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Shirley Stoler and
The Honeymoon Killers

    Attempting to describe the 55-year-old, 225-lb. Anita Ekberg in Intervista, Fellini simply called her "epic." I felt the same way upon meeting Shirley Stoler, who may not have possessed Ekberg's looks, but cut an equally imposing figure.
    Best known for playing a serial killer in The Honeymoon Killers (1970) and a horny Nazi in Seven Beauties (1976), Stoler began her career in the theatre, where she continued to work until her death at the age of 70, in 1999. Because of her unique appearance, film work was limited to small parts as prison guards (Desperately Seeking Susan), nasty homeroom teachers (Three O'Clock High), and bartenders (Frankenhooker). But she also flexed her comedic skills on the surreal tv show, Pee-Wee's Playhouse, and camped it up for one season on the daytime drama, As the World Turns.
    We met for one evening in 1986, an interview session which, in hindsight, Shirley may have been hoping for years to happen. Her killer and Nazi images from the screen evaporated in a rush of exciting, colorful life stories.
    When she read the first-draft transcript of our conversation, Shirley was displeased with the way it read. I'd attempted a rewrite, but eventually lost interest. It's been sitting in my file cabinet ever since. The following, therefore, is an unauthorized presentation of Shirley's words on her biggest film role, in The Honeymoon Killers:

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    One night I received a call from these people who wanted to know if I'd like to read for the part of Martha Beck. Apparently Marilyn Chris, who I had worked with years ago at the Living Theatre, had tried for the role of Beck but she wasn't the right type. She did something very few actresses would do: she told them, "If I'm not the right type, I know someone who is!"

