Showing posts with label inger stevens in sweden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inger stevens in sweden. Show all posts

Sunday, September 24, 2023

Inger Stevens in Sweden (1965)

I had the chance to watch the 1965 documentary Inger Stevens in Sweden in the Library of Congress archives last year. Actually, I watched it twice—once for pleasure and once more for pleasure and note-taking so that I could share a full summary with you. To be honest, I would have enjoyed watching it a thousand times. Some of the photographs from my collection that I'm using in this post are in full color, but the video itself is in black and white. I have added some of my own observations and extra information and placed those in parenthesis throughout the summary.  Following the summary, you'll find behind-the-scenes facts and press responses.

The Documentary

Inger exits a plane and remarks that "the world is smaller than ever. Our understanding between people is more important now than ever before." As she introduces the film, Inger says she was only twelve years old when she left Sweden. (She was actually nine years old when she arrived in America in July 1944.)

Inger takes direction from Don Taylor during filming.

Walking down the cobblestone streets of the old town, Inger says, "People say these streets put their arms around you. I agree." Inger hears the chimes of St. Gertrude and travels down Priest Street. She notices that many of the businesses have closed so that the owners can go fishing and explains that in Sweden, "Time to live is more important than time to make money." Inger then has coffee with a local woman named Vera Siocrona, who helped preserve the town's history. As they sit at an outdoor cafe, they discuss Queen Christina and how she gave away houses to her lovers. On the street, the camera zooms in and Inger humorously reflects on the conservative fashion choices of the male and female residents.

Next, Inger is sitting poolside with boxer Ingemar Johansson outside of a Stockholm hotel. She asks him for his opinions on America and American women. When Ingemar responds that American women are "spoiled", Inger asks "In what way?" "Now you really got me!", Ingemar laughs as he explains that he finds it odd that men must wait for women to exit elevators first and that women expect men to open their car doors. When Ingemar says women shouldn't wait for a man to open the door, Inger smiles and responds much like Katy Holstrum with a Swedish "Ja? Why not?" She lights up and responds, "That's right" about women exiting elevators first. Showing she enjoys American customs, Inger states, "I like that you wait. I mean there are so few nice things left." (A girlish and charming Inger saying "I mean there are so few nice things left" is my favorite line of the film. I cannot tell you how many times I've used it in my own conversations since. I cannot emphasize just how charming, kind, and friendly appears in each of her conversations throughout the documentary.)

Inger and Ingemar talk about American and Swedish customs.

When asked whether he prefers Swedish or American girls, Ingemar answers that Swedish girls are superior. Inger quickly asserts that she is very much a Swedish girl. (Later, Inger would say that she “would’ve preferred to discuss Swedish men but that wasn’t in the script.”) Inger says, "It's wonderful to be back in Sweden...a peaceful feeling. Sweden represents all the inside feelings." Curiously, Inger also shares, "My family is here. I have no family that live in the United States." (Inger, of course, had many relatives including her mother and siblings in Sweden. But she also had a father, stepmother, brother, and half-sister that lived in America. Though she had strained relations with her father and stepmother, it was still shocking to hear her erase her connection to her family in America.)

In the hotel scene with Ingemar, Inger recalls her Swedish childhood. She says that she lived just three blocks from the hotel as a child and thought that the hotel was enormous, too grand for her. She shares that she was more comfortable in the farm and country and always "longed to be up in the woods."

At one point, Inger asks Ingemar if he thinks "In US they say things they don't mean or words become meaningless?" (Inger often brings this point about insincerity up in interviews throughout her career. Typically, she remarks on this insincerity permeating the culture of entertainers.)

Inger waits to shoot a scene.

