Michael Sellers appears as a teenage hippie.

Wilfrid Hyde-White plays the ship's captain. (The Magic Christian is the name of the oceanliner.) is the name of the oceanliner.) Christopher Lee is the ship's vampire.

Roman Polanski sits alone at the ship's bar. A large, diamond-brooched blond approaches him and asks, "Would you like to buy a girl a dwink?" Through the haze of Polanski's cigarettes, she begins to sing "Mad About the Boy," parades theatrically around the room, and pulls her wig off to reveal the head of Yul Brynner.

Everyone adjourns to the engine room, where they find seventy bare-breasted women rowing the ship forward. Their slavemistress: Raquel Welch. She's "the Priestess of the Whip." "In, out! In, out! In, out! In, out!" Raquel cries. King Kong then kills Wilfrid Hyde-White.

Terry Southern wanted Stanley Kubrick to appear in a cameo, too, but as McGrath notes, "Stanley was just never available."

Peter himself performs an eerie sort of cameo in The Magic Christian The Magic Christian. McGrath explains: "He plays the part of a nun. You just see this nun occasionally in the back of the train." With a demented smile on her face, the good sister shoots photos during the strobe-light sequence. "That's Peter. He had the nun outfit on, and he called up and said 'Joe, quick, quick! quick! Come up to the dressing room!' Of course I rushed up there. I thought there was something wrong with him. Come up to the dressing room!' Of course I rushed up there. I thought there was something wrong with him.

"He had the wimple on and said, 'Who am I?'

"I said, 'You're Peg.'"

"'Yes,' he said. 'I'm Peg.' He looked exactly like her."

"The last scene in the movie is a shit vat, where everybody goes into the shit for money," observes McGrath. "Terry and I insisted that we do this in the States under the Statue of Liberty."

So the cast and crew finished up in London and prepared to go to New York to film rich people wallowing for dollars in a tank full of feces.

"We were having this wrap party in London," Gail Gerber looks back. "There were about thirty of us at a giant round table. Peter was dating Miranda Quarry at the time, and we're onto coffee and, well, you know how a hushed silence can fall? Well, it fell. And my voice rang out saying that I had never had an ocean voyage. Peter picked up on it immediately and said, 'Yes! We must take the QE2 QE2 to New York! Don't you think, Miranda?'" to New York! Don't you think, Miranda?'"

It was not an idle question. At the time, Lord Mancroft, Miranda's stepfather, was a director of the Cunard Line, of which the Queen Elizabeth II Queen Elizabeth II was the flagship. Luxury transatlantic passage was swiftly arranged. "We all got a free trip," says McGrath. was the flagship. Luxury transatlantic passage was swiftly arranged. "We all got a free trip," says McGrath.

Gail Gerber recites the passenger list on the QE2 QE2: "There was Peter, and Miranda, and a BBC crew following them, and the producer, and his wife, and Derek Taylor (because of Ringo), and his wife, and five children, and nanny, and Ringo, and Maureen, and was it one or two kids?, and a nanny, and Terry and me. Allen Klein was on the ship as well. What the hell was he doing there?" McGrath adds, "John Lennon was supposed to come with us, but he got turned back at Southampton because of the visa thing. He'd come down from London with us. In fact, we'd all gone down in the big Mercedes limo we used in the film." (Derek Taylor was the Beatles' friend and press agent; Maureen was Ringo's wife; Allen Klein was in the process of becoming the Beatles' manager, a relationship that soon soured and ended in protracted litigation. John Lennon was denied a visa by the United States Embassy in London because of his arrest and conviction for marijuana possession in October 1968.) "Hash oil, tobacco, cannabis, dynamite-like opium...." Terry Southern is reciting the drug list on the QE2 QE2. "Peter became absolutely enthralled-he couldn't get enough. For five days we were kind of in a dream state."

"They were all out of their heads," McGrath notes. "There were blankets being rolled up and stuffed under doors."

On the first night, there came a rap on McGrath's door. He opened it to find Peter dressed as the leader of a gang of nineteenth-century London street urchin pickpockets. "Good evening," said Peter. "I am the ship's Fagin. Tomorrow I shall be the ship's purser, but tonight I am the ship's Fagin!" All night long he knocked on people's doors and greeted them singing "You've Got to Pick a Pocket or Two." Fagin!" All night long he knocked on people's doors and greeted them singing "You've Got to Pick a Pocket or Two."

The stabilizers weren't working properly-those of the QE2 QE2-and not only Gail Gerber but some members of the crew became violently seasick. Luckily, Sellers had brought along a remedy. "Peter had a great big jar of honey," Gerber relates, "and a big, long-handled spoon. It was laced with hash oil. And with everybody he would meet, he'd dip the spoon in and pass it around. He thought it was absolutely wonderful. He saw me all green, and he dipped the spoon in and gave me some. I felt a lot better."

An advance team had flown across the Atlantic and, as McGrath continues, "set up to do the shit vat on the island under the statue. At the last minute Commonwealth United, which put the money up, said no. 'We're not going along with this-it's making it too hot for us.' 'You mean hot for the money men,' Terry said. Sellers then paid out of his own pocket, and we shot it down on the banks of the Thames with St. Paul's and all that in the background. Sellers paid for that himself, and later on Commonwealth United gave him back the money. But they wouldn't do it under the Statue of Liberty. They wanted the movie, they wanted Peter Sellers, 'We'll give you anything, do it, do it, do it....' But, when it came to that, as Terry said, it was too hot for them."

The Magic Christian, shit scene and all, was given a Royal Charity world premiere at the Kensington Odeon Theater in London on December 11, 1969, to benefit Britain's National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, Princess Margaret, president.

