My Date With Tippi
I remember it well. The girl next door, Paula, called our house and excitedly told my sister the movie The Birds was on TV that night. Specifically Channel 56, a UHF channel, which filled a lot of its airtime with movies. It was the early 70’s. The Birds was from 1963. When you’re a kid, something that had happened ten years earlier might as well have happened a hundred years earlier. Particularly during that particular era; when the styles had had such a sea change from one decade to the next. But The Birds was a horror movie, and horror movies had special hegemony with the playground set. It didn’t really matter when they were from. Horror was horror and kids naturally gravitated to it. Why? Probably because they’re taking baby steps away from the protection that enshrouded them from birth. Figuring out the real horrors the real world actually contains. Psychic protection, generally. For although kids my age during that time may have been shielded from things like the Manson crime photos; we were pushed outside and left to our own devices until the street-lights came on.
I can vividly remember finding the movie on the TV. It was already in progress. A good fifteen minutes into it. Why were we so late? Oh, I remember! We hadn’t known it was on (we didn’t get TV Guide). Paula was a little older than us and a little strange. Her parents had taken her to see The Exorcist. She had told my sister that film’s plot in vivid detail. She had a poster of Linda Blair, in character, on her ceiling. Paula was the “go-to” gal for all things outre and “bad for you.” In any event, I can recall exactly where we came in. It’s the scene where Tippi Hedren breaks into Rod Taylor’s mother’s house carrying a gold bird-cage, containing love birds for his sister, who she’s never met (it’s a long story). She’s coming down a short hallway from the front door of the house. It’s a very odd hallway. I think there’s a scale on a credenza. It almost seems like a courtroom, which makes sense, symbolically, as Rod Taylor’s character “Mitch Brenner” is a lawyer and his mother, Lydia is as judgmental as they come.
I can see Tippi now, in that Spring green suit-dress and “blonde” mink coat. Almost as blonde as her “pillow-slip” hair color, which Marilyn Monroe had sported during the last days of her life, which would’ve synched with the filming of The Birds. She slips into the living room and leaves the cage with the birds in it. There’s a weird, pronounced quiet to the whole thing. The stillness of the house, Tippi’s literal tip-toeing, the silent green birds. There is no sound until we hear Tippi start to pull the cord of her rented skiff’s outboard motor. Then the gulls start squawking. Then, shortly thereafter, the first bird attack. A gull swoops down on Tippi, smacking her in the head, drawing first blood.
I know that I was hooked! In fact, my viewing of The Birds that night was, I think, my entree into the world of CINEMA. In particular, the work of Alfred Hitchcock. I didn’t see Psycho until I was actually in film school; which is also where I saw Marnie on the big screen, for the first time. The professor had screened it for a film studies class. I was already a fan of that weird movie. I had read about it in Robin Wood’s Hitchcock’s Films. In his chapter on that film, he began by pointing out how polarizing that movie was. It was a love/hate situation for most people. Or more precisely, a “meh,” situation. Wood loved the movie, and was honest enough to admit that he may have been taking a defensive position: rationalizing his love of it by finding ways to get around its’ various and sundry problems; critically, narratively and surprisingly, photographically. His monograph about Marnie got me to seek it out, fall in love with it myself and eventually write a sequel. Yes, I wrote a sequel to Alfred Hitchcock’s Marnie. And I gave a copy, with RED covers, to the movie’s star herself: Ms. Tippi Hedren.
There’s a good chance you’ve never seen Marnie (1964). It’s not one of Hitchcock’s best. It’s not exactly fondly remembered by the public or critics. It is rather beloved by filmmakers though, who see in it what Hitchcock was attempting. And with gay audiences, I think; who see in it the pure camp element (Wood came out as gay later in life). But even those admirers would admit that it was the beginning of the end. The quality of his output began a rapid decline, with perhaps the exception of Frenzy (1972). But now there’s a whole raft of layers when watching Marnie, since we’ve all come to find out about Hitchcock’s obsession with and harassment of Ms. Hedren. The night I met her and gave her the script; she herself hadn’t “come out” with the story about her abuse at the corpulent director’s hands. Kenneth Anger had written about it in his book Hollywood Babylon, without the benefit of corroborating eyewitnesses. But apparently it was something that was an open secret in the annals of Hollywood history.