In the scene that follows, Inger looks at sculptures in Millesgården. (She later remarked, "The day we spent filming there is one I’ll never forget. It’s almost incredible loveliness is difficult to put into words.") Inger then boards a water taxi. The boat's tour guide is sixteen-year-old Peter who works on his summer break. Peter takes a seat by Inger and tells her he would like to become a psychiatrist. Inger asks if he hopes to help people and he answers that he does plus he'd like the money associated with it. The money answer makes Inger laugh. Inger is amused when Peter tells her he has ten girlfriends, all in different locations and unaware of each other's existence.

Inger amused with tour guide Peter's answers

Actor Max von Sydow joins Inger for a car ride to the Royal Palace. We learn that the royal family only lives in the palace during the Christmas season. They stroll through a garden then enter the Drottingholm Theater which Max explains is now "used as storage for a lot of unimportant things." Inger is awed by the theater. As they speak, Inger cannot keep her eyes from taking in the magnificent ceiling, exclaiming breathlessly, "Oh, it's amazing!" (Inger was equally awed by Max, writing in a letter that he was "that kind of man, a Prince Charming, but nothing put on. He is entirely simple, gentle and direct and interested in you. There is a wonderful purity to him. He's terribly sexy, too.")

In a brief transition, Inger can be seen eating a hot dog while wearing an evening gown as she talks about nightlife in Sweden.

In daylight, Inger watches kids play in a park. All the kids gather round as Inger shares a story in Swedish (months before, she had told reporters that she hoped to read a Swedish fairytale) and teaches them to say in English, "I want a drink of water."

Inger visits the workshop of artist Bo Besko. Besko shows Inger his stained glass and they remark that making your own glass is like making pancakes. Inger tells Bo that they have a special connection: Bo's father, when a clergyman, actually confirmed her mother. Inger and Bo take a look at fish being sold from the fish peddler's truck and discuss Sweden's history. They look at a castle's ruins and Bo asks, "You want to keep Sweden the way it is, don't you?" and Inger answers, "Oh, yes."

Inger with Bo Besko

Following the art segment with Mr. Besko, Inger sits down with Prime Minister Tage Erlander who served as the country's leader from 1946 to 1969. They converse about his policies and hope for the future. Erlander states that he regrets Inger left the country and Inger, almost apologetically, relays the oft-told story, "My father received a Fulbright scholarship and went to America. I was only twelve years old." (In truth, Inger's father did come to America for academic study, but the Fulbright scholarship did not exist until several years after his arrival. As mentioned earlier, Inger often changes her age of arrival in America. In this documentary, Inger says that she was twelve. In reality, she was just nine years old.) As she speaks with the Erlander, Inger stands by her decision to remain in the United States, stating, "I think it is very nice that Swedes are all over the world."

Inger in Sweden
Dalarna

Inger explores her home county of Dalarna. Admiring children in traditional garb, Inger trades in her high heels for a pair of wooden shoes. She rides a bicycle through the woods, where, as a child, she learned "the wonder of nature. I loved the sounds and music of the forest." Inger passes a waterfall that she recalls was "her sanctuary" and then enters the school she attended as a girl. In an emotionally moving scene, Inger walks into a small church and recalls Christmas services she attended with her family. She remembers that there was "always an inner warmth, a warmth I'll never forget of the whole family being together at Christmas." The documentary ends with Inger concluding that home will always be Dalarna.

Inger in the Dalarna nature scenes at Lake Siljan.

Behind the Scenes

The shoot was exhausting for Inger. In letters, she wrote of her lack of sleep, that they filmed seven days a week, and that everything seemed to go wrong. Rain ruined much of the shooting schedule and any fun that could have taken place on the weekends. Scenes with Max von Sydow had to be reshot when they realized there had been no film in the camera. Her professional hair dryer mysteriously disappeared from the hotel and a mouse kept her awake.  In letters, Inger wrote:

Life after work is rather normal—shove food down, fall exhausted into bed, get up and sit in the living room since you can't get to sleep and boom!—there's a mouse behind the wastebasket.

Most things that can go wrong have gone wrong, including the worst offense in "filmdom"—no film in the camera. 

