![Last month, I got to take my cinematic dream trip. Thanks to the Telegraph, I travelled up to Oregon to visit the beyond great Kim Novak on her farm. Just shy of 80, Novak has more energy than I had at 20. She took my off-roading around her territory in a little mini Jeep, leaping over hills and fording rushing rivers, and steering around the herd of llamas she raises. She lives up there with her husband of 40 years, a retired veterinarian and rarely visits Hollywood. It’s been 20 years since her last screen appearance and despite much prodding, she showed no interest in acting ever again, but is completely driven by her painting, which she spends hours on a day. The visit was apropos of Vertigo being named the #1 film of all time by the once a decade Sight and Sound poll. If that is the greatest film ever, and the entire film hangs on Novak’s complex performance in a performance, that makes her part in the film the greatest performance of all time. We spoke much of Vertigo, and of the nastiness she endured from critics, who were vicious to her during her career and only came to appreciate her long after she had retired. There was one point in our covnersation that has haunted me, in which she talked about her friendship with Jimmy Stewart, with whom she made Vertigo and one other film: Despite her mixed feelings about Hollywood, Novak summons up one memory that still touches her, on almost llama-worthy level. She tells of a quiet moment with Jimmy Stewart on the set of Bell, Book and Candle, the film they made together immediately after Vertigo. “It was,” she says, her husky voice catching a bit, “probably the most honest, beautiful time of an animal instinct I’ve known. I was sitting with Jimmy Stewart when they called for lunch and they turned off the set lights. Everyone left. We were playing a scene where we had our shoes off. And we just sat there on the set, put up our feet, bare feet, and we sat there the whole lunch break together with our feet up and next to each other, not saying a single word. Our feet just occasionally touched each other. It was one of those animal times like when an animal lets you rub its neck. It was the most intimate, rewarding time with another human being I’ve ever known. Feet don’t lie.” The last time she saw Stewart was when they bumped into each other at an airport. “I said, ‘Jimmy, I wish we could do a movie together.’ And he said, ‘I can’t be a leading man anymore. I don’t want to make movies anymore.’ He’d been away from movies for a while. He said, ‘You know, I walk out my back yard and I can’t remember sometimes why I walk out there.’ I said, ‘I understand that, it happens.’ He said, ‘Yep. Happens. [Pause.] Sure is good seeing you again.’ And I said, ‘You too, Jimmy.’ And gave him a hug.” Forever grateful to the Telegraph for sending me off on this jaunt. It’s one I’ll never forget. You can read it all right here.](https://36.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbrpeyIotR1qzkem4o1_500.jpg)
Last month, I got to take my cinematic dream trip. Thanks to the Telegraph, I travelled up to Oregon to visit the beyond great Kim Novak on her farm. Just shy of 80, Novak has more energy than I had at 20. She took my off-roading around her territory in a little mini Jeep, leaping over hills and fording rushing rivers, and steering around the herd of llamas she raises. She lives up there with her husband of 40 years, a retired veterinarian and rarely visits Hollywood. It’s been 20 years since her last screen appearance and despite much prodding, she showed no interest in acting ever again, but is completely driven by her painting, which she spends hours on a day.
The visit was apropos of Vertigo being named the #1 film of all time by the once a decade Sight and Sound poll. If that is the greatest film ever, and the entire film hangs on Novak’s complex performance in a performance, that makes her part in the film the greatest performance of all time. We spoke much of Vertigo, and of the nastiness she endured from critics, who were vicious to her during her career and only came to appreciate her long after she had retired.
There was one point in our covnersation that has haunted me, in which she talked about her friendship with Jimmy Stewart, with whom she made Vertigo and one other film:
Despite her mixed feelings about Hollywood, Novak summons up one memory that still touches her, on almost llama-worthy level. She tells of a quiet moment with Jimmy Stewart on the set of Bell, Book and Candle, the film they made together immediately after Vertigo. “It was,” she says, her husky voice catching a bit, “probably the most honest, beautiful time of an animal instinct I’ve known. I was sitting with Jimmy Stewart when they called for lunch and they turned off the set lights. Everyone left. We were playing a scene where we had our shoes off. And we just sat there on the set, put up our feet, bare feet, and we sat there the whole lunch break together with our feet up and next to each other, not saying a single word. Our feet just occasionally touched each other. It was one of those animal times like when an animal lets you rub its neck. It was the most intimate, rewarding time with another human being I’ve ever known. Feet don’t lie.”
The last time she saw Stewart was when they bumped into each other at an airport. “I said, ‘Jimmy, I wish we could do a movie together.’ And he said, ‘I can’t be a leading man anymore. I don’t want to make movies anymore.’ He’d been away from movies for a while. He said, ‘You know, I walk out my back yard and I can’t remember sometimes why I walk out there.’ I said, ‘I understand that, it happens.’ He said, ‘Yep. Happens. [Pause.] Sure is good seeing you again.’ And I said, ‘You too, Jimmy.’ And gave him a hug.”
Forever grateful to the Telegraph for sending me off on this jaunt. It’s one I’ll never forget. You can read it all right here.
Recent comments