CHRISTOPHER LEE

Part 1

One of Gary's favorite films has always been Horror of Dracula .   I'm sure he never imagined he would meet Christopher Lee, let alone publish the U.S. edition of his autobiography, Tall, Dark and Gruesome .   Christopher Lee was everything we expected and more.   He was regal, tall, handsome and refined.   But he was also warm and charming with his many fans who showed up at Monster Rally, shaking the hand of everyone in line and posing for photos.   I can never forget many grown men coming out of the book signing with trembling hands and more than a few had a tear in their eye.   Mr. Lee was scheduled to speak for an hour on Sunday.   He spoke for over an hour and a half to an enthralled audience.   I hope Mr. Lee will always remember Monster Rally and the effect his work and presence had on his many fans.  

      Currently, Mr. Lee is appearing in two mega-blockbusters in 2001 and 2002-- The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring and Star Wars: Attack of the Clones .   Happily he will beget a whole new generation of fans.  

      Of The Fellowship of the Ring Gary notes:   Last Saturday [Dec, 8, 2001] at 9 a.m. at the premiere theater in Baltimore, the historic Senator Theater, I was honored to attend a special press screening of Lord of the Rings under pristine viewing (and listening) circumstances. Simply stated, as Entertainment Weekly notes, the film is a solid A, and it is my favorite film of the year. I could go on and on, but just to hit a few major points...

      The film begins with a Gladiator -style epic battle sequence, but under the direction of Peter Jackson, the sprawling visuals are simply awe-inspiring and jaw-dropping.   And this is only the beginning. The film seems closer to two than its actual three-hour running time. The visual contrast between the Brigadoon -style Shire and the horrors of Saruman's domain is again quite incredible. The thing that impressed me most about Lord of the Rings is its quotient of pure horror that I never expected. The spectral riders on horseback seeking out Frodo and friends makes Tim Burton's headless horseman seem quaint.

      But let's talk about Christopher Lee as Saruman. In his two major scenes in the movie, he is at the top of his form, perhaps in this very important supporting role submitting one of his best performances bar none. In one sweeping visual sequence, Lee is outside atop a tower with his arms raised. The sweeping steadicam flies through space and zooms in on the imposing presence of Lee, but the camera does not stop there. Instead the camera swoops past the wizard and follows him, moving away, from behind. What a sequence. I can just play it over and over again in my mind. In Lee's best scene, and one of his all-time greatest performances ever, in a one-on-one sequence, Lee has a wizard's dual, throws Ian McKellen against the walls, up into the air, etc. Imagine AIP's The Raven , with Vincent Price and Boris Karloff as the dueling wizards, done seriously, expensively, and with great special effects. It is almost as though Jackson wanted to create an homage to Lee.

      In another great sequence, Lee is allowed to mesmerize the audience with his Lugosi-esque elongated extended fingers magical stance. Christopher Lee must have thought he died and gone to heaven, as this is his favorite novel and the role is among the finest of his career. For his fans, its seeing Lee the way we always dreamed of seeing him... at the top of his form in an artistic movie with a big budget to do it right.

      Lord of the Rings is a triumph in every way, and the intensity Jackson gets from PG-13 rated violence seems almost R-esque, but supposedly on DVD, Jackson will finally get his wish to have an R rated version released. But the PG-13 packs a visceral wallop, believe you me. Ian McKellen, working under heavy costume and makeup, submits the performance of the movie, working mainly with his face (Jackson does some incredible things with tight facial closeups) and his subtle, quick reactions. It is a performance far richer than it first may appear. Much more natural and subtle than his James Whale.

      But I am babbling on far too long. Bottom line is this. The Lord of the Rings is the type of fantasy film that we wished could still be made but knew deep in our hearts that it never would be. Well, think again. The film on every level is a triumph (and the horror sequences are classic horror sequences... just wait until you see Lee with his army of Gothic demons!). The film of the year!

On being an actor

When I made the decision to be an actor, to learn how to be an actor, the first person I told who could stand paying for my mis-surviving...was my mother.   My mother was the greatest dramatic actress I've known my entire life, though she was not a professional.   And her reaction was straight out of Victorian melodrama.   She reeled back, with her hand to her brow, like that, she really did, with the other one holding onto the door, and said, "You can't, you can't, you can't.   Think of the shame you'll bring upon the family.   And--think of the people you'll meet."  

