DAVID NIVEN
Unlike so many who made the trip to the city of stars before and after him, Niven had no professional acting experience whatsoever, and plunged into Hollywood at the deep end. He signed on at the Central Casting Agency and was listed as ‘English type 2,008’.
But the other 2,007 were tough competitors, and when at last he got a chance to take a screen test and was offered a contract, the Immigration Department stepped in, and Niven beat a hasty retreat on a Mexican-bound fruit train.
David Niven was always a resourceful and determined man, qualities that admirably equipped him for the many heroic parts he played on screen. His father was Scottish, his mother French, and he was born on 1 March 1910. After spending most of his childhood in Scotland, he went to Stowe public school, and then to Sandhurst, with the intention of pursuing a military career. As a young officer in the Highland Light Infantry, he served two years in a Malta outpost, but became excruciatingly bored with the life of a peacetime soldier. So, he left the Army and began his search for real adventure by going to Canada, taking up a succession of different jobs. He worked on a newspaper, helped in bridge construction, was a waiter, a barman, and then, thinking this latter occupation gave him the necessary know-how, became a wine salesman and took off over the Canadian border to the USA. Once more he became disenchanted with the wine and liquor business and branched out in a new direction. This time he was offered a partnership in an indoor racing track in Atlantic City, but he was soon put out of business by the local Mafia, who made such big demands for protection that it was wiser to shut up shop.
Lucky to get out in one piece, the restless Niven took off yet again in search of fresh fields. He followed the sun and spent most of his time beachcombing in Bermuda and Havana, finding some extra excitement by becoming involved in a Peruvian revolution, fighting at various times for both sides. When the British Consul heard about his activities, Niven was given twenty minutes to pack his bag and get out of the country.
It took him four months of nomadic wandering before he could get back to America. When he finally did, he headed straight for Hollywood again. Older and wiser, ‘English type 2,008’ was once again prepared to join the queue looking for work.
At last, he got a break. Sam Goldwyn saw him and put him under contract. A series of minor parts followed, consisting of such jewels as ‘Hello my dear’ in one film, and ‘Goodbye, my dear’ in another, Then came Dodsworth (1936) and a part he could really get his very white teeth into. It launched a career which made him a household name.
In 1939, when Britain declared war on Germany, Niven decided to put his Army training to patriotic use and joined the British forces. Whilst actively serving his country, he only agreed to make two films, and this was because of their powerful propaganda message – The First Of The Few (1942), and The Way Ahead (1944).
In 1946, Niven made his first film for that formidable duo, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. A Matter Of Life and Death (194) created many precedents for the British cinema. It tells the story of Squadron Leader Peter D. Carter (David Niven) who is the last surviving crew member of a crippled Lancaster bomber. Realizing he can no longer remain with his aircraft, he contacts base to reveal his position and hopeless plight, and engages in an often deeply moving, two-way radio conversation with a WAAF wireless operator. (Twenty-three year old Kim Hunter was the first American actress to appear in a British film since before the War, and had been tested by Powell and Pressburger when they were in the States getting background material for the film.) Niven, as the crashed pilot, is rushed into an operating theatre, and whilst his life hovers in the balance we are taken into his mind as it drifts into a world of fantasy, culminating in a vast courtroom trial to decide whether he should live or die.
The most imaginative and expensive sets were created to depict the ‘other world’, including a giant staircase of 106 steps, each one twenty feet wide. It operated like an elevator and was driven by a 12 hp engine. The huge apparatus, which was totally functional, had been constructed by a famous firm of engineers, and the whole process was kept a closely guarded secret by the cast and crew, and given the code name ‘Operation Ethel’.
A Matter Of Life And Death was the first Royal Command film, and its premiere in Leicester Square caused such a crush, with thousands turning up to see the stars, and catch a glimpse of the King and Queen, that the police, who were totally unprepared for such numbers, almost lost control. The Royal family had to be rushed through into the foyer in most un-regal fashion, nearly being trampled underfoot in the process. The King was badly shaken by the experience, as indeed were some of the stars, whose clothes and stockings had been torn to shreds by the excited crowds.
Niven returned to Hollywood and resumed his career there. It continued to flourish with a series of box-office hits. In 1959, with Deborah Kerr as his co-star in Separate Tables, Niven won an Academy Award and the New York Critics’ Award for his outstanding performance. Later in life, this natural, witty raconteur turned his talent to writing, and his autobiography became an international best seller. Niven brought all the finest attributes of the British hero to the roles that he played; a dash and charm, liberally laced with a puckish sense of fun, that by all accounts perfectly mirrored his real-life personality.
JACK HAWKINS