Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense: The Life of Screenwriter Charles Bennett

15. No Escape

185 15 no escape In 1945, within a few months of my return to Hollywood from London, I had met twenty-two-year-old Betty Riley, a secretary in the office of my Beverly Hills tax accountant. Betty was bright as a whip and fluent in English literature and poetry. She was a hit in Hollywood—looked like Ingrid Bergman and had the best figure in town. Hitchcock wanted to give her a screen test, but Betty declined. He could have made a success of her; he could show any actress exactly the way a scene should be played—this little fat man telling a beauty how to act. Jack Warner chased Betty; I told him to leave her alone, so I never again entertained any thought of working at Warner Bros. Studio. No matter! I still intended to take my career stratospheric as a writer-director on Madeleine and Miracle. As it happened , I did work again at Warner Bros.—and wished I hadn’t. But more of that later. In February 1947, just back from Britain and Germany, my life took a monumental turn. I proposed marriage to Betty and married her within the week. We returned from our desert honeymoon on March 11. A few days later, a telegram arrived from Sir John Davis, the number-two man at Rank, saying my Madeleine Smith script was dead. Instead, he said, they would switch me to direct another movie. March 15, 1947—the murderous ides of March! Caesar: Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry “Caesar!” Speak, Caesar is turn’d to hear. Soothsayer: Beware the ides of March. Caesar: What man is that? Brutus: A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March. (Julius Caesar, act 1, scene 2) HitcHcock’s Partner in susPense 186 Afterthatdate,thingsdidnotgoasIhadhoped.Whereasinthe1920sParisian critics had raved at my Julius Caesar, soon Hollywood film industry buzzards picked at this Caesar’s corpse. There were unwanted contractual commitments , lousy directors and writers deconstructing my stories, lost opportunities and worthless agents, ideas too advanced for their time, suicide, revenge, and theft. I was banned from a major studio as the film industry collapsed and television rose ascendant. Marital problems and illness afflicted me at home. Antony: The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answered it. (Julius Caesar, act 3, scene 2) There was nothing I could do about Madeleine’s cancellation. Other people ’s love lives had messed everything up. Before Larry Olivier could get it intoproduction,hismarriagetoVivienwasrunningontherocks.Presently it broke up, but, without Vivien, there wasn’t any Madeleine—not from Larry’s viewpoint. To complicate matters, a bit later David Lean suddenly decided he wanted to make the subject with his wife Ann Todd in the lead. Larry released the project and David wanted his own script. He made his picture Madeleine (1950)—a lousy script and a box-office disaster. I still love my script, though it only gathers dust in my study. In place of Madeleine, Rank substituted Madness of the Heart (1949), which was a horrible story. So much for enthusiasm. Betty accompanied me to England with our newborn. On the flight over, our plane was struck by lightning—a disconcerting omen. From the moment of our arrival, Betty couldn’t stand war-ravaged England; and she was ill and wouldn’t travel farther . I had to leave London to direct Madness on the French Riviera. It’s not good to leave your wife and child behind, but I had to direct the film. My star was Margaret Lockwood, a very good actress. And I had a fifty-five-day shooting schedule. Everything was right about it, except the story. And my humming! I’ve been humming since childhood, a habit picked up from my mother, who never stopped humming and is probably still at it—way up above. Humming isn’t a sin, although it’s sometimes an affliction. The worst instance occurred at the Denham Film Studios near London when I was directing Madness. I rehearsed the scene; everything was okay. “Quiet! Lights! Sound! Roll ’em! Action!” Utter silence reigned, no escape 187 and Maggie Lockwood and my leading man, Paul Dupuis, started in on the scene. Everything proceeded just the way I wanted it. Suddenly, from the...