-
Chapter 16: 1946–1947
- University of Minnesota Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
Sometime late in 1945, Lang moved from the house in Santa Monica, where he had lived since his arrival in the United States, to a new hilltop residence in Beverly Hills. It was expected of the top Hollywood directors that they advertise their importance with the purchase of a big, beautiful house. Finally, Lang could afford that luxury, and the one he chose was a lovely Spanish-style,tiled-roof home at the end of a long road on a narrow section of Summit Ridge Drive, perched atop a promontory overlooking Pickfair, the fabled residence of retired silent screen star Mary Pickford. Pine trees dotted the grounds, and the director had a spectacular view of the city of Los Angeles. Hungarian expatriate Paul Laszlo, one of the foremost architect-designers for the screen colony (among his other clients were Barbara Hutton, Sonja Henie, and director William Wyler), was chosen by Lang to coordinate the design and decor. Laszlo, like Lang, was fanatical about detail—noted for arranging everything "down to the last ashtray or built-in Kleenex holder," according to Time magazine. Laszlo's motto was simplicitywith elegance, and accordingly the appointments in Lang's home would be tasteful but spare. It was like the decor of his American films, as opposed to the German ones, and different from the showplace Lang had shared with Thea von Harbou in Berlin; the director's American citizenship mandated a house that departed radically from the aesthetic of his time in Germany. A stark whiteness, startling visitors, predominated. The living room was carpeted in white; a large, abstract coffee table (always stacked with books and periodicals) stood in front of a long, curved couch. An easy chair where Lang often read or dozed occupied a prominent spot. Unlike in the director's Berlin home, with its morbid masks and skulls and primitive art, few artworks decorated Lang's Hollywood walls; visitors remember one or two of Ka'the Kollwitz 's sketches, maybe a Matisse line drawing. A Laszlo-designed fireplace formed the centerpiece of the main room. The dining room doubled as Lang's study, where the director would sit and work at a medium-sized table that comfortably sat four people. There was a large bedroom (with an animal-skin throw), as well as a sun room, and, perhaps the most individual feature of the house: a small bar with a linoleum floor. C H A P T E R 1 6 1946 1947 344 F KITZ LANG On a shelf behind the bar Lang kept his collection of miniature carvings, statues, and crystal animals. On the wall was a mural, painted by the director, of bare-breasted women dancing out of martini glasses. Lily Latte supervised the acquisition and furnishing of the new home. She engaged a full staff: a German cook who could make Lang's favorite dishes; a short, bald Scottish driver; a succession of gardeners. Usually roaming the house were Lang's two Sealyham terriers—short-legged, heavy-boned little beasties that looked like Scotties, named Mutt and Jeff for the comic strip characters. The director liked Mutt and Jeff so much, sometimes he couldn't bear to part with them for the whole day, and would bring them to the office, letting the two dogs romp around as he worked. In those days, Lang's new house was a scenic outpost, its isolation a status symbol. Lang never renewed his aquaintance with his neighbor, Mary Pickford. Other nearby neighbors included film producer I. G. Goldsmith, who was born in Vienna and launched his career there before producing features in London and the United States; the screenwriter Charles Bennett, who wrote half a dozen pictures for Hitchcock in England as well as, later on in America, 1940's Foreign Correspondent; and the Honorable Cecil Howard, son of the Earl of Suffolk. Howard lived in a house beyond Lang's, down a narrow dirt track. "The approach for either of them was a one-way one," remembered Charles Bennett. "I adored Cecil, but I knew him to be a stiff-necked aristocratic Englishman. One day he and Fritz met head-on in the alleyway, Fritz's car on the way out, facing Cecil's on the way in. It was a clash of wills. One had to retire, back away, to allow the other to pass. An arrogant German versus an equally arrogant Englishman. The tie-up lasted an hour. Finally it was Fritz who yielded, but he and...