Vivien-Leigh.com Blog
  • Vivien Leigh
  • July10th

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    This blog post is Vivien-Leigh.com’s participation in the awesome Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier Appreciation Blogathan. To check out the other posts made by other fabulous blogs around the Internet, check out this link. Big thanks to Kendra of VivandLarry.com for organizing this event.

    People often think Vivien Leigh was Scarlett O’Hara. There definitely is a strong case here. Scarlett is the heroine we love to hate; she is attractive, forward thinking, and manipulative. And she often gets what she wants… except Rhett. Vivien Leigh was beautiful (bordering on goddess gorgeousness), forward thinking, and manipulative. She too often got what she wanted… except Laurence Olivier? Vivien shrugged at the comparison and once said: “I hope I’ve one thing that Scarlett never had. A sense of humor. I want some joy out of life. And she had one thing I hope I never have. Selfish egotism.”

    In fact, people also compare Vivien to other roles she played… what about Vivien’s first film performance after her divorce from Laurence Olivier, Roman Spring of Mrs Stone? Karen Stone is a fading actress who agonizes over being alone and growing old. She’s hopeless. Or what about Vivien as Mary Treadwell in Ship of Fools? Mary Treadwell, a divorced woman who enjoys her alcohol to numb herself, tells a fellow passenger about her ex-husband, “Oh we put up a wonderful front in public. We were everybody’s favorite couple.” And later she continues explaining, “He was the most promising. The most handsome. He had the most glorious facade. A facade was all there was. He made me the best known wife of the best known skirt chaser in the community. I made life hell for him. It ended in divorce courts.” Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why did she play these roles? Did these roles hit too close to home? Or was it all just a coincidence? Maybe Vivien was not like any of these roles at all. I found an article asking this very question. “Deadly is the Female,” by Jeri Jerome, says that Hollywood remembered the ruthlessness of Scarlett and expected Vivien Leigh to be like her. But was she? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this!

    It was the first day of production on “Streetcar Named Desire.” Over at Warner Brothers, the entire lot was keyed with expectancy, for a great picture was about to roll. Director Elia Kazan was set to go. The publicity department was geared for action. Even the gaffers and grips shared in the excitement of the first day.

    The entire supporting cast of the New York production to the West Coast. There was Marlon Brando, sensation of “The Men,” Kim Hunter, Karl Malden, and –the start of the picture—Vivien Leigh.

    Everyone watched her as she came on the set. They noticed her friendliness, her slight British accent, her laughter. They noted her resemblance to Hedy Lamarr, even with the blonde wig she was wearing for the part of Blanche. There was no doubt Vivien’s appearance caused more than the usual excitement due a star. Her husband, Laurence Olivier, busy at Paramount on “Carrie,” had filled her dressing room with flowers. It was like opening night at a theater. This doesn’t often happen in Hollywood where pictures begin and end with steady monotony. But this was more than a first night; it was the triumphed return of Scarlett O’Hara after an absence of ten years.

    The memory of Scarlett lingered, like an uneasy ghost, over the Warner lot. Scarlett had been ruthless. She had been deadly—and deadly is the female. Was Vivien deadly, too? Would she be difficult to work with? Weren’t there stories, went the whispers, that she had been “hard to handle” ten years ago, “difficult” with the press, “temperamental”?

    As walked on the set, oblique glances went her way. She was tinier than most people thought she would be, ethereal and dainty. She looked like a flower, poetic as that sounds. Her face had been made to look older. Lines had been drawn in. A deep shadow of rouge gave her face an unnatural thinness. She was no longer the tempestuous Scarlett; she was the defeated and pathetic Blanche of “Streetcar.”

    The tension on the set began to ease. People looked at each other and grinned. Vivien Leigh wasn’t Scarlett after all. She was an actress.

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  • July7th

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    Forty-four years ago today, Vivien Leigh died. She was only 53 years old. To learn more about her death and funeral arrangements, visit this Vivien-Leigh.com page. Below is a tribute video created by tanguy a couple years ago that I am sure you will enjoy re-watching. Rest in Peace, Miss Leigh!

  • May14th

    3 Comments

    I’m not quite sure where or when this article was published but it looks like a modern-day series. Click the image below to see the larger version. I wonder what you, fellow fan, think about this quote from the article: “Illness stole much of her famous vitality, and worse, much of her beauty” ???

  • May2nd

    2 Comments

    Thanks to Kathleen for making me away of this little article. I find it a fascinating read… oh, to be a gardener for Larry & Vivien! Enjoy :-)

    Written by : Faith Eckershall for the DorsetEcho

    IT’S more than 60 years ago but Mike Pope can still remember the first time he clapped eyes on Vivien Leigh.

    “It was at a fete in a village near where I lived in Buckinghamshire and she looked fantastic,” he says.

    What she was wearing he can’t recall, just the face and the eyes of the woman who had become an international celebrity playing the part of Scarlett O’Hara in the world’s greatest movie, Gone With The Wind.

    At the time he first saw her, Mike, who lives with his wife, Anne, in Colehill, didn’t know he would become one of Leigh’s gardeners, taken on by her estate manager at her home in Notley Abbey, a 12th century estate which was run by her brother-in-law, Dickie Olivier.

    “After my dad died I’d had a brush with the law and I think it was decided that it might be a good idea if I had a little job,” says Mike.

    “I arrived at the Abbey and Dickie Olivier asked if I could clean out his potting shed. I did, very quickly, and he offered me a Saturday job there and then.”

    At the time Mike was 11 and the rules of working for Britain’s most prominent actor and his wife – think Posh and Becks with knobs on – were clearly spelled out.

    “We weren’t supposed to gape at them or stare if we saw them in the garden,” he says.