What she meant--and it has indeed been true--is the people you have to deal with in this business, not the public--but the sort of people you have to talk to, tell them who you are, and make the decision, ultimately, to offer you the job.   And the haggling starts, and the offers go on, and the contracts go wrong, and all sorts of things.   So when she said, "Think of the people you'll meet," she certainly wasn't wrong there, sadly.  

It wasn't like that when I started, but it has become like that in the intervening years.   Now it's just figures in the ledger, which is very sad, because people of my generation, actors and actresses of my generation, and the next one, and maybe even the next one--actually anybody 30-35, 40-45, onward: We love our work.   We meet some of the most loyal, talented, devoted and hard-working people in the world on both sides of the camera.   And we, of course, meet the marvelous and the appreciative people all over the world who make up the public who watch our work and hopefully are entertained by it.   You are the public, and we do what we do for you .   We do not do it for some executive sitting in an office.

Not all that long ago, I was in a certain studio in L.A., and they asked to see me in regard to possibly being in a certain film.   I obviously can't name names or titles.   And I went into this studio, one I have worked in quite a bit, because it was during the time I had lived there between '76 and '85.   And I parked the car and went to the office.   The first thing that happened was this rather embarrassed-looking lady said, "Would you mind if I take a Polaroid of you?"  

And I said, "Polaroid?"   I was getting really confused.   And I said, "Why do you need a Polaroid of me?   I'm standing here."

"Oh, but it's customary now.   I just took one of Jack Lemmon the other day."

And I can't believe what I'm hearing.   She was obviously quite embarrassed about this.   Then I was told I was going to meet the chief administrator of the executive casting division, and I thought to myself, it's presumably the casting director--all of 20 or 25.   And I went to this little area--all these doors were open, so there were people in these offices, I knew that, of course.   So I started making rather extremely tactless remarks, deliberately.   And eventually the summons came and I went into a room, and there was a man sitting behind a desk.   He didn't get up.   I didn't expect him to.   He didn't really even look up at me.   And all the floor was covered with folders and folders and stacked with photographs of actors and actresses, all around the room.   I can't tell you his name, which I have not forgotten.   And I sat down, without being asked, and he said, "What have you been doing?"

And I said, "Well, I've just had a Polaroid taken of me."

His face kind of changed.   He said, "No, no, no, no.   What have you been doing?"

I said, "You mean this morning?"

And he said, "No, no, no, no, no.   Mr. So-and-So and I are very interested in you playing something in our film."

At which time I had become a little, let's say, irritated, and I said, "Something?   Is that one word or two?"

And actually this has got nothing to do with the beginning of my career, except that it hasn't changed all that much.   They do ask you what you've done, when it's their business to know.   And they should do their homework, not just with me--anyone.   And I went to see a director on a film that again has to be nameless; and he talked about everything getting away from it, 15 or 20 minutes, that goes without saying, just to put me in my place.   And some young boy, [who looked] about 15 or 16, he said, "What was your name, again?"

I very nearly said, "Lon Chaney," but I didn't.  

And there was this man.   He actually did get up, until he saw how tall I was, then he sat down again.   And, of course, came out with his remark, "I didn't realize how tall you were."   That was said to me in New York, only four or five days ago, when I was lucky enough, and privileged enough, to see Death of a Salesman with a man I consider to be one of the finest actors around today, Brian Dennehy.   And I went backstage, and Gitte was with me, my wife.   And I don't know how he does it, because it's an exhausting part.   And the first thing he said: "I didn't realize how tall you were."   Lots of people say that to me.   Which just shows that obviously I don't look so gigantic on the screen.   The screen actually widens you rather than lengthens you, at least that's what they tell me.

Anyway, I went in to see this director.   He said, "I'm going to do such-and-such a picture."

And I said, "Yes, I believe that's why you asked to see me."   And so on.   And then he talked about everything except the film.   He was waiting, I suppose, for the producer, because the door opened and a man came in in shorts, trainers, baseball cap and said, "I am the producer."

So I said, "Fine.   Okay."

He sat down with a sheaf of papers and kept turning them, saying, "You've done a lot of movies.   You've done a lot of movies.   You have done a lot of movies."   And so on.

And I said, "Well, a few, you know."   And I thought, "This is ridiculous."

And then the director turned to me and he said, "Have you ever played any wise, mysterious characters?"