It's no wonder that an exhausted Inger was sick with pneumonia as soon as she returned to the U.S. She was a trooper though, calling the situations "exasperating, but you learn to shut yourself off. And when you really boil, hunt for something funny—it's the only saver."

Much of the travelogue focuses on the interesting personalities of the Swedish people. This pleased Inger, who said she felt "more like a peasant girl than a sophisticated American." She said, "I really want to tell about the people. I think some Americans still believe we're going about in costumes at home. We hope to get away from that level if possible."

Inger speaks to her mother upon arrival in Sweden.

Inger had serious reservations about the reception she would receive by her family, who she'd only visited a handful of times since her childhood, and the Swedish people. She said:

I felt a little funny about it, too. After being in America for so long and then coming over to do a special on Sweden—they could have resented that, I think, but they didn't. I cried a little when I saw my mother. Then all the photographers wanted me to cry for them. How do you cry when you have already finished crying?...I was hoping to take my mother to Paris or London on weekends, but bad weather forced us to work whenever the sun came out, so there wasn't any vacation.

While I was walking with Max von Sydow at the old theater the other day, I looked up and saw a young man with two children. He was pushing a baby carriage. "Hey!" I hollered and jumped over a hedge and grabbed him. It was my brother. I've been so busy I haven't had time to see him. He was just on his way to the market and didn't know I was anywhere around. Whenever my family wants to see me, they wander around until they see the lights and they know that's where I am. The other day we were shooting at one of the big squares and a woman came up and said, "Hello, Inger." I didn't know her, of course. She turned out to be a lady who used to be my baby sitter—that is, she sat with me when I was a baby.

The nature scenes in Dalarna included the unique challenge of wooden shoes: 

It is not easy to ride a bicycle in wooden shoes. The guy driving the camera truck didn't know what he was doing and I had to pedal like the very devil and keep up with him and then slow down and smile and contemplate nature and then pump like crazy to catch up again. This went on for four days. 

Also, there was a slight misrepresentation of location in the Dalarna scenes. The scenes of Inger's hometown were filmed in Boda and Tällberg, but Inger actually grew up in Mora, a city in the Dalarna province. Boda and Tallberg are both in Dalarna County but on different points of Lake Siljan. Inger lived in Bromma, Stockholm until 1938 when her family relocated to Mora, Dalarna.

Hometown scenes were shot in Boda and Tallberg,
but Inger actually grew up in Mora.


The Response

The travelogue was a trend at the time and Inger's tour of her homeland followed Jackie Kennedy's White House tour, Elizabeth Taylor's exploration of London, and Princess Grace's tour of Monaco. The documentary was well-received by critics, who deemed it a "beautifully photographed travelogue” worth watching for its “picture postcard views” and “brought to life by the lovely Miss Stevens in short, interesting interviews." Inger was called a "perky guide" and praised for highlighting modern Sweden as equally as its historical monuments.

For me, viewing the TV special confirms several points. One, that my admiration for Inger is reaffirmed (though it was never doubted). The charm and intelligence Inger shows in the varied interviews are unique. Her voice modulates to reflect the wonder, excitement, and warmth she experiences throughout her Swedish exploration. In fact, Inger is so poised and appealing, a person can’t help but imagine her hosting a successful talk show or writing clever bestsellers. She is utterly lovable. 

Secondly, I realize more than ever how isolated Inger must have felt throughout her life. A Swedish girl whose parents left her behind while pursuing their own lives and making new families with other partners. A child pushed from her homeland to be reunited with a father who she'd not seen for years, far away, in a strange country. A child eager to please her father but never able to feel the closeness she desired. A Swedish teenager desperate to shed her traditional, dated clothing to be accepted by her American peers. And, in a matter of years, an independent woman, outwardly American in accent and prospective, traveling back to her European birthplace to visit with family she hadn't seen since childhood. Not wholly belonging in either Sweden or America; not feeling a desired kinship with either parent in their separate places. 

