Unwelcome Visitors
Marilyn Monroe’s bad-luck streak in films would finally be over by the end of 1949 when she made a career-altering trip to Culver City, home of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. MGM, or Metro, as it was known by the cognoscenti, was the jewel in the crown of the studios constituting the motion picture industry of the day. It would be for this studio that Marilyn was cast in a new film to be directed by John Huston—The Asphalt Jungle, based on the novel by W. R. Burnett. Finally, Johnny Hyde had come through for her by arranging a meeting with Huston and Arthur Hornblow, the producer. Unfortunately, Marilyn thought she almost blew the audition by dressing too provocatively for the reading of the script. She knew her character was supposed to be sexy and thought she should dress the part. It was too much. It made her look as if she were relying on her body and not her acting skill to land the role. She was very nervous; the audition did not go well. Still, she was called back for a screen test. She fared much better in it, thanks to the concentrated effort she gave to preparing with Natasha Lytess. Louis B. Mayer was impressed with the result, and she was cast in the role.
This was a big career move for Marilyn, and of course there was a certain amount of anxiety about it. Even Johnny Hyde—unflappable in his belief in Marilyn—had some misgivings. “You have to break down and cry in this,” he told her. “Do you think you can do it?”
“But you’re the one who said I’m a star,” she told him. “Are you saying you don’t think I can do it?”
“I do,” he told her. “But I’m just worried. Let’s continue to have Natasha work on this.”
It was when Natasha began coaching Marilyn on the actual script for The Asphalt Jungle that something so alarming happened it caused her to contact Johnny directly. A woman who had been a friend and young student of Natasha’s explained how the events unfolded. “As Natasha explained it to me, the scene she was working on with Marilyn involved her character being happy and chatting about an upcoming trip. Then there was a knock on the door and she became frightened. [In the script] a bunch of men entered, and threatened her with prison if she didn’t confess to having lied about something. One evening Natasha arrived at Marilyn’s apartment to work on the scene. But Marilyn wouldn’t answer the door. Natasha had seen Marilyn’s lights on as she walked up, but after knocking on the door and waiting a few minutes, she saw the lights turn off. Natasha persisted, calling out Marilyn’s name until, finally, the lights were turned back on and the door was answered.
“Marilyn said she had been hearing men outside her door all evening, and when there was a knock at the door, she just snapped and became unglued.”
At first, Natasha brushed off the event, believing that Marilyn was attempting to create in her real life the fear she needed to exhibit in the film. Yet as the evening went on, Marilyn would often stop their work and tell Natasha that she was hearing voices… and to listen to see if she, too, could hear them. The source continued, “She’d ask, ‘Did you hear that? Did you hear that?’ Natasha would just reprimand her. She thought she was trying to make excuses for having forgotten her lines. However, before the session was over, Natasha began to feel that Marilyn was really on her way to having some kind of a breakdown.”
A few evenings later, Natasha requested a meeting with Johnny Hyde.
By this time, Natasha believed that Johnny was using Marilyn for his own personal pleasure, and also to gain bragging rights about her in the Hollywood community. Natasha, having admitted her own strong romantic feelings for Marilyn, would have been happy to see him out of Marilyn’s life. She believed Marilyn didn’t really need Johnny anyway. She felt that if she continued to work with her, she could be the one to build Marilyn’s career. Marilyn’s new reputation as a fine actress would surely, in Natasha’s mind, generate work for her in major films. Moreover, Johnny’s presence in Marilyn’s life threatened to dilute Natasha’s importance. How would it look if he were the one ultimately credited with Marilyn’s success? What would happen if Marilyn felt he was more important to her than Natasha? It was in this climate of fear, insecurity, and jealousy that Natasha operated. “She wanted Johnny to back off,” continued her friend and student. “I think she hoped he would see Marilyn as spoiled goods if he knew she was losing her mind, then she [Natasha] could have Marilyn to herself again.”
To that end, Natasha told Johnny that she was worried about Marilyn and thought he was putting too much pressure on her. She claimed that the “personal attention” he expected of her also added to her stress. At first she spoke in general terms, not becoming specific about the unusual events that had unfolded at their coaching session. However, since Johnny appeared unmoved, Natasha spelled it out for him. “She’s hearing voices,” she told him.
Johnny wasn’t surprised by Natasha’s news. It was as if he already knew about Marilyn’s “voices.” Perhaps she had already confided in him about them. He certainly didn’t throw his hands in the air and surrender, as Natasha had fantasized. Instead, he was immediately concerned for Marilyn and wanted to do something to help her. “Johnny thought of doctors as magicians,” explained a coworker of his. “He was like most everybody else in the business back then. If an actor couldn’t shoot a scene, the first person to call was a doctor.”
Whether to treat the flu or an anxiety attack, Johnny knew that barbiturates had become a staple in the world of filmmaking. As it would happen, he would be the first to introduce Marilyn to a brand-new reality, one formed by barbiturates. He believed that such drugs could make his girlfriend’s world feel like a safer place to her. He also thought, as did many people at that time, that there was no downside to these pharmaceuticals. He viewed them as a portal to happiness and fulfillment and saw the fact that they were almost exclusively accessible to the rich and powerful as evidence of their effectiveness. Perhaps he was using as a measure of the effectiveness of drugs the example of the brilliant career of Judy Garland, who for the past decade had been like an ATM for Metro: deposit drugs—uppers, downers, whatever—and out comes money, and lots of it.
At Johnny’s behest, studio doctors began prescribing drugs to Marilyn on a regular basis. She happily took them. They helped, at least in the short term. Her anxieties were decreased. The voices became softer and bothered her less. Of course, there was one problem with the new reality being entered by Marilyn Monroe. It wasn’t real.