Crun and Min, Grytpype-Thynne and Moriarty, Bloodnok-Peter's key antiheroic characters all turned up for the last hurrah, along with an unnamed Hindu man who carries on an incomprehensible shipboard conversation with Eccles. The saga ends with Ned blowing himself up while smoking a ninety-foot-long cigarette, landing in the hospital, and running off screaming amid the unscripted laughter of his fellow Goons. "Yes, that was the last Goon Show Goon Show," the particularly weary-sounding announcer Wallace Greenslade says in the final seconds of the program. "Bye, now."

Life at Chipperfield, as with Peter's life as a whole, was alternately social and amusing, isolated and strange. Given the immensity of the place, Peter was now able to vanish completely into his photographic and filmmaking hideout, Peter's answer to a Cold War bomb shelter. According to Anne, he "actually had a whole wing with a darkroom and a little cinema." Michael was carted off daily to whatever private school Peter had installed him in-he himself attributes the decisions to his father-and nannies took care of Sarah. Peter was often in London filming, or recording, or broadcasting. Anne was increasingly secluded. was now able to vanish completely into his photographic and filmmaking hideout, Peter's answer to a Cold War bomb shelter. According to Anne, he "actually had a whole wing with a darkroom and a little cinema." Michael was carted off daily to whatever private school Peter had installed him in-he himself attributes the decisions to his father-and nannies took care of Sarah. Peter was often in London filming, or recording, or broadcasting. Anne was increasingly secluded.

At the same time, Peter loved having his friends come for an afternoon, or evening, or two, or three. He was at heart much more comfortable being a friend than a husband and father. David Lodge was such a frequent guest that he kept a stash of supplies at Chipperfield: "There was a toothbrush and pajamas there all the time, and a razor. I was unmarried and spent most of my time there when I wasn't working." Max Geldray was also a regular: "He used to call me a lot-very often in my voice. He would ask me to come over and play. This was one of the phrases that he used-'Will you come over and play?' Like two kids-'come and play.' It meant he had gotten two tape recorders. He would borrow them from stores, or he would buy them, and he would give them back, and he would buy something different. It meant photography, different cameras, not liking this camera and going to get another one. It meant a three- or four-day weekend."

Peter's mood-driven sociability was genuine. He was intensely loyal to his friends, and he loved having them around, but his affability was becoming faintly spiced with a sense of lordliness that crept into his personality to go along with the real estate. He was telling the press that he wanted to maintain a certain distance from his new neighbors: "As a matter of fact, I'm trying to build a legend that I'm a mad actor who rides a black mare across the fields at night with a hook on my hand. Then maybe they'll leave me alone." But David Lodge describes a rather different Peter: "Being the squire of Chipperfield, he behaved like the squire of Chipperfield, certainly when he was in front of the people of the village."

Picture a piece of home movie footage of a snowball fight between Anne, Peter, David, and the two kids. It's a domestic scene that could have been played out in any family's backyard in wintertime. As recorded on celluloid, Chipperfield on that day looks like a landscape of fun, family, and friendship. The subjects, running and laughing, dodge icy cannonfire and pitch return volleys, all in good nature. Like snapshots, home movies catch a certain truth. But Anne, in a few words, hits at a deeper fact about life at the manor-something the amateur director wasn't able to capture in his images: "I never knew what we were doing there. I'm not sure that Peter ever knew what we were doing there either." in his images: "I never knew what we were doing there. I'm not sure that Peter ever knew what we were doing there either."

By 1960, the British and American press were industriously setting up a competition of the sort no one can possibly win: "There have been rumors (unsubstantiated) that he wants to do an Alec Guinness."

"He may even be crowding his idol, Sir Alec Guinness, with his mixed bag of characterizations and multiple roles."

"There's no doubt about it-Alec Guinness stands in clear peril of losing his eminent position as Britain's most distinguished film comedian."

Peter himself played it up: "I work from the voice inward-probably from being in radio-instead of going for the physical characteristics first. Then I figure out what they're going to look like. Guinness, who of course is wonderful, works from the body outward and plans every movement in advance. I play a scene the way I feel it." And: "Alec likes to use technique to work out just what he will do before he starts. I use technique too but I have to get into the part-feel it from the inside, you know. I think that's why his characters sometimes seem cool, if not cold."

It was in this context that Peter ignored the advice of his close friends and made the decision to appear as a ruthless criminal mastermind in John Guillermin's Brit noir, Never Let Go Never Let Go (1960). Like Guinness, he'd already played multiple characters in the same film, and he could do practically any voice he wished, but he was remaining, after all, just a comedy star, albeit the greatest in the United Kingdom. As such he considered his art "puny." Heavy drama beckoned. (1960). Like Guinness, he'd already played multiple characters in the same film, and he could do practically any voice he wished, but he was remaining, after all, just a comedy star, albeit the greatest in the United Kingdom. As such he considered his art "puny." Heavy drama beckoned. Never Let Go Never Let Go was not going to be funny on any level, and Peter's character-the car-thieving, girlfriend-slapping, murderous Lionel Meadows-appealed to his sense of challenge. He would actually be was not going to be funny on any level, and Peter's character-the car-thieving, girlfriend-slapping, murderous Lionel Meadows-appealed to his sense of challenge. He would actually be doing doing the Guinness if the now-retired Major Bloodnok and Bluebottle turned himself into an unremittingly vicious thug. the Guinness if the now-retired Major Bloodnok and Bluebottle turned himself into an unremittingly vicious thug.

Shooting began at Beaconsfield in late November 1959. The story is bleak and simple: A failing salesman (Richard Todd) leaves his office one day to find that his car is stolen. His life unravels, and his obsession with finding the car consumes him. He traces the theft first to the young punk who actually pinched it (the heartthrob Adam Faith), and then to Lionel Meadows (Peter) and his chippie girlfriend, Jackie, played by the nubile Carol White.

