Screenland Plus TV-Land (Jul 1959 - May 1960)

When You're Alone continued from page 20 II Si "She eats you up with her eyes, and you want to eat her up,"' said Rossano Brazzi, another co-star. On the set of "Mardi Gras," one day. young Gary Crosby remarked, in mock sorrow, "Man, it was a black day when I found out that Christine is happily married to a nice guy." Such is the reaction this electrifying import from France arouses in almost all men. Jeffrey Hunter, too, is remembered for his comments on the indisputable sex appeal of little Miss Carere. Jeff was playing himself in a walk-on scene with Christine in "Mardi Gras" — a sequence laid in a Hollywood studio where Christine, in a revealing costume, had to stop and chat briefly with him. "What do I do after she leaves?" Jeff asked Director Edmund Goulding. "Well, what would you naturally do?" Goulding countered. "What would I do?" breathed Hunter, eyeing the shapely Miss Carere. "I'd turn right around and follow her!" It is all a very normal male reaction, naturally, and means nothing beyond simple admiration for a very lovely feminine creature. But Hollywood is filled with other handsome gallants who would love to console Christine in her loneliness — if she were interested. She isn't. Christine is honest enough to say, "I do not have any dates in Hollywood. I do not invite them. I cannot trust myself in my loneliness, so when I do go out, it is only in a group, with close friends." SHE lives in a Hollywood apartment, alone, but often spends an evening visiting two of her cousins, who live nearby. "I have met lots of American men at my cousins' home," she smiled. "I find them very honest and friendly. In France, it is difficult to have a simple friendship with a man. But in America, the women have more equality. The girls are pleasant, too. However, no French girl can be pals with a man, as your girls are here. That would be impossible." Miss Carere recalls the time when she once wrote her husband, teasingly, "These Americans I meet here are very attractive. Big, tall, friendly — eager to be kind to a lonely little French girl." Philippe, understandably, was livid. "He was," Christine gurgled, "like you say here, hot under the neckband. Right away he wanted to know if there was another man in my life. He was ready to rush over here." When she comes home from the studio, driving herself in her Chevrolet convertible ("It was Philippe's gift to me," she says), she freshens up, then goes out to eat, usually alone. She does not enjoy cooking for herself. Strangely, she can no longer eat French food — not when she is in Hollywood, anyway. "I love American dishes," she admitted. "I am used to them now — things like cottage cheese and fruit 58 salad. If I do happen to dine in a French restaurant, my poor stomach is upset for days. Of course, when I am real blue or depressed, or terribly lonely, as I often am, I carry myself over to the Hamburger Hamlet, on the Sunset Strip, and have a big hamburger. I love that." She takes all her meals out because she becomes too melancholy when she tries to prepare her own dinner. As she says, "I cannot afford to invite depressions. Nor must I allow myself to be a little girl any longer, attached to the petticoat of my mother. Since Philippe is not here. I have learned that I must be independent — make decisions on my own. Suddenly you are aware that you are alone, but you cannot permit sadness. You must make the very best of "things. It is like — what are the words? — putting on your armor." Everyr evening Christine sits down to write a letter to Philippe — "not long love letters, that is not necessary." she says, "but just chatty letters, such as Philippe writes to me. Only it is not good to write when I am too blue or depressed. Then the best thing for me is to go to a movie, until I have recovered my spirits." But, as Christine sighed, it is harder now to be away from her husband than ever before. There is the memory of the baby she lost — a sadness not easy to overcome. "But my doctor tells me we can have more children, many more, and Philippe and I want to start a family again very, very soon." She remembers the apartment she left behind in Paris — the apartment which took so long to find, "we almost could not get married," and the fun she and Philippe had decorating it, little by little and piece by piece, with the English antiques Christine prizes so very much. The apartment is on the ninth floor of a 30-year-old building, overlooking Montparnasse, the Left Bank, the blue-grey Seine alive with barges and sight-seeing boats, all the ancient bridges lit at night, and the glow of the magic city. "It is practically a new building, for Paris," said Christine, "and we have what would be the pent-house, with two terraces. There is still much to be done there, more things to be bought, but Philippe says he will do nothing to the place until I return. He wants me to have the joy of finishing our home. He has so much patience." Like the cherished home she left behind, other memories crowd in on Christine— all the things about Philippe she remembers. Christine had already made a number of pictures in France when she met Nicaud (she has been acting since the age of 15), but her first reaction to the very popular M. Nicaud, as she told a friend, was, "Here is a man who is very happy with himself. You know how I feel about this type." Christine had no choice about meeting Philippe; they were cast together in a 1 ALTHOUGH she can cook, Christine tab her meals out. Eating alone depresses hf la b a picture. "The first few days we work*. n opposite each other," she recalled, ' decided I disliked him. He was too hel ful to me. I did not want his help." But Philippe, sensing Christine's late antagonism, decided on a different a proach. He invited her to lunch. He to Christine, with a smile, that he didn't e pect her to fall in love with him for tl sake of the picture, but if she were good an actress as he thought she was, si could at least pretend — in front of tl camera. "After all," as Philippe said, "\f are playing two young people who a very much in love." From that moment. Miss Carere's at !rtude changed. There was no more coolnes "I liked Philippe's frankness," sa Christine. "Another actor would have hi so much ego, he would have set out pretend, offscreen, that I was irresistibl he would have flattered me, courted m been very romantic — to prove to himsf that he was irresistible. But Philippe w honest with me, and this I liked better The two did not stop seeing each otfi when the picture was finished. Christii had never known a man quite so hone — nor one with whom she could be much herself. "Very early," she sai "we learned that each of us had on had the illusion of being in love wi someone else. And neither of us had ai desire to fall in love again for a long, loi continued on page