My Lunches with Orson Read Free Page A

Hotel. But you musn’t go to him without a script. He hates that. And you don’t have a script.”
    Welles was an intimidating presence with an imperious manner, a slashing wit, and a reputation for not suffering fools. Jaglom was no fool, but he didn’t have a clue how he was going to persuade the great man to join his cast. Undeterred, he flew to New York and went up to his hotel room. Welles opened the door wearing purple silk pajamas. Jaglom remembers, “He looked like this huge grape.” Welles demanded, “What do you want?” in an unwelcoming way.
    â€œI’m Henry Jaglom.”
    â€œYes, but does that tell me what you want?”
    â€œIt should, if Peter Bogdanovich has spoken to you.”
    â€œPeter speaks to me often.”
    â€œThe reason I’m here is because I’m making a film for Bert Schneider who Peter is making a film for. Which I arranged.”
    â€œI know who Bert Schneider is.”
    â€œPeter is making The Last Picture Show —”
    â€œYes, good for him.”
    â€œAnd I want to make my film, A Safe Place. With you in it.”
    â€œWhere’s the script?”
    â€œI don’t have a script.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause if you’re going to be in it, it’s going to be completely different than if somebody else is going to be in it.”
    â€œNo script? No interest.”
    â€œYour character is a magician.”
    â€œA magician? I’m a magician. An amateur magician, of course. But I don’t do first scripts by first-time directors.”
    â€œWhat do you mean you don’t do them? Citizen Kane was your first script.”
    â€œDid you really say ‘A magician’?”
    â€œYeah. And I think I want him with a little Jewish accent. I know you go to lunch in London at that Jewish restaurant all the time. There are rumors that you think you’re Jewish—”
    â€œI am Jewish. Dr. Bernstein was probably my real father.” He thought for a moment and then said, “Can I wear a cape?”
    â€œSure, wear a cape.”
    â€œOK, I’ll do it.”
    Needless to say, the old-timers on the set, which meant most of the crew, looked askance at the young director, whose hair was gathered in a long pony tail and whose feet were squeezed into white Capezio dancing shoes. The second day of shooting, they all turned up wearing American flag lapel pins. (This was, after all, 1971, the middle of the Vietnam war.) During a lunch break, Jaglom was sitting with Schneider, Nicholson, and Weld. Welles joined them, saying, “You’re the arrogant kid who pushed me into this. How’s your arrogance doing?”
    â€œNot very well. The crew hates me. They’re totally negative. Everything I tell them to shoot, they say, ‘It won’t cut,’ or ‘it’s not in the script.’ I have to fight to get every single shot. I’m exhausted.”
    â€œOh, my God, I should have prepared you. Tell ’em it’s a dream sequence.”

    Jaglom talked a reluctant Welles into appearing in A Safe Place , his first film. Here, he directs Welles and Tuesday Weld in Central Park, c. 1971.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œJust do as I tell you. Trust me. You trusted me enough to hire me. Do it.” After lunch, they returned to the set. Jaglom had mapped out an intricate shot. The cameraman said, “Can’t do it.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt won’t cut.”
    â€œIt’s a dream sequence.”
    â€œA dream sequence? Why didn’t you say so? I’ll get on my back and do it like this. It will be psychedelic.” Jaglom went to Welles that night, and said, “What the fuck is this? Everything I want to do, I say, ‘Dream sequence,’ and they’re pussycats.”
    â€œYou have to understand, these are people who work hard for a living. They have tough lives. Structured lives. They work all day, then they have dinner, put