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“I think it’s your cup of tea, sweetheart.”
Turning to him, her eyes slowly registered what he’d said and what it meant. “It is. I think I have to do it, Roland. If I don’t…” She walked to the large window that looked out on the vineyards. “I was going to plant sunflowers over there. Sunflowers and pumpkins over there. I love pumpkins when they’ve just begun to grow. They remind me of little Japanese lanterns.” She stood at the window with her back to us for a long time. It was her moment and she owned it in all of our lives. When she turned, her eyes went right to Weber. “You bastard. I don’t know whether to thank or kill you.”
“Ah, come on. It’s like eating grapefruit—after the first bite it’s not sour anymore.”
She gave him a false exaggerated smile that was gone in an instant. “Fine, then you take the first bite.”
I started feeling odd after we returned from Europe. When that moved up to odder, I went to a doctor and found out I was pregnant. Unfortunately, I am one of those women who has to fight their body the whole way to bring a child to term. There was one complication after another. By the time Arlen had returned to America and began filming, I was flat on my back in bed and thus unable to work with her.
Perhaps it was for the best, because from day one, Wonderful was plagued by difficulties that had everyone either pulling out his hair or trying to avoid the wrath and roll of studio executives growing ever more ballistic as they watched both the budget and shooting schedule climb into the ionosphere.
No one wanted to upset me because I was having my own tough time, so what little I heard was watered way down. They were having “difficulties”; one of the actors had taken sick (in fact, had had a major stroke), which threw filming off… that was what I heard. But then an article appeared in the Calendar section of the L.A. Times entitled “Wonderful Chaos” which went into delighted gory detail about what was happening on the set, and it scared me good. When I told Roland I’d seen the article and asked what the hell was really going on over there, he sat on our bed and, sighing like a sick old man, began by saying it was a catastrophe and he’d be amazed if the movie was ever finished. Weber was renowned for bringing every one of his pictures in on time and under budget, so what was going wrong on this one? My husband, who ain’t no dummy when it comes to making movies, shook his head and said, “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. I get the feeling he’s Job with this one. Anything that can go wrong has or will. I gave him a present the other day as a joke—a motorcycle helmet. Know what he did? Didn’t smile. Said, “Good idea,” put it on, and went right back to work. Worked the whole day wearing a goddamned helmet. And you know what’s worse? I don’t think anyone on the set laughed when they saw him in it.”
One of the people who saved the project was Arlen. Everyone co
To be honest, I don’t like the movie. I love scenes in it, especially the opening. All that hazy snow, silence; then as things start to focus, we realize everything is upside down. Then the roar comes up and we’re shown that it’s not snow, it’s confetti. The world upside down in a snowstorm of confetti. Camera rights itself, changes perspective, pulls back, and there’s the little girl being held out a window by her feet in the middle of a ticker-tape parade. I love that. I love many parts of the film, but the story Weber and Arlen told us in Vie
Admittedly I am old hat and stuck in many of my views. Wonderful touched off emotional sirens and loud debates wherever it was shown because, if nothing else, it was a movie you had to see if you wanted to be considered hip or informed. Critics and loudmouths had a field day with it. It was a masterpiece, an insult, an empty diatribe, a cautionary exegesis (honestly, they used that word) that brilliantly illuminated… It was a success. A high-brow film that appealed to a wide audience who willingly went back to see it again in case they’d missed something first time around.
To spice up the stew even more, after it had been out a while and begun wi
She continued to promote the film, but even after she was nominated for an Academy Award and the job offers increased to the point where she could have had any role she wanted, she said no. Once when we were alone, I asked why she was going through with it when it really seemed again that the sky was the limit for her career. She said, “I used to think that everything was in acting. Do it right, and all the answers, plus all the rewards you’d ever want in ten lifetimes, would be there at the finish line. You could find your place, you could find a home and peace… Then after a couple of bad choices I began realizing it wasn’t so. But my life was caving in then too, so I thought maybe that’s part of the disillusionment. One of the main reasons I made Wonderful was to see if this was true. Those last few films I did before quitting the first time were dogs. Just work to put money in the bank. I was ashamed and embarrassed when I saw them. I thought, Fuck it, I can’t do this anymore. I’ve got to keep some of my soul intact. So I quit. When Weber asked me to be in this, I knew, no matter what, it would end up being a great movie. The best possible environment to work in. But even this one left me genuinely cold, Rose. Like going to bed with someone you once loved but don’t anymore. Don’t even feel a spark for. No matter what, this’ll definitely be my last.”
The four of us went to the Oscar ceremony together. Before it began, I told my best friend that if she didn’t win I would personally blow up the Academy. I knew she was serious about her plan to stop. There had been a gratuitously cruel article in a national magazine about her that implied nasty untrue things. It concluded by sneering how “timely” it was that Ms. Ford had a