‘And this line,’ he continued: ‘“May the Lord have mercy on your soul.” And Verdoux says: “Why not? After all it belongs to Him.” ’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ I asked.
He repeated laconically: ‘“Why not!” You don’t talk to a priest like that.’
‘That line is said introspectively. You must wait until you see the film,’ I said.
‘You impugn society and the whole state,’ he said.
‘Well, after all, the state and society are not Simon pure, and criticism of them is not inadmissible, surely?’
With one or two other minor changes the script was eventually passed. And in all justice to Mr Breen a lot of his criticism was constructive. Said he wistfully: ‘Don’t make the girl another prostitute. Almost every script in Hollywood has a prostitute.’
I must confess I felt embarrassed. However, I promised not to stress the fact.
When the film was finished, it was shown to about twenty or thirty members of the Legion of Decency, representatives of the censors and religious groups of various denominations. I have never felt so lonely as I did on that occasion. However, when the picture was over and the lights went up, Breen turned to the rest. ‘I think it’s all right… let it go!’ he said abruptly.
There was silence; then someone said: ‘Well, it’s okay by me, there’s no cleavage.’ The others were glum.
Breen with a wry face, addressing the others, made a sweeping gesture. ‘It’s okay – we can let it go, eh?’
There was little response; some nodded reluctantly. Breen quickly swept aside any objections they might have had, and, patting me on the back, said: ‘All right, Charlie, go ahead and roll them’ – meaning, ‘Print your positive film’.
I was a little bewildered by their acceptance of the picture, considering that in the beginning they had wanted it completely banned. I was suspicious of this sweeping approval. Would they use other means?
*
While re-editing Verdoux, I received a telephone message from a United States marshal, saying that he had a summons for me to appear in Washington before the Committee on Un-American Activities. There were nineteen of us summoned.
Senator Pepper of Florida was in Los Angeles at the time, and it was suggested that we meet with the Senator for advice. I did not go, because my situation was different: I was not an American citizen. At that meeting everyone agreed to stand on their Constitutional rights if called to Washington. (Those who stood on them went to jail for a year for contempt of court.)
The summons stated that I would be notified within ten days of my actual appearance in Washington; but, soon after, a telegram arrived stating that my appearance had been postponed for another ten days.
After the third postponement I sent them a telegram stating that I had a large organization suspended, causing me considerable expense, and that since their committee had recently been in Hollywood interrogating my friend Hanns Eisler, they could have interrogated me at the same time and saved the public money. ‘However,’ I concluded, ‘for your convenience I will tell you what I think you want to know. I am not a Communist, neither have I ever joined any political party or organization in my life. I am what you call “a peace-monger”. I hope this will not offend you. So please state definitely when I am to be called to Washington. Yours truly, Charles Chaplin.’
I received a surprisingly courteous reply to the effect that my appearance would not be necessary, and that I could consider the matter closed.
twenty-nine
DURING all my personal problems, I had not given much attention to the business of United Artists. Now my lawyer warned me that the company was $1,000,000 in the red. In its prosperous days it had grossed between $40,000,000 and $50,000,000 a year, yet I do not remember receiving more than two dividends from it. During the peak of this prosperity, United artists had acquired twenty-five per cent equity in four hundred English theatres without paying a penny for them. I am not sure how we acquired them. I believe they were given to us in exchange for guaranteeing them film products. Other American film companies acquired large amounts of stock in British cinemas the same way. At one time our equity in the Rank organization was worth $10,000,000.
But one by one the United Artists stockholders sold their shares back to the company, and in paying for them the company till was almost depleted. In this way I suddenly found myself a half-owner in a United Artists that was $1,000,000 in debt, with Mary Pickford as my partner. She wrote expressing alarm at the fact that all the banks had refused to give us further credit. I was not too concerned, because we had been in debt before and a successful picture had always pulled us out. Besides, I had just completed Monsieur Verdoux, which I expected to be a tremendous box-office success. My representative, Arthur Kelly, prognosticated a gross of at least $12,000,000. If this were true, it would pay off the company’s debt and give it $1,000,000 profit besides.
In Hollywood I had a private showing for my friends. At the conclusion Thomas Mann, Lion Feuchtwanger and several others stood up and applauded for over a minute.
With confidence I embarked for New York. But on my arrival I was immediately attacked by the Daily News:
Chaplin’s in town for the opening of his picture. After his exploits as a ‘fellow traveller’, I dare him to show his face at a Press conference, for I shall be there to ask him one or two embarrassing questions.
The publicity staff of United Artists deliberated whether it was advisable for me to meet the American Press. I was indignant, because I had already met the foreign Press the morning before, and they had given me a warm, enthusiastic welcome. Besides, I am not one to be brow-beaten.
The following morning we reserved a large room in the hotel
