I went into a deep depression. Jorja was doing an occasional television show, but not nearly enough to cover our expenses. I had not been concerned about money for a long time, but now I had a wife to support and the situation was different. The longer I was out of work, the more pressure I was under. The weeks were dragging by and there were no job offers.
Natalie would have said, “Hollywood doesn’t know talent when they see it.”
William Goldman said it differently: “Nobody in Hollywood knows anything . . .”
Clark Gable was turned down by MGM, Fox, and Warner Brothers.
Darryl Zanuck said, “His ears are too big. He looks like an ape.”
Cary Grant was rejected by several studios. “His neck is too thick.”
Of Fred Astaire, a casting director said, “He can’t act, can’t sing, he can dance a little.”
Deanna Durbin was fired from MGM and went to Universal the same day Judy Garland was fired from Universal and went to MGM. Each of them made fortunes for their new studio.
When a network executive saw Star Trek, his only comment was, “Get rid of the idiot with the pointed ears.”
A studio chief tried to sell High Noon because he thought it was a disaster. No one wanted it. It became the most successful picture United Artists ever made.
Y. Frank Freeman, at Paramount, thought Shane with Alan Ladd would be a flop. He tried to sell it to other studios. They all turned it down. The picture became a classic.
When the phone finally did ring, it was Judy Garland.
“Sidney, I’m going to do a remake of A Star Is Born and I want you to write the screenplay.”
My heart was jumping, but I tried to sound cool.
“That’s wonderful, Judy, I’d love to do it.” I hesitated a moment and added, “I just directed a picture with Cary Grant, you know. I’d like to direct you in A Star Is Born.”
“That would be interesting,” Judy said.
I was elated. This was going to make up for the debacle of Dream Wife. I called my agent.
“Judy Garland wants me to write and direct A Star Is Born. Let’s make the deal.”
“That’s good news.”
I started planning what I was going to do with the screenplay. A Star Is Born was a classic movie that had been made years earlier with Fredric March and Janet Gaynor.
Two days later, when I had not heard from my agent, I called him.
“Did you close the deal?”
There was a silence, and then he said, “There is no deal. Judy’s husband, Sid Luft, just signed Moss Hart to write the screenplay and George Cukor to direct the picture.”
A writer has an advantage over an actor or director. In order for actors and directors to work, someone has to hire them. But a writer can work anytime anywhere, writing on speculation. There is one important caveat: he or she has to have the confidence to believe that someone is going to buy a story. I had lost that confidence. Hollywood was full of working writers, but I was not one of them. No one wanted me.
Jorja tried to console me. “You’ve done some great things, you’ll do them again. You’re a wonderful writer.”
But belief in oneself can’t be instilled by others. I was paralyzed, unable to write. Hollywood was full of stories of careers that had gone sour. Emotionally, I was at a dead end. I had no idea how much longer I could hold out.
On July 30, 1953, four months after the Hollywood Reporter’s and Variety’s negative reviews, Dream Wife opened wide around the country. There had been no publicity about the movie and no star appearances and no attempt to find bookings for the picture.
We’re just going to let it die.
The national reviews started to come out and I was stunned.
Bosley Crowther of the New York Times: “As gay a movie mix-up as the summer is likely to bring . . . Nicely escorted to the screen with just the right amount of unmistakable winking under Mr. Sheldon’s directorial command.”
Time magazine: “A merry little barbeque of Adam’s Rib.”