Robe Blanche en Jersey
aux manches trois-quarts
White Jersey Dress
with three-quarter sleeves

 Cette robe a été conçue par la créatrice américaine Ceil Chapman, qui créa des robes de soirées très glamour portées par de nombreuses actrices d'Hollywood. Elle était l'une des stylistes préférées de Marilyn Monroe qui porta plusieurs de ses créations pour des soirées. C'est une tenue de la garde robe personnelle de Marilyn Monroe: blanche, moulante, en jersey, la robe est longue (arrivant jusqu'en haut des chevilles), en ligne droite avec une ouverture sur le côté du bas, des manches 3/4 et au décolleté prononcé. A l'origine, elle comporte une ceinture avec un gros noeud au niveau de la hanche.

This gown was designed by American designer Ceil Chapman, who created very glamorous evening dresses worn by many Hollywood actresses. She was one of Marilyn Monroe's favorite stylists who wore many of her designs for parties. It is an outfit from Marilyn Monroe's personal wardrobe: white, tight, in jersey, the dress is long (reaching to the top of the ankles), in a straight line with an opening on the side of the bottom, 3 quarter sleeves and with a pronounced neckline. Originally, it had a belt with a big bow at the hip.

 Fin janvier 1952, lorsque le photographe Philippe Halsman se rend chez Marilyn pour la photographier à son studio du Beverly Carlton Hotel, il constate, en ouvrant son placard, qu'elle ne possède que très peu de vêtements. C'est le photographe qui choisit lui-même la robe qui comportait un grand arc de noeud sur la hanche gauche: Halsman explique à Marilyn que la silhouette serait plus élégante sans ce noeud et Marilyn va ainsi couper cette ceinture de noeud avec une paire de ciseaux. Cette séance photos restera célèbre dans sa carrière, car l'un des clichés fera la première couverture du magazine américain Life consacrée à Marilyn Monroe (voir Life 7 avril 1952 ).

Pour cette séance, Marilyn accessoirise la robe en y ajoutant un petit bijou à strass (en forme d'arc) sur le décolleté, qu'elle porte dénudée aux épaules afin d'accentuer son attitude sexy.
Elle porte aussi un bracelet à strass au poignet gauche.

At the end of January 1952, when photographer Philippe Halsman goes to Marilyn's in hes studio at the Beverly Carlton Hotel to photograph her, he notices, opening her closet, that she had very few clothes. It is the photographer who himself chooses the dress which had a large bow on the left hip: Halsman explains to Marilyn that the silhouette would be more elegant without this bow and Marilyn will thus cut this bow belt with a pair of scissors. This photos shoot will remain famous in her career, because one of the photos will make the first cover of the American magazine Life devoted to Marilyn Monroe (see Life 7 avril 1952).

For this session, Marilyn accessorizes the dress by adding a little jewel with rhinestones (in the shape of an arc) on the neckline, which she wears bare at the shoulders to accentuate her sexy attitude.
She also wears a rhinestone bracelet on her left wrist.

Vers septembre 1952, Marilyn Monroe emporte la robe aux studios de la Fox pour poser en photos - reportage photographique qui sera publié dans le magazine "Movie World" de mars 1953. Marilyn porte des boucles d'oreilles à strass et un collier.

Around September 1952, Marilyn Monroe takes the dress to the Fox studios to pose for a photoshoot - a photographic report which will be published in the magazine "Movie World" in March 1953. Marilyn wears rhinestone earrings and a necklace.

 Robe Noire en Jersey (1)
aux manches trois-quarts
Black Jersey Gown (1)
with three-quarter sleeves
 

Il s'agit ici d'une robe qui semble identique à la blanche mais de couleur noire; signée Ceil Chapman, avec les fronces prononcées aux hanches et aux manches. Cette fois-ci, Marilyn a conservé le noeud en taffetas de soie noire attaché à la hanche et l'a porté à deux sorties en public en 1953, sans les épaules dénudées et assortie d'un fourreau.

This is a dress which seems identical to the white but in color black; by Ceil Chapman, with pronounced gathers at the hips and sleeves. This time, Marilyn keeps the black silk taffeta bow attached at the hip and wore it twice in public in 1953, without the bare shoulders and with a fur.

  D'abord pour la soirée organisée par le magazine Redbook en février 1953, célébrant le prix Redbook reçu par Marilyn le 24 février de "La meilleure jeune personnalité du Box Office".
Pour cette soirée, Marilyn est vêtue de couleur noire: elle porte un fourreau noir et des gants noirs; et ne porte aucun bijou.

First, for the evening organized by Redbook magazine in February 1953, celebrating the Redbook award received by Marilyn on February 24 for "The best young personality of the Box Office".
For this event, Marilyn is dressed in black: she is wearing a black fur and black gloves; and doesn't wear any jewelry.

Puis dans les studios de l'émission de radio de Walter Winchell sur ABC, à Los Angeles le 13 décembre 1953. 
Pour sa participation, Marilyn porte encore la robe avec des gants noirs et le fourreau noir, et de grandes boucles d'oreilles pendantes.

Then in the studios of Walter Winchell's radio show on ABC, in Los Angeles on December 13, 1953.
For her participation, Marilyn still wears the dress with black gloves and the black fur, and large dangling earrings.

Enfin, pour la soirée organisée par le Los Angeles Press Club, à l'Ambassador Hotel de Los Angeles le 19 décembre 1953, où elle reçoit en trophée une boule de billard. 
Pour cette soirée, Marilyn porte la robe encore avec des gants noirs, mais avec un fourreau blanc; elle porte aussi des bijoux: des boucles d'oreilles pendantes et un bracelet au bras gauche.

Finally, for the evening organized by the Los Angeles Press Club, at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles on December 19, 1953, where she received a billiard ball as a trophy.
For this event, Marilyn is still wearing the dress with black gloves, but with a white fur; she also wears jewelry: dangling earrings and a bracelet on her left arm.

L'après Marilyn
After Marilyn

La robe noire aux vendue aux enchères
The black dress sold in auction

- par Christies (la célèbre vente des 27 et 28 octobre 1999 à New York)
“The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe” - Lot 210 - vendue 16 100 Dollars
   

- par Julien's (le 17 novembre 2016 à Los Angeles)
“ The Marilyn Monroe Auction  ” - Lot 27 - vendue 50 000 Dollars
(sur le blog: Lots effets personnels 1 )

 Robe Noire en Jersey (2)
aux manches trois-quarts
Black Jersey Gown (2)
with three-quarter sleeves

Robe longue en jersey noir de la garde-robe personnelle de Marilyn Monroe; avec un corsage froncé, drapé jusqu'aux hanches, des manches 3/4, une encolure ballerine sur le devant et échancrée dans le dos; avec une bordure passepoilée qui plonge dans le dos.
Il n'existe aucune photographie montrant Marilyn porter cette robe.

A long black jersey dress from the personal wardrobe of Marilyn Monroe; with a ruched bodice, draping to the hips, 3/4 sleeves, a ballerina neckline in front and scoop in the back, with piping trim that plunges to the back.
There is no photograph showing Marilyn wearing this dress.

- L'après Marilyn -
After Marilyn

La robe vendue aux enchères
The dress sold in auction

- par Julien's (le 11 avril 2014 à Beverly Hills)
“ Hollywood Legends  ” - Lot 1063 - vendue 37 500 Dollars
(sur le blog: Lots Photos, Docs, Vêtements, Bijoux, Divers )
     
  

 Robe Noire en Jersey (3)
sans manches, forme bustier
Black Jersey Gown (3)
sleeveless, bustier shape

Une autre robe de Ceil Chapman, du même style: moulante, en jersey, au tissu à fronces; mais la longueur est plus courte (elle arrive au niveau des tibias), et elle n'a pas de manches (de forme bustier). On y retrouve le gros noeud de taffetas de soie noire au niveau de la hanche.
Another dress by Ceil Chapman, in the same style: tight, in jersey, with gathered fabric; but the length is shorter (it reaches the level of the shins), and it has no sleeves (strapless shape). There is also the big black silk taffeta bow attached at the hip.

On ne connait qu'un seul événement en public pour lequel Marilyn porte la robe: le 16 décembre 1953 à une soirée chez Bob Hope, donnée en l'honneur du retour de Corée du Général Dean, à laquelle assistent Marilyn et Joe DiMaggio.
Marilyn va décrire sa robe de cocktail au magazine Modern Screen comme "de la soie noire de Ceil Chapman qui a une grosse soie bouffante sur le côté et qui se drape étroitement autour de mes jambes. J'aime son effet amincissant".
We know only one public event for which Marilyn wears the dress: on December 16, 1953 at a party at Bob Hope's, given in honor of General Dean's return from Korea, attended by Marilyn and Joe DiMaggio.
Marilyn will describe her cocktail dress to Modern Screen magazine as "black silk by Ceil Chapman which has a big puff at the side and drapes tightly around my legs. I like its slimming effect." 

- L'après Marilyn -
After Marilyn

Deux robes bustiers noires de Ceil Chapman ont été vendues aux enchères de Christies en 1999, ce qui laisse penser que Marilyn possédait donc deux exemplaires identiques du modèle de cette robe.
Two black strapless dresses by Ceil Chapman were sold at Christies auction in 1999, which suggests that Marilyn therefore had two identical copies of the model of this dress.

- 1ère Robe - Christies (vente du 28/10/1999 à New York)
Page web: “The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe” - Lot 186
Description: A BLACK JERSEY DRESS - The three-quarter length strapless dres of black jersey, with boned bodice asymmetrically draped, the skirt draped onto the hips trimmed with an oversized black silk box, labeled Ceil Chapman.
Estimée entre et 3 000 et 5 000 Dollars, la robe fut vendue 14 950 Dollars

- 2ème Robe - Christies (vente du 28/10/1999 à New York)
Page web: “The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe” - Lot 237
Description: A JERSEY DRESS - The three-quarter length, sleeveless black jersey sheath dress with the boned bodice asymmetrically-draped, the skirt draped onto the hips, trimmed with an outsized black silk bow, labeled Ceil Chapman.
Estimée entre et 3 000 et 5 000 Dollars, la robe fut vendue 21 850 Dollars

- CHRISTIES, 10/1999 -
à gauche lot 186 / à droite lot 237 
      
at left lot 186 / at right lot 237 

Robe Ivoire en Soie
forme bustier
Ivory Silk Dress
bustier shape

Robe longue en soie de couleur ivoire, au drapé asymétrique, sans manches de forme bustier - et qui comporte une étiquette “Fox 964467", qui indiquerait qu'elle aurait été créée pour le cinéma (les studios de la Fox). 
Il n'existe aucune photographie montrant Marilyn porter cette robe.  

Long ivory-colored silk dress, with asymmetrical drape, sleeveless strapless shape - and which has a "Fox 964467" label, which would indicate that it was created for the cinema (Fox studios).
There is no photograph showing Marilyn wearing this dress.

- L'après Marilyn -
After Marilyn

La robe vendue aux enchères: elle est aujourd'hui un peu tâchée
The dress sold in auction: it is a little stained today

- par Christie's (le 28 octobre 1999 à New York)
“ The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe  ” - Lot 250 - vendue 8 625 Dollars
- par Julien's (le 26 juin 2009 à Los Angeles)
“ Julien's Summer Sale 2009  ” - Lot 727 - vendue 12 800 Dollars
  

Inspirations

• Une mannequin pose avec une tenue de Ceil Chapman pour le magazine américain Vogue du 15 novembre 1953; on y retrouve les éléments des robes portées par Marilyn: coupe en ligne droite, les fronces aux bras, au buste et à la hanche.
  A model poses in a Ceil Chapman gown for the American magazine Vogue from November 15, 1953; we find there the elements of the dresses worn by Marilyn: straight cut, gathers on the arms, on the bust and hip.
  

