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Tazio Secchiaroli – more than a paparazzo

2018-04-03 By aenigma

A scene from Fellini's Satyricon
1969. A scene from Fellini’s Satyricon. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

Tazio Secchiaroli is generally regarded as the most talented and daring of the paparazzi. During the 1950s, he played a key role in developing the genre of paparazzi photography.

This article touches on his early career and his exploits as a paparazzo, but it’s mainly a showcase for the stunning work he did after that, particularly with Federico Fellini and Sophia Loren.

Tazio Secchiaroli – his rise to stardom

Tazio Secchiaroli is born on 26 November 1925, in Centocelle, a working-class suburb about 10 kilometres from the centre of Rome.

As a teenager, his first job is working as a gofer at Cinecittà. But in the final years of World War II the Italian film industry is on its knees. So in 1944, age 19, Tazio Secchiaroli becomes one of the ‘scattini’ (street photographers), patrolling the train station and tourist spots for visitors to Rome and offering to do portrait shots of them.

It’s a hand-to-mouth existence, hardly more lucrative than his job at Cinecittà. Fortunately he gets to know Luciano Mellace, a photographer who works for International News Service, an American agency. In 1951, Mellace offers Secchiaroli a chance to join the agency, which the latter seizes with both hands. His new job involves assisting at shoots and helping out in the darkroom. It’s a start.

The following year, Tazio Secchiaroli moves on to VEDO, a photo agency. Its founder is an enterprising and unscrupulous photographer called Adolfo Porry-Pastorel. He’s known in the trade for the stunts he pulls to outwit his competitors – for example putting a stickers over the picture lenses of his rivals’ twin-lens cameras. Because the sticker is invisible through the viewfinder, the trick will be discovered only after the event, in the darkroom.

Gjon Mili in the studio with two models
1950. Gjon Mili in the studio with two models.

But Tazio Secchiaroli is both ambitious and restless. In 1955, he becomes his own boss, setting up Roma Press Photo agency with Sergio Spinelli, a colleague at VEDO. Spinelli does the marketing and PR, Secchiaroli takes the photos. And what photos they are! His ability to be in the right place at the right time and to grab the most telling shots is covered in the paparazzi – shock horror birth of a monster. Before long, he’s the de facto ringleader of the paparazzi and known as an urban fox – the Volpe di via Veneto.

His pursuit of Ava Gardner and Walter Chiari (actor, co-star in The Little Hut and escort) tells us all we need to know about his ruthless tactics:

One evening, we were following Ava Gardner and Chiari, who were nightclubbing around Rome. There were four of us: Elio Sorci, myself and our collaborators. We had taken pictures of the two of them going in and out of nightclubs, worthless photographs because there were so many just like them. So, later, as he was parking and she had gone to open the door to the apartment building, I told Sorci to get ready. Then I went up very close to Gardner and set off a flash in her face; she screamed and Chiari immediately rushed me. Sorci promptly started shooting and got some pictures in which it looks as if we were fighting.

Based on Tazio Secchiaroli’s reputation as leader of the pack, Federico Fellini recruits him as an advisor for La Dolce Vita. It proves to be a formative experience and a turning point in Secchiaroli’s career.

In the early sixties, perhaps recognizing that street photography is a young man’s line of work and that he is not getting any younger, Tazio Secchiaroli transitions from paparazzo to set and portrait photographer. To this end, he persuades Gjon Mili, working in Italy on an assignment for LIFE magazine, to take him on for three months as an unpaid assistant. This is his opportunity to learn about the formal photographic techniques that as a paparazzo have not really been on his agenda – things like composition, lighting and depth of field.

Tazio Secchiaroli – his work with the stars

His first assignment as a set photographer is for Federico Fellini’s follow-up to La Dolce Vita – 8½. After that Tazio Secchiaroli works on the sets of all of Fellini’s films except for Juliet of the Spirits and Orchestra Rehearsal.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Photo taken on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Photo taken on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Photo taken on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Annie Daniel on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Annie Daniel on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Photo taken on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Monica Pardo on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Terence Stamp on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Terence Stamp on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Terence Stamp on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Terence Stamp on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Photo taken on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, Federico Fellini's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Federico Fellini on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Federico Fellini on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini and Anne Tonietti on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Federico Fellini on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Federico Fellini on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Anne Tonietti on the set of Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

1968. Federico Fellini and Anne Tonietti on the set of Toby Dammit, based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, the director's contribution to Spirits of the Dead. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

Fellini is not just an employer but also a profound influence:

If it weren’t for Fellini, I might have remained a paparazzo. He opened the doors of Cinecittà to me, but more than that, he showed me things I never would have understood on my own. Watching him, I learned to see the world in a disenchanted and slightly amused way. It was as if I had taken a load off my shoulders, or rather, off my brain.

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Ursula Andress preparing for a scene from The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Ursula Andress preparing for a scene in Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Ursula Andress in a scene from The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Ursula Andress as Caroline Meredith in a scene from Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Ursula Andress in a scene from The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Ursula Andress as Caroline Meredith in a scene from Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Elsa Martinelli as Olga in The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Elsa Martinelli as Olga in Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Marcello Mastroianni and Ursula Andress in a scene from The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Marcello Mastroianni and Ursula Andress in a scene from Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Marcello Mastroianni and Ursula Andress filming a scene for The 10th Victim

The 10th Victim

1965. Marcello Mastroianni and Ursula Andress filming a scene for Elio Petri's sci-fi fashion thriller, The 10th Victim. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

Tazio Secchiaroli also works with other directors including Pier Paolo Pasolini, Michelangelo Antonioni and Elio Petri (only two of the photos here from The 10th Victim have the photographer’s stamp; the others are attributed to him).

As portrait photographer to the stars, his most notable collaboration is with Sophia Loren, which lasts 20 years. In her autobiography, Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow: My Life, she writes:

I trusted Tazio Secchiaroli – my invaluable photographer – with my life. He was completely free to do as he pleased because I was sure he’d do the right thing. Marcello [Mastroianni] was a friend of his and had recommended him to me, and I’d gotten along with him right from the start. Fellini adored him as well, and they often worked together. He’d been the first to immortalize the nightlife of via Veneto, inspired not just the character of the paparazzo in La Dolce Vita, but by the whole atmosphere of the movie. He became like family to me, accompanying me all over the world, from set to set, and from event to event.

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Sophia Loren being photographed

Sophia Loren being photographed

1967. Sophia Loren being photographed. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren at a garden party

Sophia Loren at a garden party

Around 1970. Sophia Loren at a garden party. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren hugging a friend

Sophia Loren hugging a friend

1967. Sophia Loren hugging a friend. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Man of La Mancha

Sophia Loren in Man of La Mancha

1972. Sophia Loren as Dulcinea in Man of La Mancha. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

Elsewhere she rhapsodizes about his talent and professionalism:

Beneath an apparently cold and inattentive expression, Tazio has the instinct and controlled aggressiveness of the true photographer, one who will take a hundred or even a thousand shots until he is sure that he has got exactly the one he was looking for. Above all, Tazio has one great talent: he never pesters you, he will not confuse you with suggestions, he never tries out sterile experiments. Like a good hunting dog (I hope Tazio will forgive the analogy, but I do love dogs), he does not run or jump without reason. With all his senses on the alert, he waits patiently for the precise instant, however fleeting it may be, to seize the picture and freeze it forever on his film.

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Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti outdoors

Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti outdoors

1967. Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti outdoors. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti relaxing on a sofa

Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti relaxing on a sofa

1967. Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti relaxing on a sofa. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in an exotic garden

Sophia Loren in an exotic garden

1967. Sophia Loren in an exotic garden. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

Sophia Loren in Ghosts, Italian Style

1967. Sophia Loren as Maria Lojacono in Ghosts, Italian Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Charlie Chaplin, Sophia Loren and Marlon Brando on the set of A Countess from Hong Kong

On the set of A Countess from Hong Kong

1967. Charlie Chaplin with Sophia Loren and Marlon Brando on the set of A Countess from Hong Kong. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren filming More Than a Miracle

Sophia Loren filming More Than a Miracle

1967. Sophia Loren filming More Than a Miracle. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in Marriage Italian-Style

Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in Marriage Italian-Style

1964. Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in Marriage Italian-Style. Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

And the admiration and affection is reciprocated by Tazio Secchiaroli:

With la Loren, I really understood what light is. Few people have as good a sense as she does of this basic, incorporeal thing. But that’s not all. La Loren is one of the greatest people I have ever known. Beneath the diva is a simple, generous woman who, out of her great sense of fairness, detests cynicism, slyness, and arrogance.

Tazio Secchiaroli will carry on working on film sets and portraits until 1983:

Because photography, like any art, requires a great deal of energy. In 1983, I felt that this energy was exhausted. So I decided to quit.

Want to know more about Tazio Secchiaroli?

Diego Mormorio’s monograph, Tazio Secchiaroli – the greatest of the paparazzi, authoritatively written and beautifully illustrated, is a must-read. Online, the first place to go is Flashgun warrior by Gaby Wood, published in the 17 July 1999 issue of The Guardian. Apart from Wikipedia and, for a selection of Tazio Secchiaroli’s photographs, The Red List, other sources include:

  • Tazio Secchiaroli’s website (written in Italian).
  • The New York Times obituary, written by Sarah Boxer – Tazio Secchiaroli, the Model for ‘Paparazzo,’ Dies at 73.
  • An article in The Herald – We got even, says the original paparazzo.

Filed Under: Films, Photographers, Stars Tagged With: Carlo Ponti, Federico Fellini, Fellini's Satyricon, Gjon Mili, Sophia Loren, Spirits of the Dead, Tazio Secchiaroli, The 10th Victim

The paparazzi – shock horror birth of a monster

2018-03-29 By aenigma

Look of resignation
Around 1963. Princess Grace of Monaco endures the antics of the paparazzi.

Paparazzi. The lowest of the low. Leeches, predators, sleazebags. Intrusive, money-grubbing, shameless stalkers. No depths to which they won’t sink in pursuit of stunners, love rats and sex romps.

Yup, paparazzi get a pretty bad press. So where does this ravenous pack of hyenas come from? And why are they called paparazzi? It’s a story with plenty of tabloid appeal, set in 1950s Rome where a cluster of volatile elements fuse to create the gruesome phenomenon.

The paparazzi – humble beginnings

Like Paris after World War II, Rome and its inhabitants are in dire straits after the defeat of the fascists. There’s no better account of the poverty and desperation that are rife in the city than Vittorio de Sica’s seminal neorealist film, The Bicycle Thieves (1948). It recounts the travails of Antonio Ricci, an impoverished father who finally is lucky enough to be offered a job that could be the salvation of his young family. But to do the job he needs a bicycle, and he’s already pawned his to raise cash for food…

Ricci is typical of thousands of Romans who have to live on their wits.

In the aftermath of World War II, one option is to beg, steal or borrow a camera and offer to take pictures of visitors to the eternal city – mostly soldiers and a few tourists. Of course, there’s no such thing as instant prints, so the idea is that the customer meets the photographer later on to collect and pay for the shots. But, as often as not, the customers fail to show so the photographers (or “scattini” as they are known) find themselves shelling out money they can’t recoup on film and print, and living on the breadline. The last straw is that as cameras get cheaper and easier to afford, more and more visitors have their own equipment. Whatever market there was, begins to dry up.

The paparazzi – the movie industry to the rescue

By this time, another way of earning much-needed lire is gathering pace. In 1945, Cinecittà, the film studio set up on the outskirts of Rome by Benito Mussolini, is little more than a refugee camp. But it doesn’t take long for the Hollywood studios to begin to realise its potential.

Ava's arrival
Rome, December 1954. Ava Gardner arrives from Singapore.

As the largest film-production facility in Europe, it can offer the capacity to shoot spectacular movies such as Quo Vadis, Ben Hur, and Cleopatra, with the populace of Rome only too happy to provide a rent-a-crowd service. Besides movie extras, there’s plenty of untapped talent across the disciplines, from sets to lighting, and from costumes to hair and make-up. All available at bargain prices compared with the escalating costs of production in Hollywood.

But the real deal-clincher is a piece of Italian legislation that prevents US companies from sending back their earnings. What better to do with the funds generated by tickets sales of US movies in Italy than plough the money back into making more films there? By the time an article about the film-making in Rome appears in the June 26 1950 issue of Time magazine, the author is able to coin the phrase “Hollywood on the Tiber” – and it sticks.

The Hollywood studios don’t just provide employment opportunities, they also bring along a host of stars who might otherwise never have materialized in Rome – the likes of Humphrey Bogart, Stewart Granger, Robert Taylor, Gregory Peck, Charlton Heston, Ava Gardner, Deborah Kerr, Audrey Hepburn, Linda Christian, Anita Ekberg and Elizabeth Taylor.

According to an article in the August 16, 1954 issue of Time magazine:

Movie producers … were just as common as cats in the Forum, and just about as noisy. … As many as three pictures were being shot at once with the same cast. … Drinking orgies, studio spies and gorgeous villas with swimming pools were the rule of the day. The purple sports shirt had replaced the purple toga.

The paparazzi – photographic scandalmongers

All this talent congregates around via Veneto, until recently the haunt of Rome’s bohemian intellectuals and artists but rapidly transforming into the centre of nightlife for the elite of Roman society – the rich, the famous, the titled, the entitled, the notorious, the wannabes…

Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg pestered by paparazzi in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita
1959. Marcello and Sylvia pestered by paparazzi in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. Photo by Pierluigi Praturlon.

In 1957, Melton Davis in his book All Rome Trembled, writes of via Veneto:

Only in modern Italy could a single half-mile-long street contain so much grace and vulgarity, power and decadence, charm and arrogance as did this gilded alley. It was made to order for the fixers, for the dope-addled princes and dream-haunted paupers, for the whole fantastic parade that gathered there.

And the goings-on of this group generate two scandals that rock Italian society to its foundations – partly because of what they reveal about a depraved upper-class demimonde but also because of the way they are reported – in photos as well as in copy.

During the fifties, Italy’s magazine sector is booming. Alongside the traditional publications, there are more recent titles, which take their inspiration from US picture magazines LIFE and Look. And then there are the new gossip magazines. The market leaders are Le Ore and Lo Specchio. each selling upward of half a million copies a week. Newsworthy images are their meat and drink, their appetite for them is insatiable, and very few of them have staff photographers.

Which brings us right back to the scattini who have realized that there is no more mileage in tourist shots. The name of the game now is to come up with juicy pictures of newsworthy events and celebrities – the more titillating the better. The scattini have morphed into downmarket street photographers.

The beach scene at dawn that concludes La Dolce Vita
1959. Body on the beach. The last scene of Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita recalls the discovery of Wilma Montesi’s body. Photo by Pierluigi Praturlon.