According to White, Peter started out as an avuncular figure: "When I stepped in front of the cameras at Beaconsfield, my self-confidence deserted me. Peter Sellers saw me wobbling like a jelly and quickly came to the rescue. He cracked jokes and went into his 'Ying tong iddle I po' routine, my moment of anxiety passed, and we were soon whistling through the takes." White also reports that her mother and Peter quickly developed a friendship. Their discussion centering on dieting techniques, Peter was soon wearing pink plastic sweat bags under his clothes, convinced that pounds of fat were melting away every day.

His attitude toward Carol White shifted as shooting progressed. It remained warmly protective, but the tone darkened. Everyone involved with Never Let Go Never Let Go knew that the two hottest youths in the cast, White and Faith, were privately conducting themselves in the manner expected of hot youths, and Peter grew jealous-so much so that when he had to slap White's face in one scene he really whapped her hard with his palm. For whatever reason, the director, John Guillermin, ordered about a dozen takes of the action. knew that the two hottest youths in the cast, White and Faith, were privately conducting themselves in the manner expected of hot youths, and Peter grew jealous-so much so that when he had to slap White's face in one scene he really whapped her hard with his palm. For whatever reason, the director, John Guillermin, ordered about a dozen takes of the action.

Characteristically, Peter soon appeared, contrite and amorous, at the door of White's dressing room. Yes, he confessed, he had indeed become insanely jealous of Adam Faith. "I was sleeping with Adam," White observes in her memoirs, "and there was superstar Peter Sellers telling me that I filled his every dream." White decided, as she puts it, to play "one man off against the other."

The two of them were rehearsing one day in Peter's dressing room-a noirishly threatening bedroom scene, as it happened. But in the dressing room it was romantic comedy, Sellers-style: Peter began his conquest by doing a series of Goon voices and followed through by delivering all of his gangster lines in the voice of an Italian gigolo. The method worked, though there was some assistance from two factors beyond Peter's control: "He had helped me through my brief spell of insecurity and I felt I owed him something." Also, Carol White adds, "I liked the fact that most men wanted to make love to me and I had gotten over being raped."

By the time they filmed their scene, in which Meadows menaces Jackie into bed, they'd had each other offscreen as well, and they continued to do so over the next few weeks of shooting.

The unusually active Carol then proceeded to launch an affair with the other other leading man, Richard Todd. Never having given up Adam Faith during her affair with Peter, she was quite the star of the offscreen show: leading man, Richard Todd. Never having given up Adam Faith during her affair with Peter, she was quite the star of the offscreen show: "During the last two weeks of shooting "During the last two weeks of shooting Never Let Go Never Let Go I enjoyed my triangle of lovers. When filming was over, Peter Sellers returned to his wife and our secret adventure was over." I enjoyed my triangle of lovers. When filming was over, Peter Sellers returned to his wife and our secret adventure was over."

"The fact that her mother was on the set a lot I always found very suspicious," John Guillermin observes. "When the mother's there it doesn't mean that the daughter's innocent. It means the opposite."

"He was very loyal to his friends from the radio days," says John Guillermin. That's how David Lodge ended up playing Lionel Meadows's henchman in Never Let Go Never Let Go. "Peter introduced me to David, and we cast him." (Lodge went on to marry Guillermin's sister, Lyn.) "We had a very funny scene on that film," Guillermin declares unexpectedly, given Never Let Go Never Let Go's utter lack of comedy. "Peter and David had a history of inside jokes, mostly on Peter's side. He had an absolutely manic sense of humor-a wonderful, crazy humor that suddenly exploded, and he'd be helpless with laughter. So there was a line of David's-it was a very dramatic moment, they're in the garage, and David runs in and says, 'The police are outside!' For some reason, this line absolutely dissolved Peter. Every time Every time, David ran in, full of terror, and said it, and Peter exploded with laughter. We got one one take in-the laughter started about a second after the last mod [audio signal], and we managed to print it." take in-the laughter started about a second after the last mod [audio signal], and we managed to print it."

There was mirth during the shooting, but none during the accounting after the film's release. Despite Sellers's enormous popularity at the time, Never Let Go Never Let Go was neither a commercial nor critical success. "Now that this so unnecessary film has been made," wrote the reviewer for the was neither a commercial nor critical success. "Now that this so unnecessary film has been made," wrote the reviewer for the New York Times New York Times, "will Mr. Sellers please go and do something precisely the opposite?" Says Guillermin, "Box-office-wise it didn't do anything like his comedies, so for him it wasn't lucrative." Peter never played a thoroughly unsympathetic character again.

Peter's rendition of a gangster is rather successful nevertheless. Lionel Meadows gave him a chance to channel some real rage, especially during the scene in which he slams Adam Faith's hand in a desk drawer. Perhaps it's the knowledge of Peter's more famous roles that gets in the way, but one gets the slightest sense that he's impersonating a movie thug rather than being being the thug in the movie, a tendency the camera can't help but register. Drawing his lips back in an intimidating, mirthless grin, and speaking in a the thug in the movie, a tendency the camera can't help but register. Drawing his lips back in an intimidating, mirthless grin, and speaking in a nasal twang derived from old Jimmy Cagney movies, Peter seems just a little bit adrift as he tries to be despicable. It's as though he simply didn't have it in him to be so unbendingly cruel onscreen. nasal twang derived from old Jimmy Cagney movies, Peter seems just a little bit adrift as he tries to be despicable. It's as though he simply didn't have it in him to be so unbendingly cruel onscreen.

According to Michael Sellers, however, Peter immersed himself in Never Let Go Never Let Go so thoroughly during the production that he returned to Chipperfield every night as Lionel Meadows, savagery and all. Peter acknowledged that his inability to shake his adoptive thug persona was hard on Anne: "I was sort of edgy with her while we made that film." Michael goes a few steps further: "He was abusive and violent and we became terrified of him." so thoroughly during the production that he returned to Chipperfield every night as Lionel Meadows, savagery and all. Peter acknowledged that his inability to shake his adoptive thug persona was hard on Anne: "I was sort of edgy with her while we made that film." Michael goes a few steps further: "He was abusive and violent and we became terrified of him."

One can hardly fail to note that bringing Lionel Meadows home with him was not wholly a Method-acting technique on Peter's part, since he'd clearly been able to break character whenever he and Carol White were alone together in one of their dressing rooms. According to Guillermin, Peter's Method didn't even extend to the set, where it belonged. The director does add, however, that "he was unto himself quite a bit. Peter wasn't that relaxed, as it were."

