>> Robert Evans narrates and stars in his own remarkable biopic, The Kid Stays in the Picture

by MATTHEW HAYS

A quiet and unassuming voice greets me on the other end of the line. The sound feels at odds with the man himself, Robert Evans, one of the most influential studio producers of what is arguably Hollywood’s last great decade, the ’70s.
In those years, he led Paramount Studios from ninth place to the number-one spot, bankrolling such landmark films as Love Story, The Godfather (parts one and two), Chinatown and Marathon Man. He counts as close buddies Jack Nicholson, Warren Beatty and Henry Kissinger. But his heights were matched by unbearable lows: cocaine addiction, a damaging drug bust and the media connecting his name to a murder he had nothing to do with.

Since returning to the producing game after being cast out for much of the ’80s, Evans got the ultimate Tinseltown revenge: he penned a dishy memoir, The Kid Stays in the Picture. After it became a bestseller, Evans read the book for an audio version; his voice was so distinctive, his style of storytelling so entertaining, the tape became a must-have for anyone and everyone working in the film biz.

Star voiceover

Now, two Oscar-nominated filmmakers, Brett Morgen and Nanette Burstein (On the Ropes), have created a remarkable and exhilarating experimental documentary about the man and his life. Astonishingly, Evans only appears in the film in various clips that punctuate the movie. The star of this film is his voice.
Evans says his decision not to appear in the film was simple. “I really felt this would be an important story to tell. But who could play me or the people in my life? The idea of someone playing Warren Beatty or Jack Nicholson, that seemed wrong to me. And I didn’t want George Hamilton playing me. I also didn’t want it to appear too self-aggrandizing. So I went with the idea of just narrating it.”

The filmmakers have done a remarkable job given this restriction, one that was also faced by Maximillian Schell when he made a film about another cinema legend, Marlene Dietrich, titled Marlene. (She also refused to be captured on film and thus could only be heard throughout the feature.) With The Kid Stays in the Picture, Evans’s tales are brought to life with hilarious archival clips, animation and clever manipulation of still photos.

As remarkable as the form is the content, of course-tales that make this essential viewing for any serious student of cinema: Evans convincing Mia Farrow to remain on the set of Rosemary’s Baby, despite the vicious protests of her then-hubby Frank Sinatra, who wanted her to star in his movie, The Detective, which had a conflicting shooting schedule (Sinatra delivered divorce papers in retaliation); Evans’s marriage to Ali MacGraw, then one of the most bankable stars in Hollywood, who would ultimately leave him for Steve McQueen; the battle over The Godfather. (Evans claims Coppola shot a much shorter film and the producer sent him back to the drawing board to make a longer movie.)

True stories, mythic life

As the film cautions from its very start, this is a subjective movie. Echoing the claims of Errol Morris, the directors have stated that this isn’t really a documentary, but rather an attempt to reflect one man’s perspective. The Kid Stays in the Picture has a hallucinogenic quality, a dream-like feel; it’s also wildly entertaining. And you’ve got to hand it to Evans-a master raconteur, he’s given the filmmakers extremely rich source material.

The tales are great, and, according to Evans, all true. He brushes aside those critics who’ve charged the book and movie buy into a certain myth of Hollywood, a dream factory that never really existed. “No, no,” Evans tells me, “it’s not myth at all. It’s all true. If anything, I’ve toned things down. My life has been mythical, that’s why it feels that way. I’ve been through mythic highs and lows. Look, if you and I and our wives or girlfriends went away on a trip for a weekend, and we came back, and someone asked us about the weekend, we would have entirely different stories, even if we’d spent it together. It doesn’t mean you’re not telling the truth or I’m not, it’s just that we’d have different tales to tell.

“If anything, I’ve gone easy on people. The truth is often harder for people to believe because some of it is so extreme.”

Evans is understandably proud of the film, which played to 15-minute standing ovations at both Sundance and Cannes. “I can’t tell you how emotional it’s been,” he says. “I think this is the greatest film I’ve done in 25 years. I wept at the screenings when they clapped like that. It was amazing.”