The paparazzi – the Wilma Montesi scandal

The first of the two scandals begins when the corpse of an unremarkable young woman is found on a beach near Rome. She’s wearing a coat, blouse and underwear but her skirt, garters, stockings, shoes and handbag are missing. The date is 11 April, 1953, and the girl’s name is Wilma Montesi. The coroner gives a verdict of accidental death, which the police are happy to accept. But is it mere coincidence that the strand where Wilma’s body was found is a just a kilometre away from Capocotta, a private wooded estate used by noblemen and their guests for hunting and parties? Rumour has it that Wilma was at an orgy of sex and drugs along with noblemen, politicians, gangsters and prostitutes. Perhaps she died of an overdose and was dumped on the shore. Or she may have been murdered because she knew too much.

It takes just a single newspaper to break cover and suggest there’s been a cover-up – that Wilma was murdered and, what’s more, some powerful politicians may be implicated. Within days, the press are all over the story. Named in conjunction with it are Ugo Montagna, a Sicilian nobleman and operator of Capocotta, and Piero Piccioni, well-known jazz musician and son of the Deputy Prime Minister.

Anna-Maria Caglio on her way to court
1953. Anna-Maria Caglio on her way to court as a key witness in the Montesi case.

In the ensuing libel case, Giuseppe Sotgiu, an ambitious Communist politician, leads the case for the defense. His plan is to make the most of this opportunity to get at the corrupt establishment and in the process to raise his own profile. The allegations and the trial itself are nothing short of sensational and draw the photographers like pigs to shit. In their determination to get the best shots, theyʼre not afraid to confront lawyers, witnesses, even the Montesi family, outside the courthouse, at their homes and offices, and when they are out shopping or relaxing at a bar or restaurant.

One of those witnesses is Anna-Maria Caglio, an attractive girl who has seen at first hand the goings-on at Capocotta and is prepared to talk about them under oath. She reveals that she has been so frightened that the alleged perpetrators would have her killed that as a precaution she left with her landlady a letter revealing her knowledge that Montagna runs a gang of drug traffickers and Piccioni is a murderer. The defining image – of Caglio, overcome with emotion – is snapped by Tazio Secchiaroli and goes everywhere.

For his next trick, Secchiaroli picks out a hiding place outside a brothel. Rumour has it that itʼs here that Sotgiu, who has assumed the moral high ground in the Montesi case, goes to watch his wife having sex with various lovers – women as well as men. Secchiaroli lies in wait and gets a shot of Sotgiu strolling into the building with an air of familiarity and later back out of it. Thanks partly to those shots, the police raid the brothel and arrest the couple for questioning together with a number of other participants. The screaming headlines that blaze across the newspapers end Sotgiu’s career.

And that’s not all. Back in court Montagna and Piccioni as part of their defense against charges in the Montesi case, claim to be strangers to each other. Tipped off by Velio Cioni, one of his gang, Secchiaroli manages to trap the pair by using his Fiat and himself to block the dead-end street down which they have driven. They make as if to run him over but he stands firm and gets half a dozen incriminating shots – another scoop.

In spite of all this, the trial comes to nothing – there’s simply not enough hard evidence to convict anyone for Wilma’s death.

The paparazzi – the strip show at Rugantino

Five years after the Montesi affair, the night of 5 November, 1958 to be precise, another scandal hits the headlines and once again Secchiaroli is in the right place at the right time. Along with four other photographers including Angelo Frontoni and Umberto Guidotti, heʼs been invited to a party thrown by Olga di Robilant, an aspiring actress looking to break into the scene in Rome with a view to furthering her career. She’s going to get a whole lot more than she bargained for.

The venue is Rugantino, a restaurant on a cobblestoned piazza in the city’s Trastevere district, and the guests include an assortment of young aristocrats together with various stars including Linda Christian, Elsa Martinelli and, most importantly, Anita Ekberg.

Anita Ekberg at Rugantino
Rome, 5 November 1958. Anita Ekberg sets a bad example at Rugantino.

In spite of the hip crowd, the drinks and the strains of the Roman New Orleans Jazz Band, the party starts off as a pretty staid affair. Then Anita Ekberg kicks off her shoes and improvises a mambo. With her platinum tresses and décolleté black-velvet gown, she’s quite a sight. She’s joined by a German actor. Then a few more couples take to the floor. Other members of the party start clapping to the music. Suddenly, the atmosphere is electric.

Anita slips and decides to take a seat while she recovers. And onto the dance floor steps a small, dark girl in a white dress. She’s gatecrashed the party and no one knows who she is. But shy she isn’t. She walks up to the drummer and whispers in his ear. He signals to the rest of the band that he is going to do a solo performance. And the girl begins to dance. Anita asks if she’s a belly dancer. Yes, but the dress she’s wearing doesn’t lend itself to belly dancing. Anita challenges her to remove her dress, promising to follow suit if she does. And so begins the girlʼs notorious striptease.

There to record it for posterity and for the next day’s press are the five photographers. The one who gets the most celebrated shots is Secchiaroli. While his comrades home in on the dancer, he draws back to take in the leering crowd of celebrities. And he has the foresight to have his rolls of film smuggled out before they’re seized by the police. Secchiaroli will recall:

What was happening before my very eyes was indescribable … the most sinful, transgressive thing that I had every photographed.

The girl, it turns out, is Aïché Nana. She’s a Lebanese actress and writer and now everybody’s heard of her.

Secchiaroli’s photos appear in the reputable L’Europeo and L’Espresso as well as in more downmarket publications such as Epoca and Lo Specchio. The accompanying articles lead with headlines such as “Rome’s Turkish Night,” “The Sins of Trastevere” and “This Is How the Upper Crust Undress.” And the scandal even makes its way into The New York Times.

Gina Lollobrigida posing for a street photographer
Early 1950s. Gina Lollobrigida happy to pose for a street photographer.

The paparazzi – what do they get up to and who are they?

For a while, there’s an unspoken pact, sometimes even collusion, between the photographers and their subjects. The former crave shots of celebrities to sell to the media. The latter are happy to appear in newspapers and magazines to build or bolster their careers or pander to their own egos. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship. But as competition intensifies between both magazines and photographers, the pressure ramps up for more and more sensational images.

It’s not long before the photographers, led by Secchiaroli, become provocateurs, goading their subjects to lose their cool and provide a bit of drama for the lensmen. Why? Because there’s a market for such images. The magazines will pay 3,000 lire (roughly US $40.00 in today’s money) for a straight shot and 200,000 lire (roughly US $2,750) for one of a celeb losing their cool – so the tantrum premium amounts to over 6,000%. The turning point comes around 1958 when stories about clashes between photographers and celebrities become more and more common and more and more racy. One particular night, Umberto Guidotti snaps a shot of exiled King Farouk of Egypt trying to snatch Secchiaroli’s camera from him; and Secchiaroli himself gets an image of British actor Anthony Steel in a drunken rage.

Anthony Steel, currently married to Anita Ekberg, is, in fact, a favourite target of the photographers. Late night, he can be relied on to have had too much to drink and be ready to flare up. Anita Ekberg usually takes it in her stride but occasionally she’s riled. On one memorable occasion, she returns to give her pursuers as good (if not better) than she gets, shooting at them with a bow and arrow. And it is pretty much outright war between the paparazzi and their targets. Here’s how Tazio Secchiaroli viewed it:

Now, there’s our target, our face: who’s going to let it get away? Obviously, on these occasions, nothing will stop us, even if it means overturning tables and waiters, or raising shrieks from an old lady who doesn’t quite get what’s happening; even if it means shocking John Q Citizen – he’s always there – who protests in the name of the rights of man, or, conversely,  galvanizing the other citizen – also ubiquitous – who takes our side in the name of the freedom of the press and of the Constitution; even if the police intervene or we chase the subject all night long, we won’t let go, we’ll fight with flashes, we’ll help each other out… The increasingly ruthless competition means we can’t afford to be delicate; our duties, our responsibilities as picture-hunters, always on the lookout, and pursued ourselves on every side, make it impossible for us to behave otherwise. Of course we, too, would like to stroll through an evening, have a cup of coffee in blissful peace, and see via Veneto as a splendid international promenade, rather than one big workplace, or even a theater of war.

The paparazzi themselves are a lean, hungry, streetwise bunch who have muscled their way into the business from humble beginnings. They don’t need to watch The Bicycle Thieves to find out just how much of a struggle life is for ordinary Italians. Often they hunt in packs, and they dress respectably so they can gain access to wherever the best shots are to be had. But they come from the other side of the tracks compared with their subjects, for whose wealth, lifestyle and privilege they have little sympathy. As Tazio recalls:

We photographers were all poor starving devils and they had it all – money, fame, posh hotels. The doormen and porters in the grand hotels gave us information tips – you could call it the fellowship of the proletariat.

Anita Ekberg defends her privacy against paparazzi intrusion
20 October 1960. Avenging amazon. Anita Ekberg takes matters into her own hands.They pioneer a style of photography that’s utterly true to themselves and the situation they find themselves in, and quite unlike anything that’s gone before. It’s raw, brash and aggressive. It derives partly from their lack of training and partly from the equipment they use. To snap a saleable shot with their twin-lens Rolleiflexes, you have to get right up close to your subject and fire your flash in their face. Since the flash takes a long time to recharge, you have just one chance for a shot.

So who’s in the gang during the 1950s, the heyday of the paparazzi? Some snappers you’re likely to bump into on the via Veneto, their favourite haunt, include Adriano Bartoloni, Giancarlo Bonora, Alessandro Canetrelli, Velio Cioni, Guglielmo Coluzzi, Licio D’Aloisio, Mario Fabbi, Quinto Felice, Marcello Geppetti, Umberto Guidotti, Ivan Kroscenko, Ivo Meldolesi, Luciano Mellace, Lino Nanni, Giuseppe Palmas, Paolo Pavia, Mario Pelosi, Gilberto Petrucci, Franco Pinna, Elio Sorci, Sergio Spinelli, Bruno Tartaglia, Sandro Vespasiani and Ezio Vitale.

But the two who stand out are Tazio Secchiaroli and Pierluigi Praturlon. You’ve read already about some of the former’s exploits. Pierluigi’s nickname in the business is “Lux,” after the soap advertised as “the choice of nine stars out of ten.” While he’s certainly one of the gang, he has other claims to fame – for example, his friendship with Anita Ekberg.

Anita and I often went out together. We used to go dancing at a place near Casalpalocco. One night in August, in I958, Anita, who always danced barefoot, hurt her foot. Coming back to Rome at four in the morning, we passed the Trevi Fountain and Anita said, ‘Stop the car so I can rinse my foot.’ ‘No, come on,’ I said. ‘You’ll be home in five minutes.’ She insisted, so we stopped. She got out and, hiking up her skirt, began wading into the fountain, at which point I got my camera and started shooting her in the fountain’s dusky glow. I remember two carabinieri standing in a corner who weren’t more than twenty years old. They didn’t say a word. They were completely entranced watching this beautiful woman in the fountain, with her long, lovely legs.

Anita Ekberg’s account differs in the details:

One night I was having photos taken by Pierluigi Praturlon. I was barefoot and I cut my foot. I went in search of a fountain to bathe my bleeding foot and, all unawares, found myself in the piazza di Trevi. It was summer. I was wearing a white-and-pink cotton dress with the upper part like a man’s shirt. I lifted the skirt up and immersed myself in the basin, saying to Luigi, ‘You can’t imagine how cool this water is, you should come in, too.’ ‘Just stay like that,’ he said, and started taking photos. They sold like hot cakes! … It was me who made Fellini famous, not the other way around.

Either way, the shots appear in a magazine called Tempo Illustrato. For a while, Pierluigi is Sophia Loren’s photographer of choice, before being superseded by Tazio Secchiaroli. He’s given the role of stills photographer for La Dolce Vita by Federico Fellini. And he goes on to set up a photographic agency, headquartered in Rome with offices in London and Paris.

Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg again beset by paparazzi in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita
1959. Not just on the via Veneto but wherever they go, Marcello and Sylvia can’t escape the paparazzi buzzing around them in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. Photo by Pierluigi Praturlon.

The paparazzi – Fellini and La Dolce Vita

Federico Fellini’s masterpiece, La Dolce Vita, is inspired by the world you’ve been reading about – the celebrities, the scandals, the street photographers and the popular press in which their shots appear. He wants to capture the atmosphere of contemporary Rome:

I think the inspiration, even in terms of the formulation of the images, came from life as seen by the scandal sheets, L’Europeo, Oggi; the careless jaunts of the corrupt aristocracy, their way of photographing parties. The scandal sheets were the worrying mirror of a society that was in a constant state of self-celebration, self-depiction, self- congratulation.

Five scenes from the film which draw on events that have featured in the press are:

  • The delivery of a statue of Jesus Christ by helicopter to the Vatican City, pictured in the papers in May 1950.
  • The suicide of the poet and novelist Cesare Pavese following his split with Constance Dowling.
  • The “miracle of the Madonna” photographed by Tazio Secchiaroli (he gets everywhere!).
  • Anita Ekberg’s night out with Pierluigi and her midnight dip in the Trevi Fountain.
  • The strip show at Rugantino.
  • The exploits of the street photographers around via Veneto, which, according to Fellini’s co-scriptwriter, Ennio Flaiano, has “become one big party … this isn’t a street any more, it’s a beach … the conversations are like those at the seaside, referring to an exclusively gastro-sexual reality.”
Sylvia cools off in the Trevi Fountain
1959. Sylvia (Anita Ekberg) cools off in the Trevi Fountain in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. Photo by Pierluigi Praturlon.

With those expoits in mind, Fellini invites five street photographers including Pierluigi, Secchiaroli and Frontoni to dinner so that he can listen to their stories and pick their brains:

I spent a number of evenings chatting with Tazio Secchiaroli and the other photojournalists of via Veneto, learning the tricks of their trade. How they spotted their prey, how they teased them, how they how they tailored their features for the various newspapers. They had hilarious stories of lying in wait for eternities, of imaginative escapes, and of dramatic chases.

He retains Secchiaroli to train the actors who will play the parts of the street photographers in the film heʼs planning.

That those photographers come to be known as paparazzi is down to Fellini, his co-scriptwriter Ennio Flaiano and the film crew. Paparazzo is the name of the photographer with whom the journalist Marcello (the movie’s hack protagonist) teams up. It’s inspired by a travelogue that Flaiano has been reading and that features a hotel run by a man called Paparazzo.

When Flaiano proposes the name, the sound of it reminds Fellini of the buzzing of an insect you can’t get rid of. So Paparazzo it is. And during production, the film crew use the name for the whole gang of street photographers who feature in the movie – in Italian, paparazzi is the plural of paparazzo. The term sticks and rapidly gains currency.

