LIZA MINNELLI, CABARET, 1972
In many ways, I owe my film career to Liza. Her father, Vincente Minnelli, was directing Home from the Hill. At first, he was overlooking the potential of this gangly 19-year-old, but Liza confessed later that I was her first crush and she championed hard for me to get the part. Fortunately, Vincente couldn’t turn down his daughter’s request, but not before he dyed my hair, thinking that made me look more like a down-to-earth Texan. I was not the only one with a hair situation back then. As fate would have it, one day on set, Liza got some gum stuck in her hair and there was no other choice but to cut it out. That, ladies and gentlemen, was the beginning of her signature pixie cut!
Twelve-year-old Liza would often come to set, and when she wasn’t there, she would walk around the MGM lot and go to various soundstages to watch Fred Astaire or Cyd Charisse rehearsing. In no time, she could replicate their dances perfectly. Between her mother Judy Garland and Vincente, Liza was exposed to all the greats of Broadway and of film. She was an excellent mimic and could imitate everyone from Ethel Merman to Marlene Dietrich. In all things, she had a curiosity and an exuberance and a talent that made her the star she became.
The first time I ever heard her sing was at a club in Dallas. We had wrapped shooting there and I noticed a stage, so I told Liza to get up there. It didn’t take much to persuade her and she brought the house down! Judy, however, never wanted to encourage her, dismissing her with, “The kid doesn’t have the timbre.” I actually prayed that Judy was acting as the mother bear, not wanting her children to experience the abuses she had known growing up in the studio system.
One night, Judy and I had come back separately from London and both of us happened to be staying at the Plaza Hotel in New York. I called her up and she said, “Let’s go up to Westchester [to her country estate] and see the kids.” To be honest I was jet-lagged—it was near midnight—so I begged off, but she teased me, declaring, “I just made the same trip and I feel great, what’s wrong with you?” Before I could object, we were sitting in the back of a limo with a bucket of German Blue Nun, her favorite. When we arrived, all three children—Liza, Lorna, and Joey—were wide-eyed and raring to go. For the next few hours, we all laughed, sang songs, and Judy made milkshakes for everyone. It was a special evening until it wasn’t.
The next morning, I was awakened by the butler and asked to quietly leave out the back door, as Judy had made a suicide attempt. It defied understanding, coming off the fun we’d had a few hours prior, yet that was the pattern of Judy’s illness and something that Liza had to endure until she was 23, when Judy died of a barbiturate overdose.
Liza’s strength and courage from childhood to the present is something I have always admired. She has suffered health struggles, family issues, believed in love enough to get married four times, but all the while has maintained an innocence—she is still that gracious, exuberant girl I met long ago. She has a drive that has kept her going, a work ethic like no other, and a star quality that shines in good times and bad. Liza has earned her worldwide accolades and multiple awards in spades—Tonys, Oscars, Grammy, Golden Globes, and more—but more importantly to me, she is one of the most loyal and loving friends I have ever known.
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Hair: Louise Moon using Oribe at Cloutier Remix.
Makeup: Tina Smith using MAC Cosmetics at The Milton Agency.
Photography Assistants: Tyson Smyer and Gerardo De La Paz.
Fashion Assistant: Iris Diane Palma.
Production Management: Vince Barrucco.
Post-production: Rick Allen.