The Books: “The Making of the African Queen: Or How I Went to Africa With Bogart, Bacall and Huston and Almost Lost My Mind” (Katharine Hepburn)

Daily Book Excerpt: Entertainment Biography/Memoir:

The Making of the African Queen: Or How I Went to Africa With Bogart, Bacall and Huston and Almost Lost My Mind, by Katharine Hepburn

This isn’t strictly a biography and really should be catalogued in what I call my “Making Of” section – where I have books about the “making of” this or that movie But oh well – I wanted to keep Hepburn’s books all together. This book is hysterical. So much fun. If you love African Queen, you must read it! Written in Hepburn’s choppy sometimes silly style – almost breathless – she takes us through every step of the filming of that movie. It was ground-breaking at the time. If you think about it, African Queen COULD have been filmed in America … in the same way that Gunga Din, which takes place in Afghanistan and India, was filmed in America. Most of the action takes place on the boat … do a little rear projection of a river … pop in some shots of a jungle … and there you are in Africa. But John Huston loved to go on location. He was an easily-bored adventurer, and loved to set himself sometimes insurmountable challenges. He also loved to hunt big game. So Africa was where the entire cast and crew went. The location was mainly in what was then known as “The Belgian Congo” – on the Ruiki River outside Ponthierville. It was a wild west type situation. There was nothing set up for them, no studio, no accommodations – they had to figure it out as they went. The best part of the whole shoot is that in order to get to the location, every day the cast and crew had to take a barge down the river (in the same way that Charlie Allnut and Rose Sayer had to travel down the river). Hepburn learned very early on that she needed to take care of herself. There was no studio there, no “handlers” … She became her own dressmaker, her own hairdresser (the dampness of the air wreaked havoc with her hair, she had to figure out herself what to do with it) … As the only woman on the set, she also had to figure out her own dressing situation. There were no dressing rooms. There wasn’t even a mirror. So Kate found a full-length mirror in one of the huts they were staying in, and every day – when they would all trek down the river – she would carry that mirror, in the barge, to set up in the jungle … so she could deal with her costume, her hair, whatever she needed. This is one of my favorite photographs of Katharine Hepburn ever:

Ah, the glamour of Hollywood.

Hepburn did not know Bogie very well at the time, and didn’t know Lauren Bacall at all (who came along for the entire shoot) … but they became best friends over the course of the shooting. There’s a very funny story of Hepburn and Bacall strolling into one of the huts, on their first day in Africa, and then coming running out screaming at the top of their lungs because the place was overrun by red ants. The bugs were an issue. On her first night there, Bacall walked into the bathroom and saw a huge scorpio on the wall. She freaked OUT. Bogart came in and killed it and then gave her a very stern talking-to (this is in one of Bacall’s autobiographies). Basically saying, “Baby, (his pet name for her) this can’t go on. We’re in Africa and there are going to be huge bugs. No more screaming. Suck it up.” Bacall sucked it up. There are photos of her, in her pajamas, sitting and having coffee with Bogart on the porch of their tiny hut – and she looks cool and glamorous and like she belongs in Africa. She saw many huge bugs, and never screamed about one again. Hepburn tells a great story about feeling like she had to throw up and running to the latrine, only to find a huge black snake curled around the port-a-potty toilet. You know, it was insane. And in the middle of all this insanity, they had to film a movie.

Hepburn tells great stories about John Huston (one of my favorites which is in the excerpt below), and how he seemed to be in it for the experience, not just for the making of the movie. This drove Hepburn a little bit batty, because she wanted to have script conferences, and guidance from her director. Huston didn’t really work that way – but as you can see (in the excerpt below) it’s not because he wasn’t focused on the details. He was more focused on the details than anyone on that set – even Hepburn – and when he honed in and told her what he wanted from her in the part … well, she basically could do no wrong after that. Just do what he said. Appearances can be deceiving. Huston was a big brash crazy man, who stayed up all night, drinking, gambling … but when it came time to make decisions for the film, he had a laser-sharp focus. It took Hepburn a bit of time to realize that. She was frustrated with him putting her off, and not wanting to chat with her … but, as you can see, he was up to something else. He said one or two key things … and then just left it to percolate with Hepburn, knowing that her talent would do the rest. That is the mark of a great actor’s director. Don’t say too much, goddammit.

Bogart hated Africa. He rolled his eyes at Huston’s passion for this experience. He wanted to be home in California. He missed his boat (Bogart was a committed sailor). He missed … civilization, frankly. He basically endured the shoot – which is so amazing when you see the end results. He looks like he was born in Africa. Charlie Allnut looks and acts like a native. But Bogart hated adventure, hated getting dirty, hated not having amenities … He was a crank. Hepburn loved him.

Her book is indispensable. She knew she was having an experience of a lifetime, and so when she was asked to put her thoughts into book-form, she leapt at the chance. Her memories – of standing in the tiny barge, gripping her full-length mirror, her hair up in curlers – surrounded by swarms of bugs … are just wonderful, and to me it really adds to the lunatic enjoyment of that film to know the circumstances under which it was shot.