Still, the unparalleled viciousness of his character in Never Let Go Never Let Go gave Peter Sellers an excuse, however unconscious, to vent even more wrath than usual at home with his family. One evening, for example, he came home from the studio, made some phone calls, turned on Anne, screamed "What the bloody hell is the matter with you," and threw a vase at her, after which he destroyed a bathroom towel bar and some pictures in the dressing room. On another evening he tried to bean her with a bottle of milk. She called David Lodge and begged him to drive over quickly and help calm Peter down. Lodge, a staunch friend to both of them, obliged. gave Peter Sellers an excuse, however unconscious, to vent even more wrath than usual at home with his family. One evening, for example, he came home from the studio, made some phone calls, turned on Anne, screamed "What the bloody hell is the matter with you," and threw a vase at her, after which he destroyed a bathroom towel bar and some pictures in the dressing room. On another evening he tried to bean her with a bottle of milk. She called David Lodge and begged him to drive over quickly and help calm Peter down. Lodge, a staunch friend to both of them, obliged.

Peter was big in New York in late April 1960, when he made his second trip across the Atlantic. The Mouse That Roared The Mouse That Roared had just closed after its phenomenal twenty-six-week run at the Guild. ("Wow!" "Smash!" had just closed after its phenomenal twenty-six-week run at the Guild. ("Wow!" "Smash!" Variety Variety applauded.) applauded.) The Battle of the Sexes The Battle of the Sexes was opening; was opening; I'm All Right, Jack I'm All Right, Jack took took Mouse Mouse's place at the Guild. American newspapers were full of lavish profiles of Peter, not to mention helpful observations about the United Kingdom-clarifications meant to explain quaint customs. For example, in regard to The Battle of the Sexes The Battle of the Sexes, the New York Times New York Times declared that "the scene has been moved to Scotland because kilts are comical." declared that "the scene has been moved to Scotland because kilts are comical."

Peter traveled first class on Air France, with dining service courtesy of Maxim's, and he took along his trustworthy companion Graham Stark. They were greeted at Kennedy Airport (then called Idlewild) by a fleet of Cadillac limousines and whisked to the Hampshire House on Central Park South, where Peter nabbed the penthouse. A bevy of blue-suited film executives occupied the other cars, and when the entourage arrived at the hotel, Peter overheard one of them place a phone call with a one-line message: "The property has arrived." Maxim's, and he took along his trustworthy companion Graham Stark. They were greeted at Kennedy Airport (then called Idlewild) by a fleet of Cadillac limousines and whisked to the Hampshire House on Central Park South, where Peter nabbed the penthouse. A bevy of blue-suited film executives occupied the other cars, and when the entourage arrived at the hotel, Peter overheard one of them place a phone call with a one-line message: "The property has arrived."

Fame could be demeaning. "The property has arrived" was a line he never forgot.

When Peter wasn't being hustled to and from interviews and parties, the actor Jules Munshin was taking him out on the town. Munshin, who had appeared with Peter in Brouhaha Brouhaha, was blown away when they arrived at Sardi's and were presented with an A-list table. "Pete, you bastard," Munshin blurted, "I never got this table before." Munshin pointed to a man in the outer-Yukon-like back corner. Peter recognized the Scarecrow from never got this table before." Munshin pointed to a man in the outer-Yukon-like back corner. Peter recognized the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz The Wizard of Oz (1939). "Yeah, Ray Bolger," Munshin said. "He ain't got what you got. He ain't got four pictures playin' on Broadway. Come to think of it, he ain't got no picture playin' anywhere." Peter had bested the Scarecrow. Gossip columnists were swarming around him. Having imitated Americans since childhood, he was now a star among them. The evening was a complete success. (1939). "Yeah, Ray Bolger," Munshin said. "He ain't got what you got. He ain't got four pictures playin' on Broadway. Come to think of it, he ain't got no picture playin' anywhere." Peter had bested the Scarecrow. Gossip columnists were swarming around him. Having imitated Americans since childhood, he was now a star among them. The evening was a complete success.

The next morning, one of the many public relations people hovering around Peter shrieked with joy when she picked up one of the New York papers: "Leonard Lyons gave you four inches!"

Peter's nightlife was glittering. Peter appeared with Jack Paar on his popular late-night talk show. Kenneth Tynan interviewed him and introduced him to Mike Nichols and Elaine May, who in turn introduced him to Kay Thompson. (Tynan later noted that the meeting between Nichols and Sellers had been more or less a disaster; neither understood the other's sense of humor.) The film brass introduced him to Walter Reade, the immensely wealthy owner of a film distribution and exhibition company, who hosted Peter and Graham at a drunken bash at his Long Island estate. Peter also met James Thurber at a party thrown in celebration of the New York premiere of The Battle of the Sexes The Battle of the Sexes. Thurber told Monja Danischewsky a few days later that they'd "had a fine time together," but that Peter was "being driven crazy by the New York pressure." This was a feeling Peter never really overcame. Despite his subsequent global travels over the next two decades, Sellers spent little time in New York. never really overcame. Despite his subsequent global travels over the next two decades, Sellers spent little time in New York.

The two Englishmen returned to London in first-class cabins on the Queen Elizabeth Queen Elizabeth.

Two-Way Stretch (1960) is a light and unpretentious diversion, a sympathetic critic's way of saying it isn't very good. Three con-artist convicts (Peter Sellers, David Lodge, and Bernard Cribbins) plot a diamond heist from their prison cell with the help of a visiting fake vicar (Wilfrid Hyde-White), their old partner in crime. A comic neo-Nazi guard named Crout (Lionel Jeffries) tries to foil the scheme. Everybody loses. (1960) is a light and unpretentious diversion, a sympathetic critic's way of saying it isn't very good. Three con-artist convicts (Peter Sellers, David Lodge, and Bernard Cribbins) plot a diamond heist from their prison cell with the help of a visiting fake vicar (Wilfrid Hyde-White), their old partner in crime. A comic neo-Nazi guard named Crout (Lionel Jeffries) tries to foil the scheme. Everybody loses.

