Mark Griffin by A Hundred or More Hidden Things: The Life, Films of Vincente Minnelli Page B

other eye-catching accessories to each outfit. When Beaton was finished, the eyesores had been transformed into the last word in turn-of-the-century chic.
    Every day was a race to create a little magic while the weather, wilting trees, exasperated extras, fading light, and constrained budget got in the way—to say nothing of the Parisian notion of “coffee breaks.” According to Hank Moonjean, “The French crews have a bottle of wine at lunch. Let’s just say that things after lunch are not as good as they are before lunch.” 8
    Officials at the Department of the Seine were dumbfounded when Vincente informed them that he wanted to shoot at the Palais de Glace, the cavernous ice-skating rink. Not only did this crazy American auteur want to photograph ice in August, but he wanted to do so at the crumbling old démodé ice palace, which was anything but ready for its close-up. After Minnelli and Beaton worked their magic, however, the dilapidated relic was restored to a convincing version of its former glory.

    Actress Monique Van Vooren, whom Cecil Beaton described as “a tall blonde with a Mae West figure and a personality of equal proportions,” remembered that Minnelli spent considerable time in the Palais de Glace, although much of his work wound up on the cutting-room floor: “We had a lot of scenes in the ice-skating rink, but so much of it was cut. It’s too bad because I was a great skater. . . . I came into the production rather late. They had already cast everyone. But I think Vincente liked me very much and he agreed to put me in the picture. He was very gentle, endlessly patient, and somehow managed to observe every little detail.” 9 Except one.
    Richard Winckler, the actor originally cast as Eva Gabor’s unusually attentive ice-skating instructor, was forced off the picture when Gabor decided she preferred to be drilled by the devastatingly handsome Jacques Bergerac instead. The actor was summoned, and when he finally appeared, a new costume had to be fitted (Bergerac was taller than his predecessor). It was only after Minnelli called “Action!” that Bergerac admitted that he didn’t know how to skate.
    Several of Gigi ’s most memorable sequences were shot at the legendary Parisian eatery Maxim’s (Freed had convinced the owners to close for a few days to accommodate the shooting). In the finished film, the scenes at Maxim’s are a delirious swirl of luscious color and sparkling orchestrations—the best kind of sensory overload. One can feel Minnelli’s exhilaration as his camera swoops in and soaks up all of that art nouveau atmosphere. Beaton’s gossiping cocottes are done up like vibrantly plumed, exotic birds. Like the rest of their score, Lerner and Loewe’s “She Is Not Thinking of Me” is expertly interwoven with the dramatic content of the scene. As Gaston fumes over the inattentiveness of his lady love, his witty interior monologue is heard on the soundtrack: “In her eyes tonight, there’s a glow tonight, they’re so bright they could light Fontainbleau tonight. . . . She is not thinking of me.”
    As Maurice Chevalier and Eva Gabor glide by in their giddy waltz, it’s hard to believe that the effervescent joie de vivre displayed on screen is the ultimate grand illusion. For shooting in the restaurant’s cramped quarters and in such sweltering heat that even the walls were perspiring was a living hell. “All I can remember is that it was so damned hot in that Maxim’s,” says Hank Moonjean. “ It was so damned hot . Everyone’s make-up is going and all the actors are in heavy period costumes and it was congested. It was a miserable, miserable shoot, and of course, Minnelli would be going up to take 30, take 35 . . . take 40. And the extras were getting tired. Everyone was just anxious to get the hell out of there.” Temperatures soared and tempers flared. “I saw Arthur Freed and Minnelli go at it . . . you know, like they’re
going to kill each other any minute,”