And I said, "Yes, I think so."

"Can we see something?"   I assure you that is what they say to just about everyone.   "Can we see something?"

And I said, "Well, yes.   It might take a little time to see over 200 films, but I'm sure it can be arranged."

"Can we see something?" and I said, "In other words, what you are asking for--is you are asking for film of me playing the part you are thinking about casting me for in your forthcoming movie.   I'm going to show you something on film of myself already playing it."   This is the thinking.   It is.   And I said, "Well, actually, the wisest, most mysterious character I ever played was a character called Prospero."   No reaction.   I said, "In a play by William Shakespeare ."

"Uh huh.   Uh huh.   Shakespeare in Love and all that sort of thing.   Uh huh.   Uh huh.   Right, right, right."

I said, "The play was called The Tempest , not The Twister ."

It's not what you know or what you've done.   It's so many different things which really have no meaning at all, as far as I can see.

When I started, I knew nothing.   I suppose that could apply to all of us.   When you start a profession, you are going to learn.   Now, if they said to me, which they did in England after approving my contract through Rank--which nearly finished my career.   If they said to me, "You have no experience."   Right, no argument.   If they said to me, "You have no name."   Right, no argument there.   If they said to me, "You don't know much about acting," I would have said, "Yes, you're absolutely right."   All these would be valuable.   But when they turn around to you and they say, "You're too tall to be an actor," and too foreign-looking, because of my Italian blood, it's like saying to someone, "You're too red-haired to be a pianist," or "You're too thin to be a sculptor," or whatever, you make it up.   You can think of anything yourself.

It is actually half-witted, because it isn't valid.   The reasons, apart from the fact that I knew nothing about acting, and I was terrible--if I thought acting meant acting all the time --I'm reminded of my first play, called The Constant Nymph .   I played the butler.   I still have that review: "Christopher Lee, as Roberto the Butler, here gives a remarkable performance."   I certainly did, because at the end of the first act, the producer of the play came 'round to me and said, "I'm sending the rest of the cast home.   You can finish the play by yourself."

And I, of course, took it very seriously, and was very alarmed.   "What do you mean, home?"   I didn't know what to say.

And he said, "Well, you're already playing all the roles."

And, of course, I was, because nobody told me.   And I knew  somebody on the stage said, "Oh, it's an absolute tragedy.   My father passed away..." and somebody said, "It's terrible weather outside.   I'm going to go get my umbrella."   And I did everything they said, which of course was very distracting and extremely unprofessional, but I didn't know.  

The real reason that I wasn't used was a very different one.   The average British leading man of that time, in '47, '48, '49, '50, etc., the first 10 years, really, of my career, was not tall.   There were some very fine actors.   John Mills was one, Kenneth More, Richard Todd, the list is very, very big.   But they were certainly shorter than I was.   But the ladies, generally speaking, were shorter than the men.

But the other men who were supposedly the giants, very tall  men--Stewart Granger, Vincent Price, Michael Wilding and many others--were still shorter than me.   And there was no way I was going to be put on the screen with these people, even if I didn't say anything.   It's understandable, if you're me--different coloring, different size, different shape or something.   No matter who you are, if you are different, the attention of the audience wanders, and they look at you and, of course, as I said rather pointedly on some occasions, said, "This is the star.   See that he concentrates the attention of the audience on himself, and not worry about somebody who's coming over there and putting up the wall."   That was the real reason, and I'm already a determined person.   The more they said that to me, the more my poor mother said, "You should give it up.   You should give it up.   This is a terribly dangerous profession.   You're not earning any money, anyway.   You won't earn enough.   You won't do this and you won't do that."   And the more people said, "You're too tall.   You're too foreign looking.   You're too this.   You're too that"--the more I said, "I'll show you ."

It took 10 years before I got the chance--but during that 10 years, something happened of such value that I cannot exaggerate it too much.   I learned .   I watched.   I did everything I could possibly do, suitable and unsuitable.   Traveled around Europe on a bicycle, getting a job in a crowd somewhere.   I learned .   Swept the floor of the stage, assistant stage manager, et cetera., prompter.   I did everything, everything I could lay my hands on, in any language, even those I didn't know very well, but I learned--and that does not happen today.   Sad, and it's very obvious, too--although I'm obviously not going to go into details--it's quite clear when somebody really knows what they're doing or when they don't.   And the sad thing is, today, more than ever--and it's been going on for the last 20-odd years, and longer... obviously they come and they go, the "Golden Boy" and the "Golden Girl," flavor of the month, making millions...