The comedienne (and associate Goon from the Grafton Arms) Beryl Reid, who plays a small role in the film, later said that because Peter "was so inventive himself, he probably couldn't understand that a director couldn't keep up with his mind. That's the thing-that his mind went at such a rate when he was inventing characters that a director had to be talked into it." While Reid's remarks are undoubtedly true, their context is peculiar because Peter employs such restraint with Dodger Lane, his character in Two-Way Stretch Two-Way Stretch, that the director Robert Day probably didn't have to be talked into very much. Reid went on to note, though, that Peter's inventions in Two-Way Stretch Two-Way Stretch didn't stop at his own character: "He used to give me rather dirty lines to say, because I always looked as though I didn't know what they meant." didn't stop at his own character: "He used to give me rather dirty lines to say, because I always looked as though I didn't know what they meant."

Dodger Lane speaks in a most muted Cockney. It's one of Peter's least showy and therefore most generous performances, since he consistently throws attention away from himself in order to showcase Lodge and Cribbins. It's lanky Lionel Jeffries who produces the only outrageous voice in Two-Way Stretch Two-Way Stretch-a barking squeak, evidently the result of the figurative crowbar that Crout harbors up his fascistic rear. Perhaps it's this funny voice that Peter resented when he began bickering with Jeffries during the production. Settling into the exasperated groove that would define much of the rest of his career, Peter was annoyed at Jeffries's insistence on long rehearsals, while Jeffries, who responded precisely as many of Peter's fellow actors would over the next twenty years, was irritated at Peter's distaste for any rehearsals at all. It wasn't a particularly happy shoot, but it wasn't a disaster, either. And it was scarcely the last time that the dull ache of filming a Peter Sellers comedy wasn't justified by the final result.

Lena Horne was playing at the Savoy, an excellent occasion for Anne and Peter and some friends to spend a luxe night on the town. Anne wore a beautiful hand-embroidered dress. Their friends thought she looked smashing, so much so that by the time they got home Peter was in such a white rage of jealousy that he physically ripped it off of her and shredded it.

After almost ten years of marriage, the word divorce divorce began to be used with some frequency in the halls and rooms of Chipperfield, even as he began earnestly to confine Anne to the house. Shopping trips were cause for the third degree. From whatever studio at which he happened to be filming, Peter would place two, three, four telephone calls to Anne every day, just to check her whereabouts. When she mentioned to him one evening that she'd like to get out of the house a bit more, Peter destroyed everything in sight-porcelains, a Chippendale chair, bookcases. He also threatened to kill her, but he didn't follow through. He beat her up instead. Today, the intake desks of women's shelters accept wives and girlfriends with fewer bruises than Anne sustained. began to be used with some frequency in the halls and rooms of Chipperfield, even as he began earnestly to confine Anne to the house. Shopping trips were cause for the third degree. From whatever studio at which he happened to be filming, Peter would place two, three, four telephone calls to Anne every day, just to check her whereabouts. When she mentioned to him one evening that she'd like to get out of the house a bit more, Peter destroyed everything in sight-porcelains, a Chippendale chair, bookcases. He also threatened to kill her, but he didn't follow through. He beat her up instead. Today, the intake desks of women's shelters accept wives and girlfriends with fewer bruises than Anne sustained.

Another day, a small flock of doves nested under one of Chipperfield's many gables. They cooed. So Peter brought out his double-barreled shotgun and massacred them.

When Peter was first approached to appear as an Indian doctor in an adaptation of a George Bernard Shaw satire, he was decidedly underwhelmed despite the potential acquisition of a literary pedigree. The Millionairess The Millionairess (1960) simply didn't interest him. Then they told him who his costar would be: Sophia Loren, the most unearthly beauty in all cinema. He accepted the role. (1960) simply didn't interest him. Then they told him who his costar would be: Sophia Loren, the most unearthly beauty in all cinema. He accepted the role.

A high fee helped as well. Carried away by Peter Sellers's exponentially increasing popularity, the agent Leonard Urry (representing the producer, Dimitri de Grunwald) is said by Terry-Thomas to have made Sellers an offer of 85,000. Terry, who was a friend of Urry's, asked Urry why on earth he'd offered so much. Urry answered, "I only offered what I thought was a fair price." Terry then told Urry that he could probably have gotten Peter for 50,000, since he, Terry, knew "exactly what Peter had been earning up to then. After that his price soared." It certainly did, though Alexander Walker reports that Sellers actually was was paid a flat fee of 50,000, paid a flat fee of 50,000, "of which 17,000 went to Wolf Mankowitz" as part of the formation of the production company he and Mankowitz were trying to put together at the time. (As a point of comparison and a measure of their relative statures at the time, Sophia got $200,000 and a percentage of the profits.) "of which 17,000 went to Wolf Mankowitz" as part of the formation of the production company he and Mankowitz were trying to put together at the time. (As a point of comparison and a measure of their relative statures at the time, Sophia got $200,000 and a percentage of the profits.) The film was to be directed by the respected Anthony Asquith, produced by de Grunwald and distributed, they all hoped, by Twentieth Century-Fox, though Fox executives tried to talk de Grunwald out of Sophia Loren in favor of Ava Gardner. De Grunwald had been friendly with Peter for several years already. Some time earlier, in fact, he'd taken Peter to a Russian nightclub in Paris. The emigre producer was dazzled by Peter's disarming nature as a changeling: "We'd only been there two minutes when Peter became one hundred times more Russian than I am-and I'm very Russian. He went absolutely wild-nostalgic, sentimental, gay, tragic, romantic-everything a Russian is. The gypsies came over to our table, and Peter sang with them and cried during all the sad songs, and in half an hour he was dancing madly all over the place and smashing empty vodka glasses against the wall." a Russian is. The gypsies came over to our table, and Peter sang with them and cried during all the sad songs, and in half an hour he was dancing madly all over the place and smashing empty vodka glasses against the wall."

Now they wanted him to be the love interest in a lavish Sophia Loren comedy. And so he did it. In Technicolor.

