29th
July
4 notes
Reblog
  “I loved David very much. Our relationship was one of total fun, because every disaster on the set or off was always met by David as some kind of elaborate joke played on him from above.  He never let that mask slip in public, and it was only after years of working with him that I began to see a darker, sadder side to his nature. Most of the time we were like two children in school, crying with laughter over each other’s jokes; but there was a terrible insecurity about him when we got near the end of a picture. If he didn’t know exactly what film he was going into next, he got terribly neurotic about not being in work.   He had to keep working, working, working all the time and I never in all the years I knew him found out why. Was he really so worried about money, or was it an escape from the family, or just that he liked the life of a film studio more than any other?   He couldn’t bear life if he wasn’t actually working: a lot of actors are like that. David didn’t have any other life until he started to write again: at this time, the films were really everything.” (Deborah Kerr)
David Niven (March 1, 1910 - July 29, 1983)

  “I loved David very much. Our relationship was one of total fun, because every disaster on the set or off was always met by David as some kind of elaborate joke played on him from above.
  He never let that mask slip in public, and it was only after years of working with him that I began to see a darker, sadder side to his nature. Most of the time we were like two children in school, crying with laughter over each other’s jokes; but there was a terrible insecurity about him when we got near the end of a picture. If he didn’t know exactly what film he was going into next, he got terribly neurotic about not being in work.
  He had to keep working, working, working all the time and I never in all the years I knew him found out why. Was he really so worried about money, or was it an escape from the family, or just that he liked the life of a film studio more than any other?
  He couldn’t bear life if he wasn’t actually working: a lot of actors are like that. David didn’t have any other life until he started to write again: at this time, the films were really everything.” (Deborah Kerr)

David Niven (March 1, 1910 - July 29, 1983)

22 hours ago 4 notes
29th
July
35 notes
Reblog
  “His nickname for Deborah was Hilda, as she had often enjoyed playing the part of a cockney char lady in their off-screen moments (…)  David’s fate was the most heartbreaking of anyone I have known. He, who had enjoyed words both as a raconteur and as a writer, whose playful mind perceived life to be more comical and absurd than anything else, was finally stricken by a disease that seemed to have come along for no reason and that locked him into a solitary confinement that his courageous spirit battled against hopelessly. In the end he was unable to speak or eat, and a few months before he was released from the torture chamber his body had become, he scrawled a final note to Deborah, his ‘Hilda’, that gave proof that he was still there, struggling to send a last message to his friend. Through her tears she managed to decipher the words and went off to her bedroom to weep. And I felt as if a heavy stone had fallen on my heart.” (Peter Viertel)
  In his letter, David warned Deborah to beware of working too hard and taking on too much: “Dear old chum,” he wrote, “don’t stretch the elastic too far, because it snaps, and that is what has happened to me.”
David Niven (March 1, 1910 - July 29, 1983)

  “His nickname for Deborah was Hilda, as she had often enjoyed playing the part of a cockney char lady in their off-screen moments (…)
  David’s fate was the most heartbreaking of anyone I have known. He, who had enjoyed words both as a raconteur and as a writer, whose playful mind perceived life to be more comical and absurd than anything else, was finally stricken by a disease that seemed to have come along for no reason and that locked him into a solitary confinement that his courageous spirit battled against hopelessly. In the end he was unable to speak or eat, and a few months before he was released from the torture chamber his body had become, he scrawled a final note to Deborah, his ‘Hilda’, that gave proof that he was still there, struggling to send a last message to his friend. Through her tears she managed to decipher the words and went off to her bedroom to weep. And I felt as if a heavy stone had fallen on my heart.” (Peter Viertel)

  In his letter, David warned Deborah to beware of working too hard and taking on too much: “Dear old chum,” he wrote, “don’t stretch the elastic too far, because it snaps, and that is what has happened to me.”

David Niven (March 1, 1910 - July 29, 1983)

22 hours ago 35 notes

A “little” public answer to people who message me when the blog is private:

  Thanks for the kind words and the interest in the blog.
  The purpose of this blog was a personal one: putting together little pieces of info and visuals that would build a bigger picture of who Deborah Kerr was, the actress and the woman, and me getting to know her as much as possible.
  I don’t think tumblr is really the place for this project, but it does have two advantages that I can’t give up on: unlimited space and ease of posting.
  The downside of tumblr, which I want to avoid is learning how “interested” other people are in what I do. I don’t wish to be influenced  by others’ poor opinions. (I’m perfectly capable of damaging my self-esteem on my own ;) )
  Therefore I keep the blog private occasionally, and make it public mainly when I need to export its content for backup.
  If anyone really wants to access the blog when private (although I doubt it) the password will be 123. However, this is a solution that allows only viewing, not reblogging.