• L'actrice Grace Kelly porte en 1955, pour une séance photos publicitaire du film "La Main au collet", une robe blanche de la créatrice Edith Head, qui n'est pas sans rappeller celle de Marilyn, avec des plis sur le buste; bien que celle portée par Grace a une épaule dénudée et la longueur est bien plus évasée.
  The actress Grace Kelly wears in 1955, for a publicity photoshoot for the film "To catch a Thief", a white dress by designer Edith Head, which is reminiscent of Marilyn's, with pleats on the bust; but the one worn by Grace has an off shoulder and the length is much more flared.
  

- Années 1950 , les actrices Ilona Massey , Shelley Winters , Patricia Medina -
     

• Madonna porte une robe blanche fortement inspirée par celle de Marilyn, dans le film 'Who's That Girl' en 1987 - création de Deborah Lynn Scott. D'ailleurs, la même année, le 26 janvier 1987, elle se présente aux American Music Awards portant une robe brillante, une variation de la robe du film qui était en tissu.
  Madonna wears a white dress strongly inspired by that one of Marilyn, in the movie 'Who's That Girl' in 1987 - creation of Deborah Lynn Scott. Moreover, the same year, in January, 26, 1987, she appears at the American Music Awards wearing a shiny dress, a variation of the dress of the movie which was in jersey.
  

• D'autres personnalités ont porté des robes au même style, plus ou moins ressemblant: Tatiana Thumbtzen (mannequin et danseuse du clip "The way you make me feel" avec Michael Jackson en 1987), Juliette Binoche (en tant que présidente de la cérémonie des Césars de 1998), Winona Ryder, Beyonce, Scarlett Johansson et plus récemment, Beth Ditto (au Festival de Cannes 2012)
  Other personalities have worn dresses in the same style, more or less similar: Tatiana Thumbtzen (model and dancer in the music video “The way you make me feel” with Michael Jackson in 1987), Juliette Binoche (as president of the 1998 Cesars ceremony), Winona Ryder, Beyonce, Scarlett Johansson and more recently, Beth Ditto (at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival)
  

Même style
Same style

Ne pas confondre avec la robe rouge à ceinture violette d'Oleg Cassini
Not to be confused with Oleg Cassini's red dress with purple belt

-   Robe moulante rouge à fronce d'Oleg Cassini -

source:
Livre Marilyn in Fashion, 2012

All photos are copyright and protected by their respective owners. 
Copyright text by GinieLand.

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 La rivière sans retour

Secrets de tournage ...
 
 ... et anecdotes

Genèse d'un film non désiré
   C'est le producteur Stanley Rubin qui lança le projet de "Rivière sans retour". Il voulait s'inspirer du classique italien néoréaliste "Le voleur de bicyclette" (réalisé en 1948 par Vittorio De Sica) et en faire une version américaine, transposant l'intrigue au far-west et remplacant la bicyclette volée par les chevaux et les armes des personnages. Parce qu'il avait travaillé sur des films westerns avec certains réalisateurs, Stanley Rubin portait son choix au départ sur William Wellman, Raoul Walsh, ou Henry King; et il n'était pas très emballé par Otto Preminger qui, pour lui, était excellent pour filmer des films noirs melodramatiques, mais pas un film western d'aventures. Mais c'est Darryl F. Zanuck, producteur de la 20th Century Fox, qui imposa Otto Preminger à la réalisation.
Le film disposait d'un budget colossal: 3 800 000 de dollars.
   Le monteur Dann Cahn avait recommandé Marilyn Monroe, avec qui il sortait, pour la série "Your Show Time" en 1949. Le producteur Stanley Rubin l'avait auditionnée mais pas selectionnée, à cause de son manque d'expérience. Stanley Rubin tenta alors de rattraper son erreur et appuya le nom de Marilyn Monroe pour qu'elle fasse partie du casting de "La rivière sans retour".
   Le projet de "Rivière sans retour" ne semblait pas trop enthousiasmer Marilyn Monroe. Le film sera d'ailleurs l'unique western de sa carrière où elle tient l'exclusif rôle féminin (bien que l'on peut relever la comédie "A Ticket to Tomahawk" tourné en 1950 dans lequel elle tient un rôle secondaire). Mais en dépit des succès de "Niagara" et de "Les hommes préfèrent les blondes", l'actrice n'était pas en position de discuter son contrat avec la Fox, et elle devait se plier aux volontés du producteur Darryl Zanuck. Néanmoins, elle pouvait porter un droit de regard sur le scénario et elle restait tout de même emballée à l'idée de travailler avec Robert Mitchum qui, avant de devenir acteur, avait été un collègue de son premier mari Jim Dougherty chez Lockheed Aircraft. D'ailleurs, on raconte que c'est Marilyn qui aurait imposé Mitchum, alors que celui-ci était engagé auprès de la RKO. Elle était en revanche moins ravie d'être dirigée par Otto Preminger, qui avait déjà la mauvaise réputation d'un réalisateur très exigeant et misogyne.
  D'ailleurs, quant à Otto Preminger, il venait de goûter aux joies de la liberté en produisant lui-même son film "The Moon is blue" ("La lune était bleue"). Et il s'est vu contraint, comme Marilyn, de tourner "Rivière sans retour" pour honorer son contrat avec la 20th Century Fox, à qui il "devait" un nouveau film. C'est donc sans grande ambition qu'il s'engage dans un tournage qui va d'ailleurs s'avérer infernal. Cependant, Preminger aurait tout de même porté un intérêt au film seulement après avoir lu le scénario et il approuva le choix du casting avec Robert Mitchum et Marilyn Monroe dans les rôles principaux. Darryl Zanuck lui avait fait miroiter la technologie du nouveau Cinémascope, et certains critiques noteront que Preminger avait plus envie de filmer le paysage spectaculaire que d'arracher une interprétation dramatique à ses acteurs.
   Le tournage ne sera pas de tout repos: malentendus, retards, mauvaises conditions climatiques (il pleuvait sans cesse), ainsi que plusieurs incidents et accidents qui émailleront le tournage au Canada. Pour ces raisons, le film va prendre beaucoup de retard. D'ailleurs, l'ambiance suscitée par ces affrontements est si catastrophique, et les retards qui en découlent si importants, que Mitchum finira par rebaptiser le projet "Picture of no return" ("Le film sans retour"). 

Un réalisateur exigeant et tyrannique
   Otto Preminger était célèbre pour ses tournages très minutés. Faire ce film fut une épreuve pour toutes les personnes qui y furent impliqués. Paul Helmick, l'assistant à la mise en scène, raconta à Lee Server, le biographe de Robert Mitchum, que: "Otto Preminger était quelqu'un de très pénible. Méchant, impatient, il était très grossier, surtout avec les femmes." Durant le tournage, lui et Marilyn Monroe ne se parlèrent pratiquement jamais: "Pas un mot. C'était le tandem le plus mal assorti qui fût. Ils se détestaient littérallement." Et l'hostilité régna sur le plateau lorsque le réalisateur Otto Preminger et Marilyn entamèrent une guerre d'usure.
   Otto Preminger déclara à propos de Marilyn: "D'abord, le studio la choya -elle était gâtée quand nous avons fait 'Rivière sans retour'- au point qu'elle avait perdue de vue ce qu'elle pouvait et ne pouvait pas faire, et lorsqu'il apparut qu'elle n'avait pas le pouvoir attractif qu'elle exerçait habituellement, ils attendirent d'elle qu'elle se comporte comme une actrice ordinaire." Il ira même jusqu'à déclarer: "La diriger équivalait à diriger Lassie. Il fallait faire 14 prises pour en avoir une bonne." bien qu'il nia par la suite d'avoir tenu de tels propos. Preminger pouvait se montrer très méchant envers Marilyn: il la tourmenta sur le fait qu'elle n'était pas capable d'apprendre son texte; il lui fit effectuer ses propres cascades; et le comble, il émit des doutes sur sa vertu. Marilyn ne pouvait se défendre qu'avec les seules armes dont elle disposait: elle fut régulièrement en retard et suscita des difficultés. Par ailleurs, Otto Preminger entra aussi en conflit avec Natasha Lytess, la coach de Marilyn, à qui l'actrice prêtait bien plus d'attention, comme il le racontera plus tard: "Je suppliais Marilyn de se détendre et de parler naturellement, mais elle n'y prêtait aucune attention. Elle n'écoutait que Natasha (...) et répétait son texte en ar-ti-cu-lant avec tant de sérieux et des mouvements de lèvres si brutaux qu'il était impossible de la filmer."
Otto Preminger parlera toujours de Marilyn en des termes peu élogieux dans de nombreuses interviews. Ce n'est qu'en janvier 1980, lors d'une entrevue pour le New York Daily News, qu'il concédera: «Elle a essayé très dur, et quand les gens essaient dur, vous ne pouvez pas être en colère contre eux."  
   Quant à Marilyn, elle qualifia par la suite Preminger de "pompeux imbécile." 

Clash entre Natasha Lytess vs Otto Preminger
   Toujours en proie aux doutes, Marilyn Monroe est à l'époque sous la coupe de Natasha Lytess, sa coach personnelle, que Marilyn fait embaucher par les studios pour qu'elle puisse l'accompagner sur les tournages. La coach cherche à faire adopter à Marilyn un jeu plus cérébral, la poussant notamment à articuler exagérement ses répliques -il fallait que Marilyn prononce ses répliques, selon ses propres mots, "en ar-ti-cu-lant a-vec gra-vi-té"- au grand dam du réalisateur Otto Preminger, qui lui demande exactement l'inverse ! Preminger est d'autant plus irrité que Marilyn ne faisait qu'écouter exclusivement les conseils de Natasha Lytess, comme elle en avait l'habitude sur ses précédents tournage, ce qui d'ailleurs agaça la plupart des réalisateurs qui ont dirigé Marilyn. Robert Mitchum, le partenaire masculin de Marilyn dans le film, tente lui aussi d'inciter l'actrice à plus de naturel dans son interprétation, sans parvenir lui non plus à entamer le pouvoir de Natasha. Robert Mitchum est cependant plus tolérant, il déclara que: "Marilyn se disait qu'elle avait besoin de quelqu'un d'autre que le metteur en scène, et de préférence une femme, pour lui dire quand ce qu'elle faisait était bien." Et en plus de ne pas aimer la manière dont elle enseignait à Marilyn à surarticuler les mots, Preminger détestait sa personnalité et ce, dès le début du tournage. Ne la supportant plus, Preminger explosa et la renvoya du plateau, comme d'ailleurs ont fait d'autres réalisateurs qui avaient précédemment travaillés avec Marilyn. Otto Preminger téléphona à Stanley Rubin qui était resté à Los Angeles, afin de bannir Lytess du plateau. Evidemment, cela ne dura pas car Marilyn ne pouvait poursuivre son travail sans la présence rassurante de sa coach. Aussitôt que Rubin accéda à la demande du réalisateur, Marilyn appela son agent Charles Feldman pour régler au plus vite la situation; celui-ci contacta le patron de la Fox Darryl Zanuck, qui donna l'ordre à Preminger de laisser Natasha revenir, ayant trop peur que Marilyn mette à exécution sa menace de quitter le tournage. Après tout, Marilyn était la valeur qui montait et qui "rapportait gros"; la coach indésirable fut réintroduite sur le plateau et promit de ne plus parler exclusivement qu'à sa protégée durant le tournage. Irrité par cette décision, Otto Preminger dirigera alors sa colère sur Marilyn Monroe durant tout le reste du tournage. La coach continuant de prodiguer les mêmes conseils à Marilyn (l'articulation excessive entraînait des déformations du visage de l'actrice qui devenait alors impossible à filmer), c'est Robert Mitchum qui parvint à trouver un compromis: aux répétitions, il laissait Marilyn faire son jeu exagéré, mais au moment de tourner, soit il lui donnait une grande tape dans le dos, soit une grande claque sur les fesses en disant: "Bon, maintenant, cessons de faire les imbéciles et comportons-nous comme des humains !"    
   L'ambitieuses coach entreprend même de se mêler du jeu de petit acteur de dix ans, Tommy Rettig, qui interprète le fils de Mitchum. Le réalisateur Otto Preminger relata l'incident: "Il connaissait son texte et parfois, nous devions faire 18 prises ou plus, mais il était bon à chaque fois, sans que la qualité de son jeu en pâtisse. Un jour, je fis une scène avec Marilyn et lui, mais il n'arrivait pas à se rappeler son texte et se mit à pleurer. 'Que se passe-t-il ?' lui demandai-je. Sa mère me dit que Miss Lytess avait parlé à Tommy et lui avait dit qu'à l'âge de 14 ans, tous les enfats acteurs perdaient leur talent, à moins de suivre des cours et d'apprendre à se servir de leur instrument." A partir de ce moment, Natasha Lytess va se mettre toute l'équipe à dos: sa présence les insupportait tous; et ils finirent alors par se rallier au réalisateur, en soutenant son travail, ses efforts et ses remarques. 