Sophia's arrival in London, on a boat train from Paris, was heralded long in advance; the press was primed. On the day of the event, the producers threw a party for the express purpose of recording the meeting of Europe's most voluptuous star with Britain's funniest comic, both set to star in a gown-filled but artistically respectable top-of-the-line motion picture.

Sophia was on one side of the ballroom, glorious; Peter, armed with flowers and champagne, was on the other, a nervous wreck. "I don't normally act with a romantic glamorous woman," he told a fellow guest. "You'd be scared, too. She's a lot different from Harry Secombe."

The moment had to happen, though-the press were getting itchy-and when it did it was forced and stilted. Only after the photographers demanded it did Peter provide Sophia with a kiss on the cheek. Later that evening, when he got home, Anne asked him what she was like; "Ugly, with spots," he said.

Filming began. In an early scene in The Millionairess The Millionairess, Peter's character, the selfless Dr. Kabir, minister to the wretched of the earth, rubs lotion on the naked back of the world's richest and most beautiful woman. By the time Anthony Asquith called "cut," Peter was wildly in love.

Starring with Sophia Loren in a romantic comedy appealed so greatly to Peter because by 1960 he wanted to be someone he never imagined he could be: a romantic lead. The Millionairess The Millionairess provided the flip side of Lionel Meadows in provided the flip side of Lionel Meadows in Never Let Go Never Let Go. "I was there at the time," his friend Bryan Forbes declares. "It stemmed from the moment he opened a paper and it said, 'Mastroianni-Peter Sellers with Sex Appeal.' And that plunged him into a deep sorrow and angst and he immediately went on a crash diet and changed his whole personality. He was a fat boy struggling to get out." Richard Lester puts it even more bluntly: "Once he was on the yogurt, things began to alter."

Peter himself once remarked on his own metamorphosis: "I fell in love with Sophia, and when I took a look at myself in the mirror I felt sick."

Having had enough of the pink plastic wrap, Peter went on a diet of hard-boiled eggs and oranges. He'd already had his teeth capped.

As private affairs go, this one was public. Observing him on the set, Anthony Asquith said, "He looks like a boy with a pinup in his bedroom." Peter took Sophia out to the elegant Fu Tong restaurant in Kensington, where he taught her the intricacies of Cockney rhyming slang. His friends began to hear stories of a rather more intimate nature. Graham Stark recalls the would-be private incidents Peter excitedly related to him: "I was given details of furtive meetings, of passion in the dressing room and even awkward (I would have thought totally impossible) gymnastics in the back seats of parked cars. I got it all. It was, to say the least, embarrassing."

Peter's family heard about it, too, since he would come home from the day's shooting and report on Sophia's every move in infatuated detail. One day she'd treat him badly, the next day she'd be charming, and Anne, Michael, and baby Sarah would be treated to it all over dinner. Oblivious to the role his family ought to have played in his life-that of his family-he shared with them his unbridled enthusiasm for his costar, the stupefying bombshell from Rome. Anne offers a simple explanation for her husband's behavior: "He treated me as his mother: I should allow him to do whatever he wanted to do."

He brought Sophia to Chipperfield, first for a large catered party in her honor, then for smaller gatherings. At one of them she played Ping-Pong with Michael, who didn't like her very much. After all, even a child could plainly see what she was doing to his father and what he was doing to himself and his family. with Michael, who didn't like her very much. After all, even a child could plainly see what she was doing to his father and what he was doing to himself and his family.

Anne recalls that Peter "brought her to the house quite often, usually with her husband, Carlo Ponti, and she was absolutely stunning and extremely charming. I didn't take much notice at first when he told me he was in love with her. But then he'd be lying in bed and say her spirit was coming into the room."

One Saturday night during the production of The Millionairess The Millionairess 750,000 worth of Sophia's jewels were stolen from the house in which she was staying in Hertfordshire. The police summoned Pierre Rouve, one of the producers of the film, to the studio on Sunday, and he stayed there dealing with the ensuing media turmoil and legal complications all the way through until Monday morning, at which point Sophia arrived on schedule in her Rolls Royce promptly at 7 750,000 worth of Sophia's jewels were stolen from the house in which she was staying in Hertfordshire. The police summoned Pierre Rouve, one of the producers of the film, to the studio on Sunday, and he stayed there dealing with the ensuing media turmoil and legal complications all the way through until Monday morning, at which point Sophia arrived on schedule in her Rolls Royce promptly at 7 A A.M., ready for the day's work. Everyone knew how upset she was-the jewelry was uninsured-but according to Rouve she was a complete professional and "carried on as though nothing had happened." But, Rouve continues, "Later that morning somebody else's nerves cracked-Peter Sellers's. He fainted and had to be taken to the hospital."

Asquith and his team spent the rest of the day taking close-ups of Sophia, who, despite the trauma she had just suffered, never looks anything short of magnificent in the final cut. But Peter, when released from the hospital, didn't go back to the studio, nor did he return home. He went to Asprey and bought his love a 750 bracelet with which to begin her new collection.

Sophia had a bodyguard named Basilio. Peter described him years later: "He was a sort of watchdog.... He said to me, 'When the husband he finds out about this there will be trouble!'"

But the question lingers unanswered to this day: What exactly did Carlo Ponti have to find out about? Some of Sellers's friends, Spike Milligan among them, believed his stories at the time and swore that he and Sophia Loren enjoyed a torrid affair during the filming of The Millionairess The Millionairess. Others, like Graham Stark, think it was all in Peter's head.

Dimitri de Grunwald: "There is nothing that will convince me that Sophia returned his passion with anything more than the mutually narcissistic feelings such stars go in for when the limelight is on them, and the romantic content of the film may have helped.... The nice way of describing her attitude is to say that she was kind to him. The other way is to say that her attitude gave him greater hope than was warranted."

Someone else involved with The Millionairess The Millionairess has another theory: "I've always felt that Sophia is one of those actresses who need to feel that their leading men love them before they can give a good performance. Peter had no experience playing romantic roles. He misread the signals and developed a delusion." has another theory: "I've always felt that Sophia is one of those actresses who need to feel that their leading men love them before they can give a good performance. Peter had no experience playing romantic roles. He misread the signals and developed a delusion."