Inger's favorite aspect of filming the show was the positive response she received from the Swedish people. Inger would later say:

The nicest thing about the show for me personally is that when I arrived there the people treated me as one of their own.

Inger in Sweden

Sources:

Daily Press. February 21, 1965.

Inger Stevens in Sweden.  Associated Arts, N.V. ; 1965. Reference print 2 reels : sd., b&w ; 16 mm.

Patterson, William T. The Farmer's Daughter Remembered. 2000.

Portland Press Herald. February 26, 1965.

The Reporter Dispatch. February 26, 1965.

The State February 26, 1965. 

Monday, March 22, 2021

Inger Stevens' Hollywood Hairdos by Leslie Blanchard

Inger Stevens was featured in a striking color cover of the November 1963 edition of Latest Hollywood and TV Hairdos. I hoped that the "five dazzling do's" promised within the magazine's pages would feature more Inger in full, glorious color. Instead, the hairstyles are in the form of sketches by Maning. The article is interesting in that it talks about the contrast of the simple styles worn as Katy Holstrum on The Farmer's Daughter in comparison to the "unbelievably lavish offstage coiffures ever created" that Inger donned offscreen. Those hairstyles and brilliant hair color were all the work of Inger's friend and hairstylist Leslie Blanchard, and were also highlighted on the Clairol ads the two worked on together during the run of the show. More on Leslie and Inger's friendship with quotes and photos after this photo break!

Inger Stevens Hollywood Hairdo






TV-Picture Life magazine highlighted Leslie and Inger's friendship and working relationship in February 1965. The cover of the magazine revealed that the article was titled, "Inger and the Bachelor: TV's Most Whispered-About Affair" and I expected it to be a teaser about Inger's fictional character Katy and Senator Morley on The Farmer's Daughter; I was pleasantly surprised to find it was an article on Leslie and Inger's friendship. The two met at a beauty salon on West 56th Street where Leslie was the color specialist. He recognized Inger immediately and recalled that they shared a common bond and were both discontent with their careers at that time:
We looked at each other and we both felt as if we had known each other for years. We had respect for each other, almost from the first moment...She told me I was strong enough to be on my own. She wasn’t even my client then, but she insisted I go with her, and she kept encouraging me. When I came back to New York, I did strike out on my own...I think she feels her troubles also provided a wonderful awakening for her. She did a lot of thinking and she realized that she didn’t have to be part of the Hollywood whirlwind and that she could succeed by hard work, talent, and just being herself. 


They were frequent travel companions, exploring Colombia, Jamaica, and Europe. Blanchard commented:
We did the tourist bit. We visited museums, went nightclubbing, went to the theatre, and just walked around. 

When the chance to star in The Farmer's Daughter came up, Inger was torn. She was concerned about being tied down to a weekly sitcom. Blanchard said:

I told her she’d have to do what she felt was best for herself. All a friend can do really is be a good sounding board and be a good listener and not a talker. When you listen, they make up their own decision. Well, Inger made up her mind to do the pilot. She is a very sensible, very logical, a very positive thinker, like I am. 

Inger Stevens with friend and collaborator Leslie Blanchard



It was when Leslie took Inger to a Clairol press show that Clairol executives found her to be "wholesome and vivacious" and sponsored The Farmer's Daughter, making Inger their spokeswoman due to the fabulous impression made on them. When Inger was shooting a television documentary in Sweden, Leslie traveled with the crew and took care of Inger and her hair. He elaborated:

It’s remarkable because Inger has no Swedish-speaking close friends in America, yet she remembers the language she spoke up to the age of 13. We were together almost all the time. I’d see her at 5:30 am to do her hair, and then while it was drying, I’d fix her breakfast of soft boiled eggs, for her. I kidded her that I wanted more than hairdresser credit on the tv screen, and that I wanted credit as valet and cook. I colored it once, set it once, and combed it three or four times a day in Sweden.