Marnie is about a woman, Margaret “Marnie” Edgar, played by “Tippi” Hedren. I guess the quotes around Tippi’s name were Hitchcock’s idea; and it doesn’t take Freud to tell you it was a control move. Her name is Nathalie and Tippi was a nickname bestowed on her by her father. It’s from tupsa which means “sweet little girl” in Swedish, or some such. So, Marnie, the character, is a stylish vagabond/itinerant thief, who moves around the country; taking up residence in mid-size cities; procuring employment and then ripping off her employers for tidy sums of money. One of her jobs netted her $10,000.00. Now, if you watch the movie today, you’re like: “Ten thousand dollars? That hardly seems worth it if you put yourself in line for the Big House. But then you think: “Oh, wait…in 1963 (when they filmed this), ten thousand dollars was worth more like, nearly one hundred thousand dollars!!!” (I always have to remind myself of this when I watch it; Psycho too, where Janet Leigh steals $40,000.00 in 1959. That’s more like $430,000.00 in 2023!). So, eventually she lands a job at Rutland’s Publishing in friendly Philly, as a secretary to the manager; putting herself in close proximity to the payroll safe. Sean Connery (Mark Rutland) is the heir to the business and he hangs around the place more out of boredom, than anything else. Once he lays eyes on Marnie, he’s smitten. And intrigued. He thinks she may be the hot brunette (she’s now the blonde she became a blonde to be) who ripped off one of his colleagues, the irascible Mr. Strutt. Who we never really figure out what it is he does. They might as well have named him Mr. MacGuffin. Sean begins to woo Marnie (who he knows as “Mary”) and eventually brings her by the family homestead: Wyckwyn. She meets Sean’s dad and sister-in-law (played by Alan Napier and Diane Baker, respectively).
When things get “too hot,” Marnie robs the Rutland safe and cuts and runs. The ever resourceful Sean tracks her down, via her love for horses, and blackmails her into marrying him. Marnie turns out to be “frigid.” Sean undertakes finding a cure, thinking marital rape might be the correct path (it isn’t). There’s a fox hunt, a mercy killing, Bruce Dern and some other stuff I won’t give away
In any event…this fascination with Tippi and her two movies only grew over time. One fine day I thought to myself: “I think I’ll write a sequel to Marnie!” Now, I don’t know how many people on the planet have had that thought. Or have done it. Or have actually handed a copy of it to Tippi Hedren. I can’t think that it’s any more than two to five people in the history of the human race. But I’m one of them. Here was my thinking, back in the early 90’s, when I had that thought to myself (I may have even said it aloud, to myself): “Gee, Tippi Hedren is still alive. And kickin.’ And still smokin’ (as in hot, not cigarettes). Sean Connery is still a Big Movie Star, actually winning Oscars (TM/Reg./Pat. Pend.) at this later stage in his career. Pretty much everyone from the original is still with us; so, at least we could have the original cast! And thrillers are all the rage right now (this was 1990ish). Gosh darn it; I’m gonna do it!”
And do it, I did.
So. I had a finished script. A sequel to Marnie. I titled it Marnie II. I know, not the most original of titles; but I thought (and still do) that it had a certain simplicity. A kind of Classicism; like ancient Rome: thus, the Roman Numerals. I mean, what else could I have called it? Marnie’s Return? The Rutlands? Or how about one of those goofy, mid-60’s movie titles that were “cute” by being way too long. Like, Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines, Or How I Flew From London to Paris In 25 Hours and 11 Minutes or Who Is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me? Perhaps: Who Is Lil Mainwaring and Why Is She Trying to Break Up My Marriage To the Guy Who Played James Bond? Or: Yeah, I Changed My Name; But Wouldn’t You Change Your Name If You’d Just Stolen TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS?