Richard Burton and Elizabeth on the deck of a yacht off the coast of Ischia
Ischia, 1963. Mischief in the Med. Love rats Richard Burton and Elizabeth on the deck of a yacht off the coast of Ischia. Photo by Pat Morin.

The paparazzi – society’s pariahs

The paparazzi are none too pleased with their growing notoriety. In its April 14, 1961 issue, Time magazine publishes a pretty scathing article, Paparazzi on the Prowl, calling them “a ravenous wolf pack … who stalk big names … with flash guns at point-blank range” and with “lips leaking cigarettes, cameras drawn like automatics.”

No one is safe, not even royalty. … Legitimate news photographers scorn the paparazzi as streetwalkers of Roman journalism. But like streetwalkers, they cling to their place in society.

The new generation of paparazzi are more numerous than their predecessors and have new technology at their disposal – specificially zoom-lens SLR cameras. They no longer have to get up close and personal with their victims (and, increasingly, victims is what they are), they can shoot from way off. Gradually, the bleached out, high-contrast images produced by flashguns give way to grainy distance shots.

Perhaps the most famous early example of zoom-lens scandal shots is the work of a pack of paparazzi who, in 1962, set off in hot pursuit of Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor to Ischia, where filming of Cleopatra is scheduled for shooting after five months in Rome. The snappers catch the couple frolicking on the deck of a yacht. It’s the first proof of an affair that has been hotly rumoured. Both are married – in fact Elizabeth Taylor is already on her fourth husband. She has a reputation as a marriage breaker and for the press the series of photos confirm her insatiable appetite and shameless depravity. The scandal also helps ensure that Cleopatra will be an unprecedented box-office blockbuster.

Christine Keeler surrounded by police and press
London, 1963. Christine Keeler surrounded by police and press as she leaves court during the Profumo affair.

And so a monster is born.

By the time he comes to shoot The Bible in Rome, John Huston tells the US press that the paparazzi have become so objectionable and impossible to avoid and objectionable that, unless something is done about them, movie-makers will find other options for their productions.

Even before then, the action has switched from Rome to London, where the story of the Profumo scandal has all the necessary ingredients: sex, politics, deceit, espionage, criminality, suicide, high society and an extra-marital affair. It blows the lid off the UK establishment just as the Montesi scandal did just over ten years earlier in Italy. And, like the Montesi scandal, it grips the country and its readers.

In the late sixties, media mogul Rupert Murdoch will enter the UK’s newspaper industry, buy The Sun (a failing broadsheet), turn it into a tabloid and, aided and abetted by editor Larry Lamb, focus it on sport, celebrities and gossip. The transformation is the subject of James Graham’s super, soaraway smash play, Ink. With its outrageous headlines, topless models and devil-may-care attitude, it will quickly become the UK’s most popular newspaper.

The Sun is just one example of the popularity of paparazzi photography and tabloid journalism. But as the quest for scandal gets more and more aggressive, unscrupulous and vicious, the issues raised will become increasingly urgent – not least, the extent to which the practices involved are tantamount to stalking by another name.

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A pack of paparazzi hound Princess Diana and Dodi Al-Fayed on holiday in the Gulf of Saint Tropez

Wolf pack

Gulf of Saint Tropez, July, 1997. A pack of paparazzi hound Diana, Princess of Wales and her partner, Dodi Al-Fayed as they holiday on board the Al-Fayed family yacht.

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Princess Diana hugs her younger son Harry on board Mohamed Al-Fayed's luxury yacht, Jonikal

Princess Diana with her son Harry

Gulf of Saint Tropez, 20 July, 1997. Diana, Princess of Wales, on holiday with Dodi Al-Fayed, hugs her younger son Harry on board the Al-Fayed family's luxury yacht, Jonikal.

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Princess Diana on board the luxury yacht, Jonikal

Princess Diana’s last holiday

Gulf of Saint Tropez, 20 July, 1997. Diana, Princess of Wales on board the luxury yacht, Jonikal. Less than six weeks later she will die when, chased by paparazzi, the car in which she's being driven crashes in a Paris underpass.

The whole thing will reach its grim, ignominious and inevitable conclusion in August 1997 with the tragic deaths of Diana, Princess of Wales and her fiancé, Dodi al-Fayed in a car crash in a Paris underpass. At her funeral, Charles Spencer will describe his sister as “the most hunted person of the modern age.” And at the inquest, jurors will rule that she was “unlawfully killed” not just by the reckless driving of the chauffeur but also by the paparazzi who were chasing her.

It’s difficult not to feel a certain admiration, affection even, for the first paparazzi. They were desperate, they were cunning, they were audacious. They did what they had to do to claw themselves out of poverty, they grafted and they had a ball. What those who followed in their steps had to offer is more up for debate. Hyenas and other scavengers, however repulsive, perform a useful task in nature. Can the same be said of today’s paparazzi?

Robert Kennedy snapped by a paparazzo as he crosses the street
February 1967. Robert Kennedy snapped by a paparazzo as he crosses the street. Photo: Reporters Associés.

The paparazzi – a uniquely Roman phenomenon?

The answer to the question depends on what we mean by paparazzi. In some respects at least they had a forerunner in the US. His name is Arthur Fellig but he’s better known as Weegee. He’s famous for his stark and gruesome photos of New York crime scenes, car crashes and other personal tragedies. His approach, as outlined in an interview on ASX, chimes with that of the paparazzi.

News photography teaches you to think fast, to be sure of yourself, self confidence. When you go out on a story, you don’t go back for another sitting. You gotta get it.

…

The idea was I sold the pictures to the newspapers. And naturally, I picked a story that meant something, in other words, names make news. If there’s a fight between a couple on 3rd avenue or 9th avenue in Hell’s Kitchen, nobody cares, it’s just a barroom brawl. But if society has a fight in a Cadillac on Park avenue and their names are in the Social Register, this makes news, and the papers are interested in that.

And Weegee’s account of photographing a murder scene totally echoes what set Secchiaroli apart from his mates that night at Rugantino:

I arrive, right in the heart of Little Italy, 10 Prince street, here’s a guy had been bumped off in the doorway of a little candy store. This was a nice balmy hot summer’s night, the detectives are all over, but all the five stories of the tenement, people are on the fire escape. They’re looking, they’re having a good time, some of the kids are even reading the funny papers and the comics.”

There was another photographer there, and he made what they call a ten foot shot. He made a shot of just a guy laying in the doorway, that was it. To me, this was drama, this was like a backdrop. I stepped back all the way about a hundred feet, I used flash powder, and I got this whole scene: the people on the fire escapes, the body, everything. Of course the title for it was “Balcony Seats at a Murder.” That picture won me a gold medal with a real genuine diamond…

Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly ambushed by paparazzi
Monaco, 13 April 1956. Royal ruckus. Paparazzi roadblock incenses Prince Rainier during his first public outing with his fiancée, movie star Grace Kelly.

Paparazzi photography is closely related to both photojournalism and street photography. The former tends to focus on more serious subject matter and to have a more serious slant. Street photography is generally gentler than paparazzi photography – think Henri Cartier-Bresson and the post-World War II humanist school, or take a look at some issues of Picture Post in the UK, LIFE and Look in the US.

The definitions of all these genres are always going to be fuzzy. Some defining characteristics of paparazzi photography are:

  • Subject – celebrity, sensational or scurrilous subject matter (ideally, all three).
  • Location – on the street or in other public places.
  • Approach – candid shots, preferably catching the subject off-guard.

By that definition, paparazzi photography was by no means confined to Rome even back in the mid-fifties, as illustrated by the shots here of Grace Kelly (in Monaco) and Maria Callas (in Milan). Indeed photographers were looking for these kinds of shots even before World War II – just take a look at this image of Barbara Stanwyck at a Hollywood premiere back in April 1937.

So while Rome was certainly a cradle of paparazzi photography back in the 1950s, its reputation as THE birthplace of the genre probably owes as much to the legend created by Federico Fellini in La Dolce Vita as it does to what was actually taking place in the city.

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Aristotle Onassis and Maria Callas at Bresso Airport

The Callas Onassis affair, part 1

Bresso Airport (Milan), 3 September 1959. Shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis arrives from Venice by private jet. There to meet him is opera diva Maria Meneghini Callas with paparazzi in tow.

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Aristotle Onassis and Maria Callas at Bresso Airport

The Callas Onassis affair, part 2

Bresso Airport (Milan), 3 September 1959. Callas waits while Onassis goes off to talk to an officer. One of the paparazzi pops up behind the car to shoot them.

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Aristotle Onassis and Maria Callas on their way to a nightclub in Milan

The Callas Onassis affair, part 3

Milan, 3 September 1959. At ten o’clock that night, Onassis and Callas walk to a nightclub where they eat, drink and dance. They leave five hours later. Six days later, on 9 September, Callas confirms that her 10-year marriage to Italian millionaire Battista Meneghini is on the rocks. She says there will be a legal separation and that her desire for a movie career, not her alleged romance with Onassis, caused the breakup.

Want to know more about the paparazzi?

Absolutely essential reading is Shawn Levy’s riveting book, Dolce Vita Confidential. You can find out more about two of the leading paparazzi in Diego Mormorio’s beautifully illustrated monograph, Tazio Secchiaroli, Greatest of the Paparazzi and Philippe Garner’s article for The Telegraph, Elio Sorci: the world’s first paparazzo. In TIME magazine Kate Samuelson has written about The Princess and the Paparazzi: How Diana’s Death Changed the British Media in TIME magazine.

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Brigitte Bardot goes for a stroll in Saint Tropez with Sacha Distel

Hand in hand

Saint-Tropez, 1 September 1958. Holding hands with her recent steady escort, guitar player Sacha Distel, French actress Brigitte Bardot goes for a stroll. But there's no way the couple can avoid the paparazzi drawn to the glamorous resort.

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Sophia Loren glances at Jayne Mansfield's cleavage

Revealing shot

Beverly Hills, 1958. To welcome Sophia Loren to Hollywood, Paramount Studios invite a celebrity-studded crowd to a reception at Romanoff's. Among the guests is Jayne Mansfield, who likes to be in the limelight and is not shy of baring a generous helping of cleavage to achieve it. Someone seats the blonde bombshell next to the maggiorata (the term the Italians have coined for buxom beauties) and an alert photographer get this revealing shot. Photo: Joe Shere.

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Claudia Cardinale by Elio Sorci

Paparazzi portraiture

1968. Like a number of other paparazzi, Elio Sorci has a second line of work taking portraits of movie stars. Among his friends are Gina Lollobrigida and Claudia Cardinale (pictured here). But who's that with the camera in the background? Sorci is also a born entrepreneur and, like Pierluigi Praturlon, sets up a photographic agency. Photo: Elio Sorci.

Filed Under: Events, Films, Photographers, Press, Stars Tagged With: Aïché Nana, Angelo Frontoni, Anita Ekberg, Anna-Maria Caglio, Aristotle Onassis, Ava Gardner, Cinecittà, Diana Princess of Wales, Elizabeth Taylor, Grace Kelly, Maria Callas, paparazzi, Pat Morin, Pierluigi Praturlon, Richard Burton, scattini, Tazio Secchiaroli, Wilma Montesi

The Lady from Shanghai – the weirdest great movie ever made

2018-01-16 By aenigma

The Lady from Shanghai – hallucinatory, baffling, sinister, brilliant, twisted. All of those adjectives apply to this flawed masterpiece by one of cinema’s great magicians. Or, in the words of Dave Kehr, the weirdest great movie ever made.

The Lady from Shanghai has become something of a cult for movie buffs, particularly for connoisseurs of film noir. It’s full of originality, strangeness and atmosphere. But the film we see today is very different from the one that Orson Welles, its writer, director, producer and co-star, envisioned. And the story behind it has enough twists and turns to form the basis of a movie in its own right.

If you’ve never seen the movie, now’s the time to find out what you’ve been missing. If you have a blu-ray player, try to get hold of the Mill Creek Entertainment transfer.

Spoiler Alert!!! Let’s begin with the main characters and the plot of the film itself. So, stop reading now if you’ve never seen The Lady from Shanghai and want to watch it without knowing the plot in advance.

The Lady from Shanghai – characters, plot and things to look out for

Rita Hayworth as Elsa Bannister in The Lady from Shanghai
1947. Rita Hayworth as Elsa Bannister in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

There are five main protagonists in The Lady from Shanghai:

  • Michael O’Hara, an unemployed freelance sailor who acts as the film’s narrator. Orson Welles cast himself in the role, assuming a less-than-convincing Irish accent. For all that, his wistful voice-over imbues the film with a sense of overwhelming sadness, world-weariness and resignation.
  • Elsa Bannister, the drop-dead gorgeous lady from Shanghai with a murky past and a great deal on her mind. This role marked a radical departure from those previously played by Rita Hayworth.
  • Arthur Bannister, Elsa’s husband whose brilliant legal mind is in stark contrast with his pitiful, crippled body. He’s played with “hawk-like malevolence” by Mercury Player Everett Sloane, who made his screen debut in Citizen Kane. And indeed Arthur Bannister, like Charles Foster Kane, is full of despair despite his success.
  • George Grisby, Arthur Bannister’s sweaty, bulging-eyed, leering legal partner, obsessed with the atom bomb and the end of the world. He has a habit of calling people “fella,” presumably a reference to Nelson Rockefeller, who had recruited Welles to create It’s All True (a film comprising three stories about Latin America), only to terminate the project before it came to fruition. Glenn Anders’ performance in the role all but steals the show.
  • Sidney Broome, a private detective hired by Arthur Bannister to spy on Elsa. This marked Ted de Corsia’s screen debut and he went on to play a number of villains in movies including Jules Dassin’s terrific The Naked City (1948).

The Lady from Shanghai has a tortuous, labyrinthine storyline. At the beginning, it’s easy to follow. But as the film moves towards its shattering (literally!) climax, the intrigue careers out of control, piling plot-twist on plot-twist. Perhaps things would have been spelled out more clearly had the film not been cut by an hour and subjected to numerous retakes and edits. But even before that happened… after the preview showing, Harry Cohn, Columbia’s president, offered to pay anyone in the room US$1,000 if they could explain the storyline. So perhaps it was always Welles’ intention to take his audience for a ride.

The following sequence of stills should help you to make sense of the plot. The synopsis in the captions draws on a much longer and rather brilliant one at Filmsite.org.

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Michael O’Hara meets Elsa Bannister

1. Michael O’Hara meets Elsa Bannister

Michael O’Hara meets and is captivated by Elsa Bannister as she is riding in a horse-drawn carriage through Central Park in New York. After they part, he hears her scream and rescues her from muggers. He learns about her past and talks about his. She offers him a job as a crew member on board her yacht. Later he meets George Grisby and Sidney Broome, from whom he learns that Elsa is married to Arthur Bannister, a renowned San Francisco lawyer.

