GROVER DALE! An Interview with the Dance Legend

Dancing in the streets of Rochefort was the best performing experience I’ve ever known. Reacting to real sunshine, breezes, cafés, and streets was miraculous. My emotions suddenly became as accessible and real as the world around me. I wished I could dance on location forever.

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One day not long after interviewing George Chakiris for a book I was working on about Woody Allen – believe it or not, they appeared together long ago on the stage of Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas – I watched Jacques Demy’s Les Demoiselles de Rochefort/The Young Girls of Rochefort from 1967, which I barely remembered from a previous viewing and that I wanted to see for Chakiris’s performance. My attention was drawn by the other, equally handsome American lead, whose magnificent jetés share the screen with Chakiris’s. However, Grover Dale does not receive equal billing, due to Chakiris having appeared as Bernardo in the film version of West Side Story. On impulse, I contacted Dale, now in his late eighties.

The first thing you need to know about Dale is that he speaks in exclamation marks! His dance moments in movie musicals are also like exclamation marks. His genius was fleetingly and memorably glimpsed in three pictures in the 1960s, with Young Girls of Rochefort by far his biggest showcase, after which the unmistakably tall, loose-limbed dancer unaccountably disappeared from film. Dale devoted the rest of his career to experimental dance, collaborating closely with Jerome Robbins on various projects, and to choreographing and directing Broadway plays and television shows. He was Tony-nominated twice for directing and choreographing Broadway productions and shared a Best Director Tony with Robbins for Jerome Robbins’ Broadway. Dale was also Emmy-nominated for choreographing Barry Manilow’s 1985 TV special, and for most of the 1990s he served as publisher and editor of Dance & Fitness magazine, which evolved into the top-ranked online forum Answers4dancers.com. Dale was instrumental in establishing a foundation to champion rights and recognition for choreographers, including launching the Bob Fosse Awards.

Nowadays, Dale is working on his autobiography, which is bound to interest people for his personal life as well as his professional journey and achievements. For much of the 1960s, Dale was involved in a secret marriage without certificate to actor Anthony Perkins of Psycho fame. After separating from Perkins in 1973, Dale married the actress, singer, and dancer Anita Morris, who played many film roles and was Tony-nominated on Broadway for Best Featured Actress in Nine. Dale and Morris fathered a son – James Badge Dale, who is also an accomplished actor – and the two remained wed until her untimely death in 1994.

My interview with Dale focused on his involvement in the enduring Young Girls directed by Demy, the French poet of musicals, whose death from AIDS came too soon at age 59 in 1990.

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How did you get connected with Young Girls of Rochefort?

I was on Cape Cod when it happened. Harvesting clams. This was during my secret long-term relationship with Tony [Anthony] Perkins, and we were about to spend a whole month there together, finally away from the prying eyes of the media and public. I was so excited; I was planning a welcome-home feast to celebrate Tony’s arrival that night.

I was in the cottage’s driveway when the phone rang. Hoping it was him, I raced inside to grab it. But it wasn’t Tony. It was Eric Shepard, my agent.

The first thing he asked was if I had a passport. Of course, I did. But I was about to spend a month on Cape Cod, gosh darn it! I wasn’t going anywhere. So, I laughed him off, saying the passport was in New York.

“Too bad,” he responded, “because a passport is the only thing that’s going to get you to London where you’ve been invited to co-star in a French musical with Gene Kelly.”

Gene Kelly! Gene Kelly was my idol. This sounded too good to be true.

Apparently, a lead actor had dropped out at the last minute and the director needed an immediate replacement. The musical was The Young Girls of Rochefort and the director, of course, was Jacques Demy. As Eric continued to lay out the details of my performing alongside Catherine Deneuve, Françoise Dorléac, Jacques Perrin, and George Chakiris, I was flabbergasted.

“How did Demy pick me?” I asked.

Turned out, [long-time MGM composer and producer] Roger Edens had screened The Unsinkable Molly Brown for him, and before it was even over, Demy requested “the dancer in the red socks” – no audition, interview, or screen test necessary.