So, you must be wondering how I personally delivered this script directly into the hands of Hollywood legend, Tippi Hedren (and how many people became legends with so few films?). Well, I’ll tell you! Back in the early 90’s, when I first moved to Los Angeles, I met someone who had some truly odd connections with Old School Hollywood. A lot of these memories are a tad fuzzy (names and dates, etc.) But I’m sure they’ll start coming back to me as I write. The gentleman’s name was (pretty sure, based on some quick research), Tom Cooper. When I met him, I’m guessing he was in his 50’s. I met him through a friend. How this friend met him, I’m not sure. In any event; Tom lived with his boyfriend in a house in the Hollywood Hills. I don’t know what happened to Tom or that house, but I’m sure today that abode is worth millions. Tom, to my understanding, had made certain in-roads into the world of Hollywood musicals. He had started out as a chorus boy. I think he was from the Mid-West. He was tall and blonde and wore glasses. Corn-fed and quite corny as well. He was kind of obsessed with Judy Garland. Knew Liza Minnelli. Had dated Liza or something; so the story went. Tom was also a film buff. He had an actual screening room set up in his living room, with an actual film projector. He would have screenings for friends every week; usually Judy Garland movies. He even had reels of The Judy Garland Show, Ms. Garland’s short lived variety TV show from the ’63 TV season. It was where I first ever saw any of the footage from that (decidedly pre-Youtube!) legendary show. He screened for us the episode where Barbra Streisand was her guest. Apparently this was some kind of gay Holy Grail. I remember vividly, going to his house for these screenings. There was a decidedly Sunset Blvd. vibe. Tom’s other friends were all older. They seemed to be indirectly connected to Hollywood. Has beens? Never-weres? Wanna-bes? (I know I was the latter; but still, could never shake that Mrs. Havisham vibe). There was a lady named Marilyn. She had shoulder length gray hair. She was always there. With her cat. Yes, her cat “Marius” (pronounced: “Mah-ree-oose”). Marius would watch the movies from the dark of his cat-carrier. She would never let him out. Not that he probably would’ve if she’d given him the opportunity. You could only see his eyes. He rarely meowed. Weird? Yes.
Tom also ran a revival movie theater on Wilshire Boulevard. It was somewhere in “mid-Wilshire.” What was it called? The Vagabond? I think it was. I looked up the theater. Originally it had been The Hayworth and then maybe The Masque? Then The Vagabond? It was at 2509 Wilshire. This has to be it. Perhaps it was here that my friend originally met Tom. I’m not sure. Like I said it’s fuzzy. Or should I say, “smoggy”? I went there on numerous occasions; but I can only recall with clarity, three films. One was The Wizard of Oz. Which makes sense, as it starred Judy. I remember afterwards, Tom asking me about the print of the film: “Whadya think? Wasn’t it a nice print of the movie?” I remember lying to him. “Oh, yes Tom! It was great! So enjoyable!” But it hadn’t been enjoyable. It had been distinctly unenjoyable. The print was awful. Not just scratched and cut-up and garbled; but horrilby faded. I’d never seen Technicolor so awfully degraded. Degraded to the point it was nearly indistinguishable from the black and white bookend sequences of the movie. But, like the Tinman, I didn’t have the heart to tell him.
And this is where Tippi Hedren comes in. And Donald Spoto. More on him later. So, one fine day, Tom decided to screen The Birds and Marnie on a double bill. And not only that, Tippi Hedren herself was going to be there, doing a Q & A between films! And not only that, she was going to be in the lobby for a meet and greet and gratis autograph signing! I assumed at the time, that all autograph signings were gratis. I learned later, however, from my friend Joel, that this was not always the case. He, a big Carol Baker fan, had sought her (Ms. Baker’s) autograph at some kind of movie convention and was apalled when she wanted money for it (I forget the amount, but way more than you’d think); and was then quite dismissive once having penned her nom via her plume.