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Arthur Bannister comes to find Michael O'Hara

2. Arthur Bannister comes to find Michael

The next day, Arthur Bannister, crippled and by implication impotent, comes looking for Michael at the seamen’s hiring hall. He reiterates the job offer.

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Arthur Bannister takes Michael O'Hara for a drink

3. Bannister takes Michael for a drink

Bannister takes Michael and two of his mates to a bar for a drink. When he gets legless, Michael takes him home.

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Elsa Bannister and Bessie, her maid

4. Bessie is concerned for her mistress

The Bannisters’ maidservant Bessie is concerned for her mistress and urges Michael to help the vulnerable “child” – “She needs you bad, you stay”.

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Elsa Bannister flirts with Michael O’Hara

5. All at sea

The cruise is sultry and fraught. A strange sense of doom and a malicious torpor hangs over the yacht like an albatross. At sea, Grisby, who has joined the party, asks Michael if he would be prepared to commit a murder. The conversation is interrupted by Elsa calling Michael, with whom she has begun to flirt. Grisby sees them embrace.

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A picnic in the jungle

6. A picnic in the jungle

Bannister organizes a picnic that requires the whole crew to make their way through a dangerous jungle on the Mexican coast. He tells Broome, the yacht’s steward, that he (Bannister) will be the victim of a murder plot. Elsa tells Michael that Broome is actually a private detective whose remit is to spy on her so that in the event of a divorce she would be left with nothing. At the picnic, the Bannisters bait each other about Michael’s role as her “big, strong bodyguard.” When they call him to join them, he likens them to a pack of blood-seeking sharks.

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George Grisby makes Michael O'Hara a strange proposition

7. Grisby makes Michael a strange proposition

Docked in Acapulco, Grisby offers Michael $5,000 to murder him.

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Michael O'Hara promises to take care of Elsa Bannister

8. Michael promises to take care of Elsa

The following night, when Elsa comes to find him on one of the city’s streets, Michael tells her about Grisby’s weird proposal. When Broome appears in the shadows, Michael knocks him out. Elsa runs away from the scene but Michael catches up and promises to take care of her.

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Elsa Bannister at the San Francisco aquarium

9. The plot thickens

The cruise ends in San Francisco, where Michael proposes to Elsa that he accept Grisby’s offer and use the money to elope with her. She declines his offer.

Grisby reveals that his plan is for an insurance scam: if either of the partners in the firm of Bannister & Grisby dies, the other stands to get a lucrative pay-out.

Next morning, in Grisby’s office Michael listens to part of the typed statement he must sign, admitting to killing Grisby. Grisby persuades him to go ahead on the basis that he, Grisby, will disappear and that in California a murderer cannot be convicted without a corpse.

The following day, Michael has a clandestine meeting with Elsa at the San Francisco aquarium, where he convinces her to go along with his plan. On reading a copy of the statement he has signed, she warns him that her husband is behind Grisby’s proposal and that it’s some kind of trap.

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George Grisby takes Michael O'Hara for a ride

10. Grisby takes Michael for a ride

At the Bannisters’ house on the night of the fake murder, Broome reveals that he’s rumbled Grisby’s plan, which is in fact to kill Bannister, pin the murder on Michael and run off with Elsa. When he tries to blackmail Grisby, the latter shoots him, then goes out and hands the gun to the unsuspecting Michael to use for the fake murder.

While Grisby and Michael make for the Sausalito dock, Elsa, who has heard the gunshot, finds Broome dying on the kitchen floor and listens unmoved as he tells her about the plot to murder her husband.

At the dock, Grisby smears some of his blood (he’s been cut when the car windscreen was smashed on the way) onto Michael’s clothes and then sails off in a speedboat. Only when he phones the Bannisters’ house and hears Broome’s dying words does Michael realize he’s been taken for a ride:

Get down to the office, Montgomery Street. You was framed. Grisby didn’t want to disappear. He just wanted an alibi – and you’re it. You’re the fall guy. Grisby’s gone down there to kill Bannister now.

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Michael O'Hara is arrested and charged

11. Michael is arrested and charged

Michael rushes into the city to prevent Bannister’s murder but his car is stopped by police, who surround the law office. They discover blood, a written confession and a fired gun. And Michael discovers that Bannister is alive but Grisby is dead.

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The Bannisters discuss Michael O'Hara

12. The Bannisters discuss Michael

Bannister is to act as Michael’s lawyer in the upcoming murder trial. He’d be happy for Michael to be found guilty but doesn’t want Elsa to see him as a martyr.

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Elsa Bannister visits Michael O'Hara in jail

13. Elsa visits Michael in jail

Elsa visits Michael in jail and encourages him to trust Bannister. He tells her what transpired between him and Grisby.

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The courtroom scene in The Lady from Shanghai

14. In court

The courtroom scene is pure farce, with preposterous proceedings (including Bannister making to question himself), an undisciplined jury and disruptive observers.

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Elsa Bannister is called as a witness

15. Elsa is called as a witness

Elsa is called as a witness and questioned about Broome and her feelings for Michael.

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16. Michael tries to commit suicide

16. Michael tries to commit suicide

Just before the jury announce their verdict, Elsa motions Michael to take an overdose of her husband’s painkillers, which are within his reach. He does so and is seized by his guards.

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Michael escapes

17. Michael escapes

In the confusion that follows, Michael overpowers his guards, flees the building and makes for San Fransisco’s Chinatown district. Hiding in a theatre, he is found by Elsa and discovers the gun used to kill Grisby in her handbag.

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Michael O'Hara in the Crazy House

18. The plot revealed

Michael is kidnapped by Elsa’s servants and taken to the Crazy House at an amusement park that’s closed for the season. He realizes that Elsa had plotted with Grisby to kill her husband so that Grisby could get the insurance money. But that her ultimate aim was to kill Grisby once he had served his purpose. When things didn’t go to plan and Grisby shot Broome, she murdered Grisby to ensure he wouldn’t confess their plan to the police. And Michael was always going to be the stooge.

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Michael O'Hara on the Crazy House slide

19. Into the abyss

As he wanders around the Crazy House, Michael trips a mechanism that pitches him down a long, zigzag slide.

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Michael O'Hara and Elsa Bannister in the Hall of Mirrors

20. The dénouement

Michael emerges into the Hall of Mirrors. Elsa appears in a doorway and confesses her guilt while claiming to love Michael. Bannister arrives and threatens Elsa with a letter he has written to the district attorney explaining her guilt and Michael’s innocence. The couple draw guns and begin to fire at the multiple reflections of each other in the mirrors. Once the panes have been shot to smithereens, it is clear that Bannister and Elsa are both fatally wounded.

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Michael O'Hara leaves Elsa Bannister to die

21 The end

Elsa stumbles with Michael into another room where she begs for his sympathy. But he’s having none of it and leaves her dying on the floor. He walks across the street to call the police, reflecting that he will be exonerated by Bannister’s letter.

Note: stills 5 and 8 have been cropped from portrait to landscape format so as not to disrupt the grid.

One of The Lady from Shanghai’s most striking aspects is its cinematography – in particular its use of wide-angle lenses to caricature faces, notably those of Grisby and Bannister; startling camera angles (such as the vertiginous vantage point along the coast from which we see Grisby explain his plot to Michael); and deep focus, which disorients the viewer by giving equal weight to foregrounds and backgrounds. There are also many virtuoso passages. Five of the most remarkable are:

  • The cruise with its sweltering, claustrophobic, voyeuristic atmosphere and the allusions to Elsa’s siren character via the name of the yacht (Circe) and the shots of her reclining on the rocks and singing.
  • The picnic in the jungle with its air of doom, desire and venom, culminating in Michael’s extraordinary speech:

Do you know, once off the hump of Brazil, I saw the ocean so darkened with blood it was black, and the sun fadin’ away over the lip of the sky. We put in at Fortaleza. A few of us had lines out for a bit of idle fishin’. It was me had the first strike. A shark it was, and then there was another and another shark again, till all about the sea was made of sharks, and more sharks still, and the water tall. My shark had torn himself away from the hook, and the scent, or maybe the stain it was, and him bleedin’ his life away, drove the rest of them mad. Then the beasts took to eatin’ each other; in their frenzy, they ate at themselves. You could feel the lust of murder like a wind stingin’ your eyes, and you could smell the death, reekin’ up out of the sea. I never saw anything worse, until this little picnic tonight. And you know, there wasn’t one of them sharks in the whole crazy pack that survived.

  • The aquarium, which provides such a disconcerting setting for Michael’s clandestine meeting with Elsa.
  • The outrageous court scene, which makes a hilarious mockery of the legal system.
  • The Fun House and Hall of Mirrors that Welles created for the film’s dénoement.

The Lady from Shanghai – how it came about

In 1945 Welles found himself in a predicament:

I was working on Around the World in 80 Days [a stage musical based on the Jules Verne novel] and we found ourselves in Boston on the day of the premiere, unable to get the costumes from the station because $50,000 was due and our producer, Mr. Todd, had gone broke. Without that money we couldn’t open. I called Harry Cohn [head of Columbia Studios] in Hollywood…”

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Orson Welles in The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles in The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

ENDANGERED .. Orson Welles in a dramatic scene from Columbia’s “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which he stars with Rita Hayworth.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Orson Welles in The Lady from Shanghai by Robert Coburn

Orson Welles in The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles as Michael O'Hara in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Orson Welles in the Lady from Shanghai by Eddie Cronenweth

Orson Welles in The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

ENDANGERED .. Orson Welles in a dramatic scene from Columbia’s “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which he stars with Rita Hayworth.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

According to Welles, he made the call from a drugstore and when Cohn asked him what the film would be about, he grabbed a novel from a nearby shelf and read out the synopsis on the back. However, Welles was a master of creating his own mythology and the truth is a bit more prosaic. The film is based on Sherwood King’s novel, If I Die Before I Wake. Years earlier, producer William Castle had sold the movie rights to Columbia on the condition that he would be involved should a film be made. He subsequently produced a treatment and set it to Welles, who responded:

About If I Should Die – I love it … I have been searching for an idea for a film, but none presented itself until If I Should Die and I could play the lead and Rita Hayworth could play the girl. I won’t present it to anybody without your OK. The script should be written immediately. Can you start working on it at night?

But why did Harry Cohn go along with the idea, given that at the time Welles was pretty much persona non-grata in Hollywood. Citizen Kane (1941) had done a pretty effective character assassination job on newspaper magnate, William Randolph Hearst, setting Welles up as a threat to the establishment. The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) had gone over budget and failed to recoup its investment. It’s All True was terminated before completion and never saw the light of day. Welles went some way to redeeming his credibility with The Stranger (1946), which came in under budget and proved a modest commercial success.

Perhaps Cohn felt that for the money Welles wanted it was a risk worth taking. Or perhaps he didn’t want to upset Hayworth, his biggest star, by turning down her husband even though the marriage was on the rocks. Besides, the pairing of Welles and Hayworth as the leads could be an intriguing prospect for audiences.

The Lady from Shanghai – Welles’ ambition

Rita Hayworth's million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai
1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads: “MILLION DOLLAR HAIRCUT .. Flash bulbs pop as Rita Hayworth has her tresses shorn by Columbia’s chief hair stylist, Helen Hunt, for her starring role in ‘The Lady from Shanghai,’ a Columbia picture. Orson Welles, Rita’s husband, is her co-star as well as producer and director of the film.”

The first thing Welles did was have Hayworth’s trademark long red hair bobbed and dyed “topaz blonde.” And he made it into a media event, inviting the press to come along and witness the makeover for themselves. It was not what Harry Cohn had in mind for his biggest star and he was furious. In spite of that, the studio released a whole series of shots of the event to the press.

Gossip columnist Louella Parsons (who had it in for Welles ever since he parodied her boss, William Randolph Hearst, in Citizen Kane) claimed that with The Lady from Shanghai he had deliberately and maliciously set out to destroy Rita Hayworth’s career. She then asserted that Welles was “washed up.”

It’s difficult to know what impelled Welles to such a controversial move. He may well have felt ambivalent, even vindictive, about his marriage, and there’s certainly a case to be made for seeing the whole movie as a misogynistic, not to say toxic, farewell to Hayworth. And yet… Is Elsa nothing more than a cold-blooded, scheming femme fatale? It’s tempting to jump to that conclusion. But it’s also possible to see her, like Gilda, as a victim – a woman in a man’s world who’s been exploited her whole life and who is now so desperate she’s prepared to take matters into her own hands.

Back to the haircut and it’s likely that, however he felt about his marriage, with his director’s hat on Welles saw the need for a completely new look that would disassociate Hayworth in audiences’ minds from her previous roles. It was an early symptom of the way in which Cohn’s and Welles’ ambitions for the movie diverged. Cohn was looking for a box-office hit. Welles wanted to produce “something off-center, queer, strange,” according to a memo he sent Cohn, by giving the film a nightmarish feel and striving for performances that were “original, or at least oblique.

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Orson Welles with Rita Hayworth just before she has her million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles with Rita Hayworth before her million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

1946. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

MILLION DOLLAR HAIRCUT .. Rita Hayworth is shown here with husband Orson Welles just before having her tresses shorn for her starring role in “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which Welles will co-star with her as well as produce and direct it for Columbia Pictures.

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Helen Hunt about to embark on Rita Hayworth's million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

Helen Hunt about to embark on Rita Hayworth’s million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

1946. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

MILLION DOLLAR HAIRCUT .. Rita Hayworth is shown here with Columbia’s chief hair stylist, Helen Hunt, just before having her tresses shorn for her starring role in “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which Rita’s husband, Orson Welles, will co-star as well as produce and direct it for Columbia Pictures.

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Helen Hunt giving Rita Hayworth a million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

Helen Hunt giving Rita Hayworth a million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

1946. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

MILLION DOLLAR HAIRCUT .. Rita Hayworth is shown here with locks of hair in her hands while Columbia’s chief hair-stylist, Helen Hunt, continues to cut away Rita’s tresses for her role in “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which she has her husband, Orson Welles, as co-star. He is also producer and director of the Columbia picture.

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Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth admiring her million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth admiring her million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

1946. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

MILLION DOLLAR HAIRCUT .. Rita Hayworth and husband, Orson Welles, seem pleased with Rita’s new hair style. Rita had her long tresses shorn for her starring role in “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which Welles is her co-star. He is also producer and director of the Columbia picture.

Photo by Homer Van Pelt.

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Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth admiring her million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth admiring her million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

1946. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

MILLION DOLLAR HAIRCUT .. Rita Hayworth and husband, Orson Welles, seem pleased with Rita’s new hair style. Rita had her long tresses shorn for her starring role in “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which Welles is her co-star. He is also producer and director of the Columbia picture.

