Jonathon Blake, Cannes Film Festival, July, 1952
My success at directing made me the target of all the wannabe actors and actresses seeking favors for a part in one of my future films. Rhonda Sheridan was the exception. While in Cannes, I was surprised when she made it a point to seek me out in my suite at the Amadeus Hotel. A surprise, in that Rhonda was an established British stage and film actress and a recognized celebrity wherever she went in Europe. Although wed never met, I knew by reputation, that she was renowned as an accomplished actress. When she appeared suddenly and uninvited at the door of my suite, I welcomed the intrusion as an opportunity to consider casting her in one of my upcoming projects.
Mister Blake, she greeted, as she extended her hand when I received her. Im Rhonda Sheridan. Im so glad to finally get to meet you. She spoke in a decidedly British accent. The words flowed slowly, like honey, from her lips.
Yes, I would have recognized you anywhere, Miss Sheridan. I couldnt avoid a casual glance at a heart-shaped pendant that rested above her sun-tanned cleavage.
Pleeease, call me Rhonda, she said as she sat in a chair and removed a diamond-encrusted cigarette case from her handbag. Do you mind?
Nono, please do. I placed an ashtray on the table beside her. The delicate, sensual aroma of perfume teased several of my senses.
Ive been looking forward to meeting you, you know, she said after dramatically taking her time lighting a cigarette and placing the case back in her bag.
Wellno, I didnt know. Im flattered. In fact, Ive been intending to get in touch with you to discuss a film Im thinking of doing, I lied. Actually I had no intention of contacting her. But now as she sat before me, I could see she would be perfect for the part of Pietra Como, the reincarnation of Cleopatra in my new film, Second Time Around.
I studied her intently, giving the impression of interest in what she was saying. I couldnt help being distracted by her facial features that would lend credibility to the part of Pietra.
May I call you Jonathon? she asked.
Certainlyyes, please do, Miss Sher . . . Rhonda, I said hesitantly.
For some reason I was taken aback by the boldness of my somewhat young visitor. She couldnt have been more than a year on either side of thirty. Then again, maybe it was the distraction she presented that had me visualizing her in a part I had promised to a relatively unknown newcomer.
This is a very nice suite, Jonathon. May I look around? she asked as she rose.
Please do. Can I get you something to drink? Tealemonade?
Her green eyes smiled mischievously That sounds nice, dahling, But a bloody Mary would be more to my liking this time of the morning. Dont you think?
She was standing on the balcony that served as a promontory overlooking the City of Cannes when I returned with her drink. It was apparent, from the rays of sunlight radiating into the room, that Miss Sheridan was wearing nothing beneath her sheer skirt.
Look, she said, taking the Bloody Mary from my hand and pointing toward the beach that fronted the city, over there, see the villas on the beach with the red-tiled roofs? Thats where Im staying. You must come and visit while youre here.
Thanks, Id like to. However, Im staying pretty busy with interviews and meeting with producers who are investing in my next film. That was also a lie. I already had a co-producer in Rich Van Norman. You understandbeing in the business.
YesIm afraid I do. She stirred her drink with her manicured forefinger. How long are you going to be in Cannes? she asked after slowly removing her finger from between her puckered lips. That is, if Im not being too nosy?
No, no. My plans are to stay through the weekend, then motor over to Nice to meet someone.
Thats too bad. Cannes is so much fun during the festival. There are parties everywhere. Are you coming back?
I didnt answer right away. My plan was to take a flight back to Hollywood from Nice. I kept the thought to myself as I stared at the lovely Miss Sheridan and the promise in her eyes.
With her raised chin and half-closed eyelids, she asked. Wheres your drink, Jonathon? Youre not having a drink with me? she added reprovingly.
Its a little early for me, but now that you mention it, I think I will have a Scotch. I hate to see a pretty lady drink alone.
Come, Ill go with you. Then I want you to show me the rest of this divine suite before I have to leave. By the way, are you?
Am I what?
Are you returning to Cannes from Nice?
I waited until I was behind the bar and had finished fixing a weak Scotch and water before answering. Yes, that was my plan, I said as we touched our glasses together. She held my gazethen smiled, as if reading my mind.
Call me when you return from Nice, she said as I escorted her to the door.
Rhondas fragrance still lingered in the room, reminding me of the spring flowers in bloom. I opened the French doors to the balcony and glanced down to catch a glimpse of her. When she appeared from under the hotels porte-cochere, she looked up and waved before entering a waiting limousine.
|