Un tournage éprouvant
   Les prises de vues en extérieur eurent lieu au Canada, dans les parcs nationaux de Banff et de Jasper, ansi qu'à Lake Louise, à Alberta et dans les Rocheuses canadiennes. Otto Preminger et Stanley Rubin étaient venus en repérage dans la région bien avant de commencer le tournage; durant cette période, Stanley Rubin se rendit compte que Preminger portait un grand intérêt pour sa future réalisation. Stanley Rubin prévu douze semaines de pré-production, au cours de laquelle Marilyn Monroe répétait et enregistrait les numéros musicaux, et 45 jours pour le tournage. Les acteurs et l'équipe sont partis de Calgary à la fin de juin 1953, d'où ils prirent un train pour se rendre au Banff Spring Hotel, un grand complexe hôtelier où toute l'équipe logea pendant la durée du tournage.
Pendant que Marilyn tournait, Joe DiMaggio l’attendait dans leur bungalow à Jasper (dans l'Alberta; un de ces Becker’s Bungalows où toute l’équipe du film avait trouvé à se loger selon le lieu de tournage) ou au Mount Royal Hotel à Banff lorsque la production émigra vers un nouveau décor.
   Grand film d'aventures, 'La rivière sans retour' comprend un certain nombre de morceaux de bravoures, pour lesquels le réalisateur Otto Preminger exigeait que ses deux stars (Marilyn et Mitchum) jouent sans doublure les scènes où ils luttent contre la rivière en furie, afin de donner plus de véracités aux héros du film; bien qu'il est important de souligner que les cascades les plus complexes furent effectuées par des professionnels (Roy Jenson, Helen Thurston et Harry Monty). Habituée à être entourée d'une équipe aux petits soins, ce fut un rôle très exigeant pour Marilyn, qui doit se soumettre à toute une série de prises de vues particulièrement pénibles, où on l'asperge de trombes d'eau tandis qu'elle tente de garder son équilibre sur le radeau; ou encore on la trempe avec des seaux d'eau pour les raccords. Mais Marilyn supporte assez bien ces désagréments physiques, tel que le déclara Paul Wurtzel, responsable des effets spéciaux à la Fox, qui témoigna de son implication: "On lui en a fait voir de belles dans ce film, et elle ne s'est jamais plainte. Elle savait ce qu'exigeait le film, et dès qu'on lui faisait signe de tourner, c'était un pro. Toute l'équipe l'adorait."  
Les acteurs devant effectuer eux-mêmes les cascades, il en résultera plusieurs accidents, certains réels, et d'autres simulés:

• Un jour, Marilyn glissa dans l'eau, alors qu'elle portait des bottes de pêche montant jusqu'en haut de ses cuisses; ses bottes remplies d'eau l'entraînant vers le fond, il fallut plusieurs hommes, dont Robert Mitchum, pour l'arracher au cours impétueux de la rivière. Marilyn fut alors repêchée de justesse. Aussitôt, gros titres dans la presse: "Marilyn Monroe manque de se noyer !" 
• Une autre fois, le radeau de Marilyn et de son partenaire Robert Mitchum, bloqué dans les rapides, manqua de se renverser et il fallut les secourir. Norman Bishop raconta que "le radeau sur lequel étaient Marilyn et Mitchum donna sur un rocher et resta bloqué. Si vous aviez vu comme ça bougeait ! D'une seconde à l'autre, le radeau pouvait se renverser." Bishop et un collègue bondirent dans un canot de sauvetage et la catastrophe fut de nouveau évitée. 
  
• Enfin, le 20 août, un troisième accident fit la une de nombreux journaux: "Miss Monroe blessée à la jambe au Canada", bien que les articles de presse ne donnaient pas de détails, car il n'y avait eu en réalité aucun accident. Ce n'était qu'un moyen habile de la part de Marilyn, de se venger de Preminger. La supercherie ne fut révélée que bien des décennies plus tard par l'actrice Shelley Winters.
  Shelley Winters, qui se trouvait aussi dans les environs de Jasper pour le tournage d'un film, était venue rendre visite à Marilyn, avec qui elle avait partagé un appartement, au temps où elles n'étaient encore que des starlettes. Un jour, elle assista au tournage d'une scène où Marilyn se tenait debout sur le radeau amarré à la rive dans l'Athabasca. Shelley Winters raconta: "Marilyn ne savait plus où elle en était et, comme chaque fois dans ces cas-là, ouvrait la bouche et souriait à tout ce qui se présentait. Preminger se mit à proférer des paroles épouvantables et insinua qu'avec le talent qu'elle avait, elle aurait mieux fait de ne jamais abandonner son premier 'métier'. (...) Marilyn garda les yeux baissés; son sourire n'en devint que plus figé." Quand ce fut fini, Shelley Winters rejoigna Marilyn pour l'aider à remonter sur la rive; et, voyant que Marilyn n'avait pas le pas très assuré, lui dit: "Attention à ne pas glisser. Tu pourrais te casser la jambe." Ces paroles vont alors fortement inspirer Marilyn car lorsque leur voiture s'arrêta devant l'hôtel, elle déclara: "Je ne peux pas sortir, je me suis cassée la jambe." On la monta dans sa chambre, on demanda des médecins, Winters lui donne un analgésique (du Percodan) et une double vodka, et Marilyn appella Darryl Zanuck en présence de Shelley. Elle tenait à rassurer le grand patron des studios en lui déclarant qu'elle ferait tout son possible pour terminer le film en dépit de "douleurs terribles".
  Dans la soirée, Marilyn, Mitchum et Winters allèrent dîner dans un restaurant pour y manger des homards arrosés de champagne. Le lendemain, une horde de médecins amenés de Los Angeles par avion privé, débarquèrent à l'hôtel. Les radios ne révèlèrent aucune lésion et les médecins des studios ne virent là rien de sérieux sans écarter la possibilité d'une éventuelle foulure. Et Marilyn réussit à les persurader de lui mettre un plâtre et de lui donner des béquilles. Arrêtée pendant quelques jours, elle en profita pour poser devant la presse, plâtre au pied et béquilles aux coudes. Cette feinte de Marilyn ne fut qu'une occasion de se venger d'Otto Preminger, mais certains prétendent qu'elle s'était surtout comportée ainsi afin d'attirer la bienveillance du metteur en scène.
  Lorsque Marilyn reprit le tournage -il ne restait que deux semaines- elle portait toujours son plâtre et ses béquilles, mais le studio avait pris un retard très onéreux.
  Shelley Winters racontera: "Marilyn n'était pas une nigaude, mais elle rusée comme un renard ! Un soir, nous allâmes dans une boîte. A un moment, je la vois esquisser une rumba avec Mitch.
  -'Rassieds-toi pour l'amour du ciel! lui dis-je. Tu n'es même pas encore capable de marcher.
  -Oh, c'est vrai, j'avais oublié...'
  Et elle s'assit en ricanant sur les genoux de Mitch."

Joe DiMaggio à la rescousse
L'incident de la cheville foulée fit venir Joe DiMaggio. Selon Maurice Zolotow, qui interviewa Marilyn environ un an plus tard, Joe DiMaggio l'appella le soir même de "l'accident". Comme elle pleurait, Joe arriva dès le lendemain, accompagné d'un médecin et de son copain new-yorkais Georges Solotaire. Joe semblait totalement dans son élement dans ce coin reculé et sauvage du Canada. Sur le plateau de tournage, il prenait des photos de Marilyn et donnait des coups de mains aux techniciens. Parfois, pendant que Marilyn tournait, il allait seul à la pêche. Mais il arrivait aussi que, hors tournage, Marilyn l'accompagnait au golf et à la pêche, où ils emmenaient avec eux Tommy Rettig, le petit acteur de dix ans.
Pendant le séjour de DiMaggio, le couple avait disparu tout un week-end. La presse évoqua alors rapidement un prochain mariage.  

Tommy Rettig et Marilyn 
   Tommy Rettig, l'acteur de dix ans qui interprétait le fils de Robert Mitchum, fut l'un des rares enfants dont Marilyn eut du mal à se faire un ami. Comme le racontera le photographe Bruno Bernard dans son journal intime: "Le visage de Marilyn s'illuminait chaque fois qu'elle se trouvait en compagnie d'enfants, et on sentait qu'elle réagissait envers eux de manière émotionnelle. Elle était profondément heureuse de les aider et de leur donner un peu d'amour." Mais le jeune Tommy Rettig se montrait distant avec Marilyn, l'évitant soigneusement. Et Marilyn raconta l'incident à Bruno Bernard: "Alors que Tommy devait tourner une scène avec moi, il s'est brusquement précipité vers sa mère sans dire un mot. J'en ai été très peinée. Le troisième jour, sa mère n'étant pas là, je me suis approchée de lui et je lui ai demandé: 'Tommy, puis-je te parler une minute ? Tu m'as évitée pendant trois jours. Comme nous ne nous sommes jamais rencontrés avant ce film, je n'ai rien pu faire qui t'ai blessé. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a ?' Il m'a regardée d'un air vraiment effrayé, puis m'a avoué: 'C'est mon curé qui m'a dit que je ne devrais pas parler à une femme telle que vous en dehors du tournage.'". Sur le moment, Marilyn en fut très blessée et offensée, mais les rapports entre eux ne vont s'améliorer qu'après l'arrivée de Joe DiMaggio: "La semaine suivante, lorsque Joe est venu me voir sur le plateau, Tommy s'est dit que, comme lui était génial, moi aussi je devais être OK." Et Marilyn et Joe emmenèrent plusieurs fois le petit Tommy à la pêche.