Sight unseen, I’d landed a dream job.

However, it would mean boarding a flight to London that evening – and forfeiting my long-awaited alone-time with Tony. Sigh. But this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass on. Tony certainly wouldn’t, Eric reminded me. And Eric was right. When I called Tony, it turned out he was also about to bail on our stay to do his own film [Claude Chabrol’s Ten Days Wonder]. It would work out perfectly, he assured me, because his shoot was less than a hundred miles from Rochefort

What did Demy see [in The Unsinkable Molly Brown] that made him want you?

You can see for yourself in this clip on YouTube:

My part in Molly Brown – which I also secured with no audition (and again, I was in shock!!) – was as Debbie Reynolds’s character’s brother, “Jam.”

There was a freedom and abandon in my dancing that Demy probably caught. After all, I was dancing as if my life depended on it – and it kind of did. Going back to Demy’s “guy in the red socks” comment, while filming Molly Brown I walked on set one day wearing red socks. Debbie Reynolds demanded an explanation – which, as lead actor, she had every right to do. I explained that wardrobe hadn’t provided any socks, but bare feet in shoes become sticky so I’d provided my own.

“And they just happen to be red?” Debbie remarked.

I offered to change into normal black socks. “But ‘Jam’ wouldn’t wear anything that normal,” I argued.

Debbie punched my shoulder playfully. But she didn’t let me off the hook just yet.

“You’d better dance your ass off,” she said. Otherwise, she promised to personally shove the red socks down my throat!

So, for five straight hours I delivered every move and every step without holding back. That kept me out of trouble and, apparently, impressed Demy. My small-town country-boy look may have also played a role. He wasn’t looking for slick and professional. I’m guessing he saw an engaging, goofy, eager quality about it that evoked the innocence needed for Rochefort.

One more funny tidbit: Eric had assured me the Rochefort script would be waiting for me on my first-class seat on Air India, to study on the way over. And it was. But it was in French! Still, I figured that was a mistake – in London I’d get my English script. But nope. That’s when I learned Rochefort would be rehearsed, staged, and shot entirely in French.

And how did that go?

On day one, I fumbled my way through every scene without understanding a single word coming out of anybody’s mouth – including my own! The look on Jacques Demy’s face was pure panic.

It was clear I’d have to dance my ass off to keep this part too! And thankfully, I did a better job with Norman Maen’s choreography than with my French. I was assigned a dialect coach, but in the end, they completely dubbed me. I think they dubbed all the Brits and Anglos, except maybe for Gene Kelly, or at least, in his case, not every one of his scenes.

Can you describe your first meeting with Jacques Demy – how he struck you? What you liked about him?

Our first meeting happened when the opening scene of the film – our arrival at the river – was being shot. A quick hello-welcome-and-glad-to-see-you. Then he asked how I managed to get there on such short notice. We laughed about the miracles that happen when actors drop out of movie roles! As I described driving fervently back to New York to retrieve my passport, he said that some actors have all the tools needed to pull off a winner. “Now that you got yourself here,” he assured me, “let’s see what this day delivers!”

From that moment, my impression of Demy was sweet, caring, and reliable. And I was right.

You worked with an amazing cast, which is one of the pleasures of the movie. I want to ask you about some of them. First, George Chakiris. I know you were in the original Broadway cast of West Side Story (and he was not). But did you know George before Rochefort?

Before Rochefort, I didn’t know George directly, but I knew a few things about him. For the London production of West Side Story, he was cast as Riff, the leader of the Jets. Months later, [director-choreographer] Jerome Robbins saw the potential for a role change. George might be the perfect Bernardo. By darkening his skin a bit, the casting switch was pulled off. For the movie, George’s new role as Bernardo was celebrated, as we all know, at Oscar time.

Back at the opening river scene, George arrived and almost immediately initiated a disagreement with Jacques about the “silly” stingy-brimmed hat he was assigned to wear. I stood by silently, wearing my own, even sillier, hat. Hat-wearing was a signature aspect of the film. No compromise was offered. So, what to do?

