"Yes."
"I'm going to direct Cecil B. DeMille?"
"That's right."
The following day, I was shooting a master shot with Donald and Ann Blyth. When I finished the shot, we were going to go in for a close angle. My assistant director came up to me.
"Mr. DeMille is on his way to the set. Let's move to the other side of the stage where we're going to do his scene."
"I can't do that now," I told him. "I have a close-up to get first."
He looked at me for a moment. "Mr. DeMille is on his way to the set. I suggest we move over to where he's going to do his scene."
I got the message. "We're moving," I called out.
A few minutes later, Cecil B. DeMille walked in with his entourage. He came up to me and held out his hand.
"I'm Cecil DeMille."
He was taller than I had expected, broader than I had expected, and had more charisma than I had expected.
"I'm Sidney Sheldon."
"If you'll show me what to do - "
I was going to show Cecil B. DeMille what to do? "Yes, sir. It's about - "
"I know," he said. "I've learned my lines."
"Good."
I set the scene up and said, "All right. Camera . . . Action."
The scene was finished but I felt it could be improved. How do you tell Cecil B. DeMille it wasn't good enough?
He turned to me. "Would you like me to do the scene again?"
I nodded gratefully. "That would be great."
"Why don't I take off my jacket?"
"Good idea."
"And I'll be a little more forceful."
"Good idea."
We shot it again and it was perfect. There was one thing I was unsure of, though: Had I directed Cecil B. DeMille or had Cecil B. DeMille directed me?
The stunts that Buster Keaton had created for his silent movies were incredible. One in particular seemed absolutely impossible. The scene started with Buster running along a wooden fence, being chased by the police. Standing against the fence, with her back to it, was a rather stout woman, wearing a very full skirt. Buster stopped in front of her, saw the policemen closing in on him, and dived through the woman's legs to the back of the fence. The woman instantly moved away, revealing that the fence was solid.
It was a fantastic effect. "How the hell did you ever do that?" I asked.
Buster almost smiled. "I'll show you."
The secret was simple when you knew it. Directly behind the woman, three of the fence panels were on hinges that enabled the panels to swing backward, away from the audience, at a forty-five-degree angle. As Buster reached the woman, two crew members in back of the fence quickly raised the panels, which were hidden from audience view by the woman's skirt, thus making an opening in the fence behind her. Buster simply dove under her skirt and scurried through the opening in the fence. Once he was through, the men hurriedly replaced the panels, thereby closing the fence behind the woman. She quickly walked away, revealing to the audience a fence that was completely intact, and Buster had disappeared. This was all accomplished in a split second and was quite fantastic when done correctly.
Donald did the stunt superbly.
A later scene in the movie was another Buster Keaton classic. It took place at the shipyards and we went to the oceanside to shoot it. It was the launching of a boat, and Donald proudly stood at the prow as the boat came off the ramp.
The front of the boat slowly slid under the water, going deeper and deeper, and Donald stood there without expression as he slowly submerged until only his hat floated.
During the shooting of the picture, I learned how shy Buster was. Jorja and I had invited Buster and his wife, Eleanor, to dinner. The guests included a studio head, some directors, and several well-known actors and actresses.
I knew Buster had arrived at the house, but I had not yet seen him. I walked into the den. He was alone, reading a newspaper.
"Are you all right, Buster?"
He looked up. "I'm fine." And he went back to reading his newspaper.
When the picture was finished, Buster said, "I want to thank you."
"What for?"
"I was able to buy a house."
Everyone at the studio was very happy. The Buster Keaton Story was my last picture under my contract at Paramount, but they were already talking to my agent about a new contract. My life had never been so serendipitous.
I had discussed with Don Hartman an idea I had for a suspense movie called Zone of Terror that would be shot in Europe.
In April 1957, an article appeared in Daily Variety:
Where to go in April? That's the problem facing Sidney Sheldon.
Buster Keaton
, which he directed, co-produced and co-scripted at Paramount, will be opening next month. On April 27, his play,
Alice in Arms
, will open in Vienna. At the same time, rehearsals start in New York on his revised version of
The Merry Widow
, with the Kiepuras, set for a mid-May opening. Sheldon is at work on his next project,
Zone of Terror
, slated to go before the cameras in Germany next year.
I knew how I was going to spend my time in April. I was going to take Jorja and Mary to Europe to celebrate.
The Buster Keaton Story opened to good reviews for Donald O'Connor, Ann Blyth, Peter Lorre, and the rest of the cast. The script did not fare so well. Most of the critics attacked it, saying there should have been more of Buster's routines and less story.
"The screenplay is a rehash of too many old Hollywood movies."
They were right. We had written it too quickly. The picture opened well because people were intrigued by Buster Keaton's name. But word of mouth quickly spread and the picture soon faded at the box office.