|
|
 |
| |
William Hall gets to grips with Sly Stallone, one of the many movies stars he came into contact with |
Camden Feature | Review| William Hall - Camden New Journal's film critic | interview with Marlon Brando | 60 year career in showbiz and movie journalism
New Journal film critic William Hall, who died on Tuesday, had a book’s worth of stories from his life as a showbusiness reporter, writes Dan Carrier
WILLIAM Hall’s office at the top of his Highgate home is decked out in memorabilia, the fruits of a 60-year career in showbiz journalism.
A wall is lined with pictures of William with actors who became friends – John Wayne, Charlton Heston, Tom Cruise, Clint Eastwood.
But the real souvenirs were the stories he had to tell: he was known as a raconteur of the highest order, and he was jotting down ideas for his own life story when he fell ill.
The working title was Hall of Fame, and he had a stack of tales from his adventures criss-crossing the globe, sniffing out scoops and winning the confidence of celebrities and film stars.
An English gentleman of the old school, with a hint of David Niven about him, he was marked by an absolute trustworthiness which stars recognised. They’d tell him their secrets and if they asked him to keep it between them, he did.
He was trusted. William had the personal numbers of the people who mattered and, perhaps more tellingly, they had his.
But things were not always straightforward. To get the big stories, he learned he had to put his neck on the line. One chapter of his unfinished book describes a meeting with Marlon Brando, which was hardly a success.
It reads: “It began in Fleet Street with a summons to the editor’s office. The editor was Don Boddie. He had always been particularly good news for me, mainly because he was besotted with showbusiness.
“He sat at his desk rifling through a bulky library file on Marlon Brando.
“It was 1973. At the age of 48, Brando was at the peak of his career. The previous year he had won the best actor Oscar for his towering performance in The Godfather.
“Now he had been nominated for a second statue for Last Tango In Paris.
“Brando, in Hollywood jargon, was one red hot pepper.”
William was sent to find the reclusive Brando, a tough ask. Brando did not do interviews, and had recently hit a photographer so hard his jaw was wired for six weeks.
He made a few calls and got nowhere. He flew to LA, knocked on Brando’s front door and was told he wasn’t in, but a gardener let it slip he was on a private island he owned off the coast of Tahiti.
So William was Tahiti bound. He spent nine days calling on the door of the island house owned by Brando’s wife, Tarita Teriipaia, gently ingratiating himself, until the actress revealed her husband had said he would be visiting later that day.
“Rather than call after dark, I decided on the dawn approach,” recalled William. “Next morning at six I was pulling up outside.
“Come in, said Tarita. Marlon is in bed. I will tell him you are here.
“Maybe not such a good idea, but now the quarry was too close to back down. Marlon Brando was behind that living room wall, and I suspected both of us were in for a rude awakening.”
Brando’s three-year-old daughter offered some protection as she leapt into William’s arms. They had become friends while he had been knocking each day.
“I carried her out to the patio, a stone-flagged square with a fish pond when the first bellow of wrath came from within.
“An apparition stormed out of the bedroom. It charged barefoot across to the open front door, ponytail flapping, fists waving like windmills. Brando’s massive frame, clad only in a blue native sarong, looked like a sumo wrestler.
“‘Hi there, Marlon!’ In times of crisis my voice tended to sound like Bertie Wooster.
“Brando glowered in disbelief. He advanced, eyes glazed in a Godfather stare. A hairy fist was clenched under my nose.
“‘If you don’t get out after I count to three, I will punch you in the face’. Gamely I put the questions the world wanted to ask as we performed a kind of dance around a fish pond. I was back-pedalling, Brando was leading. ‘Did you know The Last Tango was banned in several countries?’
“‘I don’t care. Get out!’
“‘Don’t you think it is close to sheer pornography?’
“Mr Brando’s bronzed chest heaved.
“‘I’m telling you, there’s going to be a great deal of personal physical damage done to you if you don’t get off my property’.
“We were at the front door. ‘May I ask, is this your traditional island hospitality I’ve heard so much about?’
“‘Get out! GET OUT!’
“How about a nice cup of tea?
“‘My God! I’m telling you...’
“Have you any parting words for your fans in Britain?’
“‘You just dare come back! You just try it!’
“Brando waved his fist in a final farewell and stormed back into seclusion. The door slammed.
It wouldn’t win any Oscars but it was an awesome performance and I knew I’d got the story of a lifetime.”
William: The King and I!
ELVIS Presley was much more friendly when William came knocking.
It was the summer of 1969 and the King had agreed to give him a brief audience while on the set of Change of Habit, which was to be his final film – as long as a publicity man chaperoned him.
“There he was – Elvis! I felt a familiar punch in my stomach,” wrote William.
“Elvis was taller than I’d imagined. His hair was black and shiny, the eyes had the smoky slow-burn of an old-time movie lamp.”
The pair decamped to his trailer and William got to see Elvis relax, swig a beer and strum a guitar. He sung Heartbreak Hotel for him.
“Get through to Elvis, face to face, and what you found was a simple, friendly, homespun Southern boy. Slow-talking, yes. But slow-witted – no way. Elvis certainly wasn’t the Hick from the backwoods his detractors said he was.
“Elvis cracked a gag. I did my best to pretend it was the funniest story I had heard in years.”
Warned to keep his questions simple, Elvis’s friendly attitude meant William was growing in confidence.
“I hadn’t quite got round to asking him the heavy questions about drugs, sex and booze, but there was plenty of time, and I felt we were firm friends by now. I could see myself spending the day in his trailer.”
But the interview was interrupted. The King was wanted elsewhere. And as he left, he told William: “You tell the folks back home in England that I’m planning to come there, real soon, OK? I’m gonna make a real point of coming to England because I have alwaypromised I would and I know I have got some good fans there.”
William wrote: “It would never happen, but it was music to my ears. I could see the headlines already. ELVIS HEADS FOR UK. Exclusive!” |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