So, knowing she was going to be there (and of course, wanting to see the films for the Nth time); I brough a copy of Marnie II with me, to present to her. Let me just say that this was extremely unlike me. I am a rather unagressive person; particularly when it comes to things like chatting up famous people and placing in their hands my work — hoping to — what? What was I hoping for? I’m not really sure. I just thought it would be kind of a gas to know that Tippi Hedren held in her hands a copy of a script I wrote for her on a complete lark. A script I knew would never in a million years get produced.
I got in line during the intermission, where she was elegantly poised on the opposite side of the concessions counter. The young man in front of me had absolutely zero reluctance to not only request Ms. Hedren’s signature, but tell her exactly what to write. “Could you write: ‘No, I am not Miss Nicholson…’ under your name?” She looked up at him, quizzically examining his face. I could tell she wasn’t getting it. I’ll explain. In the movie, there’s a scene where she and Sean Connery go to the horse track and are at a table. He goes off to place a bet; and while he’s gone, a sketchy man approaches her and begins grilling her about a man he thinks she knows: a “Mr. Frank Abernathy.” He thinks she’s “Peggy Nichols” and she proceeds to deny his would be misidentification. It goes on just long enough to become comical. Perhaps even campy. It’s a moment in the film that a lot of gay men find comical. Why? I can’t quite explain it. It’s a kinda metatextual, you had to be there, kind of thing.
So, she politlely honored his request. “What was that again?” she asked, as he repeated it and she transcribed. It was almost like the scene from the movie was unspooling right in front of me. In real life. When it was my turn, she raised her pen to sign the script. I suppose she assumed it was a copy of the original movie’s. I explained what it was, flop sweat rolling out from under my arms even though I wasn’t yet flopping. I told her it was for her. She looked at it. Then at me. “Does she have lots of kids?” she asked. Not what I was expecting. “Well,” I replied, “she has a daughter…” She smiled and then I basically ran away. As a matter of fact, the part of the daughter was specifically written for Melanie Griffith. I mean, she was who I was thinking of when I wrote it.
Now, I don’t know if Tippi still has the script. But I do. I can’t reread it though. I get embarrassed. It’s something I wrote like thirty years ago. What is it they say? You have to make some bad art before you can make good art? In my mind it’s “bad art.” It’s silly. It’s kids stuff. But let me share some with you. I am going to randomly pull a section out and transcribe it here:
(From page 33 and not in proper format):
MARK
Marnie, don’t try and change the subject. Your lack of subtlety is definitely not a Rutland trait.
MARNIE
I’ve fought for nearly twenty-five years not to acquire any “Rutland traits.”
MARK
And you’ve certainly been successful at that, haven’t you? But you have picked up one: spending money.
MARNIE
Yes, and I’ll spend money on whatever doctor I like, too!
MARK
I don’t want to beat a dead horse, but I think you’re more of a Rutland than you’re willing to admit…
MARNIE
Go away Mark…
MARK
Well, think about this darling; and please don’t misconstrue me as being…indelicate; but I could have you committed if I so choose and right now I’m about this close.
He indicates the degree with his thumb and forefinger.
MARNIE
Don’t threaten me Mark.
MARK
I only want to help you Marnie; and so often with you, I have to be cruel to be kind.
MARNIE
Mark, I’m tired. I’ve got things to do tomorrow. Now if you really want to help me, would you be so kind as to leave my room?
MARK
Very well. But Marnie, this conversation isn’t over yet…
He glances at his book and tosses it on Marnie’s lap.