Sophia herself said, some years later: "I was very close to him-as much as I could be. But love is something else. He is really a great, great friend. We have built up a fine relationship over the years and I think that is rare for a man and a woman, when the woman is married to someone else."

Anne: "I don't know to this day whether he had an affair with her. Nobody does."

More important than the precise whereabouts of Peter's penis during the production of The Millionairess The Millionairess was the effect that his emotional arousal had on his wife and children. According to Michael, he was already out of control when he confessed to Anne, who remembers the scene vividly: Peter "came in and straightened his shoulders like a politician about to make a major speech in the House of Commons and said, as though he had rehearsed the line all the way home from the studios, 'Anne, I've got to tell you that I've fallen madly in love with Sophia Loren.'" was the effect that his emotional arousal had on his wife and children. According to Michael, he was already out of control when he confessed to Anne, who remembers the scene vividly: Peter "came in and straightened his shoulders like a politician about to make a major speech in the House of Commons and said, as though he had rehearsed the line all the way home from the studios, 'Anne, I've got to tell you that I've fallen madly in love with Sophia Loren.'"

Despite her comment that she "didn't take much notice at first" when Peter told her that he was in love with someone else, according to Graham Stark Anne packed her bags and showed up that very night at the Starks' door, asking if she could stay in their guest room. She wasn't in tears. She was in a rage, one that was made all the more fiery by the characteristic restraint with which she expressed it. "The bastard only told me because he couldn't be bothered to have a bad conscience," she told Graham.

"We had some terrible rows over it," Anne does acknowledge. "One of them lasted fifteen hours." But as Stark remembers it, Peter almost immediately began showing up at the Starks' house asking for permission to take Anne out for the evening. He was all very proper and polite, so much so that the Starks felt as though they'd become Anne's parents. take Anne out for the evening. He was all very proper and polite, so much so that the Starks felt as though they'd become Anne's parents.

Of course Peter was contrite. That Anne had left him him was what mattered, and it mattered because it hurt. Hurting could make him sweet. After a week or so Anne moved back to Chipperfield. was what mattered, and it mattered because it hurt. Hurting could make him sweet. After a week or so Anne moved back to Chipperfield.

Still, according to Michael, his mother spent many of the ensuing nights in one of the guest rooms rather than the bedroom she once shared with her husband. She had good reason to keep a distance. As Michael describes his father at the time, "At home he became a crazed, manic figure." One night was extra-special: "He hauled me from my bed at 3 A A.M. 'Do you think I should divorce your mummy?'"

If The Millionairess The Millionairess were a comic masterpiece, all the sordid behind-the-scenes turmoil might have served some lofty aesthetic purpose. But as it turned out, Peter's agony of love was largely for naught. Sophia did not end up leaving Carlo Ponti for him, nor was were a comic masterpiece, all the sordid behind-the-scenes turmoil might have served some lofty aesthetic purpose. But as it turned out, Peter's agony of love was largely for naught. Sophia did not end up leaving Carlo Ponti for him, nor was The Millionairess The Millionairess one of Peter's better films. It's an extravagant but dull (for lack of a better word) affair. Sophia's costumes are dazzling, her unnatural beauty even more so, her performance hammy. Shaw's wit can be brittle, which may not be a bad thing, but in this case-or at least in Wolf Mankowitz's adaptation-it's impossible to accept without the lingering odor of smut. Why would a pious Muslim doctor who has devoted his life to the poor consent, even at the end, to spend the rest of his life with the world's most spoiled and cutthroat heiress, other than to finally get his hands on her gigantic breasts? There's just something fundamentally filthy about it. The closing scene, in which the heiress and the doctor finally declare their love and share a moonlit dance on a terrace, is lush but inane. one of Peter's better films. It's an extravagant but dull (for lack of a better word) affair. Sophia's costumes are dazzling, her unnatural beauty even more so, her performance hammy. Shaw's wit can be brittle, which may not be a bad thing, but in this case-or at least in Wolf Mankowitz's adaptation-it's impossible to accept without the lingering odor of smut. Why would a pious Muslim doctor who has devoted his life to the poor consent, even at the end, to spend the rest of his life with the world's most spoiled and cutthroat heiress, other than to finally get his hands on her gigantic breasts? There's just something fundamentally filthy about it. The closing scene, in which the heiress and the doctor finally declare their love and share a moonlit dance on a terrace, is lush but inane. The Millionairess The Millionairess did only so-so at the box office. did only so-so at the box office.

And yet Peter's performance is extraordinary. His earlier Indian routines on The Goon Show The Goon Show and on comedy records were funny because they were so broad; Dr. Kabir is funny- and on comedy records were funny because they were so broad; Dr. Kabir is funny- when when he is funny, that is-because of Peter's technical restraint. At times, in fact, there's no comedy to speak of in the performance. In a pivotal scene, Sophia's character, Epiphania, shows up at Dr. Kabir's clinic having bought it and all the surrounding land in a gesture of spoiled meanness and callous intimidation. She then strips down to an eye-popping black corset, stockings, and garters. Dr. Kabir loses his temper. he is funny, that is-because of Peter's technical restraint. At times, in fact, there's no comedy to speak of in the performance. In a pivotal scene, Sophia's character, Epiphania, shows up at Dr. Kabir's clinic having bought it and all the surrounding land in a gesture of spoiled meanness and callous intimidation. She then strips down to an eye-popping black corset, stockings, and garters. Dr. Kabir loses his temper.

The idea of Peter Sellers as an enraged Indian doctor seems, of course, to be inherently hilarious, but in point of fact Dr. Kabir's breakdown isn't comical at all, nor is it meant to be, at least from the perspective of the performer. Dr. Kabir is genuinely appalled at her arrogance, and for good reason. There's also a touch of defensiveness, owing to his awareness of her attractiveness to him. His pitch rises slightly; he gesticulates, but only to a point; and suddenly he begins speaking rapidly in his own language. Dr. Kabir is not a caricature, and whatever authentic emotion The Millionairess The Millionairess projects is due to what the camera's cool lens recorded, as it often did, as Peter Sellers's innate humanity. projects is due to what the camera's cool lens recorded, as it often did, as Peter Sellers's innate humanity.

