I Blame Dennis Hopper by Illeana Douglas Page A

and for that I will be forever grateful. Being There permanently shifted my view of movies from outsider to insider. Before, I had been on the outside looking in at a movie. Now I was going behind the curtain, inside the movie looking out . I would never be the same.
    When I was growing up, my grandparents’ rambling apartment, at 77th Street and Riverside Drive in New York City, with its servants and maids, was a stark contrast to life at The Studio with its goats and hippies. The guest room had a double bed and a view of Frank Sinatra’s yacht on the Hudson River. There was also a friendly doorman to hail you a cab or help you with your groceries. Your fingers never even came close to a door of any kind. It was always opened for you. We dressed for dinner. My grandfather would ring a bell and food would be served. Ring another bell and it would be taken away. I couldn’t believe people lived this way … and that I didn’t!
    Staying with my grandfather, I learned the concept of ordering food for delivery. I would watch in amazement as he would call a place named Zabar’s—which sounded magical—and tell them what he wanted: eggs, bread, coffee, etc., and then a man would deliver it! Sometimes my grandfather would give me a piece of paper with just his signature on it, and I would walk around the corner to Zabar’s, show someone there the piece of paper, and a nice man would help me get whatever I’d asked for.
    â€œWhat else for you?”
    â€œUm … Häagen-Dazs?”
    â€œWhat else?”
    I loved this guy! He’d pinch my cheek, and there would be no bill. They’d just put it on the account: Melvyn Douglas. When I was a starving actress I would wander into Zabar’s for a bagel and a coffee, and let me tell you, I did not get the same treatment. I remember overhearing my grandfather on the phone after one of my shopping trips, ordering from Zabar’s.
    â€œYes, and also some Häagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream … for my granddaughter, yes.” And he would wink at me, because he had become addicted to it, too, thanks to my having sneaked it into the basket. I especially loved going to Zabar’s when we’d go together. My grandfather and I would walk down the aisles while folks nudged each other and whispered, “That’s Melvyn Douglas.” Everyone was so friendly. So helpful! The same thing happened at the candy store. Always free samples of chocolate-covered cherries for Melvyn Douglas and his granddaughter. He would take me to a Broadway show and afterward we would eat at a showbiz restaurant called Sardi’s. Everyone was so friendly. So helpful! Actors stopped by the table to say hello. Waiters were constantly making sure everything was all right, bringing more and more food that was “on the house.” I could never finish anything, because the portions were huge. Years later, the first time I had some money in my pocket, I invited someone to go to Sardi’s, promising them huge portions. The meal came and everything was regular size, and I was so disappointed. I wanted “Melvyn Douglas size.”
    As I got older, my grandfather started telling me more about the movies he was going to be shooting. He would act out the entire story, playing all the parts. I remember him acting out the movie The Tenant, and the way he told it was actually scarier than the film. He described something that happened on the set that was equally chilling. He was shooting a climactic scene with Roman Polanski—the tenant—after Polanski tries to commit suicide by jumping out a window. It required Polanski to be covered in stage blood. After each take, Polanski would ask for more blood. After numerous takes Polanski and the set were covered in blood, but he was still dissatisfied, and kept insisting they needed more. My grandfather described an eerie feeling that descended upon the set, as Polanski, drenched in blood, kept