Thanks,
Irene

4 days ago 9 notes
23rd
July
14 notes
Reblog
The Viertels, on their wedding day - Klosters, 23.07.1960

The Viertels, on their wedding day - Klosters, 23.07.1960

6 days ago 14 notes
23rd
July
28 notes
Reblog
The Viertels, on their wedding day - Klosters, 23.07.1960
   “The morning of her wedding day, Deborah was in a panic. Her wedding dress had not arrived. The ceremony was due at 11: 30. Peter’s young secretary, Ann Hutton, raced to the post office in her sports car. The dress was to have arrived air-mail special-delivery from the famed salon of Givenchy in Paris. But the postmaster shook his head, ‘No, there is no package for Miss Kerr.’    Ann drove back to tell Deborah. ‘Maybe I’d better go with you,’ Deborah said. ‘He must have it there, somewhere.’ Ann zoomed to the village post office where the postmaster shrugged his shoulders. ‘No, Miss Kerr,’ he nodded, ‘there is no package for you. You can see for yourself.’  Deborah quickly looked through the clutter of parcels waiting to be picked up by village residents. There was a blue denim wrapped trunk from the House of Givenchy. ‘This is it!’ she shouted with joy. ‘My wedding dress.’   ‘But the label says it’s for Mr. Viertel,’ the postmaster pointed out. ‘I can’t let you have this without his written permission.’  Again, Ann drove off. She found Peter who signed the postmaster’s release form.” (1960s press)

The Viertels, on their wedding day - Klosters, 23.07.1960

   “The morning of her wedding day, Deborah was in a panic. Her wedding dress had not arrived. The ceremony was due at 11: 30. Peter’s young secretary, Ann Hutton, raced to the post office in her sports car. The dress was to have arrived air-mail special-delivery from the famed salon of Givenchy in Paris. But the postmaster shook his head, ‘No, there is no package for Miss Kerr.’
   Ann drove back to tell Deborah. ‘Maybe I’d better go with you,’ Deborah said. ‘He must have it there, somewhere.’ Ann zoomed to the village post office where the postmaster shrugged his shoulders. ‘No, Miss Kerr,’ he nodded, ‘there is no package for you. You can see for yourself.’
  Deborah quickly looked through the clutter of parcels waiting to be picked up by village residents. There was a blue denim wrapped trunk from the House of Givenchy. ‘This is it!’ she shouted with joy. ‘My wedding dress.’
  ‘But the label says it’s for Mr. Viertel,’ the postmaster pointed out. ‘I can’t let you have this without his written permission.’
  Again, Ann drove off. She found Peter who signed the postmaster’s release form.” (1960s press)

6 days ago 28 notes

"I love a lot of things, both silly and profound… The sea. I can’t live, happily, away from it." (Deborah Kerr)

6 days ago 11 notes
19th
July
10 notes
Reblog
1 week ago 10 notes
19th
July
18 notes
Reblog
King Solomon’s Mines (1950)
   “At Meru, we had a film shown to us one evening. It turned out to be my own Vacation from Marriage. When I came on-screen, the native porter who’d been assigned to me took one look at the screen, glanced at me and walked off. Later an interpreter told me he had said: ‘Can’t be. She up there. She here. Can’t be!’” (Deborah Kerr)

King Solomon’s Mines (1950)

   “At Meru, we had a film shown to us one evening. It turned out to be my own Vacation from Marriage. When I came on-screen, the native porter who’d been assigned to me took one look at the screen, glanced at me and walked off. Later an interpreter told me he had said: ‘Can’t be. She up there. She here. Can’t be!’” (Deborah Kerr)

1 week ago 18 notes
19th
July
11 notes
Reblog
Peter Viertel, explaining his limited writing about Deborah in his memoirs, “Dangerous Friends”:
"It has long been my view that reminiscences are in order when they recall a part of the past that is over and done with, so that whatever indiscretions may result from looking back can do little harm to the people who have survived. When they touch upon the lives of those who share the author’s present, he is obliged to act as his own censor. We inflict enough pain on the human beings we love without revealing secrets that might cause them embarrassment. That is the reason for my brief preamble — an explanation for my limiting the account of the most important turning point in my life to a synopsis of events rather than a detailed narrative."

Peter Viertel, explaining his limited writing about Deborah in his memoirs, “Dangerous Friends”:

"It has long been my view that reminiscences are in order when they recall a part of the past that is over and done with, so that whatever indiscretions may result from looking back can do little harm to the people who have survived. When they touch upon the lives of those who share the author’s present, he is obliged to act as his own censor. We inflict enough pain on the human beings we love without revealing secrets that might cause them embarrassment. That is the reason for my brief preamble — an explanation for my limiting the account of the most important turning point in my life to a synopsis of events rather than a detailed narrative."