Anecdotes diverses
   A cette période, Marilyn Monroe semblait malheureuse et ne voulait pas aller tourner dans un lieu aussi perdu et loin de Hollywood. Le journaliste James Bacon l'interviewa à Los Angeles, juste avant son départ pour le Canada: "Elle semblait ne plus s'être peignée depuis plusieurs jours. Elle s'était barbouillée tout le visage de crème, même ses sourcils, qui étaient tout poisseux. En elle-même, elle restait certainement la Marilyn de toujours, mais au physique, c'était la fille de Dracula; et je pris congé le plus vite possible." Et durant son séjour au Canada, elle continuait de se cacher sous ce masque de crème grasse, même quand elle faisait un saut dans la bourgade voisine. Whitey Snyder, son maquilleur, finira par lui dire: "Enlève cette saloperie de ta figure : tu fais fuir les gens!"
   En dehors du tournage, Robert Mitchum menait joyeuse vie, trinquant, chahutant; il faisait d'ailleurs preuve d'une consommation excessive d'alcool, réclamant aux assistants de lui amener des verres de vodka, ce qui engendrait, là aussi, des conflits avec le réalisateur Otto Preminger. Mais c'est Mitchum qui parvint à faire sortir Marilyn de sa coquille. Un jour, Mitchum la trouva plongée dans un dictionnaire de psychanalyse, qui ne devait guère satisfaire sa curiosité puisqu'elle lui demanda ce que signifiait "érostisme anal" et ouvrit de grand yeux quand il entreprit de lui expliquer. 
Une autre fois, toujours selon Mitchum, la doublure de celui-ci s'approcha d'elle pour lui proposer, en termes choisis, une partouze avec l'un de ses copains.
-"Tous les deux en même temps?" demanda-t-elle.
-"Et pourquoi pas?"
-"Vous voulez me tuer!"
-"Personne n'est jamais mort de ça que je sache."
-"Oh si. Sauf que ce n'est pas ce qu'on dit officiellement; on appelle ça mort naturelle..."
Mitchum rapporta cette anecdote au biographe Anthony Summers en 1982, précisant que Marilyn plaisantait; quant à sa doublure, il en était moins sûr.
   Robert Mitchum était un homme plutôt simple: un jour, lors d'une scène en tournage à Jasper, un résident local Wilbur Stanley et un de ses amis, regardaient le travail des acteurs. Ils discutèrent avec Robert Mitchum devant leur voiture, où ils ont bu une bière. Après leur discussion, lorsque Mitchum repartit, il déclara, en s'éloignant de la voiture et en jetant la bouteille au sol: "C'est le meilleur petit déjeuner que j'ai jamais eu!"
   On retrouve, non créditée au générique, l'actrice Barbara Nichols, dans l'un de ses premiers rôles sur grand écran. Elle joue le rôle d'une danseuse. La comédienne, au cheveux blond platine, fera ensuite partie avec d'autres actrices, comme Jayne Mansfield ou Sheree North, d'un groupe de femmes au physiques assez proches de celui de Marilyn Monroe; et sera d'ailleurs engagée par les studios pour concurrencer Marilyn.
   Les trois paires de blue jeans que porte Marilyn Monroe dans le film ont été achetées par le créateur Tommy Hilfiger, aux enchères de Christies pour la somme de 42 550 Dollars.

Une rivière au goût amer
   De retour à Los Angeles pour travailler les dernières scènes en studio, Marilyn mit à profit toutes ses ruses pour gagner du temps, refusant souvent de sortir de sa loge des heures entières. David Conover (qui fut le photographe qui a "découvert" Marilyn) écrit que Marilyn voulut gâcher le film par vengeance, pour que Preminger ne retravaille plus jamais pour la Fox. Elle y est si bien parvenue, que c'est l'un des films les moins populaires.
    Bernard of Hollywood, raconta dans son journal intime que Marilyn se montrait alors désormais plus critique de son jeu que la plupart de ses censeurs et de ses fans. Un après-midi où elle assistait à la projection de rushes du film, elle fut physiquement malade de découvrir sa version d'une blonde sensuelle et sauvage. Elle était si angoissée qu'elle se rendit au bureau de Darryl Zanuck pour le consulter, mais on lui aurait répondu: "Pas de rendez-vous." Avec Natasha Lytess, elles parvinrent à rencontrer Spyros Skouras, le président de la Fox, qui lui aurait simplement répondu: "Baby, oublie les sentimentalités, tu fais de l'argent uniquement avec tes seins et ton cul... Ton talent se situe au niveau du corsage et en-dessous du nombril." Marilyn en fut terrassée et avait fini par comprendre avec horreur que, pour les studios, elle n'était qu'un produit.  
   Marilyn était mécontente de ce film, qu'elle considérait comme "le pire" de sa carrière, et en imputa la responsabilité à la 20th Century Fox; d'ailleurs, elle craint d'avoir l'air dans certaines scènes d'un "rat en train de se noyer"; deux ans après avoir tourné le film, Marilyn Monroe affirmera: "Aujourd'hui, je n'accepterais plus "La rivière sans retour". Je pense que je mérite mieux qu'un film de cow-boys de série Z, dans lequel l'interprétation passe après la mise en scène et le procédé Cinémascope. Les studios ont misé sur les paysages plutôt que sur les acteurs." 
   Et en 1960, on demanda à Otto Preminger s'il envisageait de retravailler un jour avec Marilyn, ce à quoi il répondit: "Pas pour un million de dollars !".
   Le producteur Stanley Rubin reconnut plus tard que: "Preminger était un homme de talent. Mais ce n'était pas le bon réalisateur pour ce film." D'ailleurs, déjà à l'époque, dès la fin du tournage et avant la sortie du film en salles, la presse confirma que Stanley Rubin se posait des questions sur le choix de Preminger. Il pressentit que le réalisateur n'avait pas su retranscrire l'aura d'un western, qu'il avait ignoré des éléments clés de l'intrigue, qu'il avait dirigé certaines séquences d'action de manière statique et que dans plusieurs scènes, les raccords entre celles tournées en studio et celles tournées au Canada, ne correspondaient pas. D'ailleurs Preminger va finir par jeter l'éponge: il quitte la post-production et se rend en Europe, laissant l'éditeur Louis R. Loeffler et le producteur Stanley Rubin aux commandes pour finaliser le film. Le réalisateur Jean Negulesco a même été appelé en urgence pour refilmer certaines scènes. Otto Preminger avait en fait une rancoeur de devoir travailler au service des studios de la Fox, et il préféra vendre sa villa hollywoodienne, pour payer 150.000 dollars à la Fox pour l'annulation du reste de son contrat, qui pourtant, se terminait six mois plus tard.

Une scène à part
  Il s'agit d'une séquence toute simple dans laquelle Kay (Marilyn Monroe), réfugiée dans la grotte et trempée jusqu'aux os, tremble de froid; Matt (Robert Mitchum) lui ordonne de se déshabiller et de s'enrouler dans une couverture. Puis il la masse vigoureusement. Dans cette scène, Kay découvre que Matt n'est pas ll'ours mal lêché qu'elle aurait cru. Leur relation se colore d'une charge érotique, même si Matt -pour des raisons de censure sévère du code Hayes en vigueur- s'en tient à des gestes sans ambiguité. Il n'en reste pas moins que Marilyn est nue sous la couverture, tandis que Mitchum lui masse les pieds... Cette scène n'a pas été tournée par Otto Preminger. Déçu par certains passages du film, Darryl Zanuck avait en effet demandé à Jean Negulesco, qui avait récemment dirigé Marilyn dans 'Comment épouser un millionnaire?', et que la comédienne appréciait, de faire des retakes de certaines séquences.   

Chansons
Marilyn Monroe interprète quatre chansons dans le film -toutes écrites par Ken Darby et composées par Lionel Newman-:
"One silver Dollar",
"I'm gonna file my claim",
la comptine "Down in the meadow"
et la chanson phare "River of no return".
Répétant inlassablement sous la direction de Ken Darby, jusqu'à approcher la perfection, Marilyn prit beaucoup de plaisir à travailler ces chansons. Le titre "I'm gonna file my claim" fera l'objet d'un disque (ci-contre), et l'été suivant la sortie du film, RCA en vendit plus de 75 000 exemplaires.
Elle sera néanmoins doublée partiellement par la chanteuse Gloria Wood. 
Pour la danse, c'est le chorégraphe Jack Cole qui enseigna à Marilyn, tel qu'il l'avait fait pour "Gentlemen Prefer Blonds" ("Les hommes préfèrent les blondes").
Quant au public, il fut ravi par les scènes dans lesquelles Marilyn chante et danse.

Chronologie du film
-le 11 avril, les 6 et 8 juin 1953: essayages de costumes du film pour Marilyn.
-fin juin 1953: départ de l'équipe de tournage pour Calgary, avec voyage en train jusque Banff.
-le 25 juillet 1953: départ de Seattle, avec escale à Vancouver et arrivée à Jasper de Marilyn, Robert Mitchum et Rory Calhoun.
-août 1953: début du tournage.
-20 août 1953: Marilyn se blesse à la cheville.
-21 aout 1953: on plâtre le pied de Marilyn; Joe DiMaggio arrive au Canada.
-fin août: fin du tournage des scènes extérieures au Canada.
-1er septembre: Marilyn, Joe DiMaggio et Mitchum quittent le Canada, ils font une escale à Seattle d'où ils prennent un autre avion pour rejoindre Los Angeles.
-Septembre 1953: tournage de scènes dans les studios de Los Angeles. Otto Preminger quitte la post-production, et Jean Negulesco tourne la scène dans la grotte.
-29 septembre 1953: fin du tournage.
-30 avril 1954: Sortie américaine de "Rivière sans retour".

> La presse 
 

> sources:
Livre Marilyn Monroe et les caméras
Livre Marilyn, Une vie d'Hollywood, d'Ann Lloyd.
Livre Marilyn Monroe, d'Adam Victor.
Livre Les trésors de Marilyn Monroe, de Jenna Glatzer.
Livre Bernard of Hollywood's Marilyn par Susan Bernard. 
Livre Les vies secrètes de Marilyn Monroe par Anthony Summers.
Revue Les légendes d'Hollywood, La rivière sans retour.
Le film sur wikipedia 
La fiche du film et des anecdotes sur imdb 
Les anecdotes sur allocine 

La rivière sans retour
Sur le tournage - scène 5

 > Pendant les prises...
 
  
     
     
      
 
> Avec les acteurs Don et Alan Shiel
 
 

> Photos de Ray O'Neill

> Marilyn Monroe prend la pose pendant sa pause
  


 

> Photos de Alan Whitey Snyder

> Marilyn et Robert Mitchum
 

> Marilyn et Robert Mitchum
 

> Marilyn avec Mitchum et Rettig
 

> Marilyn avec Preminger et Mitchum

> Marilyn et son maquilleur Whitey Snyder
 

  > Marilyn à la cantine (avec Natasha Lytess)

> Marilyn et sa coach Natasha Lytess
 
    

> Marilyn avec sa doublure lumière Helen Thurston
 

 > Marilyn avec sa doublure cascade Dorothy Skelton

 > Marilyn et les figurants indiens

 

> Marilyn et Telly Savalas
Les soldats revenus de Corée étaient basés à Jasper,
dans la province d'Alberta, où était tourné le film.