But with people like myself, who really aren't what you might call "leading men stars" or anything like that, not in the sense the giants were--I met most of them, worked with some of them--I don't think there's a name you could mention I haven't met at one time or another--they kept going because they had learned , and they could do almost anything.   And they were giants.

There are no giants today.   There are some very fine actors.   I'll go and see anything with Gene Hackman--anything.   There are some marvelous actors, like Jack Nicholson, a tough opponent at golf.   I remember when I was trying a short putt, he said, "Don't chip it.   Don't chip it."   And he also told me that when he did these pictures with Roger Corman--with Boris, Vincent, Peter Lorre--that Roger Corman said to him, "Don't try and be funny as they are."   Wise advice--and Nicholson, Pacino, DeNiro, Mel Gibson--there's some wonderful actors around.    And actresses.   To me, Jodie Foster, wonderful actress...there are many.   You have your favorites, I have mine.   Jack Lemmon.   That's the only reason I did Airport '77 [1977].   I had a scene with him.   That's the only reason.

And there are some other wonderful actors around, and there are some stars, but they're not giants, not in my opinion.

Sheila Graham, whom some of you have heard of, she was a very well-known journalist, and certainly the lady of Scott Fitzgerald for many, many years--I knew her, and in London, she made a quote--and this is 35 years ago--she said, "There are no giants anymore.   Only dwarfs with long shadows."

But, anyway, that's how it started, in 1947, when I thought, "Well, I'll show you," and I think I did.

The Warrior

Because of Churchill's famous quote, "Never was so much owed by so many to so few"--the pilots of the Spitfire Iron Squadrons--all my friends, sadly, tragically, all gone.   Men with the equivalent of the Medal of Honor... And going up into the North African desert, spending two years there, getting into all sorts of strange aeroplanes, dropping leaflets, dropping bombs and getting into some very, very strange units... Popskey's Private Army--I shouldn't think any of you have ever heard of that--P.P.A., commanded by a Belgian Russian called Vladinya Penyikov, called "Popskey"... number one demolition squadron, 120 full strength, they were very scary people.   I was much more frightened of them than the enemy.   Well, you felt like you do about Wellington's remark at Waterloo, when he looked around at the British soldiers and he said, "I don't know what effect they'll have on the enemy, but, by God, they frighten me."   And he did say that.  

And, of course, I had the great good fortune to survive for quite a long time with the British equivalent of the American O.S.S., "Oh So Secret."   So... I spent a great deal of the last year of the war with Tito and his partisans, and also with a unit, on and off over a period of about two years, which most of you probably think was an airline, called the S.A.S., but actually it's not an airline, it's called Special Air Service, and it's still very much around. It's the British equivalent of the Delta.   So, I guess I'm lucky to be here.

Dracula

He said he didn't know he spoke for the rest of the audience, but he would like to see me play a certain role again.   There's Forry Ackerman sitting there, who kindly gave me a copy of Lugosi's ring, for which I am very grateful, as you know.  

I have mixed feelings about this.   I've always said, contrary to what you may have read in the papers--couldn't help saying it that way--I never said that I would never do another horror movie.   I've never said that.   I always said, "Come with something I haven't done before that was worth doing."   And somebody would come up with another role which was bait--which was the best I have ever seen--and, of course, you saw nothing.   I would certainly do it.

Playing this part was a tremendous launching pad for me--and very important.   I wasn't a name.   I wasn't a face, although I'd been around for 10 years.   And it was The Curse of Frankenstein [1957] that sort of "did it," because I realized that nobody was particularly interested in my name or my face.   And I thought, "If I make myself totally unrecognizable and it does work ,   people will think or say, 'I wonder what he really looks like?'"  

Well, I more than showed them subsequently that that was a very important part for me, an enormously important part, but strangely enough there was a gap of eight years between the first one and the second one.   As you well know, I didn't say a word in the second one.   As you, of course, will see for yourselves, I am a very taciturn, remote, withdrawn individual who doesn't like to say very much, cowering in fear from the sun [laughter]; but in that film I did not say one word, because I frankly refused to.   I'd read the script, and I said what I always say, "Why don't you use Stoker's words?"   And they never did, practically--hardly ever.   But there was no way I was going to burst into a room and shout, "I am the apocalypse!"   Unbelievable.   So I never said a word.  

