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[Continued from page 33]
company's current version of Dr. Jckyll and Mr. Hyde.
We have no one quite like her. She doesn't glitter. She's on the shy side, but with the poise of inner security. She has what is known as a calm forehead, her deep blue eyes are friendly, and laughter touches the gravity of her face to a swift, sweet radiance. In my limited vocabulary, fragrant is the best word I can find to describe the atmosphere she creates. Hemingway wants her to play Maria in For Whom the Bell Tolls. Like most writers, Hemingway's more than a little in love with his heroine. If the master sees her personified in Ingrid Bergman, who am I to blush at waxing lyrical over her?
She had a few days off between Rage in Heaven and Dr. Jckyll, and went with her husband, Dr. Peter Lindstrom, to a place outside Reno for the skiing. A phone call from David Selznick interrupted their holiday. She's under contract to the canny Mr. S. who, when he's not making pictures, farms her out to the highest bidder. Hemingway, he told her, was in San Francisco, en route to China, and wanted to see her. Could she get there before he left?
She got there as fast as the train could carry her. They had lunch together. From what the radio commentators call well-informed sources come reports that he's crazy to have her do Maria and will hear of no one else in the role. She translates his enthusiasm diffidently. "He said he wanted me, and is going to do what he can." She can't keep the glow of pleasure from her eyes, but refuses to indulge it, and slips with relief into collateral anecdote.
"He asked me, how is — are — your ears? He meant, how do they look? Because Maria's hair, you remember, is cut very short, so the ears must be not too ugly. But I thought he meant, how do you hear, and I said, oh, thank you, I hear very well. That is funny, I think."
She thinks this is funny, too. Having learned that she'd come from Reno, and recognizing only one association with that name, reporters asked if she were divorcing her husband. "Of course not. We went there to ski. He is here with me now." In spite of which, one enterprising journal promptly came out with a divorce report. It didn't occur to her to get mad. She laughed. "It's funny," says Ingrid, "that from a little thing like skiing near Reno, all kinds of stories can turn out. And it's funny that something which was not the truth seemed so much more important than that I came to see Mr. Hemingway."
FROM the security of a happy marriage, she can afford to faugh. She doesn't extol the satisfactoriness of her personal life. It lies plain to the sight in every reference to her husband.
"It was he who forced me to come to America. Forced is the wrong word, perhaps? As if he pushed me out? No, it wasn't like that at all. But he gave me the heart to go."
Her mother died when she was two, her father ten years later. She met Dr. Lindstrom while she was studying at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in Stockholm. He asked her to marry him. He didn't ask her to give her work up. "He knew that since I was a child, I wanted to be an actress. This want cannot be killed from one day to the other. Even if you are married, the same feeling must go on working. He understands it, and he helps me. It is better to do what I love, he said, than to sit around
waiting for him to come home from the hospital."
The Swedish movies snatched her out of school. She made eleven films, starring in the last nine. Selznick saw one of them, called Intermezzo, and went into action. He bought the story as a vehicle for Leslie Howard, and he sent Katherine Brown, his New York representative, to Stockholm to buy Miss Bergman.
Others had had the idea before him. "As soon as you come a little bit up," she explains, "you have all these agents who say, how would you like to go to Hollywood? Well, who doesn't like to go to Hollywood! But I was afraid. Pictures are made so much cheaper and easier in Sweden. They can't afford to make such a fuss about it. So you don't feel the weight of all those dollars on your neck.
"Also I have heard of these foreign actresses, how they go over and sit and never start a picture, or how today they shoot to the sky and tomorrow to the cellar. You see, I had quite a good position in Sweden. I was afraid to go to Hollywood and get stuck there. So I kept on for a long time saying no."
What Selznick wants, Selznick uses shrewd methods to get. Agents are men, and cables are dry bits of paper. He sent a woman over to talk to a woman. He left her free to adjust terms to the human equation. He made only one demand. "Get her here for the picture."
THE results justified his reading of feminine" psychology. "Miss Brown," says Miss Bergman, "was sweet. She understood how I worried."
Miss Brown guaranteed that Miss Bergman would not get stuck in Hollywood. She proposed a three-month contract, for Intermezzo only, the picture to start and finish on specified dates, Miss Bergman to be costarred with Leslie Howard, and free to bolt back to Sweden, her husband and her Pia the moment the last "take" was shot.
Ingrid began to waver. "With Mr. Howard," she says, "I knew I could not make a bad picture. I felt at home in Intermezzo. And three months, after all, is not a lifetime."
Gently Miss Brown pressed her advantage. Would she like to take Pia with her? No, it wasn't that. Pia was only six months, and at six months they don't care if you're .there or not. You're not really important to them. It was more important she should have her food and sleep.
Well, then—?
Nothing — except that she -still shrank from the plunge. It was then that she turned to her husband and that her husband turned Selznick's ally. "If you want to grow in your profession, this is a chance you cannot afford to refuse." And that settled it.
She knew grammar-book English, having studied it for five years. She also knew she couldn't talk it. On a visit to England, she hadn't dared open her" mouth. She had time for a few private lessons before she took ship, but they didn't^qmuch to bolster her confidence. For twb'weeks in New York she gave her ears no rest Twice a day to the theater, whose glib patter drove her to despair. Between performances, she haunted drugstores ana bus-stops, listening to the lilt of Manhattknese'. "I heard words, I went home, I looke'd in the dictionary, the words "were not there — "
^e§£p help matters along, she drew Gregory Ratoff as a director. Ratoff expresses ffmlself with dynamic eloquence in
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