Advise und Consent

Seeing as Director Otto Preminger was in town anyway, the President of the U.S. invited him to dinner. But Preminger was fiercely busy, and he declined. John Kennedy understood, and he turned to questions of Berlin and the U.N. to pass the time. Next day he invited Preminger to lunch, and again he was turned down--heavy work schedule and all that. The President tried a third time. At last, Preminger gave in, and one day last week he joined Jack Kennedy for lunch.

Hollywood's aging (54), Austrian-born enfant terrible in the past has bulldozed sparkling performances even out of Frank Sinatra and Gene Tierney, turned out a succession of hits, from wittily naughty The Moon Is Blue to Exodus. For three weeks now he has been turning all Washington into a stage and making all its politicians merely players--and only walk-ons at that.

High Places. Obviously, Washington is the place to shoot Advise and Consent, which deals with the passions and principles set in motion when the President nominates a new Secretary of State. Washington, for all its worldliness, was entranced with the junta that Preminger brought in from Hollywood: President Franchot Tone, Vice President Lew Ayres, Majority Leader Walter Pidgeon, Powerful Southern Senator Charles Laughton, Secretary of State-designate Henry Fonda.

With such as these in tow, Preminger could get practically anything he wanted. A mansion in which to film a big dinner party? Mrs. E. Fontaine Broun lent him her palatial estate, Tregaron, which once belonged to her father, the late Ambassador Joseph E. Davies. Assorted objets d'art, classy furniture and rugs? Top-name families and museums donated decor to the tune of $250,000 worth. Extras for the ball? The cream of Washington society, as well as some of the milk, volunteered. A five-room suite in the Mayflower? Democratic National Chairman John Bailey offered his, then found himself virtually evicted. A correspondents' dinner scene? Real-life correspondents were glad to oblige. Only when Preminger asked for the use of the U.S. Senate chamber was he balked; the rules forbade it.

But Preminger himself was really the show. Like an Erich von Stroheim Prussian officer he thundered, "Vy are you in de vay!" at a pair of news photographers, who scurried away clutching their eardrums. To a newshen who blurred his line of vision, he roared: "I dun't care eef you are from a noospaper! You are veasible!'' She quickly made herself inveasible.

Filming the ballroom scene at Tregaron, he barked his guttural directions from the camera boom. "Stop talkink!" he screamed at the milling mob, which included Washington's Senator Henry ("Scoop"') Jackson and Washington Hostess Gwen Cafritz. When a waiter looked at the camera, he thumbed him "Oudt! Und keep valkink!" When another smiled, Preminger tossed him oudt too. A magazine photographer got in the way, and Preminger fumed. "But I'm from Look!'' cried the lensman. Stormed the Director: "You LOOK! Get oudt!"

Too Good. At a National Press Club luncheon, Preminger got a standing ovation usually reserved for potentates from lands other than Hollywood, and he took it in his usual snide. The audience called on Actor Laughton to display his Southern drawl, newly acquired after a careful study of the delivery of Mississippi's real-life Senator John Stennis. Preminger vetoed it. "Meester Laughton," said he, "vill not do it because I vill not allow it." He also ignored the suggestion that the theme of Advise and Consent might evoke a questionable image of the U.S. abroad. He has prudently eliminated most of the book's high-level chicanery.

In all, Washington seemed to love being pushed around by Preminger. Even Preminger was surprised. "I vud haf thought," mused he last week, "zat Fos-inkton vud haf been more blase. It isn't.''

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