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Candidates for the National Film Registry: From Here to Eternity

Introduction by Judi Hoffman

(Remarks delivered Friday, June 29, 1998, Mary Pickford Theater, Library of Congress)

James Jones based his first novel in 1951, From Here to Eternity, on his own military experience as a World War II veteran, and created a scathing portrait of peacetime military life in the U.S. army in the months before Pearl Harbor. Although Jones' novel became a best-seller and winner of the National Book Award, movie studios were, perhaps understandably, a bit concerned about the chances of turning the violent and sexual 860-page story into a motion picture that could be accepted by both the Army and the Production Code censors in the Breen Office. Warner Bros. and 20th Century-Fox did attempt initial treatments of the book, only to finally dismiss it as unfilmable because of excessive profanity, sexual situations, and unflattering views of the military. When Harry Cohn, president of Columbia Pictures, bought the film rights to the novel for $82,000, the project became known as "Cohn's folly." Cohn, for those of you not familiar with the movie mogul, had a reputation built on aggressive, rude, and tyrannical behavior. Director Fred Zinnemann referred to Cohn as "a robber baron, predatory and cunning," and admitted to initially disliking Cohn so much that he asked his agent to get him off the film.

Cohn rejected several writers' treatments of the novel--including one by Jones himself--before accepting a screenplay by Daniel Taradash that managed to retain the spirit of the novel and appease the Breen Office censors by getting rid of the novel's profanity and its frank portrayal of prostitution. The character of Lorene was changed from a prostitute in a brothel to a "hostess" at a social club (although, as you will soon see, the film left little doubt in the mind of the viewer as to what that hostessing entailed). The screenplay also dropped the novel's references to male prostitution on the part of Maggio and Prewitt.

To get the Army's crucial approval and technical support, two additional changes were made in the transition from book to movie: none of the brutal treatment inside the Stockade would be shown, and the novel's sarcastic promotion of an unethical officer was changed to a forced resignation. While Zinnemann thought the first imposed change was actually an improvement, he hated the Army's second condition. "It led to the worst moment in the film, resembling a recruiting short," he said, "It makes me sick every time I see it."

According to Zinnemann, it was writer Taradash and producer Buddy Adler who convinced Cohn to hire the up-and-coming director. He and Cohn clashed immediately. In a passage from his autobiography, Zinnemann relates their first furious argument on the day the two men met, when the director voiced his discomfort with Cohn's top choices for the lead character of Prewitt; John Derek or Aldo Ray:

"Cohn asked, 'Who is it you want?' 'Montgomery Clift.' That was when Cohn became very angry indeed. The sense of his tirade was that this was an idiotic suggestion. Clift was wrong for the part of Prewitt... He was no soldier and no boxer and probably a homosexual, said Cohn... I wanted Clift because this story was not about a fellow who didn't want to box: it was about the human spirit refusing to be broken, about a man who resists all sorts of pressure from an institution he loves, who becomes an outsider... It was quite clear to me, if difficult to explain, what Clift would make of that character."

Zinnemann had directed Clift in his first lead movie role, 1948's The Search, and was adamant in his choice of Clift for From Here to Eternity. The director claims to have given Cohn an ultimatum and left the studio exec screaming... but Cohn delivered a script to Clift the following day, and hired the actor for $150,000.

Backing the casting of Clift as Prewitt was James Jones, whom Clift had met at a New York City literary party. The two men became drinking buddies, and some sources claim Jones suggested the casting of Clift before Zinnemann was even hired. Jones would later remark, "All my girlfriends said Monty Clift acted just like me in From Here to Eternity."