Spike Milligan provided the last word some years later: "It's a very funny film. I loved every inch of it. You've really got to hate people to love this film."

Throughout 1969, as the Beatles' personal behavior toward one another deteriorated-Paul was getting bossier, John wanted the group to break up, George resented Paul telling him how to play the guitar, Ringo was very nice-they recorded an anthem not of mere tolerance but of a more genuine acceptance acceptance, touched as it was with resignation. "Let It Be," they sang. Some of their recording sessions-not only for "Let It Be" but other songs as well, along with their rooftop concert-were filmed for inclusion in the film Let It Be Let It Be (1970). (1970).

Peter turns up in a scene that wasn't used in Let It Be Let It Be's final cut, for obvious reasons. The band is sitting on couches taking a break when their good friend Pete shows up and pleasantly offers them some knockout grass. It's a facetious conversation punctuated by a lot of merry laughter, but it still doesn't seem terribly far off the mark in terms of Peter's habits at the time, not to mention the Beatles' own drug use. obvious reasons. The band is sitting on couches taking a break when their good friend Pete shows up and pleasantly offers them some knockout grass. It's a facetious conversation punctuated by a lot of merry laughter, but it still doesn't seem terribly far off the mark in terms of Peter's habits at the time, not to mention the Beatles' own drug use.

Alas, the deal doesn't go down. Paul claims that he's stopped smoking pot; to be precise, Paul claims that a fictitious biographer has claimed that he has stopped smoking pot. Peter expresses great disappointment at this news, especially, he says, because he so fondly recalls the fantastic weed they'd once shared. As the dejected Peter makes his exit, Paul pushes things a little too far by advising Peter not to leave any syringes on the floor of the studio on his way out. Paul explains that he's worried about the band's notoriety since John Lennon's 1968 drug bust. Cut to a close-up of Lennon sitting apart from the others. John is noticeably displeased at Paul's little joke.

Peter helped three other friends make another film in 1969-the disastrous A Day at the Beach A Day at the Beach (1970). Simon Hessera directed and Gene Gutowski produced, from a script by Roman Polanski. (1970). Simon Hessera directed and Gene Gutowski produced, from a script by Roman Polanski.

"We wanted Hessera to make his debut as a director," Polanski relates. "That's what he he wanted to do, and he was really fantastic at acting and imitations, and we were convinced that he could do a good picture. Simon sat down with Gerard Brach, a writer with whom I wrote several scripts, and wrote a script called wanted to do, and he was really fantastic at acting and imitations, and we were convinced that he could do a good picture. Simon sat down with Gerard Brach, a writer with whom I wrote several scripts, and wrote a script called The Driver The Driver. [Brach cowrote the screenplays for Polanski's Repulsion Repulsion (1965), (1965), Cul-de-sac Cul-de-sac (1966), and (1966), and The Fearless Vampire Killers The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967).] Peter wanted to play a lead in the film-whatever he could do-[but] when I read that script I didn't believe there could be a movie made out of it. I thought we'd better find something else. I read a book by a guy called Heere Heeresma, a Dutch writer, did an adaptation of it, and suggested that Hessera do the film. Peter volunteered to do a cameo, and that was it. (1967).] Peter wanted to play a lead in the film-whatever he could do-[but] when I read that script I didn't believe there could be a movie made out of it. I thought we'd better find something else. I read a book by a guy called Heere Heeresma, a Dutch writer, did an adaptation of it, and suggested that Hessera do the film. Peter volunteered to do a cameo, and that was it.

"We were having a little party or dinner or something like that at the home of my partner at that time, Gene Gutowski, and [the producer] Robert Evans was there with Charlie Bludhorn, the head of Paramount; we were pushing for Paramount to finance the picture. Simon was there, and Peter was there, too, and of course we started doing one of our routines. They were tremendously amused-particularly Charlie-at what Simon and Peter were doing, and somehow started the notion that they were going to give some money for this film to be made." and Peter were doing, and somehow started the notion that they were going to give some money for this film to be made." A Day at the Beach A Day at the Beach was reportedly financed at a cost of $600,000. "In those times that was a lot of money," Polanski comments. "I mean, it was sufficient to make a low budget movie." was reportedly financed at a cost of $600,000. "In those times that was a lot of money," Polanski comments. "I mean, it was sufficient to make a low budget movie."

As Gutowski describes it, "A Day at the Beach is the story of the relationship between an alcoholic and his little daughter. He tries to have an outing at the beach and promises his ex-wife that he will not drink. Of course he falls apart and gets blind drunk. We shot it in Denmark-on the beach and in Copenhagen. Peter spent about a week or two with us. We had a very good time. He was always in pursuit of amorous adventures, always in pursuit of being introduced to the woman of his life and, you know, always in love or falling in love. That was Peter." is the story of the relationship between an alcoholic and his little daughter. He tries to have an outing at the beach and promises his ex-wife that he will not drink. Of course he falls apart and gets blind drunk. We shot it in Denmark-on the beach and in Copenhagen. Peter spent about a week or two with us. We had a very good time. He was always in pursuit of amorous adventures, always in pursuit of being introduced to the woman of his life and, you know, always in love or falling in love. That was Peter."

In an apparent attempt to make the film even more raw than its subject matter destined it to be, Hessera cast an unknown and inexperienced actor, Mark Burns, in the lead. Burns plays "Uncle Bernie," so nicknamed because his estranged wife refuses to tell her daughter, Winnie (Beatrice Edney), that the abysmal drunkard is really her father. It's a one-dimensional performance, the dimension being surliness.