I also have to say: I loved how Hepburn is so open about the whole bathroom issue. There were no real toilets, just open latrines in the middle of the jungle … that had to be shared by the entire cast and crew. Hepburn looked around on her first day on location and immediately thought of “bowel movements” (hahaha) and how she was going to negotiate all of this. She writes something like, “Bowels may not be the most polite topic, but they are extremely important.”

Here’s an excerpt. This is early on in the shoot. It ends with my favorite anecdote of John Huston as a director. Hepburn got along with a lot of people, she was not a prissy actress – she was game for pretty much anything, even falling off a brontosaurus skeleton … but Huston made her nervous at first. She feared her own performance would be lost in the sheer drama of going to Africa. Would he be her director? Would he be able to help her play a scene (should she need the help)? Any time she tried to pull him aside to talk about the script, he would say, “Tomorrow, honey … let’s talk tomorrow …”

Finally, a breakthrough in the relationship:

EXCERPT FROM The Making of the African Queen: Or How I Went to Africa With Bogart, Bacall and Huston and Almost Lost My Mind, by Katharine Hepburn

It’s hard to say anything about the natives and whether they work hard and how they were treated and what was their situation here or there. It goes from good to bad. As we go – they go. There are tremendous problems of which we have not the vaguest comprehension. Then or now. A real lack of education is a tough thing to combat. And the country is so big and transportation is so difficult. It’s tough too on the whites who moved out there to supposedly earn a fortune on coffee. They had paid a tremendous price and lost. The country is like a great sponge – it finally absorbs you. Eventually you will get malaria or you will get dysentery and whatever you do, if you don’t keep doing it, the jungle will grow over you. Black of white, you’ve got to fight it every minute of the day.

The day was clear – we started work. This meant that the five autos and trucks carried us in loads the three and a half miles through Biondo to the edge of the Ruiki River. There we unloaded everything. Carried it down the hill onto the raft or onto the Queen or onto the administrator’s launch. Then we went by these boats two and a half miles or so up the river to our working location. There we unloaded the first day, as we were to shoot on land. The rest of the time we were shooting on the Queen or on the various fake parts of the Queen which had been built on the raft – the “mock-ups” as I said before. It was easier to photograph us this way, as the Technicolor camera was huge and we needed lights and reflectors and with sound we have to have a lot of room and a lot of people. If we were doing a shot on the raft where the boat was supposedly moving, the raft would be towed by the administrator’s launch and the African Queen. As I’ve explained, the Ruiki River is very curving – the raft very unwieldy – a big square. When the raft was towed too fast, the pirogues underneath used to fill up with water and we’d start to sink. Or we’d be going around a curve and the raft would not follow around the curve but would continue in a straight line toward the bank and its dense overhanging foliage. John would scream – Bogie and I would jump – and the boiler would be tipped over, or nearly. The canopy would be torn off. The camera or lamps or whatever was caught by the overhanging shrubbery on the banks. Or we would be going along nicely – hit a submerged log and catch on it. Or the sun would go in. Or it would rain. The hysteria of each shot was a nightmare. And there was always the uncertain factor of Bogie and me and whether John thought we’d done a scene well. Or the engine on the Queen would stop. Or one of the propellers would be fouled by the dragging rope. Or we would be attacked by hornets. Or a stray pirogue would suddenly appear in the shot. If it was a stationary shot there were many of the same problems but also the question of whether the sound had picked up the generator noise. Technical problems galore and no chairs – no dressing rooms – no toilet – hot ginger ale and fruit juice and beer – the problem of sending out lunch for forty people. This became Betty Bogart’s department and a wonderful job she did. But the lunch might be very late, for we had to send one of our two launches down to pick it up and often needed them in the shot. Sometimes when we were working in the middle of the stream we couldn’t tie up for hours. The men solved this problem with great ease – but it was a bit tough on the ladies …

However —

Making The African Queen was great fun. John Huston – Bogie and Betty and Peter – were great fun to be with. And the location in Africa was a first for all of us.

The temperature in both Uganda and the Belgian Congo is always about eighty to eighty-five degrees. Almost on the Equator. Nothing ever dried.

The weather is beautiful. A clear blue sky which can cloud over very quickly in a most ominous fashion. And it pours rain. To hell with the actors. Protect the camera! Protect the sound! Then just as suddenly – it will clear. It will shine. And, having scurried for shelter, we would unscurry ourselves and get on with the work. But unfortunately the ground, after a rain, was immediately soft mud.

Now, speaking of mud – the very first scene to be shot was burying my brother – the preacher – Robert Morley – on a hillside. I hesitated … Remember, I was still the wardrobe woman. Vi Murray wouldn’t arrive until the third day of shooting.

The clothes I carried in an aluminum trunk, and then hung them on hangers on whatever tree was available.

“Kneel down, dear,” said John Huston.

“I’ll be filthy,” I answered.

“Yes, dear – kneel down – I think it would be a good idea if you knelt down next to the grave and planted a rose.”

Good grief, I thought.