Leslie Blanchard's career continued to rise long past Inger's untimely death and he was renowned the world over as a highly demanded and uniquely skilled hair stylist. 

Finally, here are the gorgeous Clairol ads featuring Inger and Leslie.




Sources: 

"Inger and the Bachelor: TV's Most Whispered About Affair." TV-Picture Life. February 1965. 

Latest Hollywood and TV Hairdos. November 1963.

 

Thursday, October 1, 2020

Letters from Sweden: Correspondence from Inger for TV Guide



TV Guide featured correspondence between writer and friend Robert de Roos and Inger Stevens that was exchanged during her trip to Sweden, where she filmed Inger Stevens in Sweden in 1964. Whether she's writing about a pesky mouse, sexy Max von Sydow, total exhaustion, camera mishaps or making quips about heaven and hell, Inger's letters are full of wit, honesty and amusement about her life and the world around her. I've transcribed them below and included photos from the article in this post.

September 13-16

Dear Bob (I mean Dear Pen Pal):

It will seem ridiculous to you, but this is the first free moment I have had once I arrived a week ago. I am writing this sitting under a hair drier so's not to waste precious time. We are leaving for the country in an hour and will be gone three days. This morning, after Leslie Blanchard washed my hair, we turned around only to find that the hair drier had disappeared from its customary place. Quite a feat when you consider the size and weight of a professional hair drier. It was 10 Sunday morning. Everything was closed, of course. Phone calls back and forth and finally the manager broke into the hotel beauty shop to get us a drier. We are taking it along with us to the country. Doesn't every girl travel with a professional hair drier when she goes scampering in the Nordic woods?

After traveling in an airplane for 16 hours, one does get a little balmy, particularly when you lose an eight-hour day some place—then step off the plane to face a press conference in Swedish. I felt a little funny about it, too. After being in America for so long and then coming over to do a special on Sweden—they could have resented that, I think, but they didn't.

I cried a little when I saw my mother. Then all the photographers wanted me to cry for them. How do you cry when you have already finished crying? Then I was led out a door and into a big black limousine. It was dark and I could have been any place in the world—Chicago or New York or London. I felt in limbo—not anywhere. Only the next day, when Stockholm showed itself, did I realize where I was.

My family thinks we are filming the family tree, and keeps coming up with "wonderful" ideas for the special. After I had three hours' sleep the first night, the family, the press and radio and television people all started converging on me—an army of people with various goals—re: me. Not to mention the director, the producer, the writer and the publicity man. So my day of rest for readjustment after the flight never happened. It won't happen until I get back to the U.S., I guess.

So far my conversations have been with Prime Minister Tag Erlander, Mr. Erik Boheman, former Ambassador to the U.S. and, for intellectual variety, Ingemar Johansson, the boxer. The men on the crew all speak different languages, none of them English, which hampers Don Taylor, our director, somewhat because he speaks only English. I'm not helping because I speak only Swedish now.

Life after work is rather normal—shove food down, fall exhausted into bed, get up and sit in the living room since you can't get to sleep and boom!—there's a mouse behind the wastebasket. Ring the desk. Little boy comes and by that time the mouse has disappeared. Boy gives me a strange look. Ten minutes later spider appears. Ring desk again. Boy with can of spray. Spider loved the spray. He was back again last night and the night before. So was the mouse. 

Sincerely, 

Inger Stevens


 

When Bob writes back that the only thing he knows of Sweden is the story of the man who was fined for hitting his wife with an eel, Inger responds:

Tuesday '64 (I think)

Dear Bob:

That was a completely transistorized electric eel, A.C./D.C. I think the man was lucky to get off with a $5 fine. 

The mouse is back. Or rather still here. Don Taylor and some of the other men were here last night discussing the dailies. Everything normal, except that we carried on our discussion while crawling around the room on our hands and knees looking for that blasted mouse.