You get the idea. So, after the meet and greet, there was the question and answer portion. This was “moderated” by Donald Spoto, who was there as Tippi’s escort, I suppose. In case you don’t know, Donald Spoto was the venerated author of several books on Alfred Hitchcock. The most famous being The Art of Alfred Hitchcock. And rightly so. It’s a glorious, illustrated compendium of all of Hitchcock’s movies. A must have tome for anyone interested in The Master of Suspense and filmmaking in general. The book is great! The man who wrote it, IMHO, not so much. He’s dead now and can’t defend himself; and I don’t like to speak ill of the dead; but I thought he was a creep. And a creeper. He hovered over Tippi like…well, like she was a bird in a gilded cage. Or a gilded bird in a metaphorical cage: like the quotes Hitch put around her name. Oh, and the other thing. He was wearing open-toed sandals. I think they may even have been plain old flip-flops. I mean, who wants to see your grody toenails, Donald Spoto? And his personality was just as gross. He was an imperious know-it-all, if you ask me.
So, I asked him. A question. Not about himself; but about the movie. Marnie, that is. The movie where Hitchcock’s obsession, erotic or otherwise, came to the fore and she emphatically shut him down. From that point on, making the movie was a nightmare; particularly for her. My question was this: “at what point did things go awry during filming, because you can sort of get a sense during scenes of when — “ My question was for Tippi; but Spoto jumped in before she could speak to shut me down. “Oh,” he pronounced, “motion pictures are never shot in sequence, so it would be impossible to determine. Next question.”
Well no shit, Don. Gee, I had no idea movies were shot out of sequence! Thanks for putting me straight on that point! My friends didn’t want to stay and watch Marnie, so we left. Neither did I at that point. Interestingly, quite shortly thereafter, Tippi appeared in a made-for-cable sequel to The Birds, called The Birds II: Land’s End. She didn’t reprise her original role; but she was in it. This coincidence has always struck me as strange. Very strange (note that Roman numeral II(!). I used to joke with friends that on the way home from the Vagabond screening, in the limo with Donald Spoto, she showed him my script. It went a little like this…
TIPPI
Donald, look what this extremely pleasant and disarmingly attractive young man gave me in the lobby and dashed off before —
DONALD
What is that? A script? Let me see that?
He flips through the pages.
DONALD
I’ll say he dashed it off! A sequel to Marnie? And you didn’t throw this trash in the trash?
TIPPI
I haven’t read it yet. You think it’s trash?
DONALD
(Lowers limo window, tosses script out) And stay out!
TIPPI
Trash or not, Donald, that belonged to me —
DONALD
(LAUGHS derisively) Believe me Tippi, you’ll thank me later. In the meantime; did I mention I was working on a sequel to The Birds?
TIPPI
Ah, no. You didn’t…
DONALD
Yes. It’s fabulous! Alan Smithee has shown interest in directing.
TIPPI
Oh? What’s he done?
And scene.
So, that’s the story of my Meeting of a Legend and my Big Hollywood Sequel. The sequel to a movie that no one really wanted to begin with. Marnie has, however, gone on to become something of a cult film. Perhaps even influential. Marty Scorsese has mentioned being under its influence at times. Hey Marty…if you’re reading this maybe it’s time for, well, if not a sequel…a remake? Maybe Dakota Johnson could play Marnie, Melanie could play her mother and Tippi could do a cameo! Maybe the “Cleaning Lady” in the famous split-screen sequence! Or maybe not. I mean, Tippi is 94 now (God love her!) Even with a hearty suspension of disbelief; I think a nonagenarian “Cleaning Lady” would be a stretch. Or, she could get one of those special credits, you know the kind: And Tippi Hedren as Grandmother Rutland.
In any event, you can partake in the Tippi experience by visiting her animal preserve, Shambala. It’s in Acton, California. I’ve heard she’s been known to give tours herself. I’ve never been. Not that I wouldn’t want to. I have always wanted to go. It’s just that I know that if I did see her again, I’d have to ask her about that script and what really happened in the limo, afterwards. For now, I’d like it to remain a mystery. Keep myself in suspense, that is.
