she sometimes crossed out some images simply because she couldn’t see them well, I decided to show them to her differently thistime. I went through all the images on all the rolls and combined my favorites into groups, placing them between two pieces of optical glass. I then put them in an eight-by-ten enlarger and projected the resulting image onto a sixteen-by-twenty sheet of photographic paper. I took these large proof sheets to Marilyn the next morning, knowing she wouldn’t have to use a magnifying glass or hold anything up to the light.
I planned to leave her alone to review the images and return at the end of the day to pick them up. As usual, Marilyn was sitting in the chair in front of her makeup mirror, wearing a white robe, when I entered her dressing room. Seeing me in the mirror, she swung around in her chair, her robe slightly open, to reveal that she wasn’t wearing underwear. I didn’t lift my camera. It just didn’t feel right.
As I handed her the proof sheets, she asked, “Where’s the color?”
“Being processed,” I said. “I’ll have them tomorrow.”
“I’ll be home,” she said. “I’ll see you there.”
Marilyn glanced at the black-and-whites. “Not bad,” she said, but then pointed to one image, “but not this one.” It was a shot in which the muscles in her legs were emphasized too much. As she handed the proof sheet back to me, I noticed it was the only shot she had crossed out. I could hardly believe it—only one edit!
“See you tomorrow,” Marilyn said suddenly. “I’ll give the rest back to you then.”
I could see that she had had it and was kind of ushering me out, and I didn’t mind it at all. I couldn’t wait to pick up the color from the lab the next day.
On the set, Marilyn had been joking with Wally Cox. Now, at the end of the day, when she came out of her dressing room, he was waiting for her, and they walked onto the lot together. She was wearing the fur cap from her last scene, white capri slacks, and a beautiful sweater, and she had a mink coat slung over her shoulder. I decided to continue shooting and followed them as they got into a limo, which had been waiting for them. Neither of them seemed to mind that I was still shooting. In the backseat, where they were snuggling and laughing, I noticed a few bottles of beer by Marilyn’s feet.
Wally looked at me and said, “We’re going to Mulholland. Why don’t you come along?” He meant they were going to Marlon Brando’s house, which was on Mulholland Drive above Bel Air.
There had been numerous stories over the years about Marilyn and Marlon, who knew each other from the Actors Studio. Wally was Brando’s best friend, and I really didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to photograph them together at Brando’s secluded home. At the same time, I knew that Judi and the baby were waiting at home and that the photo lab was developing my color pictures.
Instead of getting into their limo, I said I’d follow in my own car. That would be better, because I’d be able to leave when I wanted to.
“Okay, see you!” Marilyn squealed, and the limo took off, leaving me behind to run as fast as I could to my car in the parking lot. They were not waiting for me, and the fact was that I didn’t know
where
on Mulholland Drive Brando lived. By the time I reached my car, my energy was
That made sense because the studio’s free handouts would be nonexclusive and wouldn’t be taken as seriously by magazine editors. Exclusivity would enhance the promotional value of our photographs. Billy said he knew Fox’s head of publicity, Harry Brand, and I knew the studio’s front man, Perry Lieber. We agreed to approach them separately and persuade them that our pictures would have more value to magazines if they had to pay for them rather than the studio giving out free images.
Remembering how Marilyn had had to squint to see the black-and-white contact sheets, and how she sometimes crossed out some images simply because she couldn’t see them well, I decided to show them to her differently thistime. I went through all the images on all the rolls and combined my favorites into groups, placing them between two pieces of optical glass. I then put them in an eight-by-ten enlarger and projected the resulting image onto a sixteen-by-twenty sheet of photographic paper. I took these large proof sheets to Marilyn the next morning, knowing she wouldn’t have to use a magnifying glass or hold anything up to the light.
I planned to leave her alone to review the images and return at the end of the day to pick them up. As usual, Marilyn was sitting in the chair in front of her makeup mirror, wearing a white robe, when I entered her dressing room. Seeing me in the mirror, she swung around in her chair, her robe slightly open, to reveal that she wasn’t wearing underwear. I didn’t lift my camera. It just didn’t feel right.
As I handed her the proof sheets, she asked, “Where’s the color?”
“Being processed,” I said. “I’ll have them tomorrow.”
“I’ll be home,” she said. “I’ll see you there.”
Marilyn glanced at the black-and-whites. “Not bad,” she said, but then pointed to one image, “but not this one.” It was a shot in which the muscles in her legs were emphasized too much. As she handed the proof sheet back to me, I noticed it was the only shot she had crossed out. I could hardly believe it—only one edit!
“See you tomorrow,” Marilyn said suddenly. “I’ll give the rest back to you then.”
I could see that she had had it and was kind of ushering me out, and I didn’t mind it at all. I couldn’t wait to pick up the color from the lab the next day.
On the set, Marilyn had been joking with Wally Cox. Now, at the end of the day, when she came out of her dressing room, he was waiting for her, and they walked onto the lot together. She was wearing the fur cap from her last scene, white capri slacks, and a beautiful sweater, and she had a mink coat slung over her shoulder. I decided to continue shooting and followed them as they got into a limo, which had been waiting for them. Neither of them seemed to mind that I was still shooting. In the backseat, where they were snuggling and laughing, I noticed a few bottles of beer by Marilyn’s feet.
Wally looked at me and said, “We’re going to Mulholland. Why don’t you come along?” He meant they were going to Marlon Brando’s house, which was on Mulholland Drive above Bel Air.
There had been numerous stories over the years about Marilyn and Marlon, who knew each other from the Actors Studio. Wally was Brando’s best friend, and I really didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to photograph them together at Brando’s secluded home. At the same time, I knew that Judi and the baby were waiting at home and that the photo lab was developing my color pictures.
Instead of getting into their limo, I said I’d follow in my own car. That would be better, because I’d be able to leave when I wanted to.
“Okay, see you!” Marilyn squealed, and the limo took off, leaving me behind to run as fast as I could to my car in the parking lot. They were not waiting for me, and the fact was that I didn’t know
where
on Mulholland Drive Brando lived. By the time I reached my car, my energy was