Midway through the film, after a snack of three bottles of beer at a seaside cafe, Uncle Bernie leaves Winnie to fend for herself on the beach, in the rain, and staggers into a beachside trinket shop. He asks the proprietor for a shell. Peter Sellers's face appears in sudden close-up. He's wearing a white sweater and smart print ascot. His right shoulder is thrust forward. "Why don't you come in and choose one," he asks, toying with his earlobe.

Enter a grinning Graham Stark in a bright red shirt and print ascot; Peter's unnamed character addresses Stark as "Pipi." (The film's credits cite "The Partners: A. Queen and Graham Stark.") Peter tells Pipi to get some beer "while I keep this young man happy." Biting his finger, he declares that Pipi "goes and ruins everything, always everything, always."

Peter takes his sunglasses off and sucks on the earpiece. Pipi returns. "She wants three bottles and an opener," he says, referring to Uncle Bernie. (By this point, Hessera has cut away to the little girl, who is now tangled up in fishing netting and screaming in terror, but Uncle Bernie is shopping for shells and cannot hear her.) Uncle Bernie tells off Pipi for ruining Peter's life and leaves.

Bernie retrieves Winnie, who has somehow managed to extract herself from the netting, and they spend the rest of the day together, he drinking beer, she wandering around. The final scene occurs at night in an empty, cobblestoned town square. The bottomed-out Uncle Bernie staggers in, led by little Winnie, abruptly pitches forward, slams his head against the cobblestones, and croaks. The film's last words belong to the wailing little Winnie: "Uncle Bernie!" from the netting, and they spend the rest of the day together, he drinking beer, she wandering around. The final scene occurs at night in an empty, cobblestoned town square. The bottomed-out Uncle Bernie staggers in, led by little Winnie, abruptly pitches forward, slams his head against the cobblestones, and croaks. The film's last words belong to the wailing little Winnie: "Uncle Bernie!"

"It's not good," Polanski acknowledges. "The problem is, I'm afraid, the director, and also insufficient funds. But the main problem is the actor. You can't watch a man playing a drunk for one-and-a-half hours unless he's a really great actor and has some charisma. That guy had none.

"Other than that, I mean, the film.... If there had been a great performance.... The film is done well enough to work. What didn't didn't work was the casting. Simon was not a director, and, let's face it, we were a little bit cavalier." work was the casting. Simon was not a director, and, let's face it, we were a little bit cavalier."

What Polanski doesn't mention is that his work on A Day at the Beach A Day at the Beach was interrupted. He and Gutowski were in London when, in the early hours of Friday, August 8, 1969, some intruders creepy-crawled their way onto Polanski's rented estate in the hills above Bel Air, shot a young man to death in the driveway, and then murdered everyone inside the house. The victims were Sharon Tate, who was only a few weeks away from giving birth to a son; Jay Sebring, Abigail Folger, Wojiciech Frykowski, and Steve Parent, the youth in the driveway. No motive, no mercy, no sense, no solace. was interrupted. He and Gutowski were in London when, in the early hours of Friday, August 8, 1969, some intruders creepy-crawled their way onto Polanski's rented estate in the hills above Bel Air, shot a young man to death in the driveway, and then murdered everyone inside the house. The victims were Sharon Tate, who was only a few weeks away from giving birth to a son; Jay Sebring, Abigail Folger, Wojiciech Frykowski, and Steve Parent, the youth in the driveway. No motive, no mercy, no sense, no solace.

Gene Gutowski remembers: "Shortly after Sharon's murder I flew with Polanski from London to California. His friends gathered around him. There was Peter, Warren Beatty, Yul Brynner.... We kept a vigil, cheering him up as best we could and giving him support and friendship. Peter was instrumental. It was a tough time for everybody, absolutely." Peter attended Sharon's funeral on Wednesday, August 13, at Holy Cross Cemetery.

One month later, Roman and some friends offered a $25,000 reward for information leading to the arrests of the killers. Polanski himself doesn't remember the details anymore: "Peter Sellers...? I don't recall-not enough. I remember putting up the reward, and I know that the reward led to the capture of the people because it was paid out. Somehow no one mentioned it afterwards. If it was reported there must be some truth in it-I just don't remember. I mean, that period, I never go back to it, you know, voluntarily, and if you don't refresh your memory by going back to it, it fades out much faster." voluntarily, and if you don't refresh your memory by going back to it, it fades out much faster."

Gutowski, however, is very clear about Peter's help. He did put up part of the reward money, Gutowski says, and "he was motivated by pure friendship and his desire to help find the guilty." Polanski, Beatty, Brynner, and others provided the rest.

At the time, Peter spoke out in public: "Someone must have knowledge or suspicions they are withholding or may be afraid to reveal. Someone must have seen the blood-soaked clothing, the knife, the gun, the getaway car. Someone must be able to help."

By December 1969, Charles Manson, Susan Atkins, Patricia Krenwinkle, Tex Watson, Leslie Van Houton, and Linda Kasabian had all been charged with the murders. Charges against Kasabian were dropped when she agreed to be the star witness for the prosecution. The rest were convicted and are spending their lives in jail. A biker named Danny DeCarlo, who was familiar with the defendants and who felt the need to extract himself from a host of legal problems by sharing what he knew, evidently got some of the reward money; so, it seems, did Ronni Howard, a.k.a. Shelley Nadell, a.k.a. Connie Schampeau, to whom Susan Atkins had spilled some gory details in prison.

NINETEEN.

Peter Sellers was capable of enormous compassion, tenderness, and love-so much so that you thought you were going to be friends for life. And then hours, days, weeks later, the scale would tip the other way, and a very unlikable, aggressive person would emerge."

