TV Times – Nov 22nd 1986
May We Borrow Your Husband? Sunday, ITV
After a life in films, Dirk Bogarde does not think much of television. It’s so disposable, he says, and so little turns out to be of the quality of series such as The Jewel in the Crown, or An Englishman Abroad.
He had recently watched some drama on British television and had been ‘hypnotised by the awfulness’ of this unnamed work. He felt ‘a sort of despair’.
No wonder then, that Bogarde was showing serious signs of anxiety while on location in the South of France earlier this year. He could easily articulate the problem: There is a fear that your own work will be translated in the same manner.’
Not only was May We Borrow Your Husband? (Sunday, ITV) Bogarde’s first acting for British television, it was also his first attempt at scriptwriting.
Such an undertaking was enough to give him bronchitis, and it had done just that. In other circumstances, May We Borrow Your Husband? (from a short story by Graham Greene) would have been made for the cinema; as it is you will be hard put to tell the difference when it is ‘premiered’ on Sunday evening.
Bogarde need not have worried about the quality, but it is easy to be wise after the event…
To begin with, Bogarde had agreed to make the film for the money, of course, (‘everyone thinks I’m worth a fortune – no way am I’) and because it would be made near his home, just outside Grasse.
In the event, the luxurious Le Gap Estel hotel along the road from Nice (£200 a night for a double room) that served as the principal setting, was too far away, and Bogarde had had to decamp to a nearby hotel.
The start of the second week’s filming found Bogarde settling down after a stressful first seven days. Miserable weather and a heavy workload had compounded his concerns that the bronchitis would at any minute develop into pneumonia or pleurisy, and that, after a five-year lay-off, he would no longer know how to act.
He was sitting in an upstairs room at the Cap Estel, with a glass of beer and a racking cough, trying not to smoke. ‘I’ve been smoking since I was five (FIVE!). My mother used to say, “There are the cigarettes, help yourself, don’t do it in secret.” You could buy five Woodbines for tuppence then. I’m afratd I shall regret the day.’
Still, the script was playing well, he was feeling a good deal more gruntled, and at least he was at home wtth the character he had written for himself: a passive, ageing writer or, as Bogarde put it, ‘a knitted tie and cardigan part’
‘I’m not playmg any more of those wandering night porters or death in Venices that i did years and years ago. I’d rather give it all up.’
With the tie and cardigan came the jacket, from his own wardrobe. Brown tweed, leather elbow pads, lived in. ‘This jacket was made for me in 1947. and I wore it in one of my first films, Esther Waters, [the following year]. It’s beautifully cut, it’s lasted all these years, and I seem to have worn it in every film since.’
On set, he moved around like a man enjoying the reverence and seniority he was accorded. The Yorkshire Television film crew liked him, and he liked them. And, no, he had not forgotten how to act for the cameras.
One of Bogarde’s much loved nephews, Brock Van Den Bogaerde, was involved with the project as an associate producer, and if this smacked of nepotism, it soon became apparent that Brock was there on his own merits. Indeed, he had been instrumental in setting up the film and, if his presence acted as a bridge between Bogarde and the production team, so much the better.
Bogarde would say later that he gave Brock a public dressing down once or twice. This was never strictly necessary, but it showed there was no favouritism.
It was the same, too, with his principal co-star, Charlotte Attenborough, one of the film’s small English cast including Francis Matthews, David Yelland and Simon Shepherd another young actor, like Charlotte, in the early stages of a career, who enjoyed the experience of workmg with Bogarde. Shepherd has previously been seen on ITV in such productions as Sorrell and SonM/i>, The Jewel in the Crown, and My Father’s House.
Though there was some 40 years separating them, Bogarde is a friend and contemporary of Charlotte’s actor-director father, Sir Richard Attenborough, with whom he also appeared on the film screen.
This was Charlotte’s screen debut, the start, perhaps, of a career, and it had also been a tough first week for her. But she was grateful to Bogarde. She remarked: ‘He said, “I’m going to treat you like anyone else, like any of the other actresses I’ve worked with.”
‘He said, “If you want to go through lines, let’s do that. Judy and I used to do it all the time.” I wondered who Judy was. God! He was referring to Judy Garland.’
You might say that Charlotte Attenborough was a true child of the cinema. Her father was first an actor, then a film director. Her mother is Sheila Sim, who was a leading actress in a number of Fifties films.
Some of Charlotte’s earliest memories are of family visits to her father’s locations; of sitting at the back of the set watching him work. So her first day’s work on May We Borrow Your Husband? was very strange. ‘They called me on to the set, and everything the crew was saying was familiar from childhood, but rather than me standing at the back, I was in the middle of it. It was suddenly for real and it was terrifying.’ she says.
Her parents had never encouraged or pressurised Charlotte to follow their careers, and had always pointed out the perils and pitfalls of acting. But, in the end, there was always their own example.
‘In a way; said Charlotte. ‘Mum and Dad’s story is like a fairy tale. They met at drama school and often acted together and opposite each other. They played the twins in Twelfth Night.
‘They are still very happy and, looking around, I suppose that is quite rare, especially in the theatrical world. They’ve tried very hard to make it work.’
