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> there’s no
telling
what
will
happen
On the set of “Splendor in the Grass,” a fellow and girl, literally sick with love, kissed, touched, fell together before the cameras. Day after day, their love scenes were pulsating and authentic. Members of the crew7 mopped vicariously fevered brows and watched Natalie Wood and
Monroe and Montand
Warren Beatty. It was a warm New York summer, it was torrid on the set. There wasn’t a grip or prop or electrician who didn’t whistle to himself, there wasn’t a person on the set who didn’t feel the flame. One of the people on the set was Bob Wagner, the female star’s husband. One of the people who heard the rumors and flew7 back to visit was Joan Collins, the male star’s fiancee. Ask anyone who knew Natalie and they’ll tell you that there has never been a girl in this town who wanted so much to make a success of her marriage or thought so surely that she had. But by the time “Splendor in the Grass” was over, the Wood-Wagner marriage was over, too.
On the set of “Let’s Make Love,” a suave, sophisticated man looked into a woman’s eyes as if he knew their innermost secret, her mouth parted, breathless as a girl’s. This is an actress who has been so terrified of acting, so self-conscious and self-critical that there have been times she held
up production out of sheer fright. But with Yves Montand, Marilyn Monroe gave everything she had to the part. The kisses were more than passionate, they were evocative, searching, so realistic that hard-boiled technicians were the ones who started the romance rumors. “The redhottest love scenes I’ve ever seen,” one veteran electrician told me. “Arthur Miller was right there, of course. He was heroic, if you ask me. But this Marilyn was carried away. I’d always thought she was a pretty sophisticated babe. But let me tell you, she came out of those love scenes limp as any high school kid after her first date with her first boy friend.”
Yves said it later. “Some women show you only their outside,” he said, “others show you their deep inside. Perhaps I was too tender, too realistic . . . thought that she was as sophisticated as some of the other ladies I have known.”
Pleshette and Donahue
But it was later he said that. While the love scenes were going on, he had eyes for no one, ears for nothing but Marilyn. One night they were at a dinner party. Arthur was in London, Simone was in Los Angeles, but absent. Marilyn and Yves wandered about, their attention locked in each other, totally unable to lose the mood of the day’s love scenes.
The romance rumors came