Vêtements & Accessoires

Lot 945: MARILYN MONROE SIGNED GLOVE
A white glove signed by Marilyn Monroe. The glove is signed on the back in blue ink. Housed in a framed display with five images of Monroe. Not examined outside of frame.
Winning bid:$16,250 - Estimate: $10,000 - $12,000
   

 Lot 1010: MARILYN MONROE BRASSIERE CUP LINERS
 A pair of Marilyn Monroe bra cup liners from her professional wardrobe. The first is a crème satin liner, the other is black lace. A Christie's lot tag is pinned to one of the garments, as they were originally intended to be sold in Christie's 1999 Monroe estate auction. No sizes present.
PROVENANCE Lot 79, "Property from the Estate of Marilyn Monroe," Julien's, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005
Winning bid:$10,625 - Estimate: $800 - $1,200
 

Lot 1011: MARILYN MONROE BLACK VELVET HAT
 A Marilyn Monroe black velvet hat made by Montaldo’s. Two plastic combs attached to the interior to keep the hat in place.
PROVENANCE Partial lot 293, "The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe," Christie's, New York, Sale number 9216, October 27 to 28, 1999
Winning bid:$3,520 - Estimate: $4,000 - $6,000

Lot 1012: MARILYN MONROE OWNED HAT
 A Marilyn Monroe owned straw hat with frayed brim. Felt applique reads “Isla Margarita” brim. Hat band is decorated with red applique felt flowers and green felt vegetation. No size present.
PROVENANCE Partial Lot 450, “The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe,” Christie’s, New York, Sale number 9216, October 27 & 28, 1999
 unsold - Estimate: $7,000 - $9,000

Lot 1013: MARILYN MONROE BUSTIER
 A black velvet boned bustier from the estate of Marilyn Monroe. The fitted bustier has ribbed fabric below the waistline to tuck into the bottom garment. A label reads "Calif Shirt."
PROVENANCE Partial lot 104, "Property from the Estate of Marilyn Monroe," Julien's, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005
Winning bid:$8,960 - Estimate: $8,000 - $10,000
     

Lot 1014: MARILYN MONROE SILK UNDERSKIRT
 A black silk underskirt from the estate of Marilyn Monroe. The skirt has a waistband with hook and eye closures and a label that reads "Polly's 480 Park New York Evelyn Byrnes, Inc." The skirt slightly balloons at hips to the slender-fitting satin band at mid-thigh.
PROVENANCE Partial lot 104, "Property from the Estate of Marilyn Monroe," Julien's, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005
unsold - Estimate: $6,000 - $8,000
 

Lot 1032: MARILYN MONROE SOMETHING'S GOT TO GIVE DRESS 
A Marilyn Monroe worn dress from her final film, Something's Got to Give (20th Century Fox, 1962). The figure-hugging silk crepe dress is printed with scattered painterly roses in shades of persimmon and deep cherry with a plunging V back. The interior of the studio constructed dress has hand finished details, is lined with ivory souffle, and has boning to the waistline. Jean Louis was the costume designer on the film. Monroe wore this dress when her character, who was proclaimed dead and returns from being stranded on an island for five years, is introduced in the film and reunited with her children, who do not realize she is their mother. Monroe was fired from the film, and while the studio tried to replace her with Lee Remick, the film's leading man, Dean Martin, refused to finish the film without Monroe. Monroe's untimely death came less than a month after she was let go from the production.
In 1989, raw footage of the uncompleted movie was discovered in 20th Century Fox’s film vault by the producers of Fox Entertainment News, who edited 37 minutes of the film, featured in the FEN documentary Marilyn: Something’s Got to Give (Fox Network, 1990). The edited footage was later re-purposed in AMC’s 2001 documentary Marilyn Monroe: The Final Days (Prometheus Entertainment), which aired on what would have been Monroe’s 75th birthday.
Winning bid:$358,000 - Estimate: $300,000 - $500,000
 

 Maquillage

Lot 998: MARILYN MONROE COSMETIC JAR
 A Marilyn Monroe lidded cosmetic jar. The ivorine jar is marked "La Maire" on underside of base, with glass liner.
1 3/4 by 3 1/4 inches
PROVENANCE Lot 264, "Property from the Estate of Marilyn Monroe," Julien's, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005
Winning bid:$2,240 - Estimate: $2,000 - $4,000

Lot 999: MARILYN MONROE ERNO LASZLO FACE POWDER
 A Marilyn Monroe owned container of Erno Laszlo Duo-pHase face powder. The powder color is labeled as "Ivory."
2 by 3 1/4 by 3 1/4 inches
PROVENANCE Partial lot 258, "Property from the Estate of Marilyn Monroe," Julien's, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005
Winning bid:$2,240 - Estimate: $2,000 - $4,000
 

Lot 1000: MARILYN MONROE EYELINER PENCILS
 A pair of Marilyn Monroe Maybelline eyeliner pencils in dark brown.
Length, 2 3/4 inches, each
PROVENANCE Partial Lot 275, "Property from the Estate of Marilyn Monroe," Julien's, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005
Winning bid:$2,500 - Estimate: $800 - $1,200
  

Lot 1001: MARILYN MONROE HAIR ROLLER
 A Marilyn Monroe owned spring style hair roller.
Length, 3 inches; Diameter, 3/4 inch
PROVENANCE Partial Lot 245, “Property From the Estate of Marilyn Monroe,” Julien’s Auctions, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005.
 Winning bid:$896 - Estimate: $800 - $1,200
  

Lot 1008: MARILYN MONROE LEATHER BOX WITH COLOR CODED JARS
 A Marilyn Monroe owned small leather box containing five plastic jars with color coded lids. Leather box with hinged lid and snap tab. Christie's tag affixed to underside of box indicating that it was intended for the 1999 Marilyn Monroe estate auction.
2 by 5 1/4 by 1 1/4 inches
PROVENANCE Partial lot 275, "Property from the Estate of Marilyn Monroe," Julien's, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005
Winning bid:$2,560 - Estimate: $1,000 - $2,000
  

 Objets Divers

Lot 926 MARILYN MONROE STERLING SILVER COMPACT
 A sterling silver compact given to Marilyn Monroe by The Jewelry Academy. A square cosmetic compact with two-tone geometric lid bearing a medallion that reads “Jewelry Academy Award 1952.” Inscribed on underside “To Marilyn Monroe/ The best friend a diamond ever had/ The Jewelry Academy/ Sidney M Brownstein/ President.” Interior contains a mirror, powder makeup and a poof labeled “Elgin American.” Accompanied by the original lot card from the 1999 Christie's auction.
PROVENANCE Lot 317, "The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe," Christie's, New York, Sale number 9216, October 27 & 28, 1999
Winning bid:$25,600 - Estimate: $20,000 - $30,000 
 

Lot 930  MARILYN MONROE 1953 GOLDEN DREAMS CALENDAR
 A 1953 Marilyn Monroe Golden Dreams calendar. The lithograph image of Monroe, which reads "Golden Dreams" and "Made in U.S.A.," is affixed to wood grain paper where "Marilyn Monroe" has been printed and the 1953 calendar is stapled. The calendar was made by Wholesale Calendar Company out of New Albany, Indiana. The calendar has been mounted into a matte.
PROVENANCE From the Estate of Marvin Paige
Winning bid:$375 - Estimate: $400 - $600
 

 Lot 933 MARILYN MONROE PAINTING BY ERIK WAHL
An aerosol and acrylic on cardboard portrait of Marilyn Monroe executed by Erik Wahl. Signed to the lower right.
 Winning bid:$640 - Estimate: $1,000 - $3,000
 
 

Lot 934 MARILYN MONROE PORTRAIT BY SIDNEY MAURER
An acrylic and mixed media painting on foam core board paper depicting Marilyn Monroe. Signed by the artist at lower left.
Winning bid:$2,187.50 - Estimate: $2,000 - $3,000
 
 

Lot 959: MARILYN MONROE SIDE VIEW X-RAY
 An X-ray of Marilyn Monroe from a side view. Printed on the X-ray is the following information: "Cedars of Lebanon Hospital/Drs. E. Freedman and S. Finck/ Name Di Maggio Marilyn/ No. 50612 Date 11-10-54/ Ref. By Dr. L. Krohn."  While a radiology resident at Cedars, a young doctor obtained these X-rays. When he taught at the school himself, he used these X-rays to ensure that students were paying attention. Monroe was said to have known about the X-rays and their use, about which she said, "Isn't that sweet." Monroe's hospital visit was said to be for her chronic endometriosis, or as her doctors described it, "For correction of a female disorder she has suffered for years."
17 by 13 3/4 inches
PROVENANCE Lot 818, "Hollywood Legends," Julien's Auctions, Las Vegas, June 26-27, 2010
Winning bid:$12,500 - Estimate: $8,000 - $10,000
 

 Lot 1004: MARILYN MONROE JASPERWARE TRINKET BOX
 A Wedgwood Jasperware lidded trinket box owned by Marilyn Monroe. The lilac colored box (referred to as mauve colored in the 1999 Christie's catalog) features a classical allegorical image on the lid with rosettes and other raised foliate embellishments. The underside of the rectangular-shaped box is impressed "Wedgwood/ Made in/ England" and the number "9." Also affixed to the box is a Christie's lot tag and barcode.
3 1/2 by 1 3/4 by 1 1/4 inches
PROVENANCE Partial Lot 461, "The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe," Christie's, New York, Sale number 9216, October 27 & 28, 1999
Winning bid:$4,062.50 - Estimate: $800 - $1,200
   

Lot 1005: MARILYN MONROE OWNED ANTIQUE FRAME
 A Marilyn Monroe owned antique brown and gold oval plaster and wood Victorian style frame. A black and white image of Monroe has been added to the frame by the current owner.
Frame Height, 14 inches
PROVENANCE Lot 217, "Property from the Estate of Marilyn Monroe," Julien's, Los Angeles, June 4, 2005
Winning bid:$2,240 - Estimate: $1,000 - $2,000

 Lot 1006: MARILYN MONROE LET'S MAKE LOVE CHAISE LOUNGE
 A chaise lounge with rococo-style carved wooden frame used in the Marilyn Monroe romantic comedy Let's Make Love (20th Century Fox, 1960). Featured in the scene where Jean-Marc, played by Yves Montand, performs the title song "Let's Make Love" while fantasizing about being with the character Amanda, played by Monroe. The scene has extra significance in light of the fact that Monroe and Montand were having a highly publicized affair during production. The lounge also appears in the film A Royal Scandal (20th Century Fox, 1945) in the scene where Catherine the Great, played by Tallulah Bankhead, seductively questions Lieutenant Alexei Chernoff, played by William Eythe. Contains 20th Century Fox studio marks to the underside in black ink. Accompanied by an original copy of the 20th Century Fox Memorabilia Auction catalog, a copy of the film Let's Make Love, and the illustrated Monroe biography Marilyn: Her Life & Legend (Beekman House, 1990).
92 by 54 1/2 by 34 1/2 inches
PROVENANCE Lot 510, "Movie Memorabilia, The Property of Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation," Sotheby-Parke-Bernet, Los Angeles, California, February 25-28, 1971
Winning bid:$56,250 - Estimate: $50,000 - $70,000
  
 
     
     
   

Lot 1007: MARILYN MONROE GREEN GLASS CARAFE
 A Marilyn Monroe owned green-tinted mallet form glass carafe. A Christie's lot sticker is affixed to the underside.
Height, 10 1/2 inches
PROVENANCE Partial Lot 406, "The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe," Christie's, New York, Sale number 9216, October 27 & 28, 1999
 unsold - Estimate: $4,000 - $6,000
  

lot 1009: MARILYN MONROE TURQUOISE FLEUR-DE-LIS WALLET
 A Marilyn Monroe wallet with turquoise calfskin exterior embellished with a pattern of gold gilt fleur-de-lis. The wallet unsnaps to an orange calfskin interior billfold. A cream calfskin coin compartment opens with a side kissing clasp. Original Christie's tag is present.
4 3/4 by 4 inches
PROVENANCE Lot 100, "Fine Manuscripts," Christie's, Los Angeles, Sale number 9814, September 20, 2001
 Winning bid:$4,062.50 - Estimate: $1,000 - $2,000
 

Lot 1039: MARILYN MONROE MEXICAN TAPESTRY
 A Mexican wall hanging wool tapestry owned by Marilyn Monroe. Tapestry reads “Chac Mool,” with figure holding a bowl of fire. Accompanied by a Gene Anthony photograph of the tapestry in Monroe’s Brentwood home.
77 by 55 inches
PROVENANCE Partial Lot 450, “The Personal Property of Marilyn Monroe,” Christie’s, New York, Sale number 9216, October 27 & 28, 1999
Winning bid:$16,640 - Estimate: $15,000 - $20,000
   

Lot 1040: MARILYN MONROE GRAVE MARKER
 Marilyn Monroe’s former grave marker from Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery in Los Angeles, California. Made by the Gasser-Olds bronze casting company, this marker was removed in the 1970s and replaced with a new grave marker. The marker reads simply “MARILYN MONROE/ 1926 – 1962.” Monroe’s grave site became a destination for Monroe’s fans and the constant touching of the marker led to wear and damage. When the marker was replaced the old marker was returned to Gasser-Olds and was given to an employee of the company.
4 1/2 by 15 inches
Winning bid:$212,500  - Estimate: $2,000 - $4,000
 

Saturday Evening Post
- The New Marilyn Monroe - Part 1

pays magazine: USA
paru le 5 mai 1956
article: 1ère partie "The New Marilyn Monroe"
en ligne sur saturdayeveningpost.com

The New Marilyn Monroe
This three-part series by Pete Martin was originally published in The Saturday Evening Post, May 5–19, 1956:
By Pete Martin
Originally published on May 5, 1956
A Post editor’s surprisingly candid report on the girl with the horizontal walk. He reveals things about the phenomenal blonde that even Marilyn herself doesn’t know.