    But one day, working by a Tudor wall in the rose garden, he looked up to see “the lady” herself.

    “We weren’t supposed to stare but you couldn’t help it,” he says.

    “She was standing really close, holding one of those wooden trugs, secateurs in her hand and cutting roses. She looked at me and gave me this beautiful, radiant smile, almost as if all around her face was an aura or glow.”

    Vivien didn’t speak so, overcome, Mike “just kept smiling at her”.

    “What I do remember was her looking immaculate in this dress, as if she’d spent an hour putting it all on,” he says.

    Her screen image was as a spoilt Southern Belle, or an imperious queen but in real life, says Mike, Leigh was a dab hand with her roses, she designed her walled rose garden – “The head gardener said she never put a cut wrong” – and she liked to arrange all her blooms herself. White roses were her favourites.

    The Oliviers were not hunting or fishing types (“they had stables but no horses which was quite unusual”) but were devoted to their property and no expense was spared in running their country home.

    “They had a piggery and six Guernsey cows. The whole gardens existed to support the house and they took produce back to their London home; milk, cream, strawberries, raspberries, soft fruits and flowers.”

    They were especially keen on their lawn which was, says Mike, “immaculate”.

    “I wasn’t even allowed to walk on it but there was one guy who mowed it in stripes for them.”

    Sir Laurence was so keen he bought one of the brand-new Massey Ferguson mini-tractors and assembled all his land staff, and his wife, to watch the company’s demonstration of the vehicle.

    “He was about to buy every single fitment that went with it when his accountant stepped in and seemed to restrict him to one or two pieces,” chuckles Mike. Leigh, he reports, “looked a bit bored”.

    As a young boy, Mike was oblivious to much of the gossip and difficulty that was already swirling around his employers’ outwardly happy marriage. In later years he was to hear the rumours of Sir Laurence’s alleged homosexuality as well as distressing reports about Leigh’s mental health – it is now understood she suffered from bipolar disorder – and her drinking.

    Rumours of Leigh’s gargantuan sexual appetite did not reach the ears of teenage boys during the 1950s.

    But there were happier times, too.

    “I was allowed to fish in the river there,” says Mike and, if he was lucky, he got the chance to spot some of the stellar celebrities who came visiting.

    “John Gielgud, John Mills and his wife and of course, Noel Coward,” he says. The Master, as Coward was known, liked to play tennis on the Oliviers’ hard court.

    “He used to play in cream slacks, a dark shirt, a brown cravat with white polka dots and deck shoes; the finest.”

    Coward was a frequent visitor and although Mike was not around to hear it, he later heard the infamous rumour that Leigh had once barked at her husband: “Are you coming to be with me, or him?” pointing at Coward.

    He was around for what he hoped would be the most amazing visitor of all – Marilyn Monroe, who was coming to discuss her role with Olivier in The Prince and the Showgirl.

    “We’d been brushing our hair for weeks in anticipation,” he smiles. But then landed a major blow.

    “We were told by the head gardener that no one was to come up to the house while Marilyn and her husband, Arthur Miller, were staying.

    “We asked who was going to milk the cattle and remove the cowpats – the Oliviers liked it all tidied up – but they were adamant. In the end the security guards had to milk the cows by hand for two days!”

    Other visitors included the dancer Robert Helpmann and Peter Finch, with whom Leigh later had an affair. She eventually split from Olivier, who left the Abbey and married actress Joan Plowright, and Mike’s final memories of his former employer are poignant.

    He refuses to be drawn on the issue of Leigh’s reported drink problem but remembers her sitting on her hammock swing at the end of her beautiful lawn.

    “She wrote letters when she was supposed to be reading her lines and in the afternoon you’d see her servant come and take her arm to bring her in,” he says.

    “She was still beautiful but so sad.”

    Leigh’s life was overshadowed by her mental difficulties, which were much less understood 60 years ago, and by her chronic tuberculosis, which she fought to prevent from damaging her career.

    She eventually left the Abbey, which has since been bought and redecorated as an upmarket wedding venue, and Mike left too, joining the Royal Navy.

    He looks back on his time there and on Vivien Leigh with great fondness.

    “She’s had such a bad press and it’s really like kicking someone when they are down,” he says.

    “To me she was a beautiful lady and I was very happy working there.”

  • February19th

    3 Comments

    Welcome to the conclusion of VIVIEN: A Portrait in Depth, written by Alan Lloyd. I hope you’ve enjoyed the article and learned something new! And if you did learn something new, tell me about it! Or, if you have a comment about something the author said, please share. Thanks for reading!

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    In Hollywood, David O. Selznick was testing one famous actress after another for the coveted role of Scarlett O’Hara in his monumental production of Gone with the Wind. Not convinced that any of them was perfect, he eventually started filming with the part unfilled.

    Vivien judged that the time was right.

    Spectacular preparations had been made for a gigantic bonfire to represent the burning of Atlanta by night. Flying to America, she drove out to the location with Olivier and his agent, and there, at one o’clock in the morning, her hair streaming in the breeze and the flames of “Altanta” in her eyes, Vivien made her bid for the part that brought her world-wide fame.

    Once again, the duet of beauty and determination proved infallible. There were few things that couldn’t be done—with a fight.

    Laurence Olivier was less sure. He saw popularity as a limiting factor in his work. In the early days, he didn’t much like his audience. He even felt that an actor had a certain connotation of absurdity. He was liable to hunch silently over his lunch while she chatted, his thought in another world.

    “Things are apt to crowd in on one,“ he has said. “Then selfishness creeps in, and one keeps saying: I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

    But Vivien lived by the creed of “I can.”

    When Olivier, in a bleak mood, told her, “Fate doesn’t like us,” she retorted, “I’ll make it like us.” And, usually, she got her way.

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