As opposed to some tell-all memoirs, Evans says writing this emanated from a good cause. “I went through some very, very bad times. And my son was always there by my side. I remember on his graduation day in 1990, there had been a headline in the papers connecting me with a murder. There I was with him and all those hundreds of other parents. I wrote this because I wanted him to know what his old man went through.”

Don’t ask, don’t tell

And while Evans does include tales of MacGraw, he has left out kissing and telling-unless, of course, he’s received permission to do so. “My two greatest friends are Jack Nicholson and Warren Beatty. And we always operated on the same basis. We would never tell each other about women we’d slept with. If I bumped into Warren and he was with a woman, he would never know if I’d slept with her, because I wouldn’t tell. And it was the same if I bumped into him with a woman. Some women talk about men they’ve slept with, but I never did. I just thought it was unfair. That’s why married women wouldn’t be afraid of having a liaison with me, because they knew it wouldn’t get around.” (For the record, Evans says he is currently seeing someone, but, because of his strict policy, isn’t kissing and telling.)
Another striking aspect of this film is the fact that so many agreed to co-operate with the filmmakers. Evans says many of the clips were cleared because of the influence of Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter, who produced the film. But every person who appears in the film, for even a fleeting moment, had to sign releases before the filmmakers could include them. Of over 250 releases, every one was signed-except, reports Evans, one: Bud Cort.

Bud Cort? “Yeah, Bud Cort. Can you believe it? He refused because he was still bitter that we never went ahead and did a Harold and Maude sequel. [Evans produced the ’72 black comedy.] After 30 years, he’s still carrying that around. So we just used a clip with Ruth Gordon instead.”

Clearly, the film can’t include all of the stories that are in the book version. Were there any Evans regrets aren’t recounted in the movie? “There was a day at Paramount where a new soundstage had been built. They were opening it, and I could see it from my office window. Someone came in and said, ‘Why aren’t you down there for the group photo?’ Everyone who worked there was down for a group shot in front of the new place. I hadn’t been invited to the shoot. I stood there, watched, and cried like a baby.”

Evans also had a standoff with the studio’s board of directors, at which he had to convince them that he was worthy of their renewed faith in him as a producer. “I told the head of the studio that I would write off the $300,000 dismissal package they owed me if he would only give me 40 minutes with the board. I asked my friend Mike Nichols to direct me talking about the upcoming projects, including some clips of Love Story and The Godfather. [A clip of this Nichols short is included in The Kid Stays in the Picture.] None of them smiled. And if they did smile, you didn’t see their teeth. It worked. They said, ‘Get back to woik!’ I said no way. My condition was that I would never have to answer to any of those corporate board directors ever again. They knew about coffee, oil, numbers. They didn’t know movies. They said they’d double my salary, but no way. I said no. Finally, they agreed to what I asked for: no more money, but they gave me that assurance. If my movies don’t do well and you want to fire me, go ahead. But I don’t want to have to talk to the board again.”

Today’s crap

The man behind an incredible batch of award-winning ’70s films must be asked: what does he think has changed that makes so much of what comes out of Hollywood today such utter crap? “The stars have far, far too much power,” he says. “They get too much money. It’s out of control. We made Chinatown for a few million; today that picture would cost more than $70-million. The studios would often make films just as vehicles for the stars. They made me make a couple of Kirk Douglas movies. They tanked, not because of him but because other elements of the films weren’t good. I did an Elizabeth Taylor movie that didn’t do well either. It’s not just about the stars. Now, John Travolta gets $25-million a film.”

Audience testing, as might be expected, also gets low marks from Evans. “It’s really damaged things. It’s terrible. If someone invites you over for dinner and the food they serve stinks, are you going to tell them? They’re asking people who know nothing about movies for their expert opinions.”

As for good contemporary filmmaking, Evans points-perhaps not surprisingly-to The Kid Stays in the Picture. “I’m so proud of this film. And I think it speaks to people beyond the film business. I hope people will see this and remember to never give up, whether you’re a single mother or a 40-year-old man who’s just been laid off. Whatever horrid thing you’re experiencing, you can overcome it.
“Never give up. I didn’t.” :

The Kid Stays in the Picture opens Friday, Aug. 9”