The end of shooting The Millionairess The Millionairess scarcely dampened Peter's ardor. Sophia left for Rome. scarcely dampened Peter's ardor. Sophia left for Rome.

He followed.

"After the film was finished he'd phone her all over the place and go off to Italy to try to see her," says Anne. Michael recalls Peter's telephone conversations with Sophia occurring no matter whether his wife or children were in earshot. "I love you, darling," Peter would say, and say, and say again, his children overhearing all of it.

Sophia returned to London for a few days to record a song with Peter, "Goodness Gracious Me," as publicity for the film: A patient (Sophia) describes to her Indian doctor (Peter) her heart's peculiar response to a certain man. His chief response, initially placid but increasingly excited, is the song's title. With its bouncy, jingly tune and spoken lyrics, it's basically a novelty record. But although The Millionairess The Millionairess itself wasn't a hit, the song-which was deemed too frivolous for inclusion as title music in a George Bernard Shaw film-appeared on the best-selling charts in November 1960, and stayed there for fourteen weeks, peaking at number four. itself wasn't a hit, the song-which was deemed too frivolous for inclusion as title music in a George Bernard Shaw film-appeared on the best-selling charts in November 1960, and stayed there for fourteen weeks, peaking at number four.

Carlo Ponti accompanied his wife to London on the "Goodness Gracious Me" trip, but Mr. Loren's presence didn't seem to affect Peter one way or the other. As he saw it, she would leave Carlo, he would leave Anne, and then he and Sophia would be free.

Implausibly, the whole thing didn't blow up in anyone's face-at least not at the time. Peter, Sophia, and Carlo all remained friendly, and in fact Peter was a guest in their home for many years. As further publicity for The Millionairess The Millionairess, Peter and Sophia recorded three other songs for inclusion on an entire album, Peter Sellers and Sophia Loren Peter Sellers and Sophia Loren, released late in 1960 by EMI. "Bangers and Mash," like "Goodness Gracious Me," was a novelty hit-it's a mostly spoken menu battle between an English WWII veteran and his Neapolitan war bride. He craves the eponymous sausages; she insists on tagliatelle, all to the tune of a jaunty military fife-and-trumpet background. The song reached number twenty-two on the pop charts in January 1961. EMI. "Bangers and Mash," like "Goodness Gracious Me," was a novelty hit-it's a mostly spoken menu battle between an English WWII veteran and his Neapolitan war bride. He craves the eponymous sausages; she insists on tagliatelle, all to the tune of a jaunty military fife-and-trumpet background. The song reached number twenty-two on the pop charts in January 1961.

The other two songs they recorded together were "I Fell in Love with an Englishman" and "Fare Thee Well."

Early in 1960, before their collaboration on The Millionairess The Millionairess, Peter and Wolf Mankowitz decided to form their own production company, Sellers-Mankowitz Productions, Ltd. In March, before their own deal with each other had been signed, they announced a distribution deal with Continental to produce, in Britain, two out of three of the following projects: Memoirs of a Cross-Eyed Man Memoirs of a Cross-Eyed Man, My Old Man's a Dustman My Old Man's a Dustman, and The Man Who Corrupted America The Man Who Corrupted America. (Continental was already set to distribute Battle of the Sexes Battle of the Sexes in the United States.) in the United States.) Memoirs of a Cross-Eyed Man Memoirs of a Cross-Eyed Man seems to have been the most likely of the projects to be produced; it was the story of an everyday kind of fellow who falls in love with a movie star. They considered Shirley MacLaine for the role. seems to have been the most likely of the projects to be produced; it was the story of an everyday kind of fellow who falls in love with a movie star. They considered Shirley MacLaine for the role.

The writer Peter Evans once described the producer-screenwriter with whom Peter tried to form a business: "Mankowitz is a phlegmatic, cultivated East End Jew whose bulk lends his look of supine disdain a threatening authority. His face, even in repose, seems a network of subtle sneers." "I have found in Wolf a person who really understands me," Peter said. A portrait of Daniel Mendoza was to be their logo.

By summer, however, Mankowitz was becoming annoyed with the slow pace of his negotiations with Peter, or, better, the slow pace with which Peter conducted his side of the negotiations. "I can't understand why Peter's and my contracts with one another are taking so long to draw up," he wrote to Bill Wills.

Mankowitz scheduled a meeting on August 30 with some financiers who were almost ready to back the company to the tune of 124,000. That morning, Peter sent him a letter, delivered by hand, in which he told Mankowitz that the deal was off; Peter had decided to keep his focus on acting. Mankowitz was thus forced to show up at the meeting and tell the financiers, "I think you should put your money back in your pockets." Peter had closed his letter by calling Mankowitz "muzzel," a Yiddish term of endearment. Mankowitz didn't feel especially endearing in return. closed his letter by calling Mankowitz "muzzel," a Yiddish term of endearment. Mankowitz didn't feel especially endearing in return.

Peter then proceeded to shoot his now-former friend in the back. Mankowitz, Sellers told the press, "is a very strange person with so many things on his mind. He should concentrate more on one thing, like screenwriting, and leave the impresario business alone."

As for himself, Peter had a different employment option in mind that year, or so he said. Beyond the constant onslaught of cars, Peter also purchased a life-size mechanical elephant. One could ride atop it on its howdah. Peter was captivated. To him, the peculiar contraption represented a sort of safety net for his career: "I was thinking of things I could fall back on-it was a security if I ever failed," he told the Observer Observer. Apparently he believed that advertisers would flock to it for use in product promotion.

"Peter's not a genius," Spike Milligan declared in 1960. "He's something more. He's a freak."

The movie star took a reporter on a tour of Chipperfield, which the star had filled with antiques. He proudly pointed out the remarkable early Victorian (as he put it) "commode": "You must admit they disguised them well." With the "Emperor Waltz" playing on the high-end hi-fi, the Sellerses' butler silently walked in and poured tea while Peter told the reporter that he had owned fifty-two cars in the last six years. Presents for friends, toys for the kids, clothes, cameras, pets, collectibles, cars, more cars, all the result of deepening despair.