Most things that can go wrong have gone wrong, including the worst offense in "filmdom"—no film in the camera. What made it worse was that the union said the crew had to break for dinner just then and Max von Sydow...

Well, Max von Sydow. As you know, he is the finest actor alive today. He's appeared in most of Bergman's pictures and he is playing Jesus in "The Greatest Story Ever Told." I was delegated to ask him to appear in this special. We met at Riche restaurant and I was nervous as could be. That was before he came in. When he came in he made me very nervous—is it correct to say "nervouser"? I was wearing my "intellectual" dress but even that didn't help. I blushed and almost fainted.

Von Sydow is that kind of man, a Prince Charming, but nothing put on. He is entirely simple, gentle and direct and interested in you. There is a wonderful purity to him. He's terribly sexy, too. He looks so deeply into your inner self that what is deep inside you comes surging up—and that's almost too much to handle.

He agreed to visit the Drottningholm Theater with me for the show. And, after working a long, long day, the crew told us they had missed the last three shots because there was no film in the camera! Then the crew went to dinner and I had to persuade von Sydow to come back after his dinner and shoot for three more hours. He was wonderful about it.

The Drottningholm Theater was built in 1766 and they still have performances there. All the stage machinery, made of wood, is still in working order. They have a trap door for the descent into hell and another contraption that lifts you up into heaven. So Max and I went to hell together. It was my first time and his also. The professor who is in charge of the theater kept insisting that I should go to heaven, but we didn't have time. After going to hell with Max von Sydow, it might have been an anticlimax anyway.

Best Regards,

Inger



 An envious Bob writes back that he's sending some mouse poison to Sweden—not for the mouse, but for the Prince Charming Max von Sydow.

September 28

Dear Bob:

How do you spell hectic? I didn't tell you this: While I was walking with Max von Sydow at the old theater the other day, I looked up and saw a young man with two children. He was pushing a baby carriage. "Hey!" I hollered and jumped over a hedge and grabbed him. It was my brother. I've been so busy I haven't had time to see him. He was just on his way to the market and didn't know I was anywhere around. Whenever my family wants to see me, they wander around until they see the lights and they know that's where I am. 

The other day we were shooting at one of the big squares and a woman came up and said, "Hello, Inger." I didn't know her, of course. She turned out to be a lady who used to be my baby sitter—that is, she sat with me when I was a baby. Another time we were shooting on the street and I heard, out of the blue, "Hey, it's the farmer's daughter—hot diggety dog." A couple of American kids.

The script called for me to ride a bicycle. Luckily I know how to ride—nobody asked me when the script was being written! I started out in high heels and it is not easy to ride a bike in high heels. Then I changed to wooden shoes—the kind I wore as a girl. It is not easy to ride a bicycle in wooden shoes. The guy driving the camera truck didn't know what he was doing and I had to pedal like the very devil and keep up with him and then slow down and smile and contemplate nature and then pump like crazy to catch up again. This went on for four days.

The weather was terrible but it finally cleared and we all went up to the top of the mountain, where the view is superb. We started shooting at the exact spot where Bergman filmed the rape scene in "Virgin Spring." Bad spirits must still be there because the minute we started, it began to hail.

We've worked seven days a week ever since I got to Sweden and I've averaged about four hours' sleep. I had planned to go to Paris and to Moscow—but there's just no time left.

One day, an elderly couple came out to greet me in the forest. They didn't know me. They just thought I should be welcomed. Wasn't that nice? Later they gave me presents—a hand-woven mat and a pillow cover. And another man gave me a wooden flute he had made the night before. I'll play it for you when I get back.

You and your mouse poison. Baaaah.

Your friend and Max von You-know-who's,

Inger


All of that stress and exhaustion caught up to Inger. She came down with pneumonia once she landed in Hollywood. And, as she always did, Inger got right back to work on The Farmer's Daughter.

Source:

"Inger Stevens in Sweden." TV Guide. January 30, 1965.