 
The new Marilyn Monroe in Hollywood after returning from
her self-imposed exile in New York. Not quite 30,
she possesses what is possibly the most
photographed face and figure in history. (Gene Lester, © SEPS)

I said to Marilyn Monroe, “Pictures of you usually show you with mouth open and your eyes half closed. Did some photographer sell you the idea that having your picture taken that way makes you look sexier?”

She replied in what I’d come to recognize as pure Monroese. “The formation of my lids must make them look heavy or else I’m thinking of something,” she told me. “Sometimes I’m thinking of men. Other times I’m thinking of some man in particular. It’s easier to look sexy when you’re thinking of some man in particular. As for my mouth being open all the time, I even sleep with it open. I know, because it’s open when I wake up. I never consciously think of my mouth, but I do consciously think about what I’m thinking about.”

Tucked away in that paragraph like blueberries in a hot muffin were several genuine Monroeisms. I had studied the subject long enough to be able to tell a genuine Monroeism from a spurious one.

When I asked her, “Has anyone ever accused you of wearing falsies?” she came through with a genuine Monroeism.

“Yes,” she told me, her eyes flashing indignantly. “Naturally,” she went on, “it was another actress who accused me. My answer to that is, quote: Those who know me better know better. That’s all. Unquote.”

Another Monroeism followed hard on the heels of that. I said, “I’ve heard that you wowed the marines in Korea when you climbed up onto a platform to say a few words to them, and they whistled at you and made wolf calls.”

“I know the time you’re talking about,” she said. “It wasn’t in Korea at all; it was at Camp Pendleton, California. They wanted me to say a few words, so I said, ‘You fellows down there are always whistling at sweater girls. Well, take away their sweaters and what have you got?’ For some reason they screamed and yelled.”

Another example came forth when Marilyn was asked if she and the playwright, Arthur Miller, were having an affair. “How can they say we’re having a romance?” she replied. “He’s married.”

Still another Monroeism had emerged from a press conference in the Plaza Hotel, in New York City. It was held to announce her teaming with Sir Laurence Olivier in an acting- directing-producing venture — a get-together described by one of those present as “one of the least likely duos in cinematic history.” The big Monroeism of that occasion was Marilyn’s answer to the query, “Miss Monroe, do you still want to do The Brothers Karamazov on Broadway?”

“I don’t want to play The Brothers,” she said. “I want to play Grushenka from that book. She’s a girl.”

Listening to her as she talked to me now, I thought, Nobody can write dialogue for her which could possibly sound half as much like her as the dialogue she thinks up for herself.

Nunnally Johnson, who produced the film, How to Marry a Millionaire, costarring Marilyn, told me, “When I talked to her when she first came on the lot, I felt as if I were talking to a girl under water. I couldn’t tell whether I was getting through to her or not. She lived behind a fuzz curtain.”

Johnson also directed How to be Very, Very Popular, and when Sheree North took Marilyn’s place in that film, he announced: “Sheree will not use the Monroe technique in How to be Very, Very Popular. She will play the entire role with her mouth closed.”

Marilyn’s last sentence to me: “I never consciously think of my mouth, but I do consciously think about what I’m thinking about” seemed a trifle murky, but I had no time to work on it, for, without pausing, she said, “Another writer asked me, ‘What do you think of sex?’ and I told him, ‘It’s a part of nature. I go along with nature.’ Zsa Zsa Gabor was supposed to write an article for a magazine on the subject: ‘What’s Wrong With American Men,’ and I did marginal notes for it. The editor cut out my best lines. I wrote, ‘If there’s anything wrong with the way American men look at sex, it’s not their fault. After all, they’re descended from the Puritans, who got off the boat on the wrong foot — or was it the Pilgrims? — and there’s still a lot of that puritanical stuff around.’ The editor didn’t use that one.”

I carefully wrote down every word she said to me. She told me that she’d rather I wouldn’t use a tape-recording machine while interviewing her. “It would make me nervous to see that thing going round and round,” she insisted. So I used pencils and a notebook instead. But I didn’t use them right away.

I had to wait for her to walk from her bedroom into the living room of her apartment, where I sat ready to talk to her. It took her an hour and a half to make that journey. At 3:45, Lois Weber, the pleasant young woman who handled the Monroe New York publicity, admitted me to the apartment Marilyn was occupying. She pushed the buzzer outside of a door on the eighth floor of an apartment building on Sutton Place South, and a voice asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” said my chaperone.

The lock clickety-clicked open, but when we went in, Marilyn was nowhere in sight. She had retreated into a bedroom. Her voice said to us through the door, “I’ll be out in just seven minutes.”

A publicity man to whom I’d talked at Marilyn’s studio in Hollywood had warned me, “She’ll stand you up a couple of times before you meet her. Then she’ll be late, and when I say late, I mean real late. You’ll be so burned at her before she walks in that you’ll wrap up your little voice-recording machine and get ready to leave at least three times — maybe four times — before she shows. But somebody will persuade you to wait, and finally Marilyn will come in, and before you know it, she’ll have you wrapped up too. For she’s warmhearted, amusing and likable, even if her lateness is a pain in the neck. And after that, if somebody says, ‘That was mighty thoughtless of old Marilyn, keeping you waiting like that,’ you’ll want to slug him for being mean.

“What you won’t know,” that studio publicity man went on, “is that while you’re having hell’s own headache waiting for her, whatever publicity worker is trying to get her to see you is having an even bigger headache. Marilyn will be telling that publicity worker that her stomach is so upset that she’s been throwing up for hours; she hasn’t been able to get her make-up on right; or that she’s got a bum deal in the wardrobe department and hasn’t anything to wear.”

So, in an effort to be witty, when Marilyn said, through the closed door, “I’ll be out in just seven minutes,” I said, “I’ll settle for eight.” Time was to prove it the unfunniest remark I’ve ever made. One hour later I asked Lois Weber, “What do you suppose she’s doing in there?”

“You know how it is,” my publicity-girl chaperone said soothingly, “a girl has to put on her face.”

“What has she got, two heads?” I asked politely. A half hour later I suggested that Lois Weber go into the next room and see what was causing the delay.

Waiting for Lois Weber, I roamed the apartment. On a table lay a play manuscript. Typed on its cover was: Fallen Angels, by Noel Coward. Among the books which seemed in current use were Bernard Shaw’s Letters to Ellen Terry, Shaw’s Letters to Mrs. Patrick Campbell, Gertrude Lawrence as Mrs. A., by Richard Aldrich.

Mute evidence of Marilyn’s widely publicized drama studies at the Actors’ Studio, where she was said to be seeking out the secrets of artistic acting, was a copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses. Several lines of dialogue from that volume had been penciled on a piece of paper, obviously to be recited by or to a group of drama students; then the piece of paper had been thrust part way into the book. Lying on the floor was a large recording of John Barrymore as Hamlet.

That dialogue from Ulysses and the Barrymore recording represented one of the reasons why I was there. I’d read that Marilyn had gone “long hair” and “art theaterish,” and I wanted to see for myself. Just seeing it in print didn’t make it true.

Millions of words had been written about the alluring blonde in whose living room I sat, but most of those words had been of the “authorized” or “with-Marilyn’s-blessing” variety. Several millions of them had appeared in fan magazines — after having first been O.K.’d by the 20th Century-Fox publicity department.

I’d read a lot of those words, but I still felt that I didn’t understand this dame and I was sure that a lot of other people felt the same way about her and that, like myself, they’d been asking themselves for years, “What’s she really like?”

On top of that, they were probably asking themselves other questions — as I was doing. “Why did she blow her marriage with Joe DiMaggio? Why did she walk out on a movie career which was paying her heavy money? Why did she duck California in favor of New York? Why, after she holed up there, did she attend the art-for-art’s-sake Actors’ Studio — surely an unlikely place for a girl who, up to that time, had done most of her acting with her hips?”

I hoped that when I talked to her she would tell me the answers to some of these things. Maybe I’d even see the “new Marilyn Monroe” I’d heard existed.

Lois Weber came back to report: “She thinks the maid must have gone off with the top of her tapered slacks. She’s running around without a top on.”

In an effort to keep me from brooding, Lois Weber said, “The azalea people down in Wilmington, North Carolina, want her for a personal appearance in April, but I told them they’d have to call me in April. Who knows where she’ll be then?”

The minutes crawled by and I thought of various things that people had told me about Marilyn before I’d begun my marathon wait in her Sutton Place apartment. Every male friend I had told I was doing a story about Marilyn had asked me, “Can I go along to hold your notebook?” or “You call that work?” or “You get paid for that?” or “Can’t I go along and hold the flash bulbs?” Apparently they felt that if they failed to go into a blood-bubbling, heman routine at the drop of her name, their maleness was suspect. When Marilyn appeared breathless and friendly as a puppy, I told her of this phenomenon. “How do you explain it?” I asked. “Have you become a symbol of sex?”

She gave my query thought before answering. “There are people to whom other people react, and other people who do nothing for people,” she said. “I react to men, too, but I don’t do it because I’m trying to prove I’m a woman. Personally I react to Marlon Brando. He’s a favorite of mine. There are two kinds of reactions. When you see some people you say, ‘Gee!’ When you see other people you say, ‘Ugh!’ If that part about my being a symbol of sex is true, it ought to help at the box office, but I don’t want to be too commercial about it.” Quite seriously she said, “After all, it’s a responsibility, too — being a symbol, I mean.”

I told her I’d heard that among the titles bestowed upon her were Woo-Woo Girl, Miss Cheesecake, The Girl With the Horizontal Walk. “I don’t get what they mean by ‘horizontal walk,’” she said. “Naturally I know what walking means — anybody knows that — and horizontal means not vertical. So what?” I thought of trying to blueprint it for her; then decided not to.

The Hollywood publicity worker who had warned me that she would be “real late” had talked to me quite frankly about Marilyn; he had pulled no punches; but since it is unfair to quote a publicity worker by name, I’ll call him Jones. And since “flack” is Hollywood slang for publicity man, I’ll call him Flack Jones.

Jones worked for 20th Century-Fox during the years before Marilyn staged her walkout. Since then he has moved on to bigger — if not better — things. He has opened his own public-relations office, with branches in Paris and Rome. He is bald as a peeled egg. He is as broad as a small barn door; a junior-executive-size Mister Five-by-Five. He wears black-rimmed glasses instead of the clear tortoise-shell plastic variety.

“A thing that fascinates me is this,” I told Flack Jones: “the first time I ever saw her I was sitting with a friend in the Fox commissary and this girl came in without any make-up on. She was wearing a blouse and skirt, and she sat against the wall. She bore no resemblance to anybody I’d ever seen before, but, to my amazement, my friend said, ‘That’s Marilyn Monroe.’ What I want to know is: Does she have to get into her Marilyn Monroe suit or put on her Marilyn Monroe face before she looks like Marilyn Monroe?”