When the cameras started rolling, I leapt out of our truck to direct it onto the transporter bridge, then I casually removed my hat and tossed it into the cab. Then I held my breath, fearing an explosion. But nothing happened. Demy let me get away with it.

As soon as George exited the truck, he did the same. We remain hatless throughout the film. A year later, when Roquefort was released, a New York Times critic specifically praised the elegance of my hair while dancing.1 Yet more proof that potential blunders can transform into miracles.

George Chakiris was already very well-known and established. I suppose it is for that reason he is billed high above you in the cast, even though your parts are virtually equal. I couldn’t stand it when George got pilloried, during all the pro and con that eventuated about the remake of West Side Story, for not being Puerto Rican enough casting in the original. He’s great in West Side Story and in Rochefort too. So you got to know him a little during the filming? Tell me about him as a personality and a performer.

Like Demy, George could be sweet and charming. But he had a few anxieties some of us weren’t prepared for.

Outside of the raucous times spent with Catherine, Francoise, and myself, George leaned toward pensive, thoughtful moments. Laughter was often followed by a tendency to nitpick. Complaining about his hat in the opening scene was just the start. Y’never knew when a grumble was going to come out of him. I’ll add that, although George never brought it up, I’m sure he was grateful for my solution of discarding our hats.

I’d like to ask the same question about Gene Kelly, whom you have also mentioned as an idol. This is one of his great last dancing roles, a big and good role. How much did you interact with him?

Definitely, he was a major idol of mine. Hey, we both discovered tap dancing in the hills of Pennsylvania. That doesn’t happen in every neck of the woods.

One day early in the shooting of Rochefort, we were filming in the town square and George noticed that Gene was watching us dance. What?! THE Gene Kelly has his eyes on us? I couldn’t believe it. But there he was, standing next to the camera, talking to Demy. As it turned out, Gene was telling Demy he wanted to stage a dancing scene with George and me. Oh my god! In less than an hour, we were strutting next to a legend. The magic moment was interrupted by Demy, though, when he realized the three of us dancing together wouldn’t work with the storyline and would ruin the ending, which was already shot. But he managed to keep the new sequence in the movie by replacing George and me with two unnamed dancers.

George and I were crushed. But as I told George – who accused me of being a hopeless romantic – no one can ever take away from us the twenty minutes of dancing with Gene Kelly. And I stand by that.

Gene was everything you’d hope your idol to be: laid back, likeable, sweet, ambitious, and smart as a whip. I was too shy to tell him I hailed from Pittsburgh, as he did. On set, he was a class act. He spoke multiple languages and had an easygoing swagger about him. But he wasn’t showy or flirtatious. Unfortunately, though, his time in Rochefort was limited due to his upcoming project, Hello Dolly, which he was about to direct with Barbra Streisand for Twentieth Century-Fox. So he was usually in a rush. Most of his downtime was spent with Francoise Dorleac, with the exception of group meal gatherings at the local eatery. And even then, he was rushed. But I treasure the time I did get to spend with him.

My heart soared when he offered me a part in Hello, Dolly! But even that invitation was rushed! He asked me to play the role of Ambrose in the film [eventually to be played by Tommy Tune]. Wow! What a dream! But I had to say no. Eric Shepard, my agent, couldn’t get me out of a contract with Paramount Pictures for Half a Sixpence. Gene offered to advise Eric how to deal with Paramount, but I knew it was useless. Eric was afraid of Paramount. Gene’s response to that was that I should “get another agent.” In the end, I sacrificed Ambrose for my loyalty to Eric, which was a very high price to pay.

Bertrand Tavernier told me that Danielle Darrieux was the only performer allowed to sing her own songs in Rochefort. True? She is one of France’s legendary names. Can you give me any insight into her talent and the way she worked with Demy or yourself in scenes?   

Danielle was a star player. Singing, dancing, or acting, she celebrated every note and line she was given. It didn’t matter if it was day one, two, or ten – whenever Danielle Darrieux performed, your eyes and ears were in for a glorious experience. I’m not surprised they decided to dub everyone else’s singing.