    I remembered the Martha Beck case very well because I was an adult when it happened. The court case lasted for months, the newspapers were full of it. Martha was a very verbose witness. I was fascinated by her as a personality, and I guess I had done a kind of subconscious preparation in my sleep overnight. When I went in to read for the part, they said I was her. They said if I didn't know how to act, they would teach me. I read for it, got it, and did the film.
    Very few people know it, but Martin Scorsese was the first director on The Honeymoon Killers. He was just out of school. He did the first scene where Martha comes in on a nurse and an intern fooling around on a bed, with was shot in a real hospital. Even though Martin wasn't really experienced, he had a strong sense of direction. He also shot the scenes of me in the lake. My screams were real in that scene — I was terrified.
    Scorsese was taken out because of a personality clash. The producer, Warren Steibel, and the writer, Leonard Kastle, were very argumentative people. Kastle really wanted to direct it, but didn't have the courage to put himself in the position. After Scorsese left, they had a sort-of ex-editor in who was totally incompetent. After a couple of weeks Kastle took over, although he really had no knowledge of directing. Somehow the picture managed to direct itself, not really needing a director. Scorsese did have a certain amount of creativity, but nobody else did. Either way, the picture still worked.
    If any one person were to take responsibility for the quality of The Honeymoon Killers, it would have to be the cinematographer, Oliver Wood. He loved very long takes and, with lighting, likes that diffused look. He didn't do anything to cover the lamps or dim the light, preferring whatever was naturally there. There's one scene where the two women are in bed, Martha slapping the other woman, and suddenly the screen went black. Everyone thought the film broke. But then a lamp turns on, as Toni LoBianco sits in a dark room. That was just one of Oliver's ideas. I thought he was brilliant — he created that film, especially the look of it, which tried for that pulp-ish True Detective quality.
    Also, the chemistry of casting was very good. The actors seemed to be reacting to the situations in the film as they would react to the same situations in real life. Tony LoBianco, playing Martha Beck's lover, Ray Fernandez, was especially good. I would say that the filmmakers used Tony's ego, although he didn't know it, to arrive at the character. You can tell by the way he walks through scenes. Mary Jane Higbee, who played Janet Fay, was fabulous. She used to be in soap operas in radio. She knew exactly what she was doing, an absolute master.
    I was glad to interject even the slightest bit of humor into some scenes, as there was so little in the whole film. The cafeteria scene was a chance for that, and worked rather well. I also like the ending of the picture very much, a scene certainly attributable to Leonard Kastle.
    The critical reaction was interesting. Some people loved it, others were quite hostile. Pauline Kael, in The New Yorker, blasted it for several pages, yet ended her review with "but you can't altogether dismiss it." That was a strange thing to say — like the operation wasn't a success but the patient's still alive. Most, if not all, the New York papers gave it good reviews.
    I was sent on a publicity tour for two months and 25,000 miles, as far north as Toronto, as far south as Atlanta. We also went to England. I adored the tours with the many interviews, going to fine hotels with three-room suites, limousines. My favorite words were "Miss Stoler requires..."
    When I was in England, they gave me $280 in pocket money, so I decided to go to Paris for a week. When I arrived there, the picture wasn't due to open for a while, but I contacted Cinerama, the distributor, there. They were very courteous and said, "If there's anything we can possibly do for you..." So I said, "Take me to Maxim's!" So three of us — the head of the office, his assistant and myself — went to Maxim's. It was a delicious experience. The best champagne I ever tasted was the house brand. The three of us drank five bottles. I swore I wasn't drunk, but by the time I got back to my hotel room and tried to take off my clothes, the room was literally spinning! I also had one of the best dinners at Maxim's: smoked eel, beef stroganoff, a Grand Marnier souffle, and strawberries which were huge and sweet.
    Later I went back to New York City and lived on 17th Street. For a while I did nothing. I received a call to meet Alan J. Pakula, and ended up doing a five-minute scene in Klute, as a result of The Honeymoon Killers. I play one of the madams in the film, Jane White was the other. I had roughly a paragraph of dialogue. I worked with Donald Sutherland, who remembered me when we did Lolita on stage many years later.
    In 1972 and '73, I did a few plays, and I was receiving many, many scripts for films about "the fat girl and the faggot" patterned after The Honeymoon Killers. I even got a script from Cass Elliot from a story by a friend of hers about The Mamas & The Papas. Cass wanted me to play her part, and she wanted to direct. I refused the role.
    By 1974 I was really in a decline. I got a job in an answering service, putting calls through to these people I should have been talking to myself, on a professional level. It was demoralizing and I became very sad and despondent.
    I kept talking about getting back to Europe to prove I could be mobile again. A few friends voluntarily sent me money, and I ended up with $1000 beside my fare. I toured for six weeks, four in France, two in England. I really didn't have a good time, the weather was bad, I felt sick, and I took too much baggage. I must've packed for a year.
    When I returned to New York I almost lost a job by being back a few days later than I thought I would be. It was a wrestling film called To Smithereens, based on Rosalyn Drexler's autobiography. I remember one time we nearly froze to death. It was winter and ice cubes were put in our mouths so the steam wouldn't issue forth. We were shooting under bleachers at Randle's Island, wearing bathing suits. They had to have wood stoves, brandy and blankets — it was about ten degrees.
    The director, Robert Fowler, re-shot half the film five years later, after the star, Regina Baff, had a nose-job and looked totally different. Eventually it was released as Below the Belt. I really didn't have much of a part. I hung around, and talked out of the side of my mouth.

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Shirley Stoler & Shirley Kilpatrick

    Filmmaker Nathan Schiff pointed out the resemblance between Shirley Stoler and the actress/cheesecake model Shirley Kilpatrick — best known to SF fans for her title role in The Astounding She Monster (1958).
    Both Shirleys were conceivably the same age and height; their mouths, eyebrows, cheeks, and hairlines are similar; late-`50s photos of the young Kilpatrick (below, right) suggest the possibility of the weight gain on Stoler in the late-`60s (below, left); and Kilpatrick and her momentary career vanished without a trace soon before Stoler emerged in small theatre productions.
    If you have any information regarding this matter, please contact Flickhead.

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Copyright © 2004 by Ray Young