Photo by Homer Van Pelt.

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Rita Hayworth's million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth’s million dollar haircut for The Lady from Shanghai

1946. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

THE WORLD’S FIRST TOPAZ BLONDE! Glamorous Rita Hayworth, as this photo shows, has submitted to the ministrations of Columbia Studio’s chief hair stylist, Helen Hunt, to acquire a new coiffure for her forthcoming starring picture, “The Lady From Shanghai.” With 18 inches snipped from her crowning glory, and her titian locks changed to a new blonde called topaz blonde, it is a new and vibrant Rita who faces the cameras these days. “I just didn’t want to stay ‘Gilda’ forever,” Rita explains when asked the reason for the change in her hairdo.

Characteristically, Welles was hugely ambitious for the film. For the opening scene, set in Central Park, he planned the longest dolly shot ever filmed. involving huge arc lights, a sound boom and a 20-foot camera crane, which followed Elsa Bannister’s carriage for nearly a mile. That was just the beginning. He also planned to shoot most of the film on location, something pretty much unheard of in Hollywood at the time since seemingly every cinematic need could be catered for by the vast studio lots and soundstages. For Welles that would have been just too obvious and easy. Plus, shooting on location would have been a great way of escaping Cohn’s surveillance – the mogul bugged Welles’ office at Columbia, as he had Glenn Ford’s dressing room when Gilda was being filmed.

And then there were the sets and set pieces, the two most celebrated being the Fun House (a great set for a fashion shoot – Rita’s wardrobe is by Jean Louis) and the Hall of Mirrors. The inspiration for the former were the expressionist images of the German silent movie, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920). According to Rob Nixon:

Stephen Goosson designed an elaborate set with sliding doors, distorting mirrors and a 125-foot zigzag slide from the roof of a studio sound stage down into a pit that was 80 feet long, 40 feet wide and 20 feet deep. For one shot simulating Welles’ point of view as he hurtled down the slide, Lawton and camera operator Irving Klein slid the entire length of it on their stomachs with the camera on a mat. The director himself spent more than a week from 10:30 at night until 5 in the morning painting the set.

The Hall of Mirrors was designed with the help of special effects wizard Lawrence Butler and contained almost 3,000 square feet of glass. Some of the mirrors were two-way, others had holes through which the camera crew could shoot.

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Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

PLEATS ARE NEW … Rita Hayworth, in her next Columbia picture, “The Lady From Shanghai,” wears this black dinner dress featuring the new pleated skirt, which is embroidered in amber beads. The dress may be worn with the accompanying V scarf as a tie-on sash or as a head covering.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

WHITE FOR EVENING … Rita Hayworth, co-starring with Orson Welles in Columbia's "The Lady From Shanghai" wears this lovely white marquisette creation by designer Jean Louis against the background of an amusement park "fun house." It is there that one of the most dramatic sequences of the picture takes place.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

PLEATS ARE NEW … Rita Hayworth, in her next Columbia picture, “The Lady From Shanghai,” wears this black dinner dress featuring the new pleated skirt, which is embroidered in amber beads. The dress may be worn with the accompanying V scarf as a tie-on sash or as a head covering.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

PLEATS ARE NEW … Rita Hayworth, in her next Columbia picture, “The Lady From Shanghai,” wears this black dinner dress featuring the new pleated skirt, which is embroidered in amber beads. The dress may be worn with the accompanying V scarf as a tie-on sash or as a head covering.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

DRESSY BLACK … Rita Hayworth, in her next Columbia picture, “The Lady From Shanghai,” wears this smart black wool suit designed by Jean Louis. The fashion interest in this lies in the contrast between the dull of the fabric and the shiny satin trim. This shot was taken on the “fun house” set, where one of the most dramatic moments of the picture takes place.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth fashion shot, The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

DRESSY BLACK … Rita Hayworth, in her next Columbia picture, “The Lady From Shanghai,” wears this smart black wool suit designed by Jean Louis. The fashion interest in this lies in the contrast between the dull of the fabric and the shiny satin trim. This shot was taken on the “fun house” set, where one of the most dramatic moments of the picture takes place.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

When it came to cinematography, Welles and his director of photography, Charles Lawton Jr, decided to use low-key interior lighting and natural light wherever possible. For outdoor skies and transitions between outdoor and indoor scenes they employed filters. And they exploited wide-angle lenses to lend distortion to close-ups. Shooting on board a yacht was always going to be a challenge – the sort of thing Welles loved. So he and Lawton did a series of experimental test shoots to determine how to deal with the problem of over-exposure – the light meters struggled to cope with the glare of the sea and sky. They also turned the lack of space on the yacht to their advantage by creating cramped, claustrophobic compositions. And for the aquarium scene they got seriously tricksy. First they shot the fish-tanks separately. Then they enlarged the resulting film and used it as the background for the close-ups of Michael and Elsa, making the sea creatures appear super-size and super-sinister.

The Lady from Shanghai – a disaster in the making

Rita Hayworth takes time to relax during the filming of The Lady from Shanghai
1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads: “RELAXATION .. Lovely Rita Hayworth relaxes at home after an arduous day at Columbia Studios, where she is working in ‘The Lady from Shanghai,’ with Orson Welles, but her Chinese lounging robe and slippers still retain the Oriental motif of her current film.” Photo by Ned Scott.

Shooting began in autumn 1946 in locations including Acapulco, San Francisco and New York as well as Columbia Studios – for details and photos take a look at Reel SF. For the Acapulco shoot, which took more than 35 days, Welles rented Errol Flynn’s yacht, and Columbia sent 40 technicians and more than six tons of equipment.

Even under the most favourable circumstances, the location shoot was never going to be straightforward. The jungle picnic scenes were filmed close to a crocodile-infested river. Poisonous barnacles had to be scraped off the rock from which Elsa dives into the ocean. A spear-wielding Mexican swimming champion had to be employed to swim off-camera to protect Hayworth from deadly barracuda.

But it was as if the shoot was cursed. In Mexico, the cast and crew were plagued by problems, many of them detailed by producer William Castle in his diary. During the day, the temperature was sweltering. At night, clouds of poisonous insects swarmed around the arc lights, sometimes rendering them useless. Histamine poisoning from an insect bite caused such swelling to one of Welles’ eyes that he couldn’t open it. And half the crew went down with dysentery. Meanwhile, Hayworth was sick throughout the shoot, collapsing both In Mexico and in San Francisco, and halting production for a month.

Worst of all, on the first day of shooting, assistant cameraman Donald Ray Cory, working bareheaded in the blazing sun, had a heart attack and died. Rumour has it that Errol Flynn, who insisted on captaining his boat and was regularly drunk and abusive, wanted the body dumped into the ocean in a duffle bag. The crew ignored him, discreetly put the corpse ashore and hushed the incident up.

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Rita Hayworth dines in her dressing room between scenes while filming The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth dines in her dressing room while filming The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

HOLLYWOOD CHOW TIME .. Glamorous Rita Hayworth, in her new topaz blonde coiffure, is so busy filming “The Lady from Shanghai” with her husband and co-star, Orson Welles, that she doesn’t have time to leave her portable dressing room at Columbia Studio for lunch. So she dines on her makeup table, and seems to be really enjoying it.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles off to Mexico to film The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles off to Mexico for The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

OFF TO MEXICO: Glamour star Rita Hayworth and husband Orson Welles are shown here as they boarded a special plane at Lockheed Air Terminal, Los Angeles, en route to Acapulco, Mexico, for location scenes for the Columbia picture, “The Lady From Shanghai,” in which the pair co-star. Welles is also writer-director-producer of the film.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Joseph Cotton and his wife with Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth backstage on The Lady from Shanghai

Joseph Cotton and his wife backstage on The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

VISITORS .. Joseph Cotten (with straw hat) and Mrs. Cotten (far right) visit Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles on the Columbia soundstage where Rita and Orson are filming “The Lady from Shanghai.” And the straw hat on Cotten is no gag! When Orson saw Joe on the set, he immediately ordered a wardrobe man to bring Joe a hat and bandanna, and put Cotten to work doing a walk-through in a brief street scene in “The Lady from Shanghai.”

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth poses for Eddie Cronenweth

Rita Hayworth photo shoot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

LOOK PRETTY, PLEASE .. Lovely Rita Hayworth, in a fetching shorts outfit, poses for still photographer Eddie Cronenweth, in the patio of the Hotel Casablanca at Acapulco, Mexico, where Rita and Orson Welles took their Columbia Studio crew and supporting cast on location to film scenes for 'The Lady from Shanghai."

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth poses for Eddie Cronenweth

Rita Hayworth photo shoot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

LOOK AT THE BIRDIE .. Lovely Rita Hayworth poses for still photographer Eddie Cronenweth in the patio of the Hotel Casablanca, in Acapulco, Mexico, where Rita and Orson Welles took the Columbia Studio crew and supporting cast to film location scenes for "The Lady from Shanghai."

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth poses for Eddie Cronenweth

Rita Hayworth photo shoot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

GLAMOROUS .. Lovely Rita Hayworth poses for still photographer Eddie Cronenweth on the terrace of the Hotel Casablanca at Acapulco, Mexico, where Rita and Orson Welles took their Columbia Studio crew and supporting cast on location to film scenes for “The Lady from Shanghai."

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Orson Welles gets a quick trim from makeup expert Bob Schiffer between scenes of The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles and Bob Schiffer between scenes of The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

NEXT!! .. Orson Welles gets a quick trim from makeup expert Bob Schiffer between location scenes of Columbia’s “The Lady from Shanghai,” on a beach near Acapulco in tropical Mexico. “The Lady from Shanghai,” thrilling story of love and crime, stars Rita Hayworth and Welles.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Orson Welles prepares to film a location scene for The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles prepares to film a location scene for The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

ON LOCATION .. Orson Welles (on platform) prepares to film a location scene in tropical Mexico for Columbia’s “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which he is starred with Rita Hayworth.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Orson Welles prepares to film a location scene for The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles prepares to film a location scene for The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

ON LOCATION .. Orson Welles (on platform) prepares to film a location scene in tropical Mexico for Columbia’s “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which he is starred with Rita Hayworth.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth with Robert Coburn between scenes during the filming of The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth with Robert Coburn while filming The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

LOOK AT THE BIRDIE .. Lovely Rita Hayworth poses for Columbia’s chief still photographer, Robert Coburn, between scenes of “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which she and Orson Welles are co-starred.

Photo by Ned Scott.

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Rita Hayworth shopping in Acapulco while filming The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth shopping in Acapulco while filming The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

SHOPPING IN OLD MEXICO .. Rita Hayworth buys a colorful native bare-midriff beach outfit from Julia Polin during the lovely star’s 6-week stay in Acapulco with Orson Welles to film location scenes in a Mexican background for Columbia’s “The Lady from Shanghai.”

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Orson Welles directing Carl Frank and Rita Hayworth in The Lady from Shanghai

Orson Welles directing Carl Frank and Rita Hayworth in The Lady from Shanghai

A caption on the back of the photo reads:

MENACE .. This is the picture you won’t see on the screen. It shows Orson Welles, his usual mug of steaming coffee in hand, directing Carl Frank and Rita Hayworth in a dramatic courtroom cross-examination scene for Columbia Pictures’ “The Lady from Shanghai.” Orson is producer, writer, director and co-star with Rita in “The Lady from Shanghai.” Frank plays the role of a tough district attorney.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

And then there were problems Welles brought on himself by his way of working. He would rewrite the script from day to day so everyone ended up confused. And as a director he would give his actors a hard time. Sometimes he deliberately upset them to get nervous, edgy performances. Other times he would cause them to forget their lines and improvise on the spot. By all accounts, it was not a happy project.

Welles never viewed the rushes; he just shipped them straight off to Columbia. There they were reviewed by Viola Lawrence, the studio’s chief editor. As a firm advocate of using close-ups and highlighting actors’ eyes to convey drama and emotion, she was horrified to discover that the rushes contained no close-up shots of Hayworth. She reported this to Cohn, who sent orders to rectify this. On location, Welles refused to do so. Back on the studio lot, he caved in. On Cohn’s orders, he also added the scene of Elsa singing on the yacht.

The Lady from Shanghai – from bad to worse

The rough cut of the film was based on an editing concept outlined by Welles. It ran approximately 155 minutes. But Welles’ contract with Columbia left it up to the studio to decide who would edit the final cut. Their choice was Lawrence, who had previously worked on Rita Hayworth vehicles Cover Girl and Tonight and Every Night, and would go on to work on Down to Earth, Affair in Trinidad, Salome, Miss Sadie Thompson and Pal Joey.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Homer Van Pelt.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Homer Van Pelt.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

GLAMOUR – Rita Hayworth wears a revealing black evening gown in Columbia’s “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which she and Orson Welles are co-starred.

Photo by Homer Van Pelt.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

TOPAZ BLONDE – Glamorous Rita Hayworth, who appears as a topaz blonde in her latest Columbia picture, “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which Orson Welles is her co-star.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai.

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Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth, publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth wears a sexy black evening gown in The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Homer Van Pelt.

Taking her orders from Cohn, she cut about 55 minutes from the movie, including the opening dolly shot in Central Park, much of the Chinese opera sequence and most of the Fun House scene – all highlights of the original concept; the fashion shoot above shows just how weird and wonderful the set was). Quite apart from the damage done to the storyline, the continuity of Welles’ long takes was disrupted by the insertion of close-ups, and the result is a bewildering hotchpotch. Welles accepted some responsibility for the fiasco but pushed most of the blame onto Lawrence’s editing.

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads: “CAP’N RITA .. Rita Hayworth, in a fetching nautical outfit, takes over the helm of the big schooner yacht Zaca, which was chartered by Columbia Pictures from its owner, Errol Flynn, for location scenes off tropical Mexico for ‘The Lady from Shanghai,’ in which Rita stars with Orson Welles.” Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

What he was most upset about was what became of the soundtrack. He’d wanted to use sound to unsettle the audience – for example by fading in voices so quietly that viewers would have to strain to make out what was being said. Traces of what he intended are evident in the grating voices of Bannister and Grisby and the final dialogue in the Hall of Mirrors.

After the success of the songs, Amado Mio and Put the Blame on Mame in Gilda, Cohn insisted on retrofitting a song into The Lady from Shanghai. The result was Please Don’t Kiss Me, commissioned from the same team – Alan Roberts and Doris Fisher (with Hayworth’s singing voice once again dubbed by Anita Ellis). The song itself is a class act. What absolutely isn’t is the way in which it is exploited as the background track for pretty much the entire movie, replacing the original score by George Antheil. Welles was incensed:

The only idea which seems to have occurred to this present composer is the rather weary one of using a popular song – the “theme – in as many arrangements as possible. Throughout we have musical references to “Please Don’t Kiss Me” for almost every bridge and also for a great deal of the background material. The tune is pleasing, it may do very well on the Hit Parade — but Lady from Shanghai is not a musical comedy.