Subsequently, I did play the part again.   I did not play it in France, contrary to popular belief.   A film came out with the title of Dracula, Father and Son [ Dracula, Pere et Fils , 1976].   I did not play Dracula in that film.   I did not .   I played a mysterious, rather odd nobleman from Eastern Europe.   I had... a confused young man who refused to follow in the family tradition.   It was a comedy, and a lot of it took place in the open air.   It was not a Dracula movie.   I did not play that character, because I've never parodied it.   And the one I did in Italy, and a little in Russia, I did not play the part of Dracula, because I would never parody it.   It's been parodied, but I wouldn't do it.

I subsequently played Dracula, I honestly don't remember how many times, I think for Hammer maybe four more times, possibly.   And in one film which unfortunately was not good, I actually, I think, I'm the only actor to have portrayed that character physically as Stoker described him: as the old man in the black clothes, white hair and mustache, getting steadily younger.   Well, the film [ Count Dracula , 1970] really was unworthy for a large number of reasons I won't bore you with.   But Herbert Lom played Van Helsing and Klaus Kinski played Renfield, so I was in good company but I never even met them.   We shot the film: It was all long shot, medium shot, close-up, zoom.   I never did rehearsals or anything like that.   But at least I did try and I managed to get some of Stoker's actual words in, which was a miracle... It's all wonderful writing and a wonderful book.

But I turned down every single one of the subsequent films after doing the first two.   I said, "No" every single time.   Maybe you do not know this.   I can say that now because all of the people to whom I said it have left us, so it doesn't really matter and I have put it in my book.   But I said, "No," and it wasn't a question of money.   There was never any money--at least that's what they used to tell us .   And I said, "No," because I said, "You've got a great character here--heroic, erotic, romantic, whatever you like to call him.   You have a great character.   You are writing these stories and then you don't know where to put the character."   This is exactly what happened: They wrote the stories first and then scratched their heads and said, "Where do we fit him in?"   Well, of course, that's exactly the wrong way around.

And I read these scripts and I thought, "Oh, no, this is deterioration."   I'm talking from my point of view.   Obviously, fortunately, the audience did not react like that, because they were entertained, which is what we're here for.   But I said, "No, no, no," and I then used to get these terrible phone calls from Colonel Carreras, Jimmy Carreras, who was the boss of Hammer.   Brilliant promoter.   Great entrepreneur.   We need them like that today.

And the same conversation took place every single time.   "You've got to do this movie.   You've got to do this movie."

And I said, "I haven't got to do anything at all.   I don't want to do it."

"You've got to do this.   You've got to do this!"   Voice going up the scale.   "I'm on my knees, begging you.   I'm 62-years-old.   I can't stand the stress and the strain! ...You've got to do it!   You've got to do it!"

And I said, "Jimmy, I haven't got to do it."

And he said, "Yes, you have!"

And I said, "Why?"

"Well, I've already sold it with you in the film, to the distributors." ...Think of the people you'll put out of work if you don't do it."

That's not very nice.   There's a word for that: blackmail.   And that is actually the reason why I did those subsequent films, because if I had said, "No"--they did do one without me--but if I'd said, "No," a lot of people would've been out of work.   What can you do?   The sad thing was--and I'm not attacking the movies--there are some very fine performances and some very fine actors and actresses in these films--but it wasn't Bram Stoker .

Francis Ford Coppola is one of the great filmmakers of our time--remarkable filmmaker.   He makes a film called Bram Stoker's Dracula .   You've all seen it.   Looks wonderful.   Of course, people ask me and say, "What did you think of it?"

And I say, "I can't answer that question."

And then they say, "Why not?"

I say, "Well, if I said I thought it was the most wonderful, marvelous, incredible, fantastic, brilliant picture I've ever seen in my life, people would say, 'Well of course he says that, he wants to work with Coppola.'"   If I said, "I thought it was terrible, embarrassing, it was this, it was that, I didn't like it at all," they'd say, 'Of course he says that--he wasn't in it.'"   So, you see, you have no answer in a situation like that.

But, to answer your question, briefly... I have said, "Yes, I would, but only if it was Stoker's book.   What he wrote.   What the characters said--not word for word, but using his lines and his story, because it has never, ever been done."