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too_much_in_the_sun) wrote2018-12-07 04:43 pm
James Curtis on casting Journey's End
This comes from James Curtis’s fine biography of James Whale – I am working from the 1982 edition from the Scarecrow Press, but there’s also a revised edition from 1998. Scroll down for the transcript; each image is clickable to view at full size.
Notes: Stanhope is the lead character; Sherriff is the playwright, R. C. Sherriff; Browne is Maurice Browne, producer; Olivier is Laurence Olivier; Whale is, of course, James Whale.
...So the big problem facing them was to find a Stanhope. Some of the name actors who had rejected the part found themselves available, but Whale was against them. The earlier formula had worked well: no big, high-powered names. They had a cast that was letter-perfect—they couldn’t afford a thoughtless move that would queer the chemistry of the cast.
Dozens of actors were interviewed; none were acceptable. They were all too careful, too smooth—not one displayed that rough, jagged edge apparent in Olivier’s performance. Whale despaired of ever finding another Stanhope. One night, Browne received a call from Jeanne de Casalis, a prominent actress who suggested trying the man to whom she was then engaged, Colin Clive. No one had heard of him—he wasn’t in Spotlight and his most impressive credit was the part of Steve in Show Boat. They were, however, willing to talk to anyone. Sherriff recalled,
… The moment I saw him I knew that he was our man. Whale also knew. He had no doubt providing he understood the part and read it well.
Clive didn’t read it well. He had a rough, husky voice and kept on misreading the words, but his bad reading made him the more appealing. Stanhope would have read it badly himself. He was far and away the best man we had seen, but Maurice Browne and his manager were doubtful. His lack of experience made him a dangerous risk. They were in favor of another actor named Colin—Colin Keith-Johnston: a young and handsome actor who had made a name for himself on the stage and had won a military Cross in the war. He had not only proved himself as an actor, but had played the part of Stanhope in reality, in the trenches.
Both actors were asked to a final reading. Keith-Johnston read the part beautifully. He had a fine, expressive voice; he had command and gave meaning to every word. Clive’s reading was worse than the first attempt: blundering over the words, puffing a cigarette, shuffling his feet.
When it was over it seemed that Keith-Johnston had romped home the winner. Maurice Browne and his manager had no doubts. Whale was thoughtful; something was worrying him, but he didn’t know what it was. Maurice Evans, who was to play Raleigh as he had done for the Stage Society, happened to be there and had heard both the readings. His part was tied so closely to Stanhope, he had so many vital scenes with him, that his opinion was even more important than ours. He was asked which actor he thought most suited the part. He didn’t answer at once. Then he said: “Keith-Johnston’s got it here” (pointing to his forehead)-- “but Clive’s got it here” (pointing to his heart)
Colin Clive, upon considerable gamble, got the part. Journey’s End was announced by Maurice Browne on New Year’s Day, 1929. It would open at the Savoy Theatre on Monday, January 21st.
The tall, grey-eyed, black-haired son of Colonel Colin Clive-Greig was born in St. Malo, France in January of 1900. He was educated at Stonyhurst College and the Royal Military College before studying at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London. He was a fine actor with a good background, who lacked confidence in himself and was a chronic worrier. He had been working on the stage since playing a small part in The Eclipse at the Garrick Theatre in 1919. Jeanne de Casalis and he had met while doing The Yellow Streak in September 1928.
“It was difficult for Clive to work his way into a word-perfect company,” wrote Sherriff. “He alone was stumbling over his lines, drying up and being prompted. He was highly strung and temperamental, and one day after a bad rehearsal he went to Whale and offered to give up the part. Whale tried to reassure him, but everybody was worried. Stanhope the Company Commander was the rock upon which the whole play stood: if he failed, the play was doomed.”
The rehearsals continued going badly. Clive got no better, but it was still obvious to both Whale and Sherriff that he possessed the right qualities for the role—qualities he was unable to unleash. One night, Sherriff took him aside and suggested a good stiff whiskey before the afternoon rehearsal. Clive was doubtful; drinking before work was a cardinal sin for an actor. Just once, Sherriff urged. Finally, Clive agreed. At lunch, he went off to a small public house and consumed several whiskeys. He returned a new man. Said Sherriff,
He no longer stumbled over his words and dried up halfway through his long speeches. The words were already photographed perfectly in his mind through long nights of study, and only the inhibitions of anxiety had prevented them from flowing freely. The whiskey at lunch had freed him from his inhibitions, and the words flowed out without restraint.
Whale was astonished and delighted; he had always known what a fine performance lay in Clive’s power if only it could be released. Now Clive had found himself. He didn’t need the whiskey for subsequent rehearsals. His performance gained in stature with every day that passed, and Maurice Browne, who had resigned himself to the unhappy conviction that he had put his money on a loser, doubled the money set aside for advertisement.
It's been a very long time since I composed a post like this; please let me know if there are any formatting issues
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(I edited the OP here, oh, approximately six times before deciding to just leave it.)
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