The Lady from Shanghai – from box office failure to cult

When The Lady from Shanghai was completed in 1946 Columbia got cold feet. They were worried that it would bomb at the box office and anxious to protect Hayworth’s image. So they chose to hold it until after they’d released Down To Earth (1947) – a much more commercial movie. The Lady from Shanghai ran first in Europe (1947), where it was generally well received, before finally opening in the US in 1948, seven months after Welles and Hayworth were divorced. The studio did nothing to push the film, allowing it to be shown as the bottom half of double bills.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth, as Elsa Bannister in The Lady from Shanghai, chats on the phone. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

TOPAZ BLONDE .. Glamorous Rita Hayworth, who appears as a topaz blonde in her latest Columbia picture, "The Lady from Shanghai," in which she and Orson Welles co-star.

Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth poses in a killer, black-satin gown by Jean Louis for a publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

TOPAZ BLONDE .. Glamorous Rita Hayworth, who appears as a topaz blonde in her latest Columbia picture, "The Lady from Shanghai," in which she and Orson Welles co-star.

Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth as Elsa Bannister, dressed by Jean Louis to kill in The Lady from Shanghai.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

TOPAZ BLONDE .. Glamorous Rita Hayworth, who appears as a topaz blonde in her latest Columbia picture, "The Lady from Shanghai," in which she and Orson Welles co-star.

Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth sports her dramatic new haircut in this publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai. Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

JACKETS FOR MOTORISTS … Lovely Rita Hayworth, who is currently working in Columbia’s “The Lady From Shanghai,” has found the ideal coat. Made of broadtail, it is designed after the Navy “P” jackets, its length and fullness allowing complete freedom.

Photo by Ned Scott.

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Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth publicity shot for The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

TOPAZ BLONDE .. Glamorous Rita Hayworth, who appears as a topaz blonde in her latest Columbia picture, "The Lady from Shanghai," in which she and Orson Welles co-star.

Photo by Robert Coburn.

Contemporary critics were pretty disparaging. Bosley Crowther opened his review for The New York Times with:

For a fellow who has as much talent with a camera as Orson Welles and whose powers of pictorial invention are as fluid and as forcible as his, this gentleman certainly has a strange way of marring his films with sloppiness which he seems to assume that his dazzling exhibitions of skill will camouflage.

John Carter’s review for The New Yorker was in a similar vein: “The penny-dreadful aspects of The Lady from Shanghai are obvious, but the film is nevertheless often remarkable.” While William Brogden, in Variety wrote:

The Lady from Shanghai is okay boxoffice [sic]. It’s exploitable and has Rita Hayworth’s name for the marquees. Entertainment value suffered from the striving for effect that features Orson Welles’ production, direction and scripting. Script is wordy and full of holes which need the plug of taut story telling and more forthright action.

So The Lady from Shanghai sank without trace and for many years was regarded as one of Welles’ great failures. In an interview with Peter Bogdanovich, he remembered how:

Friends avoided me. Whenever it was mentioned, people would clear their throats and change the subject very quickly out of consideration for my feelings. I only found out that it was considered a good picture when I got to Europe. The first nice thing I ever heard about it from an American was from Truman Capote.

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Rita Hayworth autographs fan photos between takes of The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth autographs fan photos between takes of The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

FAN PICTURES…Whenever Rita Hayworth has a few minutes between scenes she autographs pictures for her fans in her roomy studio apartment. Rita has departed for an extended European tour after completing her latest Columbia picture, “The Lady from Shanghai."

Photo attributed to Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth autographs fan photos between takes of The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth autographs fan photos between takes of The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

FAN PICTURES…Whenever Rita Hayworth has a few minutes between scenes she autographs pictures for her fans in her roomy studio apartment. Rita has departed for an extended European tour after completing her latest Columbia picture, “The Lady from Shanghai."

Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth in her boudoir during the filming of The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth in her boudoir during the filming of The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

MIRROR, MIRROR, ON THE WALL … Lovely Rita Hayworth pauses a minute from brushing her new coiffure. Her hair was cut short and lightened to a topaz blonde for her role in Columbia’s, “The Lady From Shanghai.”

Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth about to go on tour after completing The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth about to go on tour after completing The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

RITA’S BEDROOM .. Rita Hayworth’s bedroom in her Santa Monica home is done in a soft blue grey with accents of color in the lamps and other furnishings. It will be months before Rita sleeps in it again, as she left for an extensive European tour after she completed her latest Columbia picture, “The Lady from Shanghai.”

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth relaxes after completing The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth relaxes after completing The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

RITA RELAXING .. Rita Hayworth, after completing her Columbia picture, “The Lady from Shanghai,” enjoyed a fortnight of relaxation in her own back yard before departing on an extensive European tour.

Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth relaxes after completing The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth relaxes after completing The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

RITA RELAXING .. Rita Hayworth, after completing her Columbia picture, “The Lady from Shanghai,” enjoyed a fortnight of relaxation in her own back yard before departing on an extensive European tour.

Photo by Robert Coburn.

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Rita Hayworth about to go on tour after completing The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth about to go on tour after completing The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

HAYWORTH AT HOME .. Rita Hayworth, who recently completed “The Lady from Shanghai," at Columbia, enjoyed a fortnight of relaxation at her Santa Monica home before departing for an extended tour of Europe.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth about to go on tour after completing The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth about to go on tour after completing The Lady from Shanghai

1947. Rita Hayworth relaxes in the garden of her Santa Monica home before leaving for an extended tour of Europe. Photo attributed to Eddie Cronenweth.

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Rita Hayworth smiles off set during the filming of The Lady from Shanghai

Rita Hayworth smiles off set during the filming of The Lady from Shanghai

1947. A caption on the back of the photo reads:

TOPAZ BLONDE .. Glamorous Rita Hayworth, who appears as a topaz blonde in her latest Columbia picture, “The Lady from Shanghai,” in which Orson Welles is her co-star.

Photo by Eddie Cronenweth.

More recently, though, not least thanks to the advocacy of François Truffaut, critical opinion has swung behind The Lady from Shanghai, with Dave Kehr in his review for the Chicago Reader dubbing it “the weirdest great movie ever made.” Flawed masterpiece is probably the best description of the film, which in many respects makes it a whole lot more interesting than a perfect masterpiece (if such a thing even exists).

Want to know more about The Lady from Shanghai?

Ava Gardner and Orson Welles on the set of The Lady from Shanghai
1947. The pixie looks like he belongs to the Fun House – hence the suggestion that this photo was taken on the set of The Lady from Shanghai, supported by Welles’ suit and haircut. This is an incredibly rare image – apparently sthe only photo of the two stars together.

There are some brilliant analyses and critiques of The Lady from Shanghai available online.

  • Filmsite Movie Review has some good background and an excellent, detailed plot synopsis.
  • Brian Phillips provides a combination of background fact and insightful observations in his piece for Grantland, Through a Glass, Darkly: ‘The Lady From Shanghai’ and the Legend of Orson Welles.
  • Chris Justice offers a similar combination of background and analysis, well worth reading at senses of cinema.
  • Among a series of articles at TCM, Why The Lady from Shanghai is Essential by James Steffen & Rob Nixon and Behind the Camera on The Lady from Shanghai by Rob Nixon stand out.
  • Stories Behind The Screen has some great anecdotes about the making of the film.
  • Doug Bonner’s piece, The Lady from Shanghai – If You’re Confused, You’re Supposed To Be, is particularly strong on Orson’s and Rita’s relationship and its influence on the film.
  • Reel SF covers the locations with then and now shots together with interactive maps of Acapulco and San Fransisco.

Other pieces worth reading are at:

  • Film Noir of the Week
  • Film Court
  • Parallax View.

If you’d like to know more about Orson Welles, then Rosebud: The Story of Orson Welles by David Thomson is a terrific read.

Filed Under: Films, Stars Tagged With: Alan Roberts, Anita Ellis, Doris Fisher, Everett Sloane, George Antheil, Glenn Anders, Harry Cohn, Jean Louis, Louella Parsons, Orson Welles, Rita Hayworth, Ted de Corsia, The Lady from Shanghai, Viola Lawrence

Celebrity break-up – why Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth split

2018-01-03 By aenigma

Rita Hayworth married Orson Welles in September 1943. She was 25, he 28. They were young, talented, and celebrities.

They say that opposites attract, and you could hardly get more opposites than Orson and Rita.

Publicity photo of Orson Welles for RKO Radio Pictures
1941. Publicity photo of Orson Welles for RKO Radio Pictures, probably to promote Citizen Kane. Photo by Ernest A Bachrach.

Orson was born into a wealthy family and brought up by his mother, who indulged his every whim and encouraged him to see himself as a genius. By age 23, he had made a name for himself on stage, founded his own repertory company (Mercury Theatre) and hit the headlines with his radio play based on H.G. Wells’s The War of the Worlds, which made some listeners think Earth was under Martian attack (an event recalled in Woody Allen’s brilliant movie, Radio Days).  Famously, in 1940, having been invited by RKO to make his first movie, he exclaimed: “This is the biggest electric train set any boy ever had.”

Rita was born into a family of dancers and brought up by her father, a Spanish immigrant, who took her out of school and on the road to be his partner in vaudeville acts and submitted her to sexual abuse. Age 19, she married Ed Judson, a sometime car dealer who, like her father, saw her as “an investment” and treated her as such.  He set her on the path to stardom, changing her appearance, whoring her out to those who could influence her career and threatening to beat her up if she disobeyed him.

So he was full of confidence, she was plagued with insecurity. He thrived on chaos and improvisation, she had been taught discipline and obedience ever since she was a small child.  He was by nature a maverick and wedded to his creative work (but not to the exclusion of a series of affairs), she was lonely, craved a conventional relationship and would have been happy to renounce her career. And ironically, as one the biggest stars in the world, she was pulling in the dollars while he kept losing money with his various projects.

Publicity photo of Rita Cansino before she had her hairline raised and her name changed to Hayworth
1936. An early publicity photo of Rita Cansino before she had her hairline raised and her name changed to Hayworth. A caption on the back reads: Easter Madonna – – Rita Casino, beautiful Spanish-Irish actress . . . prepares for the Easter Sunrise services which she attends regularly at the Hollywood Bowl.

Of course they fell for each other. And of course it couldn’t last. Latterly, the marriage traded  financial dependence on his part with emotional dependence on hers.

The way in which the press treated the marriage was pretty much a blueprint for how they would pontificate on Marilyn Monroe’s to Arthur Miller –Beauty and the Brain. The relationship was under scrutiny and pressure from the off.

In March 1946 Rita officially separated from Orson and moved into a rented house in Brentwood with their daughter, Rebecca.

The couple got back together again to make The Lady from Shanghai (the subject of an upcoming piece on aenigma). But working together on the movie failed to revive their flagging relationship. Once filming was complete, Orson’s erratic behaviour, prolonged absences and obsessive dedication to his work kept on taking him away from his wife and daughter. Finally, in November 1947, the couple were divorced. On the witness stand Rita declared that:

Mr. Welles showed no interest in establishing a home. Mr. Welles told me he should never have married me in the first place, as it interfered with his freedom in his way of life.

A few months earlier, Hedda Hopper (along with Louella Parsons Hollywood’s leading gossip columnist) interviewed Rita for the June 1947 issue of Modern Screen. It’s clear whose side she’s on and that she resents Orson for his mercurial genius (for Louella Parsons, genius equates to half-crazy outsider status – Orson must have made her feel so shallow and stupid). It’s pretty vitriolic stuff but it’s also interesting for the insights it provides into Rita’s and Orson’s personalities, their relationship and, not least, their home.

Rita explains

He’s fiery, unpredictable, cursed with the mark of genius — yet Rita Hayworth loved and lived with Orson Welles for 3 years . . . before she admitted defeat BY HEDDA HOPPER.

Rita Hayworth was at the Racquet Club in Palm Springs, and I was in my Hollywood home, but what she said over the telephone was crystal clear.

9 September 1943. Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth get hitched.

She said, “Orson and I are through, Hedda. This time it’s for keeps. I just can’t take it any longer!”

Rita sounded tired; her voice was flat. Not angry, not excited, not tearful, not sad. Just tired – a fugitive from genius, fed up and through. I thought, “So it’s over – the second honeymoon of the Man from Mars and the pretty dancing girl – and I wondered out loud to Rita, “For how long this time?”

“For keeps,” she repeated. “Forever.” “I’d like to make a bet on that,” I said, and we did. I bet that in six months she would return to Orson and she bet that she wouldn’t.

Maybe. Only a few days before, I had walked onto a Columbia Studio set with some questions up my sleeve and I’d got some very different answers about one of the maddest marriages the Fates ever dreamed up for a Hollywood pair. Love was in bloom then for Orson and Rita.

“What a tender and touching finale to a second honeymoon!” I told Rita. At least Mr. Magic wasn’t sawing Rita Hayworth in two, he was just plain killing her with a gun when I walked on the set of The Lady From Shanghai. Rita died a dozen times before my eyes, until Orson stepped out of the scene and panted, “Cut – that’s it – that’s the picture!”

Because that’s what it was – before the love song died in the second chorus – a six-months long love tour for Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth, making The Lady From Shanghai, the picture they teamed in the minute they made up the first time as man and wife. I’d walked in on the very last scene. It was all over. Under her bleached and bobbed platinum curls, Rita Hayworth grinned wearily. “And for a second wedding present,” I observed, “he makes you a dramatic actress. Happy?”

Rita nodded. It was a silly question. And Orson was still courting Rita as he never courted anyone before, since they kissed and made up – and went right to work.

There’s a rock, El Morro, in Acapulco Bay down in Mexico, that’s a spot of forever Hollywood. Orson had all the barnacles that scratched and the sea anemones that stung hacked off until it was smooth and soft as a rock can be. All because Rita had to climb on that rock and lie down for a scene. He hired the Olympic champ swimmer of Mexico to hover just out of camera range in every ocean shot in which she appeared to scare away hungry barracuda. When they plunged into the jungles to shoot, he hired a bodyguard of fierce Pancho Villas complete with mustachios, bull bandilleras and blunderbusses to scare off snakes and alligators with designs on a hunk of Hayworth. Orson followed Rita around in person, bearing oils and unguents every time she had a brief encounter with the tropical sun. He had special rope-soled shoes flown down from Hollywood so she wouldn’t slip and smack her sacroiliac on Errol Flynn’s yacht deck when it rolled.

get that story…

Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth dining out in NYC in November 1943
November 1943. A caption on the back of the photo reads: New York……screen actress Rita Hayworth is shown dining out with hubby Orson Welles, last night, while Hollywood, and the movie column fans of the nation, buzzed about the $12,000 divorce settlement it was revealed she made upon her ex-husband, Edward Judson. She also signed away community property rights.

