Kubrick's Countess

Marisa Berenson had made three films when Stanley Kubrick telephoned her out of the blue and asked her if she'd like to be in his next project. "I couldn't believe it was he. He said, 'I can't tell you anything about it--I can't tell you its name or even what it's about, but it's a period piece, you'd play an English countess and the lead will be Ryan O'Neal. I'll send you a copy of the book eventually.' And eventually he did."

The book was Barry Lyndon, Thackeray's story of an Irish blackguard who pushes his way to the top of society in 18th Century Europe, marries the richest woman in England, then loses the lot. Kubrick sent Marisa the book in 1973. Now, two and a half years later, the movie was (concluded on page 166)Kubrick's Countess(continued from page 76) finished and Marisa was back in her chic Paris apartment near the Champs Elysées, waiting for it to be released. "Stanley always takes a long time filming, but a lot of the best directors do. It's two years of my life, but it's not every day you get the chance to work with Stanley Kubrick and when you do, you make the most of it. The book surprised me when I read it--it's so different from what he's done previously. I didn't actually meet Stanley until months later, when I went to London for the fittings. But I'm very shy and he's a very private person, so it wasn't an epic meeting. He doesn't like to talk about his films. He doesn't want me to talk about Barry Lyndon until people have seen it. And he's right. People always deform things."

Before Kubrick, Marisa had worked for Luchino Visconti (Death in Venice) and Bob Fosse (Cabaret). In her new movie, she plays Lady Lyndon, the woman Barry marries. He is "full of charm, a gambler," who treats her abominably. "He may have charm, but he's not a very profound or nice person.

"The countess is very intellectual, very religious, cold, unfulfilled, but she loses her head over this rogue. In the book, everything is seen through Barry Lyndon's eyes, so everything about her is described in a rather nasty way. It isn't quite like that in the film. I hope. I haven't seen the film yet, only rushes."

Can she identify with a woman who falls for a man who treats her roughly? She narrows her eyes--gossip columnists have taught her to be wary of loaded questions. "I don't like to be treated roughly. But I've noticed in men and women--I'm not talking about myself here, I'm talking about people in general--that they've got to be kept on their toes. Men and women both have a tendency to take each other for granted. It's an art to keep someone loving you for years--it's a constant effort to stay with someone, especially nowadays. All my friends are like that--much better off for being kept on their toes. But being kept on your toes is not the same thing as being mistreated--oh, no, beaten up is out of the question." She shakes her head vigorously.

Barry Lyndon draws a cruel picture of the jockeying for money and power in 18th Century high society. Having lived at least a part of her life among the wealthy and fashionable of two continents, Marisa is in a better position than most actresses to judge whether the portrait is still true today. "Of course, it's not exactly the same, but the Barry Lyndon type still exists. It always has and it always will. There're always--how do you say?--people trying to get there and people who are already there without trying. That's one of the things I like most about America--whatever, whoever you are, you're given a chance. What you do means more than being well bred or having a title. I really admire self-made men, and in America there are many. In Europe, you hardly find that. People are so snobbish, so narrow-minded, especially in France. They are petty about things that don't mean anything anymore. In America, everyone mixes easily and you meet people who are much more interesting.

"Paris is still the most glamorous city; people get dressed up to go out and it's very beautiful, but there's this mentality I don't understand. More and more, I live in America--that's where it's happening. I'd like to live in California, quiet, in private, out of doors in the sun. When I was very young, I was caught up in a whirl that now I find a bit empty--spending one's life in night clubs--I don't like that anymore, I haven't done it for ages. I'm much calmer now than I used to be, I don't go out as much, I only see the people I want to see. I'm just now beginning to feel fulfilled--I think that happens when you mature and calm down from the rat-race you live when you're younger. Now I'm starting to live a different sort of life and I'm much happier."

In her modeling and early acting days, Marisa was a favorite subject for the columnists who detail the daily lives and loves of the well-heeled Beautiful People in Paris, New York and London. "I often heard the most extraordinary things about myself and it upset me terribly. These people create an image of you--my image is a lot of things that I'm not. People read these things and believe them. They say, 'I hear you're so cold and distant and a snob'--all kinds of things that aren't me at all. But if you're shy or put up certain barriers, then the press just makes up stories and what can you do about it?"

It seems odd that someone who says she's shy should have made a career of modeling and acting. "I was panicked when I first started modeling. It's terrifying when you're 17 and you're faced with lights and cameras. But my father had died and I thought, Now I must be independent. I must stay in New York and work. And I really enjoyed it for a few years and I think it helped me in acting. It does help to learn how to behave in front of cameras, how to move, how to be professional--getting up at five o'clock for work--but I never thought I'd make an actress. But then, when I was modeling in New York, I started going to acting school, where you have to do your scene in front of everyone, even if you're shaking like a leaf. After that, things began to happen; I don't know how, but they did. I've been extraordinarily lucky."

Luck has nothing to do with it, Marisa.