The director Alvin Rakoff is describing his experience of making the small scale, too-little-known Hoffman Hoffman (1970). "I look back at Peter with great affection, and love, and puzzlement. He was an extraordinary firecracker, and yet you were in danger of being burnt." (1970). "I look back at Peter with great affection, and love, and puzzlement. He was an extraordinary firecracker, and yet you were in danger of being burnt."

Filmed in the fall of 1969 in seven weeks at Elstree Studios, with one additional week on location (Wimbledon Common, the Thames Embankment), Hoffman Hoffman is the story of a middle-aged man who blackmails a pretty young woman into letting him dominate her, potentially sexually, for a one-week period after he discovers that her boyfriend, his employee, has been cheating him at work. The comedy-drama-of which there is substantially more unnerving drama than comedy of any sort-introduced the twenty-one-year-old Irish actress Sinead Cusack, the daughter of the actor Cyril Cusack, to the screen. is the story of a middle-aged man who blackmails a pretty young woman into letting him dominate her, potentially sexually, for a one-week period after he discovers that her boyfriend, his employee, has been cheating him at work. The comedy-drama-of which there is substantially more unnerving drama than comedy of any sort-introduced the twenty-one-year-old Irish actress Sinead Cusack, the daughter of the actor Cyril Cusack, to the screen.

Rakoff had directed an earlier, shorter version of Hoffman Hoffman for television, but as the project headed for the big screen, he found himself in some trouble. Donald Pleasance had played the role on TV, but he wasn't considered big enough for the silver screen. So Peter was hired, thanks to Bryan Forbes, who had become head of production at Elstree Studios, then controlled by EMI. But after a meeting at Peter's apartment on Clarges Street, Mayfair, Peter decided, as Rakoff describes it, that "he and I would never get on with each other, and I should leave the picture. I left the meeting. for television, but as the project headed for the big screen, he found himself in some trouble. Donald Pleasance had played the role on TV, but he wasn't considered big enough for the silver screen. So Peter was hired, thanks to Bryan Forbes, who had become head of production at Elstree Studios, then controlled by EMI. But after a meeting at Peter's apartment on Clarges Street, Mayfair, Peter decided, as Rakoff describes it, that "he and I would never get on with each other, and I should leave the picture. I left the meeting.

"But Bryan Forbes said to Peter, 'I'm not paying him off. If you want him to go, you you pay him off.' And the next thing I know, there's a call from pay him off.' And the next thing I know, there's a call from Peter, saying 'I'm sure we can get on with each other-shall we try?' So there I was-fired from the picture by the leading man and reluctantly taken back. But then we got on like a house on fire-a very warm friendship." Peter, saying 'I'm sure we can get on with each other-shall we try?' So there I was-fired from the picture by the leading man and reluctantly taken back. But then we got on like a house on fire-a very warm friendship."

"I auditioned Sinead with Peter, and Peter liked her," Rakoff reports. "It was essential that there be some sort of chemistry between the two of them." That there was. As Rakoff describes it, they got along "too well."

"Peter said, 'Let's have dinner tonight,' and she said yes, so he said, 'I'll pick you up.' About 8:00 o'clock I heard the helicopter Peter had ordered. He took her to Paris for dinner. 'Let's have dinner' became not 'dinner' but a love dinner at a very good Parisian restaurant. I would defy any beautiful girl not to fall in love with such a man. He was a very lovable guy when he wanted to be."

The affair was intense, rather brief, and sequentially joyous and harsh. "Oh, they had terrible riles, those two, but again, who wasn't riled with Peter Sellers?" says Rakoff.

Miranda Quarry didn't go entirely missing while Peter was romancing Sinead. According to Rakoff, Miranda "was around all the time. She was around the night Peter said, 'I don't think you and I are going to get on.' She was around then, and I knew it was fairly disastrous then. I told him-'There's nothing to this love, Peter.' He hadn't had his eye opened. He had certain questions about other women, so it didn't appear that he was overwhelmingly, passionately single-minded about Miranda Quarry."

"Please make yourself look as if you want to be fertilized fertilized."

That's Benjamin Hoffman (Sellers), leaning up against the bathroom door with a lascivious grin. Miss Smith (Cusack) has locked herself inside in terror. The film is full of such unpleasant lines, but that is its nature; it's about a mean, lonely, middle-aged man and a mousy, trod-upon young woman. "What you're doing to me is atrocious," she spits. "It's the filthiest thing I've ever heard of." "Yes, I am filthy, yes," he replies with a smirk, "but there's no escaping one's fate."

"Miss Smith, you are here to be two arms, two legs, a face, and what fits in the middle."

"There are two people in all of us-the child in the snapshot and the monster the child grows into."

"Women are always hungry for something-fallopian tubes with teeth."

He shows her the new flat he's building for himself: MISS S SMITH: What's wrong with the old place?

HOFFMAN: Oh, well, you know-treacheries, miseries, failure, despair. Oh, well, you know-treacheries, miseries, failure, despair.