The reason I had tracked Orson and Rita down on the set the day they completed Lady From Shanghai was because I had gotten a phone call from Al Delacorte back in. New York.

“Can you pierce the Wall of Steel that surrounds Orson and Rita,” Al inquired, “and give an inimitable Hopper sketch of their home life?”

I repeated that to Rita. Her hairdresser said, “Please, Rita, I almost stabbed you. Don’t shake so!” Rita was laughing, a little bitterly, it seemed to me.

“Our Wall of Steel,” scoffed Rita, “is either a sound stage or a sun reflector – and as for our home life – just look around. It’s this set.”

“Sometimes,” sighed Rita, “we have breakfast together, but it’s usually dinner for Orson. He’ll work 24 hours straight without eating. Then he comes home and wants three steaks and a couple of pies. Steaks for breakfast – pies – ugh!”

Orson and Rita lived – at odd hours – in a small, ranch type house out in Brentwood. Rita bought the place for herself and baby Rebecca after the last time Orson left his happy home. It wasn’t exactly a match for the little love nest they started housekeeping in when they first married. That was something you’d have to see to believe.

A Los Angeles sports promoter owned it. He’d built the Pan-Pacific Auditorium, a showy sports arena in Hollywood, and he must have told the architect, “Now build me a house to match.”

It had neon lights — honest — and three or four floors. A swimming pool with a tropical island in the middle. Mirrors and glass and colored lights everywhere and – well – I won’t go on. That’s where Mr. and Mrs. Orson Welles started housekeeping. Orson used to broadcast his radio thriller-chillers from the first floor. Rita reclined in her bed up on the third and listened in. Where career left off and home life started, I’m sure she never exactly knew.

I was out there once when Orson was broadcasting. Radio people swarmed all over. The only touch of domesticity that crept in that evening was a cocker pup of Rita’s, who wandered into Orson’s temple of art and darned near busted up the broadcast before they could shoo him out!

It took more than a puppy to break up the marriage of Orson and Rita the first time – and the second time, too. It took the most uniquely exasperating driving temperament that ever hit show business. People who work with Orson often idolize the guy like GIs worshipped Ike Eisenhower. But they can’t stand him long. He consumes them. No one can keep up with him – let alone a wife.

Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles taking a bow in the big-top tent of his Wonder Show for Servicemen
August 1943. A caption on the back of the photo reads: Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles take a bow before the audience crowding the big-top tent in which his Wonder Show for Servicemen is staged. Rita helped with some of the trickery and got loud and long applause from soldiers.

I also know, of course, how warm-hearted Orson Welles can be when he wants to. Years ago, before I had a column, before Orson came to Hollywood and set it on its ear with the picture they dared him to make, he charmed me where a mother is always charmed easiest. My son, Bill, had ideas then that he wanted to be an actor. He’s reformed now – he’s a business man. But then Bill promoted himself a walk-on job in the Katherine Cornell Broadway production of Romeo and Juliet. Orson had a big role. He had no idea who the shy, awkward, hopelessly unactorish kid was. But he took him under his wing; couldn’t have been more kind and helpful.

Okay. Orson’s charming, appealing, sweet when he wants to be – and also exhausting, temperamental and mad. So what made Orson and Rita separate in the first place? And then, what made them come back together again? I asked Rita all this, rapid fire, sticking my inquisitive nose – leave it to me – directly into the confusing business. Rita answered them all with one shrug and a couple of sentences.

“We’re in love, Orson and I,” she said. “It’s as simple as that.”

Begging Rita’s pardon, I don’t think it’s quite as “simple as that.” Nothing about O. Welles is simple, not even love. He’s as complex as a jig-saw puzzle. Rita Hayworth knew that when Orson first found himself smitten and went a’wooing. He had a tough time getting a date, believe me, because Rita was scared. She didn’t want any more domineering mates. Her first husband, Ed Judson, had bossed her around and made her life pretty miserable. Orson’s genius made Rita shy as a mouse, when Romance peeped around the corner.

she stood him up…

Orson wrote her fan letters at first, from South America. When he got back, he called her up, almost every hour on the hour. She hid out, finally made a date, and stood him up! Did that discourage Welles? Not a bit. He came back for more, and then rashly Rita agreed to go out for dinner and this time kept her word. They went to Chinatown and ate chow mein. When Orson told her good night, she was in love, lost in the spell that Mister Influence wove like a web.

Rita Hayworth's magical escape
August 1943. A caption on the back of the photo reads: At the count of “three” Miss Rita Hayworth will miraculously escape from the cords which bind her neck, instead of being decapitated as the audience expects. Scene takes place during the “Death of the Silken Cords” mystery, an act in Orson Welles Magic Show for Servicemen held in a “big-top” in Hollywood.

Rita was set to make Cover Girl then, a very swell musical you’ll remember. It was a big production for Columbia with Technicolor and tricky dances. They’d borrowed Gene Kelly from M-G-M; rehearsals were starting. Time was a-wasting and big money, too. That’s why Harry Cohn shouted “No” when Orson wanted Rita to stooge for his magic act in the tent show he was putting on for GIs in Hollywood. But Orson said that was the thing for Rita to do. So she did it. For a hard-headed show girl like Rita, that was love, or hypnotism or something.

Orson could have used any one of a dozen willing stars in Hollywood in his USO carnival act. Marlene Dietrich stepped in when Rita finally had to go to work, and filled the bill beautifully. But Orson is selfish. Nobody counts but Orson once he takes off on an airy flight of genius. But that’s the kind of a daffy divinity Rita Hayworth fell for and married.

Well, at least, she does have a child! Little Rebecca, “Becka” as she’s already named herself, looks exactly like Orson, black curls and all. But she’s Rita’s darling. Every gurgle and gasp and baby memento has been recorded in a huge picture book Rita keeps.

For all Orson loves his little Becka, Rita knows that nothing else in the world really matters to him once he’s lost in one of his creative trances. Not a wife or a baby or anything except those ideas buzzing about in his brain. One week-end during shooting, Rita talked Orson into a trip to her beloved Mexico. They went just to Rosa Rita Beach, across the border. But Orson hauled along his typewriter and rewrote the whole finish of the picture!

One of the fuses that set off their second marital blow-up was Orson’s refusal to regard Rita as a human being and a wife. She was dog-tired after her exhausting marathon acting ordeal. After that last scene I saw, she begged Orson to go away with her for a rest. “Tomorrow,” he answered, day after day, and whisked right in to the cutting room to pore over his precious film. He tomorrowed himself out of a wife at last. “I had to get away or I’d have collapsed,” Rita told me. “So I walked out.” How else?

Actually, this final split wasn’t too different from the first one – when Rita had consoled herself with Vic Mature and Tony Martin, while Orson spent his time back East with the arty Broadway boys and girls – producing a play.

Oddly enough, that play he lost his shirt with on Broadway, Around the World in 80 Days, was what brought Orson back to Hollywood and a big factor, I suspect, in bringing Orson and Rita back together for a second try at love. To help finance it, Orson charmed Harry Cohn, head of Columbia, out of $80,000, advanced against an Orson Welles picture job. When that went down the box-office drain, along with another $300,000 of Orson’s (and some other people’s), Orson, flat broke, faced making a Hollywood comeback whether he wanted to or not.

a role for rita…

Orson brought his pet Mercury Theater actors out from New York (most of them have never made a picture before) and prepared to shoot. If I Die Before I Wake they called it then, and it was a man’s picture tailored to Orson and his Mercury pal, Everett Sloane. Then, one night Orson went out to the house to see Rita and daughter, Becka. The next week his production was The Lady From Shanghai and the picture was Rita’s. Orson rewrote it in eight days, gave her the co-star part. Then they announced their official reconciliation.

Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth at odds over dinner in Hollywood
December 1945. A caption on the back of the photo reads: Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles dine together in Hollywood, California, in November of this year. The actress said in Hollywood, December 6, she will divorce Welles, after two years of marriage. They have a year old daughter, Rebecca.

Rita was happy at first, working and learning from her favorite maestro.

They spent most of the time cruising around in Mexico on Errol Flynn’s yacht, the “Zaca.” And they acted like a pair of newlyweds.

One night, for instance, Rita was ashore while Orson was out in the bay doing some night scenes with Errol (Flynn was skipper – at $750 a day on this job.) But Rita couldn’t stand to be apart from her maestro even that long. So she trekked around Acapulco with Errol’s wife, Nora, and rounded up a native Mariachi band. They found a fisherman with a boat and slipped out in the bay, circled the yacht in the dark, then had the guitars and swarthy crooners cut loose with a serenade. Then they climbed on board into their loving husbands’ arms.

When Rita’s birthday came up they were still in Mexico. Orson tossed a banquet for Rita at Las Americas Hotel with all the Mexican big shots there, the really high brass of the land. They all toasted the lovely lady and that night on her pillow she found a diamond pendant from her thoughtful hubby.

Orson might be a lovable, livable husband, if he didn’t have that spur of genius eternally prodding him out of all normal social interests. He has absolutely no relaxing interests to sop up his atomic energy.

His daughter, Becka, usually sees him on the gallop. Orson had to fly to Hollywood on business while making a street scene for The Lady From Shanghai, up in San Francisco. He flew down and flew back. “Did you get to see Rebecca?” Rita asked him.

“Oh, yes,” said Orson. “Had a nice visit. She rode with me to the airport to catch the plane!”

Opposed to Orson’s genius and dynamic qualities, Rita’s really a very normal, unspectacular girl with simple tastes and normal yearnings. She’s a model mother, both with Becka and Christopher, Orson’s nine-year-old daughter by his first wife. Christopher is always welcome at Rita’s.

I had hopes that this time the noble experiment of Svengali with Love would work. I hoped it more for Rita’s sake than Orson’s. After all, he’s got his genius to keep him warm.

I hope, above all, now that she’s had a taste of the astral spheres of acting, Rita won’t be spoiled for her musicals, whether The Lady From Shanghai hits or misses the box-office bus. That would be a shame; Rita has such a wonderful, adoring public for her songs and dances, her pretty face and figure. And it could happen. A friend of mine who knows Orson as well as I do, maybe better, was laying odds that if Orson stuck around long enough, Harry Cohn would lose his musical queen.

I, myself, might place a cautious bet that if Orson sticks around where Rita is very long, or vice versa, he’ll have her back in his spell and there’ll be kissings and makings up and a third inning of Svengali vs. Love. That guy Orson is Dick Tracy’s “Influence” without the glass eyes, and he’s still the father of Rita Hayworth’s child.

But if Rita and Orson do try it again, I’d like to suggest a good text for that needle-point sampler they may want to hang over their mantelpiece.

It’s an old gag we used to plant around Hollywood – only in this case I wouldn’t be exactly kidding – and it reads, “Danger — Genius at Work!”

Want to know more?

You can see the article as it was originally published in the June 1947 issue of Modern Screen at Fan Magazines Collection. You can find out more about how Rita was exploited by the men in her life in Susan Braudy’s review for The New York Times of Barbara Leaming’s book, If This Was Happiness A Biography of Rita Hayworth. Or you could go the whole hog and read John Kobal’s Rita Hayworth: The Time, the Place and the Woman.

Filed Under: Films, Stars Tagged With: Hedda Hopper, Modern Screen, Orson Welles, Rita Hayworth, The Lady from Shanghai

Gene Tierney – a sick rose

2017-12-27 By aenigma

In the mid-1940s, Gene Tierney seemed to have it all: beauty, talent, success. By age 25, she was a major star and had been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress. Ten years later, she was on the verge of being admitted to a series of mental institutions.

How did such a tragic fall from grace come about? And what can we learn from it about Gene Tierney and the treatment of mental health in mid-20th century America?

Gene Tierney – beauty, talent, success and more

Gene Tierney comes from a loving, well-to-do family and goes to school in Switzerland as well as in the US. Her father is an insurance broker with clients in Hollywood. In 1938, he packs his wife and children off to California. During a studio sightseeing tour at Warner Bros, 17-year-old Gene is spotted by director Anatole Litvak, who invites her to make a screen test. She’s offered a contract but her parents forbid her to sign.

Gene Tierney in her bedroom at her parents' house.
Around 1940. A rare, early shot of Gene Tierney on her bed at her parents’ house. The photos on the wall are of her. Photo by Hart Preston.

She returns home determined to become an actress and help the family out financially, now that her father’s business has fallen on hard times. And determination is what it takes:

In my circle you finished school, married a Yale boy, and lived in Connecticut. … I wanted to be an actress. Nothing else mattered. I suppose that thousands of girls of my generation talked that way, and some of them meant it, but most wound up as carhops or returned home to marry their boyfriends.

With her father’s help, she embarks on a career as a stage actress and in double-quick time makes it to Broadway, which quickly takes her back to Hollywood, as revealed in a 1941 interview with Screenland:

Columbia originally brought me out, after two minor roles in Broadway attempts. I was a scared-to-death seventeen then. I wandered and wondered about the Columbia lot, a mystery to everyone including mother and me. There was no rush to take portrait sittings, to pose in the latest fashions. Eventually I was cast in a picture, opposite Randolph Scott. … On my second day, way back three years ago, I was unceremoniously taken out and Frances Dee took over the role.

I was A Failure … I did what I could to grin and bear it. I was fat, so I dieted. I studied dancing. And when option time came I got the axe, anyhow. I’d come to Hollywood, fizzled ignominiously, and was fated to be forgotten. Only I’m stubborn. Ask mother and dad! I declined to Fade Out. At almost eighteen I knew I could make the grade with a studio.

Back on Broadway, she gets a break in the critically acclaimed The Male Animal, as a result of which she features in LIFE, Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar. More offers from Hollywood drop through her letterbox and she ends up signing for Twentieth Century-Fox, whose founder, Darryl F Zanuck, a notorious womanizer, hails her as “unquestionably the most beautiful woman in movie history.”

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Gene Tierney in the stills studio

Gene Tierney in the stills studio

Around 1943. Frank Powolny arranges the lighting for a portrait session with Gene Tierney. As chief portrait and still photographer at Twentieth Century-Fox from 1923...

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Gene Tierney and Spyros Skouras

Gene Tierney and Spyros Skouras

Around 1943. Aspiring stars had to schmooze the moguls, directors, producers and others who could influence their careers. Here it looks like Gene Tierney has...

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Gene Tierney relaxes on set

Gene Tierney relaxes on set

1947. Stars often had a lot of time to kill between takes. Here Gene Tierney, in the costume she wears as the widowed Mrs. Edwin...

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Learning from her previous abortive stay in Hollywood, this time her contract stipulates that Twentieth Century-Fox must immediately find roles for her and put her to work. In her first 12 months she complete three movies, the most important of which is Tobacco Road. At which point the studio’s publicity machine swings into action.