The other major casting decisions also have their own interesting stories and myths; it appears that only Burt Lancaster was a clear and unanimous choice for the role of Sergeant Warden. In fact, Frank Sinatra--who would go on to win an Oscar for his performance as Maggio--had to fight and plead for the role, after first choice Eli Wallach backed out. Sinatra's marriage to Ava Gardner was in trouble, his career was in a slump, and throat problems made him fear his singing days were over. As the story goes, Sinatra heard about From Here to Eternity and, knowing he would be perfect as the Italian private, bombarded Cohn, Zinnemann, and Adler with pleading telegrams signed "Maggio." At the time, Sinatra was with Gardner in Nairobi where she was filming Mogambo, but he reportedly flew back to Hollywood on his own dime when the notoriously cheap Cohn relented enough to allow a screen test. Rumor has it that Sinatra offered to play the role for free, or even pay Cohn for the opportunity, and Gardner called Cohn from Africa with a last-minute plea on behalf of her estranged husband. My favorite myth has it that Sinatra got the part because of his mob connections; a wild rumor that supposedly inspired the famous horse head scene in the movie The Godfather! In reply to that story, Zinnemann states in his autobiography, one would assume tongue-in-cheek, that "At no time were horses' heads involved in the casting decision. The author of The Godfather was using poetic license." Whatever the real story, Sinatra managed to win the role of Maggio for a paltry salary of $8000, and then turned in arguably the best acting performance of his career, one that was uniformly praised and awarded an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor of 1953.

If you can imagine this, the first actress signed to play the part of Karen, the adulterous captain's wife, was Joan Crawford! Legend has it that she quit because she hated the costumes, but it is more likely that she differed with the production team over the direction of her character or her lack of top billing. Cohn was reportedly considering Jennifer Jones or Joan Fontaine, when agent Bert Allenberg phoned with a novel suggestion: "What about Deborah Kerr?" According to Zinnemann, he, Adler, and Taradash thought such casting against type was a brilliant idea, and Cohn didn't need persuading because he "could see the showmanship in it." Other accounts, however, have Cohn reacting in typical belligerent manner to what he thought was an incredibly stupid idea until the others managed to talk him into signing the previously ladylike Kerr.

Zinnemann couldn't win all the casting battles, however, and he knew it. So, when Cohn insisted on a Columbia contract player for the part of Lorene the social "hostess," the director went along with Cohn's choice of Donna Reed, a surprising bit of reverse type-casting on the part of the studio exec, considering that Reed was probably best known for her role as the goody-goody wife in It's a Wonderful Life. Zinnemann's top pick for the part was said to have been Julie Christie, whom Cohn reportedly thought was not attractive enough.

From Here to Eternity was filmed in only 41 days, from early March to May, 1953, at the Columbia studio in Hollywood and on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. Having gained the cooperation of the Army, Zinnemann shot much of the film on location at Schofield Barracks in Honolulu and used military police sergeant Bill Mullen as technical advisor. Army surplus stores around the country were searched to provide enough pre-Pearl Harbor rifles, canvas leggings, and flat helmets for the large cast. Real soldiers, who had to be trained in handling the antiquated rifles, played extras. Another bit of casting trivia: author James Jones played an uncredited bit character. If anyone knows what Jones looks like, see if you can spot him! The movie was budgeted at around two million dollars, making it one of the costliest films of the year.

In addition to the army barracks, other location scenes were shot in Hawaii, notably the famous beach scene between swimsuited Lancaster and Kerr, shot near Diamond Head. Even if you've never seen the movie, chances are you've seen shots of what has become one of cinema's most well-known moments. According to Zinnemann in his 1992 autobiography:

"That scene, regarded as sensational and extremely provocative a mere 25 years ago, seems harmless and friendly by today's standards. Although it was shot very much as written, the movie censors, who knew the script by heart, nevertheless insisted on deleting four seconds of it. In later years I found that even more had been snipped out by theater projectionists, as a souvenir no doubt. For many years the tourist buses used to stop outinely at this point on the Hawaiian shore to let people admire 'the spot where Burt and Deborah made love in the waves.' It is a curious contribution we have made to popular culture."