At times, Peter inhabits Benjamin Hoffman so wholly that he appears to be speaking from his own heart: "You were afraid to go out with me because of my maniac face," he mentions. "Yes, girls all over the world are afraid of men with my expression-plain, sad-faced men. You look at us, all of you, and you're right." (In fact, of course, Peter Sellers rarely experienced this phenomenon in his life. Even before he glamorized himself for Sophia Loren, the actual actual sad-faced man generally got the beautiful women he sought, and their fear, if any, came later.) As he concludes his speech, he walks past the picture of Daniel Mendoza that happens to be hanging on Hoffman's wall, glances up at it, and declares, speaking of the millions of melancholy men in the world, "Their day is coming.... Hope never dies in a man with a good, dirty mind." sad-faced man generally got the beautiful women he sought, and their fear, if any, came later.) As he concludes his speech, he walks past the picture of Daniel Mendoza that happens to be hanging on Hoffman's wall, glances up at it, and declares, speaking of the millions of melancholy men in the world, "Their day is coming.... Hope never dies in a man with a good, dirty mind."

According to Alvin Rakoff, this was all scripted: "He was certainly capable of any sort of improvising he wanted. All you had to do was tell him to improvise. But the text of the script was there, and that's the script we did."

It is an astute, actorly performance on Sellers's part. He plays Hoffman differently when Hoffman is not in Miss Smith's presence; when she's not around he becomes mutedly fidgety and insecure. When he knows she can see or hear him, he acts the cool lothario, spinning each line with insinuating inflection (or infection as the case may be). But even from her perspective it's a failed performance. She sees through it and falls in love with him.

Hoffman may be a miniature, but it does contain one striking technical feat. There is a single shot that lasts for about eight minutes. Rakoff explains: "Peter said, 'Can't we...?' He was always asking, 'Can't we...?'" may be a miniature, but it does contain one striking technical feat. There is a single shot that lasts for about eight minutes. Rakoff explains: "Peter said, 'Can't we...?' He was always asking, 'Can't we...?'"

The shot-which begins when Hoffman escorts Miss Smith back into the bedroom after she attempts to flee-was complicated to design and treacherous to execute. According to Rakoff, there were 118 camera positions for the cameraman and tracking crew. But they only had to do several takes, and Rakoff believes they used the first or second; Peter's fears of brain damage from the heart attack were certainly given the lie by his ability to remember all the lines, gestures, and movement cues. Rakoff remains impressed by the social aspect of it as well. "Peter wanted to do a long take, so he put his teeth into it. It helped pull the unit together because they thought it was a remarkable achievement that, as a film crew, they could do this. Everyone kept saying it was impossible. But Peter liked the idea; he liked going for broke. I kept saying, 'Okay, we'll stop treacherous to execute. According to Rakoff, there were 118 camera positions for the cameraman and tracking crew. But they only had to do several takes, and Rakoff believes they used the first or second; Peter's fears of brain damage from the heart attack were certainly given the lie by his ability to remember all the lines, gestures, and movement cues. Rakoff remains impressed by the social aspect of it as well. "Peter wanted to do a long take, so he put his teeth into it. It helped pull the unit together because they thought it was a remarkable achievement that, as a film crew, they could do this. Everyone kept saying it was impossible. But Peter liked the idea; he liked going for broke. I kept saying, 'Okay, we'll stop there there,' and he'd say, 'No, let's keep going.' Sinead was in awe of him, of course, so she, too, was motivated."

He wasn't always in such control in front of the camera, the worst problem being a certain unreliability. "He was an actor who giggled a lot-that's an endearing quality," says Rakoff. "Once, right after lunch, he got a fit of the giggles, as actors can do. Anything Anything we tried doing, he couldn't stop giggling, and he had to leave the set-and the studio. That's another thing-I'd never know if he'd ever come back. I said, 'Okay, Peter, we'd better call it a day,' and he was just giggling, and said, 'I'll try to come back tomorrow. I can't be sure.'" we tried doing, he couldn't stop giggling, and he had to leave the set-and the studio. That's another thing-I'd never know if he'd ever come back. I said, 'Okay, Peter, we'd better call it a day,' and he was just giggling, and said, 'I'll try to come back tomorrow. I can't be sure.'"

Rakoff recalls that Peter "arrived on the last day of shooting with gifts for everybody. He gave the camera operator a color television set-that was pretty rare in 1969. He gave Leica cameras, tape recorders, small portable radios.... His factotum, Bert, distributed them. When he came to Ben [Arbeid, the film's producer] and me, he put his arm around both of us and said, 'You two guys-I didn't know what to get you, so what I want you to do is to take your wives, go on a trip to anywhere that you've wanted to go-anywhere in the world! And send me the bill.' I looked at Ben, and Ben said, 'Oh, that's lovely-that's a terrific gift!' And I said, 'Please, Peter, can I have a color television set?'

"He just laughed and went away. Ben said, 'Why did you say that?' I said, 'Because it will never happen.' He was like a bouncing ball. You know things are going to go wrong. Sure enough, Ben did go on a trip and sent Peter the bill. Peter ignored it.

"He meant meant it," Rakoff is convinced. "At the time he absolutely it," Rakoff is convinced. "At the time he absolutely meant meant it. He wanted us to go-that day." it. He wanted us to go-that day."

Rakoff always thought Hoffman Hoffman's pace was too slow: "It does have faults. I am to blame for some of them because I couldn't cajole, applaud, whip whip Peter to play it faster. I couldn't get it out of him, and that, I think, is the principle felony. But character-wise, it works. Peter to play it faster. I couldn't get it out of him, and that, I think, is the principle felony. But character-wise, it works. Sellers Sellers-wise it works."

Actually, the film's chief fault lies not with its pace but with its sound track, where an easy-listening 1970-vintage score belies both the cruelty and the poignancy of the drama. Hoffman treats Miss Smith abominably, and yet the musical score is that of a light romantic comedy. Even when their emotional tenors begin to shift, the slight and forgettable music sets the wrong tone.

