The film was shot in Rome
and the day I arrived they laid on a press conference at
the airport. This held me up getting to my hotel where Luisa
Mattioli, who was also appearing in the film, was waiting
to interview me for Italian television. She had been a presenter
of TV shows and the film-makers thought it would be a natural
for her to conduct the interview. Luisa didn't speak English
and I didn't speak Italian. To this day I don't know how
we got through the interview. It seemed to me that in some
way we were instantly able to communicate. For my part I
was immediatly attracted to her. As grotesque as it sounds
I think I fell in love at first sight. And at my stage of
life I didn't believe that sort of thing happened outside
of fiction in the women's magazines I used to model for.
The language barrier was no problem. We met at dinner that
night. She rang me later, and I have no idea what we said
to each other. But we had a long conversation! A lot of
the film was shot in Yugoslavia and I had to go over about
10 days before her. I begrudged every minute being away
from her. There was one funny incident about Yugoslavia.
It was still a very security-conscious country then and
there was a certain amount of suspicion of foreigners. The
producer was Enrico Bomba and to herald his arrival he sent
a cable from Rome to the production office. "Bomba
arriva 15.00hrs". The authorities were startled by
this cable. And when Bomba's plane came in it was met by
the secret police, the army and the fire brigade. All ready
to deal with the "Bomb" arriving on the plane.
To take my mind off Luisa
I knuckled down harder than usual for the first 10 days
of shooting. I was the only English-speaking actor in the
entire cast. The rest were French, Italian, Yugoslavian
or German. When other people's lips stopped moving I took
that as a cue for me to start opening mine. Finally Luisa
arrived and the rest was inevitable. This was not exactly
the same situation as arose with Dorothy Provine. In no
time at all I made up my mind that married or not nothing
and nobody was going to keep me away from Luisa. I think
it possible, even from this distance, that if Dot and I
had had children then I may not have been so determined
to do what I did. The honest truth is I don't know how I
would have reacted. The driving issue to me was that I loved
Luisa and wanted to marry her. Naturally, when I came back
to London there were a few distressing scenes. More arguments
followed at our home in Bexley, Kent, and I packed up and
left. Luisa came to England and we literally ran away together
to Ireland. At about the same time I developed the first
signs of kidney trouble. The only person who knew where
we were was a friend, Bob Brown. He cabled to say I had
to ring my doctor. X-ray taken a week before had shown up
kidney stones. I rang the doctor and he told me not to be
surprised if I started getting violent pain. Nothing happened
so Luisa and I went on enjoying the beauties of Galway Bay.
It was, incidentally, all very proper. Two separate rooms.
I wasn't recognised; come to think of it at that time in
Galway they wouldn't have recognised John F. Kennedy. Life
had magnificently passed them by. It was a marvellous holiday.
Then Luisa had to return to Italy. I went to Paris to do
some dubbing on Bomba's picture and then returned to London
to stay at Bob Brown's home. Bomba didn't have to be very
clever enticing me into another picture for him. All he
did was dangle Luisa's name in front of me - and I was on
my way. Bob and myself drove over. We got as far as Switzerland
and stopped overnight at a hotel. I was just about to sit
down to an appetizing meal of escargots when the first renal
colic pain hit me. I collapsed, waiters carried me out and
a doctor gave me a shot of morphine. Next morning, I felt
as right as rain and we drove on through the day and night
into Rome. We turned up outside Luisa's home in a mudsplattered
car at 7.30 in the morning, unwashed and unshaven. The next
few days were spent in script discussions and all the time
the pains kept returning. On the Saturday the doctor told
me I would have to have an operation.
By the morning I was bleeding
heavily and I was prepared for the operation. Luisa was
with me and I remember the sister saying as she took away
my passport: "What religion is he?" and Luisa
saying: "Church of England - but we're hoping."
There wer a few panic-stricken minutes in the operating
theatre. The anesthetist gave me an injection and told me
to count to 15. At 40 I was still awake and terrified they
were going to operate anyway. Eventually I went out, awoke
screaming and cursing in agony, and they knocked me out
again. The sum total of it all was that they had failed
to remove the stone and the next stop would be an operation
on my kidney. "If it isn't dealt with in 72 hours you'll
lose your kidney and possibly your life" said the doctor.
In a doped state I rang my
doctor in London. He told me to get the next plane back.
Bob Brown's wife, who had been a nursing sister, met me
at London Airport and drove me to Shooter's Hill hospital.
Medically, the news was better than I had hoped. They said
I didn't need an operation and with the right treatment
the stone would pass within a few weeks. I had to do some
exercise, but for the most part I was confined to bed. The
moment I was fit enough I went back to Rome and started
work immediately with Luisa on the Bomba film, "No
Man's Land". The pain seemed to get worse every day.
Luisa had to learn to give me pain-killing injections, but
one day I got too much. I collapsed on the set and they
took me home by car. I was bringing up blood, passing blood,
writhing in agony - and called my Mondon doctor. "Oh
that's a good sign" he said. "Means it's on the
move." "Delighted to hear it", I said, doubling
up once again. But not as delighted as the next day when
the stone appeared. Immediately I felt fit and well again.
A great weight had been lifted from my.... er, mind.
The situation with Luisa
was becoming intense and for the first time since adolescence
I began to feel almost uncontrollable jealousy. Luisa had
to play a scene where she is being mauled by a German actor,
playing the part of a rapist Army sergeant. Watching the
scene being made, I couldn't stand it any more and I stopped
the shooting and yelled at the director: "I don't play
in dirty pictures!" and generally created a lot of
fuss. In the next sequence, I have to grab the sergeant,
discover he is dead, and drop him to the floor. My jealousy
towards this poor fellow - totally unjustified - is such
that in the first "take" I contrived to drop him
on his head. I further worked it so we had to do the scene
several times and each time made the unfortunate fellow
suffer. It was most unfair of me and I'm not very proud
of it. But there you are, that's the way it was.
Luisa's next film was in
Barcelona. I wasn't in it but went along for the ride. We
had a marvellous month there, driving up in Eddie Purdom's
Astan Martin. From there we went to Venice where I got a
call from my agent saying that Lew Grade had done something
I had failed to do. He had bought the TV rights to The
Saint and he wanted me for the part.
