9 September (1963): François Truffaut to Helen Scott

French New Wave filmmaker François Truffaut found a steadfast collaborator and correspondent in Helen Scott, an American translator who worked at the New York French Film Office in Paris. Scott facilitated a great many of Truffaut’s projects, including by serving as an interpreter in the director’s 1962 interview series with Alfred Hitchcock, mentioned below. Scott and Truffaut, who shared a close rapport, were buried near each other in Paris’ Montmartre Cemetery.

To Helen Scott

from Paris, Monday 9 September 1963

My dear Hélène,

I have had your letter in my hand for half an hour and now, without further delay, I’m going to answer it, after having looked at it for a long time and even vaguely read it!

In actual fact, this will be one of my last letters before I start shooting my next film, La Peau douce.

By the same post, I’m sending you the script of the film. I ask you at once:

1. not to let anyone read it, nor even to describe it to anyone;

2. not to speak of it as an ‘autobiographical’ film à la 400 Coups, but of a fictional work inspired by various crimes passionnels…

3. to read it yourself and, if possible, at a single sitting, without watching television at the same time…

4. to give me your impressions as soon as you have read it.

Actually, I think you’ll like it, because it’s concrete, realistic and closer to life than Jules et Jim; there’s something in the script that resembles you or resembles your way of seeing things. I’m not saying this in order to ‘condition’ you in its favour, it’s just an impression. Any detailed or general criticism will be given my full attention, as you know.

As you also know, this is a transitional film, before Fahrenheit, a film made for a specific purpose, to get Carrosse back on its feet again with a production that runs no very great risks at the outset and has a good chance of making more money than J. et J.

Nevertheless, all these notions on adultery have been running through my head for so long that perhaps no one will notice how rushed the whole project has been. The structure, too, strikes me as being tighter and firmer than in my earlier films. In fact, I now no longer think of anything but the film and making a good job of it. The three actors are Jean Desailly, Nelly Benedetti and Françoise Dorléac. Raoul Coutard behind the camera, Delerue for the music, etc. At the beginning as you know, Carrosse was to be the sole producer, then my mother-in-law lent me Sédif’s state subsidy (25 million), repayable on the first sales. She had been to see Fellini’s 8 1/2 and, like you, had been knocked sideways. Ever since, she has so admired me that she prefers to invest and risk her subsidy rather than lend it. So it will be a Carrosse-Sédif film. Curious, eh? I too was very disturbed, moved, impressed, and influence by 8 1/2 … Anyway, here we are, embarked upon a new adventure. I’m horribly nervous and, at the same time, extremely impatient.

We begin shooting around 15 October. No question of my coming to New York before. I’ll come at the end of December or beginning of January, either for Fahrenheit and our book or exclusively for our book. I’m delighted at the idea of spending several days of intensive work with you, perfecting the French version. In the meantime I won’t be dropping it altogether, since I’ll be busy collecting stills from each of the films in order to have the most complete documentation possible. All goes well.

I’m glad you saw Rope, but as usual flabbergasted that you didn’t see fit to write even half a dozen words on that marvellous film!

Now, I shall answer your letter point by point:

— Berbert is going to find out tomorrow what happened to your dough which was sent off several days ago. Send us a telegram as soon as you receive it.

— Yes, I’ll give a warm welcome to your Terence MacCartney Filgate. How could he have read the English script of Phoenix without Allen knowing? I could send you the translation which I received, but only if you ask me to, because: 1. It’s badly typed, with a typeface that’s too small and on transparent paper which has been blackened by the carbon. 2. I’m afraid it will delay you in your translation of the crowing of the (Hitch)cock. 3. I would prefer you to read La Peau douce. 4. You already know the script of Phoenix and the translation isn’t likely to change much.