She was also a team player. She showed up for everyone – stars, extras, bit players, crew members, you name it. It would be fair to say that like everyone else, she embraced the family ambiance that Jacques and his wife, Agnes Varda, established on day one.

Finally, the sisters – Catherine Deneuve and François Dorléac. In the case of the former, still alive, one of the great professionals of French film, still doing admirable work. In the case of the latter, Rochefort was her penultimate picture. It must have been a joy to watch them so playful in their scenes together. How well did you get to know them?

Very well. And, yes, they were delightful. Catherine was also everything you’d want in a movie star. Her English was good, and she had a great sense of humor. But she also graciously sat back to give her sister space to shine.

Catherine and I, the two of us, goofed around a lot. On set and at the hotel. Catherine’s gorgeous, so men were naturally attracted to her, but knowing about my relationship back then with Tony, she wasn’t worried about me crossing the line. She was married to David Bailey, a famous English photographer, at the time.

I had a precious last moment with Francoise. We were in the hallway, outside her room, when she had an idea: “Why don’t you drive back to Paris with me?” But I had to decline. I had a flight to London the next day to start shooting Half a Sixpence. The following morning, I loaded my bags into a cab and headed to the airport. Reflecting on the beautiful time I had in Rochefort, I drifted off. Minutes later, I was awakened by a loud, persistent honking. When the crazy car zoomed by, I saw Francoise at the wheel, blowing me a kiss. My driver shook a fist at her, ranting about people driving too fast. It was the last time I ever saw her. About a year later, I woke up to the news of Francoise’s tragic death – in a car crash. Rushing to the airport, she lost control of her vehicle and hit a signpost. Her car caught on fire and witnesses saw her struggling to get out. But she was unable to open the door. It was a devastating loss for everybody, especially her family. And I never reconnected with Catherine or Demy after that. I wish I could explain why.

Can you talk about how the dances were choreographed and how they were technically performed? In front of huge crowds that were being held back behind the camera? In the actual physical locations? What are the unusual demands of performing your dances in real places rather than a theater?

We had no rehearsal halls. The dances were choreographed on location. And Norman Maen worked in an unusual manner: He wrote out his dances, and we learned them exactly as he envisioned them. No feedback. No experimentation. Just do whatever’s written on the darn piece of paper.

Then everything was filmed out in the open, visible to everyone. There were no major barricades that I can recall. I have one photo in my scrapbook that shows one of the local kids watching me, and you can see the curiosity and hunger in that kid’s eye. He was right there with us, thinking “film acting” is the way to go. I wonder if he ever went anywhere with it.

Dancing in the streets of Rochefort was the best performing experience I’ve ever known. Reacting to real sunshine, breezes, cafés, and streets was miraculous. My emotions suddenly became as accessible and real as the world around me. I wished I could dance on location forever.

Were the dance chorus entirely French? Or were some also raided from Broadway shows?

Chorus dancers were hired in London, so most were English.

Why didn’t you do your own singing? What was the technical process of lip-synching? Were all the songs pre-recorded by others? And while you were singing, were the songs blaring out from a record player?

Songs were pre-recorded in French. On set, we sang out loud, following along with the playback, whether we knew what the words meant or not. We had no idea we’d be dubbed. It may have been decided after the film wrapped, when the results of our crash-course-French-training became evident.

How much contact did you have with the composer, Michel Legrand? I’d love to have your word-picture of him.

Unfortunately, I don’t have words about Legrand. I don’t think we ever met.

You mentioned Agnes Varda. Of course, she too is a legendary figure, married at the time to Demy. Can you expand on her role during the making of this film, how you interacted with her, and how she functioned with Demy?

Agnes supported her husband every step of the way. Together, she and Jacques were the best caretakers I ever worked with. She treated everyone like family, always receptive, kind, and generous. She reminded me of my Grandma Ammon, who was such a major influence during my childhood – which wasn’t the happiest. Except that when doling out wisdom, Grandma never sugarcoated anything. Agnes was like my Grandma Ammon except on “sweet pills”!