Commercially, the film was a failure that never had the chance to be a critical flop. According to Bryan Forbes, Peter "entered into one of his manic depressive periods" during the production and demanded, upon completion, "to buy back the negative and remake it.... I had to take the blame." According to Rakoff, Forbes's own disputes within Elstree led to the film's exceedingly poor distribution-so poor, in fact, that Hoffman Hoffman waited until 1982 to be screened in a New York repertory house. waited until 1982 to be screened in a New York repertory house.

His faulty heart was necessarily on his mind, and together with his declining cinematic fortunes, Peter's thoughts turned morbid. At the time, according to Rakoff, Peter talked about dying quite a bit. He told the director that he was planning to be cryogenically preserved. "He told me more than once. We're talking about a man who had been pronounced dead and was brought back to life. He said he'd arranged to be frozen. You could either have just your head frozen or your whole body frozen. I think he said he had arranged for the whole body; maybe it was just the head; I don't really know. I said, 'Aren't you worried? We know that everything deteriorates when frozen, so when you come to, you won't be the same. If, a thousand years from now, they know how to revive a dead man, you won't be the same same dead man. You'll be a freak!' And he said, 'I don't care. At least I'll be alive.'" dead man. You'll be a freak!' And he said, 'I don't care. At least I'll be alive.'"

In October, with Hoffman Hoffman still in production, Peter mentioned to the still in production, Peter mentioned to the Evening Standard Evening Standard that he was set to return to the stage. It wasn't going to be a splashy exercise like that he was set to return to the stage. It wasn't going to be a splashy exercise like Brouhaha Brouhaha; Jane Arden's The Illusionist The Illusionist would play at the Open-Space theater, which was located in a Tottenham Court would play at the Open-Space theater, which was located in a Tottenham Court basement. "The main character is a music-hall illusionist who does tricks," he said. "It's a very evil part. The play is a strange piece. It has an edge of great horror." basement. "The main character is a music-hall illusionist who does tricks," he said. "It's a very evil part. The play is a strange piece. It has an edge of great horror." The Illusionist The Illusionist would have a ten-week run beginning in January. would have a ten-week run beginning in January.

Then it changed; The Illusionist The Illusionist would play at the Round House theater, and Peter's costar would be Charlotte Rampling. would play at the Round House theater, and Peter's costar would be Charlotte Rampling.

It changed once more-Peter never appeared in The Illusionist The Illusionist. It all ended in a little lawsuit and was forgotten.

"Very een-ter-est-ing," Artie Johnson murmurs in a 1969 episode of Laugh-In Laugh-In. Peter pops up out of the bushes in matching German military gear. He stares intently at Johnson. "I sink zat you you are very een-ter-esting, too!" says Peter, cracking up at the end of the line and descending back into the bushes together with a giggling Johnson. are very een-ter-esting, too!" says Peter, cracking up at the end of the line and descending back into the bushes together with a giggling Johnson.

Dan Rowan and Dick Martin's Laugh-In Laugh-In was the hippest American comedy show of the period-Burbank's answer to was the hippest American comedy show of the period-Burbank's answer to Monty Python Monty Python. ( Laugh-In Laugh-In actually predated actually predated Monty Python's Flying Circus Monty Python's Flying Circus by a year.) Guest stars turned up regularly to add a certain celebrity kick to the series' regulars-Johnson, Judy Carne, Ruth Buzzi, Henry Gibson, Goldie Hawn, Alan Sues, and Joanne Worley. Richard Nixon once appeared, famously saying "Sock it to by a year.) Guest stars turned up regularly to add a certain celebrity kick to the series' regulars-Johnson, Judy Carne, Ruth Buzzi, Henry Gibson, Goldie Hawn, Alan Sues, and Joanne Worley. Richard Nixon once appeared, famously saying "Sock it to me me?" On the program on which Peter turned up, the other special guests were Johnny Carson and Debbie Reynolds.

Some of Peter's jokes were defiantly lame. "Thanks for the tea, Dan," says Peter, "but it is awfully weak, I'm afraid." "I'm sorry, Peter," Rowan responds. "Say, how long should should the tea be left in the water?" "Well, let me put it this way: the tea in the Boston Harbor is just about ready." A better bit occurs with Artie Johnson, when Peter turns up as Artie's friend in Johnson's classic, black-coated Dirty Old Man routine. They molest Ruth Buzzi together on a park bench. She beats Peter back with her pocketbook. Peter (in Henry Crun voice): "You've just made an old man very happy!" whereupon he and Artie fall off the bench together and die. the tea be left in the water?" "Well, let me put it this way: the tea in the Boston Harbor is just about ready." A better bit occurs with Artie Johnson, when Peter turns up as Artie's friend in Johnson's classic, black-coated Dirty Old Man routine. They molest Ruth Buzzi together on a park bench. She beats Peter back with her pocketbook. Peter (in Henry Crun voice): "You've just made an old man very happy!" whereupon he and Artie fall off the bench together and die.

"Hel-lo!" Peter sings out as he pulls open a window in the magnificent Joke Wall. "You really have done a remarkable job in your experiment with the democratic system here in America. Just think! It was only a hundred years ago when President Lincoln freed the black people. And already some of them are even going to school!"