“This is true of all platinum blondes or whatever you call the highly dyed jobs we have out here,” Flack Jones said. “If their hair isn’t touched up and coiffured exactly right; if they’re not gowned perfectly and their make-up is not one hundred per cent, they look gruesome. This is not peculiar to Monroe; it’s peculiar to every other synthetic blonde I’ve ever known in picture business. There are very few natural blondes in Hollywood and, so far as I know, there have been no natural platinum blondes in mankind’s history, except albinos. They are strictly a product of the twentieth century. They’re created blondes, and when you create a blonde you have to complete your creation with make-up and dramatic clothes, otherwise you’ve got only part of an assembly job.”

I also talked to a member of the Fox Studio legal staff, who told me a Monroe story I found provocative. “One day,” he said, “she was in this office, and I said to her, ‘It would be better for you to sign this contract this year instead of next. It will save you money.’ She looked at me and said, ‘I’m not interested in money. I just want to be wonderful.’ Then she walked out.” The legal light looked at me helplessly and shrugged. “What do you suppose she meant by that?” he asked. I said I had no idea, but that I’d try to find out.

And I asked a friend high enough up in the Fox hierarchy to know the answer, “Why do you think your studio let her come back to work for it after she walked out and stayed in New York for fifteen months?”

“Our attitude was that she’d never work on our lot again,” he announced firmly; then he grinned, “unless we needed her.”

One of my longer talks was with Billy Wilder, who directed her in the film The Seven Year Itch.

“What do you want to know?” he asked when I went to see him in his Beverly Hills home.

“One of the interesting things about this Monroe girl, to me,” I said, “is she seemed in danger of spoiling what had begun as a successful career by running away from it. I began to ask myself: How long can a movie actress afford to stay away from moviemaking and still remain a star? The mere strangeness of her staying away gets her a terrific press for a while and makes everyone in the country conscious of her, but is it possible to stay away so long that you’re forgotten? Was that about to happen to Marilyn?”

“I don’t think there was any danger of Marilyn sinking into oblivion,” Wilder said. “A thing like her doesn’t come along every minute.”

I asked, “What do you mean ‘a thing like her’?”

“She has what I call flesh impact,” he told me. “It’s very rare. Three I remember are Clara Bow, Jean Harlow and Rita Hayworth. Such girls have flesh which photographs like flesh. You feel you can reach out and touch it.”

“I’ve heard that it’s a moot question as to whether Marilyn’s an actress or not,” I said.

“I’ve heard that, too,” he replied. “Before we go further I must tell you that I like the girl, but it’s also moot whether you have to be an actor or an actress to be a success in pictures. I’m sure you’ve heard the theory that there are two kinds of stars — those who can act and those who are personalities. I’ll take a personality any time. Something comes down from the screen to you when you see them, in a way that it doesn’t always come from the indifferently paid actors, although they may be perfect at their jobs.”

“It’s nothing against them or for them,” Flack Jones said, when I repeated Wilder’s idea to him. “It’s the way this business is put together. If the public likes a personality, he or she goes over. You take Tab Rock,” he said (only Tab Rock is not the name he used). “Old Tab’s a terrific personality. I doubt if he’s ever made a flop picture, but he’s never made a really good picture. This fellow can’t pick up his hat without instruction, yet he’s always picking up villains and throwing them across a bar singlehanded. He can clean up any barroom on the frontier, but he can’t clean up a kitchen. He’s a nice guy, but no one has ever called him an actor. You take Lloyd Nolan now, or Van Heflin. That’s acting for you. You believe them. There are lights and shades and meaning to what they do. But when old Tab Rock comes on the screen, he’s got to throw somebody around to prove his art. He can do this quicker than anybody in Hollywood, and this is his great value.”

“He sounds brave,” I said.

“No one is braver or more scornful about it,” Flack Jones said. “His bravery is without parallel in the industry. He’s the only man I ever saw who could take a forty-five and go to the Near East and clean the whole mess up in a day or two. He never fails. That’s the difference between a personality and an actor.”

When I talked to Wilder I said that I’d read that when Marilyn had announced that she wanted to appear in a movie version of The Brothers Karamazov, some people hooted.

“The hooters were wrong,” Wilder told me. “She meant that she wanted to play the part of Grushenka in that book, and people who haven’t read the book don’t know that Grushenka is a sex pot. People think this is a long-hair, very thick, very literary book, but Dostoevsky knew what he was doing and there is nothing long-hair about Grushenka. Marilyn knows what she’s doing too. She would be a good Grushenka.

“It was after she said that she wanted to be in The Brothers Karamazov,” Wilder went on, “that she started going to the Actors’ Studio School of Dramatic Arts in New York. She didn’t do it for publicity. She’s sincerely trying to improve herself, and I think she should be admired for that. She could have sat here in Hollywood on her pretty little fanny and collected all of the money any ordinary actress would ever want, but she keeps trying.

“Right now, as of today, no matter what she thinks, Marilyn’s great value is as a personality, not as an actress. [Wilder told me these things while Marilyn was still in New York being groomed by the Actors’ Studio. It may be that what happened to her during her Eastern schooling in new dramatic ways may change his opinion, but 1 haven’t talked to him since her return to Hollywood.] If she sets out to be artistic and dedicated, and she carries it so far that she’s willing to wear Sloppy-Joe sweaters and go without make-up and let her hair hang straight as a string, this is not what has made her great to date. I don’t say that it’s beyond the realm of possibility that she can establish herself as a straight dramatic actress — it is possible — but it will be another career for her, a starting all over.”

Back in New York, when Marilyn made that long, long journey from her bedroom to her living room in her apartment, I said to her, “I’ve heard your childhood referred to as ‘the perfect Cinderella story.’”

“I don’t know where they got that,” she told me. “I haven’t ended up with a prince, and I’ve never had even one fairy godmother. My birth certificate reads Norma Jean Mortenson. I was told that my father was killed in an automobile accident before I was born, so that is what I’ve always told people. There was no way I could check on that because my mother was put into a mental institution when I was little, and I was brought up as an orphan.”

I had read that she spent her childhood being farmed out to foster parents and to orphanages, but, talking to her, I discovered that there’d been only one orphanage, although it was true about the foster parents. “I have had eleven or twelve sets of them,” she told me, “but I don’t want to count them all again, to see whether there were eleven or twelve. I hope you won’t ask me to. It depresses me. Some families would keep me longer; others would get tired of me in a short time. I must have made them nervous or something.”

She thought of something else. “I had one pair of foster parents who, when I was about ten, made me promise never to drink when I grew up, and I signed a pledge never to smoke or swear. My next foster family gave me empty whisky bottles for playthings. With them I played store. I guess I must have had the finest collection of empty whisky bottles any girl ever had. I’d line them up on a plank beside the road, and when people drove along I’d say, ‘Wouldn’t you like some whisky?’ I remember some of the people in the cars driving past my ‘whisky’ store saying, ‘Imagine! Why, it’s terrible!’ Looking back, I guess I used to play-act all the time. For one thing, it meant I could live in a more interesting world than the one around me.

“The first family I lived with told me I couldn’t go to the movies because it was sinful,” Marilyn said. “I listened to them say the world was coming to an end, and if I was doing something sinful when it happened, I’d go down below, below, below. So the few times I was able to sneak into a movie, I spent most of the time that I was there praying that the world wouldn’t end.”

 
The famous British photographer, Cecil Beaton, shoots Marilyn.
Says the lady: “It’s a responsibility — being a symbol of sex, I mean.”
(Hans Knopf, © SEPS)

Apparently I had been misinformed about her first marriage, to a young man named Jim Dougherty. I’d got the idea that she’d married him while they were both in Van Nuys High School; that she’d got a “crush” on him because he was president of the student body there, and a big wheel around school.

“That’s not true,” she told me. “In the first place, he was twenty-one or twenty-two — well, at least he was twenty-one and already out of high school. So all I can say is that he must have been pretty dumb if he were still in high school when I married him. And I didn’t have a crush on him, although he claimed I did in a story he wrote about us. The truth is the people I was staying with moved East. They couldn’t afford to take me because when they left California they’d stop getting the twenty dollars a month the county or the state was paying them to help them clothe and feed me. So instead of going back into a boarding home or with still another set of foster parents, I got married.

“That marriage ended in a divorce, but not until World War Two was over. Jim is now a policeman. He lives in Reseda, in the San Fernando Valley, and he is happily married and has three daughters. But while he was away in the merchant marines I worked in the dope room of a plane factory. That company not only made planes, it made parachutes.

“For a while I’d been inspecting parachutes. Then they quit letting us girls do that and they had the parachutes inspected on the outside, but I don’t think it was because of my inspecting. Then I was in the dope room spraying dope on fuselages. Dope is liquid stuff, like banana oil and glue mixed.

“I was out on sick leave for a few days, and when I came back the Army photographers from the Hal Roach Studios, where they had the Army photographic headquarters, were around taking photographs and snapping and shooting while I was doping those ships. The Army guys saw me and asked, ‘Where have you been?’

“’I’ve been on sick leave,’ I said. “Come outside.’ they told me. ‘We’re going to take your picture.’

“‘Can’t,’ I said. ‘The other ladies here in the dope room will give me trouble if I stop doing what I’m doing and go out with you.’ That didn’t discourage those Army photographers. They got special permission for me to go outside from Mr. Whosis, the president of the plant. For a while they posed me rolling ships; then they asked me. ‘Don’t you have a sweater?’

“‘Yes,’ I told them, ‘it so happens I brought one with me. It’s in my locker.’ After that I rolled ships around in a sweater. The name of one of those Army photographers was David Conover. He lives up near the Canadian border. He kept telling me, ‘You should be a model,’ but I thought he was flirting. Several weeks later, he brought the color shots he’d taken of me, and he said the Eastman Kodak Company had asked him, ‘Who’s your model, for goodness’ sake?’

“So I began to think that maybe he wasn’t kidding about how I ought to be a model. Then I found that a girl could make five dollars an hour modeling, which was different from working ten hours a day for the kind of money I’d been making at the plane plant. And it was a long way from the orphanage, where I’d been paid five cents a week for working in the dining room or ten cents a month for working in the pantry. And out of those big sums a penny every Sunday had to go into the church collection. I never could figure why they took a penny from an orphan for that.”

“How did you happen to sign your first movie contract?” I asked.

She tossed a cascade of white-blond tresses from her right eye and said, “I had appeared on five magazine covers. Mostly men’s magazines.”

What, I asked, did she mean by men’s magazines? “Magazines,” she said, “with cover girls who are not flat-chested. I was on See four or five months in a row. Each time they changed my name. One month I was Norma Jean Dougherty — that was my first husband’s name. The second month I was Jean Norman. I don’t know what all names they used, but I must have looked different each time. There were different poses— outdoors, indoors, but mostly just sitting looking over the Pacific. You looked at those pictures and you didn’t see much ocean, but you saw a lot of me.

“One of the magazines I was on wasn’t a man’s magazine at all. It was called Family Circle. You buy it in supermarkets. I was holding a lamb with a pinafore. I was the one with the pinafore. But on most covers I had on things like a striped towel. The towel was striped because the cover was to be in color and the stripes were the color, and there was a big fan blowing on the towel and on my hair. That was right after my first divorce, and I needed to earn a living bad. I couldn’t type. I didn’t know how to do anything. So Howard Hughes had an accident.”

I wondered if I’d missed something, but apparently I hadn’t. “He was in the hospital,” she went on, “and Hedda Hopper wrote in her column: ‘Howard Hughes must be recuperating because he sent out for photographs of a new girl he’s seen on five different magazines.’ Right after that Howard Hughes’ casting director got my telephone number somehow, and he got in touch with me and he said Howard Hughes wanted to see me.