Agnes, like Jacques, was a modest person, in personality as well as appearance. She was probably quieter than most creative types. Her wardrobe and behavior choices were very simple, for example, similar to her husband’s – I don’t recall even seeing her wear makeup. And on the set of Rochefort, she acted like a spouse rather than a colleague. She was there to support her husband.

How about Demy himself.? How well did you get to know him? How closely did he follow his own script? How planned out was he and how much was improvised?

Jacques gave off a down-to-earth air of confidence and humility. He was a T-shirt-and-Levi’s kind of guy. And not only did he look like a kind, sweet man, he was a kind, sweet man. Both he and Agnes were always present, along with their seven-year-old daughter, Rosalia. By nature, they did not come across as aggressive or ambitious. They were like your favorite neighbors in the village where you grew up, quiet and unobtrusive.

Jacques wielded power, but I never knew it. He was like the brother or father I always wished for. In my mind, his hand was always resting on my shoulder. Patting me gently.

He never asked for improvisation, but we felt trusted and free enough to volunteer it anyway. If I went too far (which I did, more than once!), I knew just a glance or two from him would get me back on track. I trusted his every instinct.

One case of “going too far” was after George’s and my disappointment over losing our dance with Gene Kelly. Maybe to make it up to us, Jacques had Legrand write us a new number – a duet in the town square café. During its filming, I was so amped up, my head broke through the Plexiglas ceiling! Production had to shut down for hours to fix it. During lunch, Kelly pointed out the lump on my head and joked with Jacques about dancers’ energy going through the roof … I think that’s actually what inspired Kelly to offer me the role of Ambrose in Hello, Dolly.

You are also a show-stopper in Half a Sixpence … including “Money to Burn,” which folks can watch in this excerpted version on YouTube:  

After those three amazing performances in film musicals in a row, all acclaimed at the time, you virtually stop dancing in movies. Why?

The reasons are sort of threefold.

First off, I was just honestly hard on myself. I never thought I had a serious chance in movies.

Secondly, as my agent warned me, the industry was changing. Movie musicals were on the downturn, as they were considered too much of an investment in time and money.

Finally, something happened on the set of Sixpence that changed my course.

On movie sets, scene and lighting changes eat up a lot of time. There’s a lot of sitting around. So, Tommy Steele came up with a perfect solution: poker-playing. And I got totally sucked in. The time just flew by.

One day, I’m sitting there with a pair of kings and a wild card in my hand. I’m about to go in for the kill. But suddenly, an assistant director informs me I’m wanted on set. What? I’m filled with resentment over the interruption. Then I catch myself. Here I am, with the thrill – and incredible pay – of co-starring in a major movie, and I’m resentful of doing my job? What am I thinking?

That was a huge wake-up call. Recognizing poker as damaging – my first taste of understanding the addiction I’d seen in others – I stood up from the table and vowed never to come back. And I kept that vow. Instead, I retreated to my trailer, spending my breaks writing, instead of playing poker. That started me down a path that I’m still on to this day–about to publish my first book!

The very first thing I wrote, during Half a Sixpence breaks, was a musical that was produced and aired live on a CBS show called Look Up and Live on August 6, 1967, under the title ”Inner Feelings Outer Forms.” That led to an opportunity, in the late 1960s, to collaborate with Jerome Robbins for a second time (the first being my role in the original production of West Side Story). This time it was on a project involving experimental dance called American Theatre Lab. It changed my life completely. From then on, performing was replaced with directing and choreographing.

I understand you’re working on a memoir. Do you have a tentative title? And can you practice your dustjacket prose by telling me, in a nutshell, what it will be about?

Thank you so much for asking! The working title is A Boy Like That: Hits, Misses, Messes, and Miracles as I Danced Across the Stages of Broadway and Hollywood. The book is told in a series of anecdotes that recount the ups and downs – both personal and professional – of my seven-decade theater career. I don’t hold back on sharing my struggles (including a scandal or two!) in hopes that my journey from a three-room shack on a dirt road to showbiz success will inspire readers to follow their dreams, and that they’ll find my behind-the-scene revelations, including my failures and foibles, entertaining.