I was turned over to the studio’s top publicity woman, Peggy McNaught, and a photographer named Frank Powolny. Soon Peggy had me posing for Frank’s camera at the beach, at poolside, in nightclubs, on the set, and in the studio gallery. She lined up interviews and pushed me for fashion layouts in magazines and newspapers.

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Gene Tierney in The Shanghai Gesture

Gene Tierney in The Shanghai Gesture

1941. The story is set in a Shanghai gambling den, as shady as it is glitzy, whose owner, “Mother” Gin Sling, revenges herself on a...

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Gene Tierney and Victor Mature in The Shanghai Gesture

Gene Tierney and Victor Mature in The Shanghai Gesture

1941. Poppy, a beautiful, privileged young woman, fresh from a European finishing school, falls for “Doctor” Omar (Victor Mature), Gin Sling’s right-hand man. Dead-eyed, cynical...

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Gene Tierney and Ona Munson in The Shanghai Gesture

Gene Tierney and Ona Munson in The Shanghai Gesture

1941. In the movie’s dénouement, Gin Sling (Ona Munson) turns out to be Poppy’s mother. Gene Tierney’s stunningly exotic costumes were designed by her husband-to-be,...

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Over the next few years Gene Tierney appears in a succession of films including Sundown and The Shanghai Gesture (1941) Rings on her Fingers (1942), Heaven Can Wait (1943) and Laura (1944) – the role for which she’s best remembered to this day. Co-star Vincent Price would later remark:

No one but Gene Tierney could have played ‘Laura.’ There was no other actress around with her particular combination of beauty, breeding, and mystery.

Gene Tierney glances over her shoulder.
Mid-1940s. Gene Tierney glances over her shoulder.

As an aside, in the first instance Laura was to be directed by Rouben Mamoulian and he commissions his wife Acadia, a popular Hollywood artist, to paint the portrait of Laura, which plays such an iconic part in the movie. When Mamoulian is fired, his successor Otto Preminger decides that the portrait lacks mystery. So he sends Gene to pose for Frank Powolny, chooses one of the shots from the session and has a blow-up made and lightly brushed over with paint to create the desired effect.

The following year, Gene Tierney is nominated for an Oscar for her performance in Leave Her to Heaven (1945). In spite of this, her Hollywood career is dogged by poor reviews, with critics seemingly resentful of her privileged background and striking looks – as if those advantages preclude or negate talent, determination and persistence. Suffice it to say that her performance in Leave Her to Heaven will lead Martin Scorsese to observe that, “Gene Tierney is one of the most underrated actresses of the Golden Era.”

Her experience working with Ernst Lubitsch on Heaven Can Wait is revealing of her attitude to her work and her colleagues:

Lubitsch was a tyrant on the set, the most demanding of directors. After one scene, which took from noon until five to get, I was almost in tears from listening to Lubitsch shout at me. The next day I sought him out, looked him in the eye, and said, “Mr. Lubitsch, I’m willing to do my best but I just can’t go on working on this picture if you’re going to keep shouting at me.” “I’m paid to shout at you,” he bellowed. “Yes,” I said, “and I’m paid to take it – but not enough.” After a tense pause, Lubitsch broke out laughing. From then on we got along famously.

By the time her mind crumbles, and her career with it, Gene Tierney has appeared in more than 30 movies.

Gene Tierney – a series of unfortunate events

For all her success in front of the camera, behind the scenes and under the surface Gene Tierney is going to pieces. Her plight is horribly reminiscent of William Blake’s poem, The Sick Rose:

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

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Gene Tierney publicity portrait for Sundown

Gene Tierney publicity portrait for Sundown

1941. Gene Tierney as the enchantress, Zia, in Sundown, an adventure movie set in North Africa.

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Gene Tierney in a black satin gown

Gene Tierney in a black satin gown

Around 1944. Gene Tierney posed for this photo around the time she was making Laura.

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Gene Tierney on the beach

Gene Tierney on the beach

Around 1941. Gene Tierney models a striped summer dress with matching wedges and a straw hat. What appears to be a beach is likely a studio mock-up.

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Gene Tierney in the photographer’s studio

Gene Tierney in the photographer’s studio

1947. Gene Tierney models a slinky Grecian gown. This image appears on the cover of the September 1947 issue of Modern Screen.

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Gene Tierney outdoors

Gene Tierney outdoors

Around 1945. Gene Tierney relaxes in the California sunshine. This shot would have been posed just like those taken in the studio.

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Gene Tierney in an Empire-line gown

Gene Tierney in an Empire-line gown

Around 1940. Gene Tierney models a lamé Empire-line gown.

A series of setbacks undermine Gene’s self-confidence and leave her increasingly fragile and vulnerable.

Gene Tierney and Oleg Cassini at a fancy-dress party
January 1941. Gene Tierney and Oleg Cassini at a fancy-dress party. Photo by Jack Albin.

In 1940, she meets fashion designer Oleg Cassini at a party given by their mutual friend, Constance Moore.  The two of them hit it off immediately. On 1 June 1941, they elope to Las Vegas where they get married in a private ceremony. Gene’s parents are horrified when they hear what she’s done and all but disown her.

Twentieth Century-Fox and the Hollywood establishment generally are similarly disenchanted. Even a favourable interview in Screenland three months after the event refers to “tempestuous Tierney”, “the climbing Count” and their “madcap marriage”.

Oleg has been working as a costume designer – notably on on Veronica Lake’s wardrobe for I Wanted Wings (1941), Gene’s for The Shanghai Gesture (1941) and Rita Hayworth’s for Tales of Manhattan (1942). But for the next five years the studios treat him as a pariah. The couple are pretty much totally reliant on Gene’s earnings, which puts the marriage under strain from the off.

Then Gene finds out that her father, “who taught me that honour was everything” and who has been acting as her agent via a company called Belle-Tier Corporation, has been siphoning off all her earnings to prop up his failing insurance business. Everything has been lost. It also turns out that her father has been having an affair with one of her mother’s friends. The close relationship between father and daughter is at an end.

In March 1943 Gene discovers that she’s expecting a baby. She decides to use her break to do some volunteer work at the Hollywood Canteen – a patriotic gesture and a good source of publicity for a rising actress.

In June, she falls ill with rubella (German Measles), with fatal consequences for her unborn child. In October, when she gives birth, prematurely, her daughter requires a complete blood transfusion. Daria is also deaf and partially blind. Oleg and Gene decide to take the little girl home with them and raise her as best they can.

Gene Tierney poses in front of a mirror.
Mid-1940s. Gene Tierney, in a shot-silk costume, poses in front of a mirror.

A year after Daria’s birth, Gene is approached at a tennis party by a fan who smiles and asks if she recognizes her. She tells Gene she was in the women’s branch of the marines and met her at the Hollywood Canteen:

Did you happen to catch the German measles after that night? You know, I probably shouldn’t tell you this. But almost the whole camp was down with German measles. I broke quarantine to come to the Canteen to meet the stars. Everyone told me I shouldn’t, but I just had to go. And you were my favourite.

Around this time, it is becoming apparent that Daria is also fatally brain-damaged. In the end, her parents admit defeat and send her to an institution, where she will spend the rest of her life. With all the stresses and strains, their marriage is on the rocks. Oleg has an affair. The couple split up.

Gene meets and falls for future US President John F Kennedy. But when he hears that she has asked Oleg for a divorce, he tells her over lunch in New York that he can never marry her. Her response: “Bye, bye, Jack.”

Oleg and Gene are divorced in 1952, and she takes up with Prince Aly Khan, Rita Hayworth’s ex, whom she met in Argentina the previous year while making Way of a Goucho. It’s the same story as with JFK – there’s no way his family will countenance their marriage so the relationship goes nowhere.

Gene’s bouts of anxiety and depression finally come to a head in 1955 when she is working on Left Hand of God (1955) with Humphrey Bogart:

I was so ill, so far gone, that it became an effort every day not to give up. … I knew that if I got through the picture I had to get myself to a hospital. I learned later that a sister of Bogart’s had been mentally ill. He recognised the signs, went to the studio bosses and warned them I was sick and needed help. They assured him that I was a trouper, was aware how much had been invested in the film and would not let them down. They suggested that Bogart be kind and gentle. He was nothing less. His patience and understanding carried me through the film. We did not know then that he was himself terminally ill with cancer.

The studio’s response is telling and likely pretty typical. Their primary concerns are with ensuring the commercial success of their movies, hushing up inconvenient truths and providing sanitized versions of their stars’ lives for public consumption. Don’t imagine that Gene Tierney is alone in struggling with mental health issues. She’s in good company – Vivien Leigh, Rita Hayworth and Judy Garland are three other cases in point. Mental health continues to be an issue for film stars and other celebrities to this day, as revealed by an article in Marie Claire to mark World Mental Health Day 2017.

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Gene Tierney, dressed to kill

Gene Tierney, dressed to kill

Mid-1940s. Gene Tierney, wrapped in shot-silk, poses in front of a carved-wood panel in this baroque portrait.

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Gene Tierney, screen siren

Gene Tierney, screen siren

Early–mid-1940s. Gene Tierney, despite an uncharacteristically severe hairstyle, still manages to look sultry in this studio publicity portrait.

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Gene Tierney, sweater girl

Gene Tierney, sweater girl

1942. Gene Tierney displays her sweater-girl credentials in this promotional shot for Thunderbirds.

Mental health issues seem to have run in Gene’s family. In Self-Portrait, she mentions her maternal aunt in this context, so she’s likely to have been predisposed to anxiety and depression. Her autobiography begins with her nadir in the spring of 1957:

It is a terrible thing to feel no fear, no alarm, when you are standing on a window ledge fourteen stories above the street. I felt tired, lost, and numb – but unafraid. I wasn’t at all certain I wanted to take my own life. I cat-walked a few steps away from the open window and steadied myself, to think about it. The fact that I could no longer make decisions was why I had gone to the ledge in the first place. What to wear, when to get out of bed, which can of soup to buy, how to go on living, the most automatic task confused and depressed me.

Gene Tierney – a mid-20th century mental patient

Portrait of Gene Tierney by Talbot.
Around 1940. Portrait of Gene Tierney by Talbot.

Gene Tierney is courageous in speaking out about her struggles with severe bouts of depression, a taboo subject for most of the 20th century. Over a period of six years, she is admitted to three different mental hospitals and has a total of 32 electric shock treatments:

I knew nothing about electric shock therapy, and I don’t think the doctors at the time knew much more. It was then considered a scientific breakthrough, although opinion was divided about the potential for long-term harm. The treatment was developed in Italy in 1938. Doctors soon began to use it to treat schizophrenia and cases of severe depression.

An electrode was attached to each temple and an alternating current of eighty or ninety volts passed between the electrodes for a split fraction of a second. In the early days of this therapy, the moment of violent seizure often produced fractures and dislocated bones. The use of muscle relaxants solved that problem.

When it shocked its victims into some measure of sanity, it seemed to do so by inducing a temporary amnesia. It triggered a physical feeling that was comfortable and benign. You can hardly be depressed over something you no longer remember. The results often were so dramatic that helpless people could soon manage everyday things that once seemed intimidating.

But even more than electric shock treatment, Gene fears the cold pack:

To me, the cold pack was the worst indignity of my confinement. It was not meant to be cruel or inhuman or to punish you. The cold pack was simply one of the ways of rearranging your mind, of shocking you back into sanity, or so the doctors hoped. When my time came, I felt only that I had been dehumanized.

I was wrapped from the neck down in icy wet bedsheets, my arms strapped to my sides. It was like being buried in a snow bank. Tears poured down my cheeks as the minutes ticked away. I couldn’t move. I lost the feeling in my hands and feet. My mind was in a panic.

Gene Tierney poses in front of a mirror
1940. Gene Tierney poses in front of a mirror.

Eventually, she starts to get a grip on herself:

When I accepted my handicap, my doctors told me, “Now you are going to get well, because you know you have a weakness.” But it took me four years to face the truth. Up to then, I committed myself to treatment because I thought my family felt I should, and I told myself I was pleasing them.

Her exit interview is like something out of Kafka:

I was beginning to respond, to open up, to examine the disappointments in my life: my father, my marriage, the helplessness I felt when I had to give up Daria.

Early in August of 1958, I was told to appear before members of the medical staff for an interview. If I passed, I would be released to my family. I was dressed neatly and quietly, without jewelry, in my own clothes. I felt pale and edgy, like a young girl applying for her first job. I was applying for my freedom.

I sat behind a two-way glass. The doctors could see me, but I could not see them. I found it disconcerting, hearing these disembodied voices. My nerves were so keyed up that I remember nothing of their questions or my answers.

Gene is lucky insofar as she can afford to stay at some of the best institutions around at the time. In 1963, Richard Avedon will visit a state-run establishment – East Louisiana State Mental Institution, Jackson, Louisiana. His photos are a harrowing reminder of what it was like for less well-off individuals with mental-health problems.

In the UK, most of the old asylums have been closed down but some of the buildings survive as ruins, eloquently and evocatively documented at Abandoned Britain. All well and good, but now there’s almost nowhere to go for those who need help and many of them sleep rough on the streets.

Gene Tierney publicity portrait for On The Riviera.
1951. Gene Tierney publicity portrait for On The Riviera.

Gene Tierney – a kind of redemption

Gene Tierney will struggle with her demons for the rest of her life. That won’t prevent her from appearing in minor roles in a handful of films during the 1960s and one movie historian will remark that:

Gene Tierney returns to the screen after 7 years absence undergoing psychiatric treatment, which probably included recovering from endless caustic comments from Bosley Crowther throughout her career. He never had a nice word for her, ever… I wonder if she just rolled her eyes at every NY Times review. Crowther just relentlessly had it in for her no matter what she did. She must have snubbed him at a party as a starlet.

In autumn 1958, she had met W Howard Lee, a Texas oilman, then about to divorce none other than Hedy Lamarr. On 11 July 1960, Gene Tierney will marry Lee in a small ceremony in Aspen. He will stick with her through her ups and her downs until his death in 1981.

Want to know more about Gene Tierney?

The two books on which this piece is based are Self-Portrait by Gene Tierney with Mickey Herskowitz and American Legends: The Life of Gene Tierney. There’s an article by Ben Maddox about Gene Tierney’s recent marriage to Oleg Cassini in the September 1941 issue of Screenland, available at the Media History Digital Library. Another article in the 29 September 1958 issue of LIFE magazine is about Gene Tierney’s return to Hollywood.

Filed Under: Stars Tagged With: Bill Josephy, Darryl Zanuck, Frank Powolny, Gene Tierney, Oleg Cassini, Raphael Hakim, Richard Avedon, Ruth Hussey, The Shanghai Gesture, Virginia Field

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