Our Hollywood correspondent had
been a great fan of her actress
mother, but reports hinted that Romy
was quite different; here's what he
learned when he interviewed Europe's
hottest Star By PEER J. OPPENHEIMER
I was A boy in Germany when I first saw
Romy Schneider's mother, Magda Schnei
der then the Doris Day of her country.
When Magda married Wolf Albach-Retty, an Austrian
matinee idol, and they were blessed with a beautiful
daughter, Romy (a contraction of Rose-Marie), their
storybook romance seemed complete.
But life is no fairy tale, and Magda and Wolf split up
in 1942, when Romy was four. After her parents' divorce,
Romy was reared primarily by her grandparents. She
didn't see her parents together again until 20 years later,
when Otto Preminger producer-director of "The Car
dinal," in which Romy stars arranged "a chance meet
ing" at a Vienna cafe where they were on location.
Like any fan of Magda's, I ws curious to see how her
offspring turned out. I'd seen Romy in "Boccaccio "70" and
"The Trial." I'd heard glowing reports about her per
formance in the soon-to-be-released "The Victors." But I'd
also heard less encouraging reports such as the angry
protestations of Germans who haven't forgi.-en Romy for
leaving her lucrative film career in their country to settle
in Paris and Monaco.
Romy was just 19 when she became fed up being an
apple-cheeked, pleasantly plump Teutonic Shirley Temple
in schmaltzy German movies and fled to Paris. There
she costarred in "Christine" with newcomer Alain Delon.
The film didn't take, but Alain did, and Romy's new ambi
tion was to be an actress and woman who would fit in
with her sophisticated new environment and her new
French boy friend.
For two years Romy all but disappeared from the face
of Europe while perfecting her French, studying acting,
and transforming herself into a sophisticated, chic Parisi
enne. Then came the break she'd hoped for a play oppo
site Alain in which she portrayed a wicked woman. Romy
liked such parts, and producers and her new public were
intrigued by the result.
I had heard that Romy's new life had made her temper
amental and hard to get along with. But I just couldn't
believe that the girl who sprang from the cradle of
Gemiitlichkeit and who was the daughter of an actress I
had adored could have turned into a little monster.
. My first approach, however, was not reassuring. I had
called Romy in Monaco from Los Angeles to set up an ap
pointment. She agreed but was curt and businesslike. At
$4 a minute, I didn't mind. Not yet.
When I reached Monte Carlo two weeks later, I phoned
her home to arrange for our get-together. Romy informed
me tersely that she was leaving for Paris.
"But I came a long way to see you!" I exclaimed.
"Some days I'm in Monte Carlo, some days in London
or Rome or Paris. Tomorrow I'm going to Paris," she
snapped. Then she relented a bit and added, "I'll be back
the day after tomorrow. If you wish, I'll meet you at the
beach club then."
Romy showed up almost on the dot, accompanied by her
mother Magda, who had put on a few pounds from the way
I remembered her but whose face and laughter retained
their vibrance and good humor.
Romy was in blue jeans but quickly changed into a
bikini that would have Created a riot anywhere but Monte
Carlo. Her figure could make Brigitte Bardot blush with
envy. Her eyes were blue and sparkling, and her face be
lied her age and supposed sophistication. Without make-up,
the 24-year-old Romy looked an angelic 18.
Romy suggested, a swim and then embarrassed me by
jumping into the cool Mediterranean ahead of me. She
was as lighthearted, gigglish, and full of fun as a teen
ager on her first date.
But my first interview question about future career
plans instantly threw her back into her shell. "I don't
want to talk about my work! I don't like being inter
viewed; I'm always being misquoted."
"Okay no more formal questions," I agreed.
As it turned out, I learned more about Romy this way .
than if she'd answered 100 carefully worded questions.
The moment I became an acquaintance and, after a couple
of days, possibly even a friend, she made a complete about
face and became relaxed, cheerful, unrestrained.
Most of Romy's problems stem from the fact that she's
at war with herself. Her grandparents and her mother
reared her with a protective curtain drawn tightly around
her. She was always adored and pampered.
At 15, she had wanted to become a painter, but a chance
to appear in a film with her mother quickly changed her
plans. And when Romy grew into Germany's biggest box
office attraction, Mama continued to play the protective
hen looking out for her chick. Magda chose her scripts,
her wardrobe, her friends until the day Romy rebelled
and fled to Paris.
But her new self-appointed role of the sophisticate
clashes head-on with her upbringing and background. I
doubt that she really objected to the press as much as to
the part she herself played, or pretended to play. I don't
think she's really angry at anyone except herself.
Possibly THE MOST OBVIOUS indication of this conflict
in Romy is evident in her relationship with her moth
er. When Romy first started to rebel, Magda had the good
sense to step quietly out of the picture rather than inter
fere when she knew it could do no good. To her, Romy
still is the little girl she held in her lap two decades ago.
She calls her "Teddy Bear," good-naturedly listens to her
whims, and protests mildly when Romy disagrees. But
Magda is so fond of Romy that she will not let a disagree
ment lead to an open break. Apparently this attitude has
paid dividends, for Romy continues to feel a need for her
mother in times of crisis.
There is still a good deal of Viennese sentimentality in
Romy. She suggested we have dinner at a small open-air
restaurant on my third night in Monte Carlo. We hardly
had finished our first course when the waiter leaned down
to whisper something into Romy's ear. She nodded approv
ingly. A few minutes later, he handed her a crudely
wrapped package. Romy thanked him and pulled a hand
ful of francs out of her purse.
"And how much this time?" Magda asked.
"Just 60 francs," Romy told her as she unwrapped a very
bad painting of a clown.
"Sixty francs for that"!" Magda cried out.
"He needs the money for his mother," Romy explained
simply. "She has cancer."
I had a feeling that anyone could come to Romy any
time with a problem true or imagined and Bhe would
try to help out
As far as I was concerned, Romy lived up to all the ex
pectations I have had since I first heard that my favorite
boyhood star gave birth to a beautiful daughter. But then,
maybe I, too, am sentimental.
Family Weekly. November 1, IK
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