1 week ago 11 notes
18th
July
6 notes
Reblog
1 week ago 6 notes
18th
July
25 notes
Reblog
1 week ago 25 notes
18th
July
16 notes
Reblog
  “Probably the greatest sentimental search for a ring worn by a star was the one Tony Bartley carried on for four years. He was trying to match a huge 5 - karat yellow diamond that could have come right out of King Solomon’s mines.   Tony fell in love with his yellow diamond before he fell in love with Deborah Kerr, back in the days when he was hunting Nazi Messerschmitts as an ace fighter pilot in the RAF. He collected a dozen or so of those in the Battle of Britain, but just one giant yellow gem. He got the gem from a good friend of his who was London agent for a South African diamond mine. Tony socked all his flight pay and then some in it and kept it with him when he flew as a precious but potent good luck piece.   When the little guy with the bow and arrow got him at last, after a hectic war-torn courtship, Tony knew he just had to make the perfect ring for the perfect girl out of that lucky stone. He needed two more big yellow diamonds to handle that, which turned out to be something of a problem.   Big yellow diamonds are rare even in Africa, which is loaded with rocks. Finding one to flank the beauty he owned in a perfect match, his pal told him, was practically impossible. And neither love nor Deborah could wait.   Tony hopped back from Australia one day with a plain gold band and Deborah didn’t get her fabulous ring until some months after they were married. But the three big yellow diamonds are there on her finger now, and they make up the rarest and most valuable engagement ring in Hollywood. Dollars, of course, don’t necessarily make a ring rich in romance. There’s no price tag on true love.” (1950s press)

  “Probably the greatest sentimental search for a ring worn by a star was the one Tony Bartley carried on for four years. He was trying to match a huge 5 - karat yellow diamond that could have come right out of King Solomon’s mines.
  Tony fell in love with his yellow diamond before he fell in love with Deborah Kerr, back in the days when he was hunting Nazi Messerschmitts as an ace fighter pilot in the RAF. He collected a dozen or so of those in the Battle of Britain, but just one giant yellow gem. He got the gem from a good friend of his who was London agent for a South African diamond mine. Tony socked all his flight pay and then some in it and kept it with him when he flew as a precious but potent good luck piece.
  When the little guy with the bow and arrow got him at last, after a hectic war-torn courtship, Tony knew he just had to make the perfect ring for the perfect girl out of that lucky stone. He needed two more big yellow diamonds to handle that, which turned out to be something of a problem.
  Big yellow diamonds are rare even in Africa, which is loaded with rocks. Finding one to flank the beauty he owned in a perfect match, his pal told him, was practically impossible. And neither love nor Deborah could wait.
  Tony hopped back from Australia one day with a plain gold band and Deborah didn’t get her fabulous ring until some months after they were married. But the three big yellow diamonds are there on her finger now, and they make up the rarest and most valuable engagement ring in Hollywood. Dollars, of course, don’t necessarily make a ring rich in romance. There’s no price tag on true love.” (1950s press)

1 week ago 16 notes
17th
July
15 notes
Reblog
1 week ago 15 notes
17th
July
11 notes
Reblog
  “For ages journalists referred to my time at Metro as the ‘years of captivity’, but I really had a ball. I found that Hollywood build-up thing amusing, and really rather fun. I simply went to work and did my job and assumed that directors and studio heads knew better than I did.   And, I mean to say, MGM was paying me heaps of money to do what I enjoyed. Oh, I realized that I was being typed, But I’m just not a scrapper, it’s not my bag, or whatever the hell one says nowadays.” (Deborah Kerr, 1969)

  “For ages journalists referred to my time at Metro as the ‘years of captivity’, but I really had a ball. I found that Hollywood build-up thing amusing, and really rather fun. I simply went to work and did my job and assumed that directors and studio heads knew better than I did.
  And, I mean to say, MGM was paying me heaps of money to do what I enjoyed. Oh, I realized that I was being typed, But I’m just not a scrapper, it’s not my bag, or whatever the hell one says nowadays.” (Deborah Kerr, 1969)

1 week ago 11 notes
17th
July
6 notes
Reblog
The Chalk Garden (1964)
Deborah, her roles and her daughters:"I prefer the children not to watch. I tend to become the person I am playing and act like her all day. I can only throw the character off when I go home in the evening. It’s pretty disturbing for the children to see me as a hysterical ex-convict. And it’s equally disturbing for me to climb out of the characterization between scenes to chat with them."

The Chalk Garden (1964)

Deborah, her roles and her daughters:
"I prefer the children not to watch. I tend to become the person I am playing and act like her all day. I can only throw the character off when I go home in the evening. It’s pretty disturbing for the children to see me as a hysterical ex-convict. And it’s equally disturbing for me to climb out of the characterization between scenes to chat with them."

1 week ago 6 notes