Always generous to his friends, Peter lent his support to Graham Stark by agreeing to appear as himself in Stark's thirty-minute silent comedy short, Simon Simon Simon Simon (1970), along with Michael Caine and David Hemmings. A pair of blokes of limited intelligence (Stark and John Junkin) involve themselves in a series of misadventures involving a truck and short underpass, a mock firing squad, a stranded cat and a cherry picker, an aerial dogfight between two cherry pickers, and so on. Peter's scene lasts all of forty seconds. In the midst of a car chase-the car is chased by two cherry pickers-there occurs a minor crash. The driver of the chased car hits a sleek blue sports car. Peter is inside. It's a hit and run accident, but Peter isn't concerned about legal issues. With a troubled expression on his face, he gets out, inspects the dent, and gestures impatiently to someone offscreen. An assistant rushes into the image, gets into the car, and drives away. Peter gestures again to another offscreen factotum, his new (1970), along with Michael Caine and David Hemmings. A pair of blokes of limited intelligence (Stark and John Junkin) involve themselves in a series of misadventures involving a truck and short underpass, a mock firing squad, a stranded cat and a cherry picker, an aerial dogfight between two cherry pickers, and so on. Peter's scene lasts all of forty seconds. In the midst of a car chase-the car is chased by two cherry pickers-there occurs a minor crash. The driver of the chased car hits a sleek blue sports car. Peter is inside. It's a hit and run accident, but Peter isn't concerned about legal issues. With a troubled expression on his face, he gets out, inspects the dent, and gestures impatiently to someone offscreen. An assistant rushes into the image, gets into the car, and drives away. Peter gestures again to another offscreen factotum, his new red red sports car pulls up, he gets in, and speeds away. sports car pulls up, he gets in, and speeds away.

"I really don't know if he fell in love with me," says Goldie Hawn, Peter's costar in his next picture, There's a Girl in My Soup There's a Girl in My Soup (1970). "I only know that I gave him a surprise party in my home some time after the film. He spent all evening looking at my things and said, 'This is the kind of house I've always dreamed of having, with all the warmth and stability that I feel here.' Afterwards he sent me this absolutely gorgeous armoire, which I still have." (1970). "I only know that I gave him a surprise party in my home some time after the film. He spent all evening looking at my things and said, 'This is the kind of house I've always dreamed of having, with all the warmth and stability that I feel here.' Afterwards he sent me this absolutely gorgeous armoire, which I still have."

The project carried with it certain ominous specters. There's a Girl in My Soup There's a Girl in My Soup was made by the Boulting brothers, John and Roy, who had had increasingly rough times with Peter on the four films they made together- was made by the Boulting brothers, John and Roy, who had had increasingly rough times with Peter on the four films they made together-Carlton-Browne of the F.O.; I'm All Right, Jack I'm All Right, Jack; Only Two Can Play Only Two Can Play; and Heaven's Above! Heaven's Above!, the last having been made seven years earlier, even before the debacle of Casino Royale Casino Royale. There's a Girl in My Soup There's a Girl in My Soup was financed by Columbia Pictures, which made was financed by Columbia Pictures, which made Casino Royale Casino Royale. And finally, There's a Girl in My Soup There's a Girl in My Soup was coproduced by Mike Frankovich, who declared after was coproduced by Mike Frankovich, who declared after Casino Royale Casino Royale that Peter would never be permitted to make another picture for Columbia Pictures. that Peter would never be permitted to make another picture for Columbia Pictures.

Despite its catchy title, the film is a pretty dreary exercise. In London, the amorous, patrician, middle-aged Robert Danvers (Sellers), the host of a televised gourmet show, picks up a promiscuous nineteen-year-old American girl (Hawn) who is in the process of breaking up with her handsome, oafish, more or less worthless boyfriend (Nicky Henson). A free spirit with a smart mouth and a hard, cruel edge, Marion is scarcely the kooky dumb blond Goldie Hawn played so triumphantly on oafish, more or less worthless boyfriend (Nicky Henson). A free spirit with a smart mouth and a hard, cruel edge, Marion is scarcely the kooky dumb blond Goldie Hawn played so triumphantly on Laugh-In Laugh-In. Marion is mean. And Danvers, for his part, is selfish and singular, consumed by his career, resistant to intrusions, obsessed with sex-in short, and despite his wealth, an ordinary middle-aged male.

The sexual revolution of the late 1960s, along with its concomitant dismissal of censorship regulations, gave free rein to the Boultings' love of smut. At one point, Danvers makes love to a beautiful girl while watching himself on television talking about impaling a piece of meat, the video Danvers completing the joke with a matching finger gesture. Later, when a Frenchman employs the word "happiness," he accents the second syllable. And so on.

Still, Sellers is quite accomplished at conveying the depressing trials of masculinity in middle age. He knew what he was doing. With his own hair thinning, he covered it with a toupee to go with his capped teeth, exercises, and constant dieting. Onscreen, when he flexes, shirtless, in front of a triple mirror, he manages to look both virile and pathetic. It's a shame that the character as written is so colorless; Terence Frisby's script, based on his own stage play, lacks wit and verbal flair. What saves There's a Girl in My Soup There's a Girl in My Soup is Goldie Hawn, who lends her unpleasant character an air of relaxed prepossession. Aside from his short bit with Shirley MacLaine in is Goldie Hawn, who lends her unpleasant character an air of relaxed prepossession. Aside from his short bit with Shirley MacLaine in Woman Times Seven Woman Times Seven, Peter Sellers had never before played opposite such a deft and naturalistic actress.

Roy Boulting later wrote of Peter that "during the making of There's a Girl in My Soup There's a Girl in My Soup, the relationship had been a very abrasive one. I emerged from it, worn, shaken, and swearing that I would never endure such an experience again." According to Boulting, Peter was "nervy, irritable, and deeply unhappy," during the production, characteristics that Boulting attributed to his relationship with Miranda.

