Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1956)

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Hollywood St.. Memphis 12,Tenn. Ctfv<£ State timental feelings about her father — Vic insisted that she have short nails, Pier would retire to her room, like a little girl, to regard those long nails sadly and wistfully, and then she would pick up a pair of scissors and minutes later she would emerge to say, “You see — for you, just for you I do this.” In “The Vintage,” the picture she is making abroad, Pier plays the part of just such a girl — a tiny gamin, a child with the heart and soul and understanding of a woman. She plays the part of a girl who falls in love with a man much older than she. He, of course, falls hopelessly in love with her, but feels that the difference in their ages is an insurmountable obstacle to their love and happiness. “But age,” Pier says, back in her role of the thoughtful woman again, “has nothing to do with one’s years. Look at my sister, Marisa. She is married to a man much older than she, yet seldom have I seen two people who are happier or who are more in love. If a girl knows in her heart what she wants, then she will be happy. Not until and not before.” Pier’s own romance with Vic points this up, too, as it points up her deep understanding of herself. When Vic first asked her to marry him, when they met in Germany and he was in the Army, Pier knew she wasn’t ready for marriage. There was so much for her to see and do and be, first, and she must be very sure, she must know her own heart absolutely. Everyone knows of her friendship with Kirk Douglas, of whom she still says, “He is one of the most wonderful people in the world. I hope I may always count him and his lovely wife among my close friends.” Then came her romance with the late Jimmy Dean, of which her mother deeply and even violently disapproved, because Mrs. Pierangeli did not think Jimmy adult enough or mature enough to take on the responsibilities of marriage. But the end of that romance must have brought its heartaches, too, and its pangs. And then, when she and Vic met again in a small cafe opposite the M-G-M studios, and they played “our song” on a jukebox, somehow all the attraction that had been there before, when she was not quite ready for love, sprang to life again. Before they left the cafe, they were engaged. “When love comes,” Pier says wistfully of this, “nothing matters, except that you are together, that you reach out and touch the other person ever so lightly. A touch of a fingertip, perhaps — and for you, it is as though you had embraced, as though you had kissed each other.” To cut through the complexities of life to the simple truths that bind and direct our days is a difficult thing for any e to do, but that is what Pier and Vic ly to do. To come together at each day’s iid both as lovers and as friends. Never o take one another for granted, always o be deeply touched and stirred again y the simple miracle of the love that brou it them together and that gives meaning o , each day that dawns. No one, least of all Pier Angeli, sugg<s that her marriage is perfect. On the oitrary, she will tell you that they hi e their budget problems, their career pri lems; that, like any wife, she works hd at the job of running her home, runng her career, and keeping her busbars love. But then again she will turn to ju and say, “But life is so short, we mj make it as perfect as we can, mustn’t wi,” Late afternoon sunlight spilled throitt the high windows of the restaurant whig we had been talking and lunching. Witl^ start, we noticed that the other ding, had long since left and almost every tadj but ours was cleared. The headwaiter w ;• like everyone else, had fallen in Icgr with Pier the moment he laid eyes upi her, insisted that we not hurry. But P? glanced at her watch and said, “Vic vl be waiting for me. I have been away fni' him for two hours and already I feel though I have been away from him t' years. This,” she sighed, “is silly, I su pose, but this is the way I feel.” A little gill just five-feet-one al weighing one hundred pounds, wearing beige suit that emphasized her twent inch waistline, with her shining dark h; pulled straight back from the pale oi of her face and worn in a pony tail, s did not look like a wife and mother. S looked like what she was — a girl in loi hurrying to join her beloved. She wor make a gay and amusing story of h luncheon interview. She would say, “He do you think I sounded? Did I sound t smug, perhaps, because I am so lucl and so happy?” No one will ever know Vic’s answer that as, perhaps, he pulled her down in his lap, as he said, “You’re such a lit! girl, Anna Marie, and such a wonder! woman.” But any man would envy him. And yi any woman can make the man she lov feel as Vic feels about his Anna Marie that he is her whole world. That is tl way a man hungers to feel — that ear night, when he comes home, he is a kii re-entering his kingdom. Pier Angeli h found how to make this small, dai miracle come true. For this, at least, there is no seer formula. A single word unlocks the doc The word, of course, is love. The Ei WHO ARE YOUR FAVORITES? In color I want to see: (1) (2) Send your votes for the sta you want to see in Photopu ACTOR : actress: 1 1 (2). / want to read stories about: (!' (2) ; (3!. (4). The features / like best in this issue of Photoplay are: (M (4) (21 (5) (3) (6' NAJIE ADDRESS AGE Paste this ballot on a postal card and send it to Readers' Poll Editor, Box 1374, Grand Central Station, N. Y. 17, N. Y. 102 Ji ■ hli ilMi