Stardom demanded upkeep. Peter enjoyed some of it. There were film premieres at which to show his face, charity events, theater openings, parties. At the Royal Film Show at London's Empire Cinema in 1959, he and Anne celebrated in the company of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, Princess Margaret, Maurice Chevalier, Alec Guinness, and Lauren Bacall. At the Lord Taverners' Ball the following year, he mingled with Prince Philip, if a prince can be said to mingle. He nabbed the Film Actor of 1960 award at the Variety Club. At the 1961 Evening Standard Drama awards (held in January 1962), he presented the award for Best Musical to the antic masterminds of Beyond the Fringe Beyond the Fringe-Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Alan Bennett, and Jonathan Miller. The Queen herself showed up at the Odeon, Leicester Square, in March 1962, along with Princess Margaret, Claudia Cardinale, Yul Brynner, Pat Boone, Leslie Caron and her husband Peter Hall, Peter Finch, and Melina Mercouri. Peter enjoyed a few moments of conversation with the queen in the theater's foyer. Hall, Peter Finch, and Melina Mercouri. Peter enjoyed a few moments of conversation with the queen in the theater's foyer.

Personality profiles were appearing at a furious pace. "In relaxed moments he has a slightly bewildered look, like an awakening owl," was one truly great observation.

And to Peter Sellers's eventual peril, he repeatedly ignored the advice Alec Guinness had given him during the production of The Ladykillers The Ladykillers: "Don't ever let the press know anything about your private life." Indeed, Peter came up with a strategy to solve the problem. Killing two birds with a single stone, he began to tell the world he had no personality at all: "In myself I have nothing to offer as a personality. But as soon as I can get into some character I'm away. I use the characters to protect myself, as a shield-like getting into a hut and saying 'nobody can see me.'" And, "As far as I'm aware, I have no personality of my own whatsoever. That is, I have no personality to offer the public. I have nothing to project."

The press took the bait. Peter Sellers, wrote one of the many critics to follow Peter's lead over the years, "possesses one rare distinction-that of total anonymity."

Around this time, Peter's friend Herbert Kretzmer described him more closely, more sympathetically, and consequently more tragically: "He is the most successful actor since Olivier and Guinness. He enjoys a riotous acclaim clear across the world. He has more money than he can spend in his lifetime-and the endless promise of more.... Yet Peter Sellers is one of the saddest, most self-tortured men I have ever known. Here is a man almost devoid of any capacity to sit back and enjoy the riches his genius has produced. There is certainly no more complex personality in the whole spectrum of British show business."

TEN.

"I can't explain myself, myself, I'm afraid, sir," said Alice, "because I'm not myself, you see." I'm afraid, sir," said Alice, "because I'm not myself, you see."

In January 1961, Peter found himself in need of a new driver. Bert Mortimer had been Cary Grant's chauffeur when Grant was in England, but Cary was spending more time in Hollywood and Bert was looking for work. First Peter tried him out on Peg. When that worked out, he took Bert for himself.

"I was a bit concerned because I'd heard that staff came and went like turning on the tap and running water," Bert later observed. "But we prevailed. And everything turned out fine." Until the end.

Bert Mortimer became Peter's primary caregiver. Driving, fetching, emotional-crisis management, delivering messages Peter wanted to avoid delivering himself, cleaning up dog shit deposited in the back seat of a Rolls Royce. Mortimer performed many tasks. Says Bryan Forbes, "Peter built him up into a legend. He became known as 'The Great Bert.'"

Peter also hired a new secretary. Naturally, Peter believed that every fan letter required a personal reply. Hattie Stevenson wrote them. She, too, came to clean up messes.

Only Two Can Play (1962) might have served as the title of a memoir devoted to the waning years of Peter's marriage, but in fact it's fictional. Based on Kingsley Amis's novel (1962) might have served as the title of a memoir devoted to the waning years of Peter's marriage, but in fact it's fictional. Based on Kingsley Amis's novel That Uncertain Feeling That Uncertain Feeling, it concerns a dapper Welsh librarian, a lady's man with a wife and two kids who can't help but have an affair with a gorgeous, wealthy, foreign-born woman, herself a serial adulterer. The British novelist Thomas Wiseman once wrote perceptively about Peter's ongoing tendency to play out the blunt facts of his own interiority in the roles he chose to play for the public. interiority in the roles he chose to play for the public. Only Two Can Play Only Two Can Play, Wiseman declared, was yet another "ingenious form of psychological buck-passing."

Scripted by Bryan Forbes and directed by Sidney Gilliat for the Boultings, Only Two Can Play Only Two Can Play is one of Peter's lowest-key films, a muted look at a conventional marriage and its vicissitudes. It's Sellers at his most understated. The performance seems effortless, and the film is fascinating. is one of Peter's lowest-key films, a muted look at a conventional marriage and its vicissitudes. It's Sellers at his most understated. The performance seems effortless, and the film is fascinating.

Only Two Can Play's production team knew what they were getting with Peter Sellers. Forbes had known Sellers since the war, when they'd appeared together in Stars in Battledress Stars in Battledress along with Sgts. Harry Secombe and Terry-Thomas and Lt. Roger Moore. Forbes had always enjoyed Sellers's company, and as they rose in the world of British entertainment they became even closer friends. Sidney Gilliat had cowritten Hitchcock's along with Sgts. Harry Secombe and Terry-Thomas and Lt. Roger Moore. Forbes had always enjoyed Sellers's company, and as they rose in the world of British entertainment they became even closer friends. Sidney Gilliat had cowritten Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes The Lady Vanishes (1938)-the other two screenwriters were Frank Launder and Alma Reville, Hitchcock's wife; Gilliat went on to produce many films with Launder, among them (1938)-the other two screenwriters were Frank Launder and Alma Reville, Hitchcock's wife; Gilliat went on to produce many films with Launder, among them The Smallest Show on Earth The Smallest Show on Earth, with Peter as the drunken projectionist. In short, Forbes, Gilliat, and the Boultings were all seasoned to Peter Sellers-a funny if mercurial friend, an exceptionally skilled actor with star power and a prickly nature.