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THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS OF HOLLYWOOD
£10,000. He was staying at Cap d'Antibes; we arranged to meet in Cannes for cocktails. He arrived wearing beach shorts and a blue casual shirt, his bare feet sinking into the pile carpets.
This was Zanuck, the last of the Hollywood moguls, the man who made stars as other men make shadows on walls. You notice immediately about this man that he is very small without shoes — five feet five, I would say; that he is preoccupied; and that he is in a hurry — even when he is on holiday.
He had no sooner sat down and asked for a dry martini than he thought of something and asked the waiter to get him Los Angeles on the telephone. His eyes are like secret dossiers: full of coded messages.
Why had he come to Europe and resigned as production chief of 20th Century-Fox?
"I wanted to make pictures. I had become a business administrator. Then there was the tax matter." (A salaried man pays three times as much tax as a producer taking a percentage.)
"Won't you miss the power?"
"Power? I guess I don't know what it feels like. I've always had it as far as I can remember." He added, "As principal stockholder of Fox I think I shall still have enough of that, too."
"Didn't it give you some satisfaction — being a man who could make stars?"
"Nobody can make stars. You can only make pictures. Sometimes, if you're lucky and the pictures are good, they can make stars."
His interest in movies is obsessive and he is interested in stories with themes. It would be true to say of him that to make a film that makes money is only more thrilling than to make one that loses money. The film he was planning then — to be made in Europe — was of Ernest Hemingway's first novel, Fiesta.
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