There's nothing Crabbie loves more than one celeb dishing the dirt on other celebs. Oh the exquisite joy of betrayed confidences! Thankfully, there are plenty of stroppy old cows out there who are eager to make a buck by cramming their autobiographies full of such nasty tales. Like Kathleen Turner, whose new book about her life is laced with plenty of dirt on her various co-stars.
An excerpt from Kathleen's book, Send Yourself Roses, is featured in the Daily Mail. In this bit, Kathleen discusses her experience with William Hurt, her co-star in the controversial Body Heat:
Working with Bill Hurt was - shall we say - enlightening. In those days, he was pretty wild. He drank a great deal and took a lot of recreational drugs - he loved those magic mushrooms. He loved women, too; I don't know how many he went through during filming.
Bill always wanted to stay in character and be called 'Ned', even off-stage. He'd get a little teed off when I was chatting with the cameraman up to the moment we were ready to act.
My way of letting off tension is to have a laugh and then get to work - but Bill thought I wasn't taking my acting seriously enough. He'd glare at me and say he just couldn't understand how I could switch so instantly into character.
Apparently, Kathleen is not a great proponent of Method acting.
Here Turner discusses working with noted wack-job Ken Russell and the late Anthony Perkins on Crimes of Passion:
Ken was drinking a great deal at the time, and as the days went on, things got increasingly out of hand. Anthony, who had an appalling drug habit, was taking illegal substances in front of all of the crew. You could see his heart beating a mile a minute.
Everywhere he went, he carried a little bottle that I was told was benzyl nitrate. We'd rehearse a scene, then before the call to "Roll camera," he'd take out his bottle and sniff it with each nostril.
His face would go red and he'd break into a sweat - and suddenly I'd have no idea whether he was in control of himself or not. It was scary. I was quite worried about getting hurt.
Before one scene, where my character had to go from abject misery to laughter in a matter of seconds, Anthony said to me "You won't be able to do that without some of this," and tried to hand me his drugs.
I said: "Oh yeah? Watch me, asshole." But actually, working with Ken and Anthony was nearly impossible.
A running theme here seems to be Turner's natural acting ability versus the dubious techniques of her co-stars.
Now, Nicolas happens to be the nephew of Francis Ford Coppola, who was directing the film. And my contrary co-star was absolutely determined to prove that he wasn't there as the result of nepotism.
So, everything Francis wanted him to do, he went against - to show that he wasn't under his uncle's wing. Which was ridiculous. Oh, that stupid voice of his and the fake teeth! Honestly, I cringe to think about it.
He caused so many problems. He was arrested twice for drunk-driving and, I think, once for stealing a dog. He'd come across a chihuahua he liked and stuck it in his jacket.
On the last night of filming, he came into my trailer after he'd clearly been drinking heavily. He fell on his knees and asked if I could ever forgive him. I said, "Not right now. I have a scene to shoot. Excuse me," and just walked out.
Nicolas didn't manage to kill the film, but he didn't add a lot to it, either. For years, whenever I saw him, he'd apologise for his behaviour. I'd say: "Look, I'm way over it." But I haven't pursued the idea of working with him again.
How can Kathleen say that? Cage is hilarious in that movie. She knows nothing.
Kathleen also brings the hammer down on Raquel Welch, who once auditioned to replace her in a production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof:
One afternoon, my male co-star came into my dressing room and said: "You gotta come. You gotta see this, Kathleen." We crept in through the back door of the theatre and watched as Raquel Welch did an audition.
"Well, I just don't think that Kathleen has ever been feline enough," we heard her say. She was going around the stage with her hands like claws, hissing and making cat gestures. Oddly enough, the producers decided not to use her.
Ah, but Kathleen reserves some of her most potent venom for Burt Reynolds, with whom she co-starred in the disastrous His Girl Friday remake Switching Channels:
My unhappiest experience as an actress? Well, that would have to be a film called Switching Channels, which came out in 1987.
It had all started well enough. I'd had two rehearsals in New York with the wonderful Michael Caine, who'd signed to play my husband. But Michael had to leave to finish the latest Jaws film - Jaws IV, V, VI, whatever - and the shark machinery kept breaking down.
He didn't have a stop date for when he'd be free and I had my own stop date, for a very important reason: I was pregnant. When it was plain that Michael couldn't join us before I grew too big, the producer hired Burt Reynolds.
For whatever reason, the first thing Burt said to me was: "I've never taken second billing to a woman."
I excused myself, ran to my hotel room and called my husband, breaking into tears. Jay said: "Dry your eyes, be cool, go back, just do the film."
I did go back. But, oh, every day there were nasty little digs. For instance, because of my pregnancy, the production team had given me a golf cart so I didn't have to walk around too much - and Burt even made fun of that. He was just nasty!
One day, we started shooting a scene that Michael Caine and I had rehearsed, where we finish each other's sentences like old married couples do. Making that dialogue work needed real skill. It had to be fast; it had to be sharp. But Burt just couldn't do it.
The director finally said: "Look, why don't we just shoot line by line?" And, idiot that I am, I shot back: "Because it's called a scene, that's why."
From that day on, Burt and I were sworn enemies. He later accused me of trying to get him sacked every day and publicly declared that the sound of my name made him want to vomit.
I won't be rushing to work with him again, either.
Oh Kathleen - all the plastic surgery in the world can't make you a happy woman, can it?
