How to Be a Movie Star Read Online Free

room. But what she was really doing was raising the curtain on the Era of Celebrity. Hundreds gathered daily, "thinking there might be a chance they'd see her walk in or out," Mankiewicz said. Her hold over the public and their dreams was like the caress of a steel vise. She had been trained in the all-American art of public living since girlhood, and she had elevated it to an almost Shakespearean level—with diamonds and disposable husbands.
    Her training came courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, the studio that, more than any other, created the business of Hollywood and the cultivation of these things called stars. Trained by experts, Elizabeth had taken it all up a notch or two when given the opportunity. "No one—and I mean no one —has ever had that kind of fame quotient," Tom Mankiewicz said. "And no one has ever handled it quite so well."
    Seated at Bricktop's on that New Year's Eve, Elizabeth glanced up to see a young United States marine in full-dress uniform approaching the table. "I'd like to ask you to dance," the young man said. Taylor's husband (number four), the singer Eddie Fisher, tried to shoo him away, but Elizabeth, her extraordinary blue eyes (the press routinely called them violet) filling with mischief, followed the kid onto the dance floor.
    While Fisher brooded, the rest of the table admired how charming and ladylike Elizabeth was with the marine—even after just knocking back an Ivan the Terrible, a potent mix of vodka, grappa, and ouzo, on a dare from her costar, Richard Burton, who was there with his gracious, soft-spoken wife, Sybil. The Burtons were the official hosts of the party; Taylor and Fisher were the guests of honor. Among the entourage was Elizabeth's longtime pal Roddy McDowall, accompanied by his boyfriend, John Valva; the film's producer, Walter Wanger, in from Los Angeles; and director Joe Mankiewicz with his two sons, Tom and Chris, who were assisting on the film.
    Once the marine had returned Elizabeth to the table, Eddie announced that they were calling it a night. "There isn't anything more important than the sleep and rest of Elizabeth Taylor," he often said. But someone had other plans. It wasn't even midnight yet, Elizabeth argued, arms akimbo, eyes flashing.
    Burton egged her on. "You see here?" he asked, tapping Elizabeth's glass. "She hasn't even finished her champagne."
    Several observers witnessed Burton switching his own glass with her empty one. His ruse continued for the next hour as he slid refills on the table and she drank them down eagerly. Fisher didn't catch on, but he knew something was happening. The increasing proximity of Elizabeth and Richard unnerved him. The others noticed it as well. "It was just a matter of time before they began an affair, if they hadn't already," Tom Mankiewicz said. "We were all just waiting for it to happen."
    So be it. Movie people have affairs. It's part of the way business is done. Two years before, when he'd directed her in Suddenly, Last Summer, Joe Mankiewicz himself had taken up with Elizabeth. The Cleopatra publicists probably expected—perhaps even welcomed—a bit of behind-the-scenes with Taylor and Burton. But they had no idea of the earthquake that was about to hit.
     
     
    The crowd outside was growing bolder, pushing against the red velvet ropes that cordoned off Bricktop's entrance. Photographers zipped up on their little Vespa motorbikes. One jumped off and shimmied up a streetlamp. Another crawled under the legs of the crowd to the nightclub's front door. But one man took the award for most enterprising performance.
    Gilberto Petrucci, twenty-two and handsome enough to blend in with the big names, dropped a few hundred lire into the palm of a doorman. Just as the clock struck twelve, he slipped inside the club, his camera discreetly covered by his coat. Smiling at his buona fortuna, he knew he'd have to act fast. Bricktop's bouncers would be on him at any moment to toss him out on his natiche. Unnoticed among all