He had decided to bury Robert in the most difficult spot, all the way up a hill – slip – slip – slide up it – down it. The front of the linen skirt – a light light washed-out tan – would get mud on it. What a mess. Fool directors. Impractical to a moronic degree.

“What are you going to do about that hat brim, Katie?”

“What?”

“Fix the hat brim, dear – it’s dripping. It’s covering your face.”

“Yes,” I answered, “but it’s the damp that’s dipping it – it’s losing its shape and …”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. Fix it,” he said.

I looked at the makeup man, George Frost. “What can we do?”

“Starch?”

“Are you kidding? Where?”

Yes, where? I thought. I thought.

“I know – rice water – sticky – Just a minute, John.”

George and I headed for the jungle – we could see smoke rising from somewhere – a hut? Yes. We knocked – went in – there it was, the inevitable pot of rice boiling away – the basic diet of the Congo. We pointed – held out money – bought it – we let it boil low and sticky, then patted the liquid into the brim. By now the sun was out again – we let the hat dry. It worked! Down the hill we ran.

“John, it works! The brim is stiff! Hurry!”

We got the shot. Buried Morley without a ruffle. Fine day’s work. I took the clothes back to the camp and the mud brushed out so that you noticed nothing. After that when I was wearing the hat we carried rice. And – thank heaven, the wardrobe woman, Vi Murray, had finally arrived. She did have to work under very primitive conditions, heating her iron by filling it with hot coals. The material of which my suit was made was a heavy sort of fake linen. It never showed the dirt. You could not tell whether it was wet or dry. Brilliant Doris Langley Moore. A great designer! Just as important – she had common sense.

The eating of lunch. I had a can with a top. In it I carried a cut-up pineapple. I opened the can. Bees would swarm from nowhere. I’d leave the can with dripping around the top and move off about fifty feet and eat my slice while the bees had their sip. I did this not because of the food – that was O.K. But the dish problem gave me pause. I saw them wash off the dishes in the Ruiki and hand them to the new customer. I eat things unwashed. And I eat things which have dropped on the floor. But here I thought twice. Stick to the pineapple and English tinned biscuits and cookies.

I had no dressing room. To change, if the administrator’s launch wasn’t handy, I’d go off into the trees. As for the bathroom, Betty and I would go off into the trees. Often pursued by the curious natives, whom we would shoo away. Finally I thought I really should have a decent dressing room. They built me a hut on its own private raft. But dragging it, a square, up the river proved to be totally impractical – That Katie! After a few times it was abandoned.

The only horror after the first day’s work, besides the difficulty of getting up the river to the location, the hat and the minor personal discomforts, was the discovery on the second day of work that we didn’t have sufficient cable to keep the generator boat far enough upriver so that we couldn’t hear it. It had to be at least three bends away unless the Queen‘s engine was covering it. This caused no worry to John, but it nearly gave Sam a stroke. I don’t blame him. John and saving money didn’t mix. John was happy to wait for cable – gave him time to use his hunting license. What an irresponsible child – poor Sam.

It was during this pause that John came one morning to my hut.

“May I have a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, of course – what?”

“€œWell -€“ I don’t want to influence you. But incidentally — that was great, that scene, burying Robert. And of course you had to look solemn – serious — Yes, of course -€“ you were burying your brother. You were sad. But, you know, this is an odd tale -€“ I mean, Rosie is almost always facing what is for her a serious situation. And she’s a pretty serious-minded lady. And I wondered — well – let me put it this way — have you by any chance seen any movies of -€“ you know – newsreels -€“ of Mrs. Roosevelt –€“ those newsreels where she visited the soldiers in the hospitals?”

“Yes, John – yes -€“ I saw one. Yes.”

“€œDo you remember, Katie dear, that lovely smile – ?”€

“Yes, John -€“ yes -€“ I do.”

“Well, I was wondering. You know, thinking ahead of our story. And thinking of your skinny little face – a lovely little face, dear. But skinny. And those famous hollow cheeks. And that turned-down mouth. You know –€“ when you look serious – you do look rather – well, serious. And it just occurred to me –€“ now, take Rosie -€“ you know – you are a very religious -€“ serious-minded -€“ frustrated woman. Your brother just dead. Well, now, Katie — you’€™re going to go through this whole adventure before the falls and before love raises its — Well, you know what I mean – solemn.

“€œThen I thought of how to remedy that. She’s used to handling strangers as her brother’s hostess. And you ‘€˜put on’ a smile. Whatever the situation. Like Mrs. Roosevelt — she felt she was ugly -€“ she thought she looked better smiling – so she — Chin up. The best is yet to come – onward ever onward — The society smile.”

A long pause.

“You mean – yes -€“ I see. When I pour out the gin I — yes – yes -€“ when I –”

“Well,”€ he said, getting up to go. He’€™d planted the seed. “€œThink it over .. Perhaps it might be a useful –”

He was gone.

I sat there.

That is the goddamndest best piece of direction I have ever heard. Now, let’s see …

Well. he just told me exactly how to play this part. Oh-h-h-h-h, lovely thought. Such fun. I was his from there on in.