Nineteen seventy does appear to have been a particularly strange, strained year for Peter. In the late spring, the time during which There's a Girl in My Soup There's a Girl in My Soup was shooting, Peter announced that he was in the market for a new house in a very particular location. A friend had told him, as Sellers put it, that "when the great nuclear blow-up occurs, and the Earth is shifted on its axis, there will be only two safe places in which to live." It was between Stonehenge and the Ozarks. He chose Stonehenge. was shooting, Peter announced that he was in the market for a new house in a very particular location. A friend had told him, as Sellers put it, that "when the great nuclear blow-up occurs, and the Earth is shifted on its axis, there will be only two safe places in which to live." It was between Stonehenge and the Ozarks. He chose Stonehenge.

He did not end up moving to Stonehenge, but he did marry Miranda.

London's Evening Standard Evening Standard, August 24, 1970: Peter Sellers and Lord Mancroft's stepdaughter, Miranda Quarry, were married at Caxton Hall today. About 300 people waiting outside the register office cheered as the couple emerged. Miranda, 23, and Sellers, 44, have been close friends for about two years but had previously denied marriage plans. About three dozen guests were at the wedding. They included actor Spike Milligan, who wore a cream safari-style shirt and black corduroy peaked cap.

Miranda arrived with Lord and Lady Mancroft at 12 noon exactly. She was wearing a gypsy-style dress with a full length skirt in puce printed silk and a black velvet bodice. She had a black sombrero hat and carried a posy of white roses. With her were her two three-year-old Pekinese dogs, Tabatha and Thomasina. "They are my bridesmaids," she said with a smile...Witnesses at the ten minute ceremony were Sellers' closest friend, Bert Mortimer, who was also best man, and solicitor John Humphries.

With two rings did he wed. He slipped both on Miranda's finger-a traditional platinum band and a more elaborate Russian ring that signified love, fidelity, and happiness.

"Every man's dream is still, I'm sure, finding a virgin," Peter told an Esquire Esquire interviewer shortly before the wedding. He and Miranda were married by the time the profile was published, so his remarks became an unfortunate historical record. "That's why marriage has gone on the rocks," he persisted. "The original idea was that the girl had never been with anyone else, and it was so pure. That's not quite the word. So I came to the conclusion that to be in love with the girl of one's dreams-who if possible was a virgin-was the ultimate happiness." interviewer shortly before the wedding. He and Miranda were married by the time the profile was published, so his remarks became an unfortunate historical record. "That's why marriage has gone on the rocks," he persisted. "The original idea was that the girl had never been with anyone else, and it was so pure. That's not quite the word. So I came to the conclusion that to be in love with the girl of one's dreams-who if possible was a virgin-was the ultimate happiness."

His notions about the desirability of virgins went quickly by the boards. Peter clearly harbored grave misgivings about his long-term prospects with Miranda. And, as was his custom, he took his complaints to an ex-wife, in this case Britt. In one of their disconcertingly frequent telephone conversations during this period, he was markedly perplexed. "I don't know if I'm doing the right thing," he whined, "but Miranda says it's now or never." Anne was consulted as well. doing the right thing," he whined, "but Miranda says it's now or never." Anne was consulted as well.

Despite his insistence to Esquire Esquire that he wasn't at all the sad, neurotic clown that his first biographer, Peter Evans, had just gotten through portraying in that he wasn't at all the sad, neurotic clown that his first biographer, Peter Evans, had just gotten through portraying in The Mask Behind the Mask The Mask Behind the Mask (a good book that Peter hated), Peter was often quite morose. Sian Phillips recounts the melancholy nature of a man adrift in a sea of material splendor: "He turned up in Rome in O'Toole's suite at the Excelsior and said, 'Could I sleep on your couch?' He wanted to come to England, but he wasn't allowed-he'd be arrested for tax or something, I don't know-so he pitched his tent, as it were, in O'Toole's sitting room. O'Toole thought this was great fun for a bit and then got very tired of it and said, 'Go and stay with my wife in Hampstead. I know she won't tell anybody. You can just sneak in and hole up there, and just don't go out, and nobody will know you're there.' (a good book that Peter hated), Peter was often quite morose. Sian Phillips recounts the melancholy nature of a man adrift in a sea of material splendor: "He turned up in Rome in O'Toole's suite at the Excelsior and said, 'Could I sleep on your couch?' He wanted to come to England, but he wasn't allowed-he'd be arrested for tax or something, I don't know-so he pitched his tent, as it were, in O'Toole's sitting room. O'Toole thought this was great fun for a bit and then got very tired of it and said, 'Go and stay with my wife in Hampstead. I know she won't tell anybody. You can just sneak in and hole up there, and just don't go out, and nobody will know you're there.'

"Now, I had two children and a house full of people, and the only bed was in the study on the ground floor, where all the phones were as well. So I thought, 'Right, okay, I'll do this, he probably won't be here for very long.' So he arrived with Bert, his trusty, chauffeur, companion, friend, whatever, and they moved in with a mountain of luggage. I've never seen more Louis Vuitton in my life-there were trunks! trunks! I couldn't believe it. I thought, 'This is not very good.' I couldn't believe it. I thought, 'This is not very good.'

"I told my mother, who looked after the house for us. I said, 'Peter Sellers is coming to stay.' 'When's he coming?' 'I don't know. He's sneaking in under cover of darkness.' 'Never mind-I'll make a big boef bourguignon boef bourguignon.' So she spent most of the day making a very authentic, exquisite boef bourguignon boef bourguignon, and Peter arrived, and she said, 'Settle down, Mr. Sellers'-she was Welsh-'and I will get you your supper. I've got a very good boef bourguignon boef bourguignon.'

"'Oh, I'm a vegetarian.'

"Consternation.