Screenland (Nov 1950-Oct 1951)

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Street City Zone... State... So Easily Misunderstood Continued from page 22 This intestinal fortitude is revealed by her relationship to flying. In 1946, when she was returning to England via New York, Boston, and Newfoundland, her plane tossed a motor into the midst of the State of Massachusetts. The flight pattern was at fifteen thousand feet, so, for seven precarious minutes, the plane sliced altitude while seeking an emergency landing field. When one was reported, the pilot (Miss Leigh still applauds his skill, speaking in fervent tone) had to make two approaches to the landing strip in order to get down without pirouetting on the heavy wing. A few years earlier, when she and her husband were flying to Atlanta, Georgia, to do a British War Relief benefit, their plane fought weather and headwinds to such an extent that it finally landed at Augusta with less than a pint of fuel left in the tanks. On a third occasion, when the Oliviers were returning to London, via Lisbon during the War, their plane caught fire and was forced to make an emergency landing under perilous wartime conditions. It happens that Warner Brothers Studio, where Miss Leigh has been working in the screen version of "A Streetcar Named Desire," is not far from a jet base. The expected result is that, a dozen times a day, jet squadrons split the sky with their celestial thunder. The roaring always caused Miss Leigh to shudder. "I don't like planes," she would say. "I really don't." However, when asked whether she would fly again she murmured, with a controlled show of polite surprise, "Oh, of course — whenever necessary." Trains and boats are her great transportation loves. After "Streetcar Named Desire" was completed, Miss Leigh and her husband took passage on a French cargo ship sailing from Los Angeles, through the Panama Canal, thence to the British Isles. The trip required twentyfive blissful days of leisurely sea travel. The inbound trip from New York to Hollywood was made by Twentieth Century Limited from New York to Chicago, and by Super Chief from Chicago westward. Miss Leigh explored every inch of each of these luxurious iron horses, and regretted only that their schedules made it impossible for her to pause in the stations of American small towns to catch a glimpse of the infinite variety of American rural life. When the picture company went to New Orleans to film "Streetcar" backgrounds and outdoor action, Miss Leigh rode the Southern Pacific's Sunset Limited, a resplendent crimson and gold streamliner, and lamented every mile the fact that her husband was still deep in the Paramount production of "Carrie," so was unable to accompany her. This separation was an extensive disappointment as they had long planned to investigate storied New Orleans together. Aside from this mishap, Miss Leigh found the city all she had been led to pxrect. Whenever possible, she slipped into the French Quarter to peer into the shops; she tiptoed into the walled and landscaped courtyards whose opened grille work gates are always an invitation to enter; she paused in doorways to tilt her ears toward the perennial jazz that drifts from the balconied upper rooms overlooking Bourbon, Dauphin, and Royal Streets. She loved the typically black coffee, redolent of chicory, and she found that dining at the Vieux Carre, Antoine's and Galatoire's lived, up to expectations. Now she wants to return to New Orleans whenever possible; perhaps, and this is a dream, she and her husband might be able to take a flat in the French Quarter for a few weeks some early Spring. Another city beloved of Miss Leigh is Carmel, on the Monterey Peninsula. She admires the air which, most of the year, is sharp and damp, rich with the scent of pine needles and wood smoke. The undulant landscape is thickly wooded, and the sea crashes against a steep and rocky shore, interrupted only occasionally by strips of deep, chill sand. There is also a romance between Miss Leigh and San Francisco, city of "suddenest hills, fairest flowers, and smartest women." Cable cars, the Top O' The Mark, Grant Street at night in the heart of Chinatown, and Fisherman's Wharf, like the vistas of Carmel, awaken her painter's instinqt. For several years, Miss Leigh and her husband have followed the Churchillian technique of relaxing over canvas and easel. Both (of The Oliviers) are working toward perfecting a landscape technique. "Someday I'm going to take lessons," she says with an emphatic nod. "Someday, when I find time." She doesn't feel that she does even slightly laudable work yet, but she has never been able to destroy a canvas on grounds of utter hopelessness. "Probably after I start to study and do something really worthwhile, I shan't be able to face my early efforts. That will be time enough to dispose of the things I am now keeping," is her easy dismissal of the super-critical attitude of many hobbyist painters. When the weather is bad and Miss Leigh is unable to interpret a landscape, she and her husband play canasta. She usually wins their two-handed games, probably because she brings to anything she does a burning concentration. This is, of course, intensely true of her professional behavior. She is a trouper to a degree rather impressively pointed up by this fact: after she had completed her final scenes for "Streetcar Named Desire," the technical crew paid her the supreme compliment of presenting a gift to her. Technical crews are not easily bowled over by an actress' talent or charm; they are on the job eight hours a day, serving as a phalanx of anonymous eyes above overalls, silently, knowingly critical of false starts, blown scenes, painful re( Please turn to page 58) 54