During shooting, Clift intensely threw himself into preparation for playing Prewitt, as he was known to do with all his characters. As Cohn had remarked, the actor initially knew nothing about boxing, bugling, or soldiering. Monty insisted on long bugle training sessions with Manny Kline, even though he knew any playing he did in the film would be dubbed, because he felt it was important to get his throat and mouth movements just right. He drilled with fellow cast member and real-life WWII sergeant Claude Akins, and asked endless questions on soldiering techniques. Similarly, he studied boxing with former junior welterweight champion Mushy Callahan, and even boxed with author James Jones, a former Golden Gloves contender. Whether or not Clift succeeded at portraying a good boxer, however, is up for interpretation: one Academy Awards history claims that cinematographer Burnett Guffy and editor Bill Lyon were asked to cover-up Clift's boxing inability; tasks that may have helped both men win an Oscar. Even a Clift biographer admitted that the actor's greatest liability in the film was "his tendency to punch like a girl."

Remarking years later on Clift's obsession with his role, Zinnemann said: "For many months after the end of filming, Monty continued to be possessed by his own creation--Private Prewitt. He was quite unable to get out of that character. By his intensity he forced the other actors to come up to his standard of performance."

Clift was also, for the first time on a movie set, openly drinking, and drinking heavily. In fact, Clift, Sinatra (who was one of Monty's favorite singers), and Jones struck up a fast friendship during filming, mostly centered on drinking and talking until all hours of the night. In Patricia Bosworth's biography of Clift, she quotes a press agent who described the unlikely group of friends as "a motley trio." Jones described their evenings simply: "We'd talk about the injustice of life and love, and then Monty and I would listen to Frank talk about Ava Gardner." According to Jones, Sinatra was so depressed over his failing marriage one night that he threatened suicide, and it was Clift who talked him out of it.

From Here to Eternity wrapped on time, and Cohn decided to use a new electronic monitoring system for the previews. Luckily, there was little or no change needed after the positive responses they received, because Cohn apparently declared that the movie would open at Broadway's Capitol Theater in August--August 5th, to be exact. To use Zinnemann's words, the production crew "thought that Cohn had gone mad." There was no air-conditioning in the theater, and, according to the director, no one had ever thought of releasing a major film in mid-summer. They made the date, however, and Zinnemann recounts in his autobiography an interesting story of opening night:

"I was in Los Angeles when the picture opened on Broadway, on a sweltering August night. No premiere, no limousines, nothing. At 9pm, Marlene Dietrich (whom I hardly knew) called from New York and said that it was midnight there but the Capitol Theater was bulging, people were still standing around the block and there was an extra performance starting at one in the morning! I said, 'How is that possible? There has been no publicity.' 'They smell it,' she said."

The movie was uniformly well-received by critics and a hit at the box office, bringing in something like 17 million its first few months. Variety declared it "an outstanding motion picture in this smash screen adaptation... an important film from any angle, presenting socko entertainment for big business... raw, tough dramatic stuff of great entertainment pull for adult ticket buyers," with "a cast seemingly so perfect for the roles it would be hard to imagine anyone else playing the characters." The New York Times found it "a film almost as towering and persuasive as its source," and stated that "as a job of editing, emending, re-arranging, and purifying a volume bristling with brutality and obscenities, From Here to Eternity stands as a shining example of truly professional moviemaking." The film received a record-setting 13 Academy Award nominations, including, as Zinnemann put it, "an incredible one for costumes, which consisted largely of uniforms and a bikini for Deborah." All five major cast members were nominated, as well as director Zinnemann, cinematographer Burnett Guffey, writer Taradash, editor William Lyon, composers George Duning and Morris Stoloff, and the movie itself. On Oscar night, From Here to Eternity took home eight awards: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Black and White Cinematography, Best Screenplay, Best Film Editing, Best Sound Recording, and Best Supporting Actor, Frank Sinatra, and Best Supporting Actress, Donna Reed. Kerr lost to Audrey Hepburn for Best Actress, and Clift and Lancaster, both nominated in the Best Acto category, likely split the From Here to Eternity vote and lost to William Holden. This was Clift's third of four career Oscar nominations, all of which he would lose. According to his biographers, Clift was, for the first time in his life, very upset about not winning He reportedly exclaimed to New York movie critic Howard Thompson, "What do I have to do to prove I can act?"

I hope you'll agree after tonight's screening that From Here to Eternity certainly proved that Clift, and the rest of the talented cast, could act, in case you had any doubts! Now I will shut up and let the film roll -- the Best Picture of 1953, From Here to Eternity.