On the question of New Wave publicity. I had a very interesting lunch with two people from Life, a certain Mr Kaufman and a charming, beautiful and exciting woman named Madame Libert; she’s going to be speaking to the major directors all over the world, Bergman, Fellini, in short, she’s not doing it by halves. They asked me a whole lot of questions while we were eating, without taking any notes, but lots of photos and even some 16 mm (non-commercial) film, I didn’t really understand what it was all about…

Independently of that, lunch with another woman, Betty, from Time magazine; I understood even less of what she wanted, especially as she seemed completely exasperated by having to do a job that was so obviously beneath her. I let her pick up the bill…

Wonderful news, the job with MacGregor; they are much more reliable people than our friend Allen whose fate hangs on that of the two duds he backed, the Peter Brook and The Balcony. Speaking of which, how is Lord of the Flies doing?

You could perhaps make up with Archer by putting the idea in his head that Jeanne still wants very much to work with Arthur Penn and that both of them are keen on The Wild Palms. It would be the most reasonable outcome for that tired old project, except if Archer is still full of resentment … and vanity, etc.

The Arthur Penn story is very simple. He shot a week with Lancaster and everything was going very well. Then two more days with Lancaster and that, too, seemed to go well. Then there was the failure of The Leopard in New York, the bad reviews, and, overnight, Lancaster started making disparaging remarks about ‘art movies’, etc. The next evening Penn was informed by his agent telephoning from New York that he was no longer on the film but that he would be paid his salary. Then Frankenheimer arrived and he’s someone Lancaster can manipulate as he pleases: a close-up of me here, now a tracking shot of me, etc. And the film took on a new dimension, it became a major production … Penn went back to New York in rather low spirits; I dined with him and his wife. For the moment, Jeanne is trying to extricate herself from the project, but it’s not yet certain whether she’ll succeed, as they’re putting a lot of pressure on her and she’s already spent the dough she received…

I haven’t seen Bernie Willens, but Berbert has. Whenever Berbert mentioned your name, Bernie would look up at the ceiling and Berbert felt he was pissing in the air!

You ask me about Jean-Luc. Here too, he never stops talking about going to New York. I see a lot of him. He hopes to make La Bande à Bonnot for the Hakims around the end of October, but it may not happen. His ideas of forming a production company are amusing, but I remain sceptical all the same. The important thing for him is to get out of the fix he’s in. I think you’ll like Le Mépris, which is very simple, luminous, sad and beautiful, in the line of Vivre sa vie. You know that, in America, Godard won’t have his name on Le Mépris, because everywhere, except in France, the film will be re-edited by the ignoble Levine and the infamous Ponti.

The Birds opened a few days ago and it isn’t liked. I know now, but not from you, that’s it’s been pretty much a failure all over the world and in Hitch’s career. Long live Marnie, naturally.

I spoke to Arthur Penn about my theatre projects and he offered to intercede for me with Inge concerning the performance rights for Picnic which I would like to stage with Belmondo, Marina Vlady, Albert Rémy and a few other geniuses I know … I don’t really want to burden you with this or distract you from the Hitchbook, but if you should ever meet Penn in the street … you might just remind him of that…

To finish with the Hitchbook, I’m pleased that you’re pleased with the result, I’m going to send a little note to the Master to keep him patient for another few months. My dream would be for this book never to come out and for you and me to spend a month together every year bringing it up to date, adding new questions and conducting new ‘interviews’ with the maestro, in short a few weeks of Hollywood holidays every year.

Is there anything from Paris you need: books, newspapers, magazines, records, caramels?

Write to me at the same length as I did to you before I start shooting and immediately after reading La Peau douce,

lots of love,

françois

P.S. Two omissions:

a) Claudine won’t be going to New York now because of my film.

b) Allen has sent the latest cheque; I’m amazed. On the other hand, the director’s contract is unacceptable as it currently stands. We’re going to make some counter-proposals; that means it’s likely to drag on for several weeks more.

From Truffaut: Correspondence 1945-1984. Edited by Gilles Jacob and Claude De Givray. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1990. Print.

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