“But he must have forgotten or changed his mind or something,” she said, “because instead of going to see him, I went over to the Fox Studio with a fellow named Harry Lipton, who handled my photography modeling. Expensive cars used to drive up beside me when I was on a street corner or walking on a sidewalk, and the driver would say, ‘I could do something for you in pictures. How would you like to be a Goldwyn girl?’ I figured those guys in those cars were trying for a pick-up, and I got an agent so I could say to those fellows, ‘See my agent.’ That’s how I happened to be handled by Harry Lipton.”

Harry took her to see Ivan Kahn, then head of Fox’s talent department, and also to see Ben Lyon, who was doing a talent-scouting job for Fox.

I  asked her how it happened that she changed her name from Norma Jean Dougherty to Marilyn Monroe.

“It was Ben Lyon who renamed me,” she said. “Ben said that I reminded him of two people, Jean Harlow and somebody else he remembered very well, a girl named Marilyn Miller. When all the talk began about renaming me, I asked them please could I keep my mother’s maiden name, which was Monroe; so the choice was whether to call me Jean Monroe or Marilyn Monroe, and Marilyn won.”

I asked Flack Jones, “What happened when she came to your studio?”

“She came twice,” he said. “The first time was in 1946. We did our best with her, but she just hadn’t grown up enough. She was great as far as looks went, but she didn’t know how to make the most of her looks — or what to do with them. That came with practice. Not that you have to mature mentally to be a star. In fact, it can be a holdback. It might even defeat you. Stars who are mature mentally are in the minority. But actually we had no stories lying around at that time in which she would appear to advantage. So we tried her out in a picture or two in which she played bit parts — secretaries, the pretty girl in the background. Then we let her go, and she went over to RKO and did a picture with Groucho.”

“I didn’t see the film,” I said, “but you’d think with the Marx Brothers chasing her, like a bosomy mechanical bunny romping about the sound stage a couple of jumps ahead of the greyhounds, the fun would have been fast and furious.”

“The trouble was that while the Marx Brothers always chased a dame in their pictures,” Flack Jones told me, “they never caught the dame. And usually the dame never became a star, so the whole thing was a waste of time. It was amusing while you were watching it, but the girls usually outran the Marx boys and a career.”

 
The author interviewing Marilyn. Says Pete Martin:
“Every male friend I told I was doing a story about
her asked me, ‘Can I go along to hold your notebook?'”
(Hans Knopf, © SEPS)

Marilyn gave me her own version of Flack Jones’ story:

“Most of what I did while I was at Fox that first time was pose for stills. Publicity made up a story about how I was a baby sitter who’d been baby-sitting for the casting director and that’s how I was discovered. They told me to say that, although it strictly wasn’t true. You’d think that they would have used a little more imagination and have had me at least a daddy sitter.”

Flack Jones had filled me in on some more Monroe chronology: “After she left us she went to Metro and appeared in The Asphalt Jungle, directed by John Huston,” he said. “Marilyn’s role was small. She was only a walk-on, but she must have looked good to Darryl Zanuck, for when he saw it, he re-signed her. Asphalt Jungle was one of those gangster things. There was a crooked legal mouthpiece in it, a suave fellow, played by Louis Calhern. Marilyn was his ‘niece’; which was a nice word for ‘keptie.’ She’d say a few lines of dialogue; then she’d look up at him with those big eyes and call him ‘Uncle.’”

“When did you first notice her impact on the public?” I asked.

“Once we got her rolling, it was like a tidal wave,” he said. “We began to release some photographs of her, and as soon as they appeared in print, we had requests for more from all over the world. We had the newspapers begging for art; then the photo syndicates wanted her; then the magazines began to drool. For a while we were servicing three or four photos to key newspapers all over the world once a week — and that was before she had appeared in a picture.

“Once this building-up process started,” Flack Jones explained, “other people got interested in her. We called up the top cameramen around town who had their own outlets, and we told them what we had, and we asked them if they’d like to photograph her. They said, ‘Ho, boy, yes.’

“We told them what the deal was,” Flack Jones went on. “We said, ‘We think this girl has a great future; she’s beautiful, her chassis is great, and are you interested?’ Each guy had his own idea of what he wanted, and he let his imagination play upon her. This is the way such things get done. They’re not created by one person. They’re the creation of all of the press representatives who cover Hollywood for all the publications in the world, which means about three hundred and fifty people.

“Everybody in the studio publicity department worked on her.” Jones ticked them off on his fingertips, “The picture division, the magazine division, the fan-magazine division, the planters who plant the columnists, the radio planters, and so forth. Then, when you make a motion picture, a ‘unit man’ or ‘unit woman’ is assigned to cover its shooting, and he or she handles publicity for that film alone. In addition, the whole department works on the same picture. Our department is highly specialized, but each specialist makes his contribution to the personality we’re erecting in the public’s mind.”

“I’ve met a couple of press agents who’ve been unit men on Marilyn’s films,” I said.

“But the unit man is not always the same for a certain star’s pictures,” Jones said. “Sonia Wilson’s been unit woman on Monroe pictures, and Frankie Neal’s been a unit man on her pictures, but Roy Craft has been her unit man more than anyone else. Roy likes her. He gets along with her fine.”

There was something else I wanted to know. “In addition to distributing her photographs,” I asked, “did you have her show up at different places where you thought her appearance would do her good?”

“We took her to all of the cocktail parties we thought were important,” Flack Jones said. “For instance, one picture magazine had its annual cocktail party, and we told Marilyn she ought to show so we could introduce her to various editors, columnists and radio and TV people. She waited until everybody had arrived; then she came in in this red gown. That gown became famous. She’d had sense enough to buy it a size or two too small, and it had what Joe Hyams calls ‘break-away straps.’

“When she came in, everybody stopped doing what they were doing and their eyes went, ‘Boing, boing,’” Flack Jones went on. “The publisher of the magazine who was picking up the tab for the party shook hands with her a long, long time. After a while he turned to one of his associate editors and said, ‘We ought to have a picture of this little girl in our book.’ Then he looked at her again and said, ‘Possibly we should have her on the cover.’”

Flack Jones grinned. “So that’s the way things went,” he said. “Some months there were as many as fifteen or sixteen covers of her on the newsstands at once. She came back to the Fox lot in 1950 to appear in All About Eve, but she was not anyone’s great, big, brilliant discovery until we got our still cameras focused on her and started spreading those Marilyn Monroe shots all over the universe.”

“What did she do in All About Eve?” I asked. “I don’t remember.”

“She’s the dumb broad who walks into a party at Bette Davis’ place leaning on George Sanders’ arm,” he said. “There’s dialogue which shows you that Sanders is a critic, like George Jean Nathan; and he brings this beautiful dish Marilyn in, and he sights a producer played by Gregory Ratoff. Sanders points at Ratoff and says to Marilyn, ‘There’s a real live producer, honey. Go do yourself some good.’ So Marilyn goes off to do herself some good while Sanders stays in his own price class with Bette.”

“Do you remember the first day she came to work?” I asked.

“Do I remember?” he said. “She was in an Angora sweater out to there. While we were shooting her in photography, the word got around and the boys rushed across the hall to get an eyeful. Next we did some layouts with her for picture magazines. We put her in a negligee, and she liked it so much that she wouldn’t take it off. She walked all over the lot in it, yelling, ‘Yoo hoo’ at strangers as far away as the third floor of the administration building. Pretty soon the whole third floor was looking down at her. The first and second floors looked too.”

Flack Jones did an abrupt shift into the present tense, “It’s a bright, sunny day; the wind is blowing and she has Nature working with her. It has taken Nature quite a while to bring her to the ripe-peach perfection she reaches on that day, but it finally makes it. The wind does the rest. She walks all over the lot, has a ball for herself, and so does everybody else.”

Then he shifted back again, “After that we took her to the beach with a lot of wardrobe changes. But the basic idea was that this is a beautiful girl with a great body, and that idea was always the same, although we had different approaches to it. We had color shots, we had black-and-white shots, we had mountain shots, we had field shots, faked water-skiing shots — every type of approach we could think of. Picnicking, walking — anything a person does, we let her do it. When we began to see what she did best, we concentrated on it.

“Women always hate the obvious in sex,” Flack Jones said, “and men love it.” Apparently he had given this matter a lot of thought. He had even worked out a philosophy about it. “Guys are instinctively awkward and blundering and naïve — even worldly-wise ones — and subtlety in sex baffles them. Not only that, but they don’t have the time. Women who are not supporting a husband have all the time in the world for it. But men have other things to do, like making a dollar; and they like their love-making without preliminaries which last four or five hours. Instinctively Marilyn knows this. She is very down-to-earth, very straightforward.”

I asked Marilyn when I talked to her back on Sutton Place, “Do you think men like their sex subtle or fairly obvious?” This was a double check. I already had the male answer.

It seemed to me that she hedged. “Some men prefer subtleties and other men don’t want things so subtle,” she said. “I don’t believe in false modesty. A woman only hurts herself that way. If she’s coy she’s denying herself an important part of life. Men sometimes believe that you’re frigid and cold in the development of a relationship, but if they do, it’s not always your fault. Religion has to do with it and how you’re brought up. You’re stuck with all that.”

I remembered something else Wilder had told me before Marilyn’s recent return to Hollywood to make the film version of the New York stage hit Bus Stop. “You take Monroe, now,” he remarked. “Aside from whether she’s an actress or not, she’s got this lovely little shape, it twitches excitingly, and the public likes to watch it, either coming toward them or going away. There are two schools of thought about her — those who like her and those who attack her — but they both are willing to pay to watch her. Their curiosity is good for eighty cents or a dollar and a quarter or whatever the price of the ticket.”

He shook his head thoughtfully. “And she went back East to study at a slow-take arty place, where they feature understatement. Here’s a girl who’s built herself a career on overstating something, and she’s made up her mind to understate. It won’t be long before we’ll know whether she’s right and whether she needs the wardrobe department and the hairdressing department as much as she needs artistic lines to say. It’ll be interesting to watch and I hope it works out the way she wants it to, but the lines that the public really wants from her so far are not written in English. They are her curves.”

The voice of Flack Jones echoed in the back of my head. “I forgot to tell you. When she finished that Marx Brothers picture, she went over to Columbia for a couple of shows, but she didn’t click, and they released her too. After that she was around town for a while going broke. It was then that she posed for that famous nude calendar — the composition of glowing flesh against a red velvet background which threw the public into a tizzy when they learned about it.”

I asked Marilyn to tell me the story of that nude calendar herself, and she said, “When the studio first heard about it, everybody there was in a frenzy. They telephoned me on the set where I was working in a quickie called Don’t Bother to Knock. The person who called asked me, ‘What’s all this about a calendar of you in the nude? Did you do it?’

“‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Is there anything wrong with it? So they’ve found out it’s me on that calendar. Well, what do you know!’

“‘Found out!’ he almost screamed. ‘There you are, all of you, in full color!’ Then he must have gotten mixed up, for first he said, ‘Just deny everything’; then he said, ‘Don’t say anything. I’ll be right down.’”

© All images are copyright and protected by their respective owners, assignees or others.
copyright text by Saturday Evening Post.

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   Enchères "Property from the Osianama Archives Online"
du 19 mars 2018
- 15 affiches de films avec Marilyn Monroe -

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Lot 16: MARILYN MONROE LOBBY CARDS
Five Lobby Cards for the following Marilyn Monroe films: two for Don't Bother to Knock (20th Century Fox, 1952); one for Some Like It Hot (Ashton Productions, 1959); one for Monkey Business (20th Century Fox, 1952); and one for Niagara (20th Century Fox, 1953).
Estimate: $400 - $600 | Winning Bid: $128
   
   

Lot 30: MISFITS POSTER
A Japanese B2 poster for the Marilyn Monroe film The Misfits (Seven Arts Productions, 1961).
Estimate: $200 - $400 | Winning Bid: $102.25