Lauren Bacall - By Myself and Then Some

The Cesar was presented to me by Alain Delon. I accepted in French – speaking quite well, though nervously. The audience cheered me and I felt good, though I am never comfortable with that kind of reception. There was plenty of press but I do not recall a red carpet.

It’s a funny thing about a red carpet, it has a place and life of its own. There is one at each of the award events in California – SAG, Golden Globe, etc. It is of varying length depending on the venue. Thinking of the many years I have walked that walk, I realize the more I walk it, the larger my hips – until one day they will pass the width of the carpet which tends to narrow anyway with the budget – and incidentally was quite short and turned to pink at the last Tribeca Film Festival. Yikes! What has happened to my world? Can we never preserve those special traditions?! It’s the economy, stupid. I guess.

So the nomination came and went and I survived. Then, one day, later that year, I was opening my mail. I get an enormous amount of junk mail – announcements of openings – people from all over wanting time or donations. I don’t expect too much when I’m opening the mail so I do it, letter opener in hand, quickly. I have been known on rare occasions to toss an envelope out leaving the letter in. Anyway, this morning I was about done with that day’s offering – a few more envelopes left. Slit went the opener, out came the inside, I opened it to the following:

August 27, 1997

Dear Ms. Bacall:

This December we will celebrate the 20th annual Kennedy Center Honors. On behalf of the Kennedy Center Trustees and our national Artists Committee, I am writing to invite you to receive the Kennedy Center Honors in recognition of your extraordinary contributions to the life of our country. The Honors are presented annually to individuals who have enriched American life by distinguished achievement in the performing arts. The primary criterion is excellence.

The letter continued with details of the weekend’s events – December 6th and 7th. They requested confidentiality until George Stevens, Jr announced the honorees. The letter was signed, ‘Jim Johnson, Chairman of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.’

It took a while for the shock to wear off. I could not believe it. As for the flattery, never in my wildest dreams could I ever envision such accolades being applied to me. It didn’t sink in. I checked the envelope – Kennedy Center Washington – I reread the note. I still couldn’t believe it. My God – that was completely unexpected. But so thrilling. I needed someone badly at that moment to share this with. My first three calls were of course to my children. My pal, Jean Kennedy Smith, who had known but had never said a word to me, was very happy when I called her. Now that was a very happy moment and a real surprise. And on the night you don’t have to do a thing. Just sit there and be praised.

The state dinner on Saturday night is great fun. There is one person who delivers a toast for each honoree. My toastmaster was the wonderful Peter Stone, playwright and close friend of many years. He shone brightly that night. It was a marvelous weekend: a White House reception, a presentation of the medal by the President. It doesn’t matter what side of the political spectrum you are on, entering the White House, seeing the portraits of the Presidents on the walls, climbing the staircase, the U.S. Marine Band Combo playing, meeting Senators you don’t like much politically and finding them rather likeable – it’s an absolutely unpolitical weekend – and it is somewhat awe-making and truly exciting. And nervous-making.

Bob Dylan was also a nominee. He does not like crowds – feels very uneasy in the midst of ceremonies like this one. We had met in Sydney in 1986 when I was playing in Sweet Bird of Youth and he was giving a few concerts. He gave me tickets to his event and I gave him tickets for mine. I was totally thrilled to meet him, and Colin Friels, who was the leading man in Sweet Bird , was beyond excited. To attend a concert, much less sit with Dylan after a concert, was something he had only dreamed of – that, of course, made it even more fun for me. Dylan and I got along very well – supped after our shows and had fun. Apart from once at another of his concerts, we hadn’t seen one another since that time. Of course I loved seeing him under these circumstances. I hugged him, introduced him to my children – all totally thrilled to meet him. And why not? It was a weekend to remember.

The Kennedy Center Honors must rank as the highest that it is possible to receive in the arts in the United States. The thrill for me was to be in the company of Bob Dylan, Edward Villela and Jessye Norman and, on the night of the gala itself, to be on the stage of the Kennedy Center Opera House, to see once more the incredible contribution each has made over a period of years and to share the honor with the Kennedy family who were present – Senator Edward Kennedy, who never fails to demonstrate his friendship for me on every special occasion in my professional life, my pal Jean Kennedy Smith, Eunice K, Sarge Shriver and Pat Lawford – I’m crazy about them all. They are all unique personalities and after friendships that began almost fifty years ago, our affection for one another remains the same whether we live in the same city or not, see each other very often or not. My face still lights up at the sight of them.

S o with enormous gratitude, the work continued. I learned a few things during that year of 1996–1997 – that just like when I began in the theatre at age seventeen, it all was important to me, I needed to accomplish my goal, I needed to prove to myself that I was an actress, a good one. And I wanted the approval of my peers. The vulnerability of my being had never left me and clearly never would. As long as I continued to work and get better, good parts with good people would come my way again. I have taken some chances — acted in a French movie speaking French, no less. That was something — talk about nerves!

The French movie was titled Le Jour et la Nuit (Day and Night). Written and directed by Bernard Henri-Levy — a brilliant and highly respected writer, journalist, philosopher — everything. This was to be his first full-length feature film. He came to New York to convince me to be in it. I said that I could speak French well enough to get along socially but to act in France with Alain Delon, Bernard’s wife, the lovely, lovely Arielle Dombasle, and others was quite a different thing. It would terrify me. I have spent enough time with my French friends to know that when they converse with one another the words flow so quickly that I am lost. So acting in French — I would miss all the nuances.

On the other hand, I’d always wanted to be in a French film, being such a Francophile. And to work in Paris — heaven. In addition, Bernard Henri-Levy convinced me he would have a coach who would help me with the dialogue, the scenes etc., and he himself would make sure I understood the scene before we shot it. He was very persuasive. So I said, ‘Yes.’ And guess what? The wardrobe was done in Paris — the movie was shot in Mexico. So not only did I have a problem acting French but also communicating in Spanish. A nightmare. The crew was adorable, though. I remembered the Mexican crew in Treasure of the Sierra Madre where Bogie and I spent eight weeks. They are the sweetest people on earth — smiling — happy — but not speedy. Alain, Arielle and the rest of the cast were charming. We each would have villas in Gueravaca and suites in Ziwataneyhu by the sea. Bernard Henri-Levy and his team were excellent but with its being B.H.L.’s first foray into the movie world, he didn’t have as much time as he expected to focus on my French. We got through it miraculously. It was not the best nor far from the worst movie ever made. Again, it was the people, the experiences, but the glaring reality is that when it comes to acting, I’d better stick to English!