The following is an excerpt from Gianni Bozzacchi's autobiography, "My Life in Focus: A Photographer's Journey with Elizabeth Taylor and the Hollywood Jet Set," which I co-wrote.
An Introduction to the Life and Work of Gianni Bozzachi
III. Introverted in America
The world acquired an entirely different dimension when traveling with Elizabeth and Richard. It was like stepping inside an enormous Technicolor cinema screen. Life suddenly became extremely easy. No waiting in line, no lost luggage, no delays – unless, of course, the delays were Elizabeth and Richard calling the airport to make a plane wait. No one was impolite. If you had a problem, someone solved it. If you forgot something, someone went and got you another. If you saw something you liked, it was immediately given as a gift to the biggest star in the world. When Elizabeth and Richard travelled on commercial flights, they bought out the entire first class, which, in the case of our family trip to the States, left four people with a third of the plane at our disposal.
When we landed in New York, the cabin crew let us leave the plane before everyone else. The moment we stepped into sight, we found ourselves facing a sea of journalists, photographers and police. Security guards escorted us to a car that took us to the Regency Hotel on Park Avenue. I was dumbfounded by the extreme kindness shown me by the drivers, the hotel staff, everyone. Their care and attention was as overwhelming as the contrast between my simple street culture and the five-star service that I now received wherever I went.
Shortly after our arrival, the agent Jack Painter contacted me, asking me if I was interested in photographing a young actor who everyone was talking about. It seemed like a good opportunity, so I went to the address he gave me, a commercial office building on Fifth Avenue, and got into the elevator with this strange, short guy wearing a long, black coat complete with hood. We got off at the same floor, he went one way and I went another, two separate entrances to what turned out to be the same set of offices. And when a secretary showed me into a room, the guy from the elevator was already there, sitting by a window waiting for me. His name was Al Pacino. Faced with my camera, he was very shy, almost embarrassed. It was raining, and I’d have preferred to photograph him outside. But he refused to move. So, without insisting, I photographed him as he was, with all his shyness.
(A young Al Pacino, New York, December 1968. Copyright Gianni Bozzacchi.)
After our stop in New York, we flew on to Los Angeles. When we landed, the plane stopped a long way from the arrivals gate. I got worried. Had something happened? Then I saw a limousine drive onto the landing strip, followed by a mob of reporters and photographers. Elizabeth and Richard posed for a number of photos and answered all their questions. I was in a daze as we climbed into the limo.
I never understood the American frenzy over Elizabeth and Richard. Maybe I’d lived in Rome too long. Romans don’t get impressed by anything, or at least don’t show it by racing after celebrities, screaming and crying hysterically. Marcello Mastroianni or Anna Magnani could stroll down Via Veneto without ever getting mobbed the way Elizabeth and Richard were in Los Angeles. When the Burtons moved, everyone moved with them, from police and journalists, to fans and private detectives. Yes, even detectives. One night I decided to get a breath of air in the hotel garden. Suddenly I saw a large tropical plant move, then stop. A man poked his head out from behind it and smiled at me. He was a detective up to who knows what. But I realized he was interested in Elizabeth and Richard because, before running away, he said, “Bye, Mr. Bozzacchi. Have a good day.” He must have really studied up on everyone to know who the heck I was.
One day they took me to Frank Sinatra’s place. I’d barely stepped out of the car with my camera when Frank looked at me and said, “He stays in the car.” I was crestfallen. Mia Farrow was there. And Peter Lawford. A photo of Frank, Elizabeth, Richard, Mia and Peter all together… It would have been crazy. Anyway, they explained who I was and Frank, addressing me in Italian, asked, “You Italian? – Yes, Italian – Sicilian? – No, Roman – Boot boy? – No! Photographer.” I showed him my bag. “I’m a photographer. That’s why I’ve brought my cameras.” He gestured imperceptibly to a waiter – who looked more like a bouncer – and they took my bag. End of conversation. Then they all began drinking and laughing about stuff I didn’t understand.
I wasn’t able to follow the conversation. Every now and then I’d catch a name, but I had no idea who they were talking about. Sometimes Claudye would do her best to translate for me. I was confused and embarrassed. I was a street kid in a foreign country, expected to behave like everyone else, light years from my own world in terms of class and culture.
Towards the end of the trip, we went to see a screening of Mike Nichols’ “The Graduate.” Even though I didn’t understand everything, I liked it a lot – the images, the sense of confusion, the abuse of power. And I loved the Simon & Garfunkel soundtrack. I’d never heard pop music used that way in a movie, and no one else had either. I watched it again often – always in English – until I understood everything. It became one of my favorite movies.
When the lights came up at the end of that first screening, I saw Dustin Hoffman, sitting silently at the back of the theater. He was incredibly shy and kept himself to himself. Mike had first noticed Dustin when he was playing Hamlet in an off-Broadway production. During post-production of his 1966 movie, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Mike asked Richard to go with him to watch a performance, and Richard had been very struck by this little guy who put so much depth and drama into the role.
I wondered why Elizabeth, Richard and Mike hadn’t worked together again after the huge success of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Mike was one of the world’s leading directors, and Elizabeth and Richard were among his closest friends. So why didn’t they develop a major Hollywood production instead of returning to Europe? Why did they live and work at such a frantic pace?
Slowly I began to realize that Elizabeth and Richard didn’t have much choice. They were trapped inside their own fame. A helicopter, a plane, a luxury car, an entourage, a yacht, homes in various countries, lawyers all over the place, not to mention children… All this had to be paid for, which meant work. Lots of it. Richard was already getting ready for his next movie, “Where Eagles Dare,” and confessed to me that he was only doing it for the money. Plus, they had endless tax problems. Neither of them could reside in England or Los Angeles for more than ninety consecutive days, otherwise they’d have to pay taxes on their movie revenues. Elizabeth and Richard enjoyed being citizens of the world, but what looked like carefree wandering actually followed a precise plan.
All this came to me slowly over time. Meanwhile, I struggled to work out how I could find a place for myself inside Elizabeth and Richard’s world, should the opportunity ever arise. When I’d worked for Pierluigi or Johnny Moncada, I’d been loquacious, extroverted and sure of myself, even with famous people. But it was one thing being myself when celebrities came to a studio – inside my own territory – for a couple of hours of professional work. It was quite another thing being part of Elizabeth and Richard’s entourage, where the relationship was personal, as well as professional. A certain level of class and sophistication was expected, and I knew I didn’t have either.
I wasn’t even comforted by my own work. I was too young and inexperienced to be able to appreciate my abilities. The compliments I received sounded too exaggerated. When you spend a lot of time with celebrities, you get tired of hearing how everything is “amazing” and “brilliant.” That new book was “brilliant”, even if the reviews had been terrible and you hadn’t read it. That new movie was “amazing,” even if Hollywood had condemned it as a flop. I was always fearfully anxious that all the compliments I received were dictated by the mere fact that I was close to Elizabeth and Richard, who were “amazing” and “brilliant” in everything they did.
That said – and maybe I didn’t yet understand the industry very well – it seemed to me they hadn’t done an important movie since “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”
Come back on Friday for Part IV, in which Gianni photographs Brando, Ringo, and Richard on the set of a cult classic
