INT: How immersed were you in the whole blacklist thing at the time?
JD: At the time? I was not. It was immediately after that that I was named. Not immediately. Some time else, some time later. But Zanuck [Darryl Zanuck] did know that that was the last film. [INT: How were you named?] By two friends. They just spoke my name out loud. That's how it happened. [INT: You may name names.] Let's go. [INT: It's another history. It's okay.]

INT: You were at that legendary DGA [Directors Guild of America] meeting with Mankiewicz [Joseph L. Mankiewicz], DeMille [Cecil B. DeMille], the board?
JD: Yes, but I need help because--[INT: Well what was the meeting about?] Well there was--I need help on this. There was a committee that was formed, and there was a patriotic title, I forgot what it was. Organized by McGuinness [James Kevin McGuinness], and Cecil B. DeMille [Cecil B. DeMille], and something about saving America [House Un-American Activities Committee], I forgot what it was. And Joe Mankiewicz was the President of the Guild [DGA, Directors Guild of America]. And he was not liked by DeMille [Cecil B. DeMille] and a few others. And taking advantage of his absence--he was in Europe at the time--they organized a meeting which was very interesting because people--members of the Guild [DGA, Directors Guild of America] received--they had messenger guys running around saying, “Come to this meeting.” The whole point was to get him out. And they were very vociferous and very patriotic, and I do remember if I--somebody will help me with this, even if it's voices off. When John Ford rose, he said, “My name is John Ford. I make westerns. You--” I think he called him Cecil, or Mr. DeMille [Cecil B. DeMille], “You have made some wonderful pictures, but what you are doing now is very unworthy,” and he said something like the equivalent, “You are a shit.” I don't remember the exact words. Please help me somebody, I don't remember this. It was too long ago, but it was a great moment, and Ford [John Ford] was just noble. [INT: Were there any other memorable Guild [DGA, Directors Guild of America] meetings this...?] Not really, no. [INT: Were you an active member?] I'm a member of the Guild [DGA, Directors Guild of America], yeah. [INT: Did you automatically get membership with a contract? Or did you have to...?] I think you had to--to be a member to get the job, if I remember correct. I think that is so. [INT: It's like a catch-22. Of course that wasn't invented then.]

INT: Post-production, editing. You got involved more in the editing after--
JD: Really, only on NAKED CITY [THE NAKED CITY]. Oh, working with Hellinger [Mark Hellinger], but thereby hangs a tale. During the making of NAKED CITY [THE NAKED CITY], Hellinger [Mark Hellinger] was very ill and much of the time he was hospitalized here in New York, but forbade everybody to make that known. We knew he was ill. But when I finished the film, by this time Albert Maltz had his name on the screenplay with Malvin Wald and great attacks from those two hellish ladies, Parsons [Louella Parsons] and Hedda Hopper. And they were slamming away, and I'd finished the montage, the editing, and was going to New York to do a play and I said, “Mark [Mark Hellinger], this is it. This is the cut.” He said, “You have my hand on it.” And I believed him, and still do. But at the time I was doing the play, it was also the premiere in New York, which Mark Hellinger never got to see 'cause he had died. He died very soon after we said good-bye. And when I saw the film here in New York. I was horrified by what they had done in the editing, particularly stuff that is ripped from the film, because since I was doing a film about New York, I thought I was obliged to say the contrasts that exist in the city, and anything that would smell a little not kosher to Madame Hopper and Parsons was ripped from the film. Taken from the film. And I know and I trust that this happened only after Hellinger [Mark Hellinger] died. No one has ever seen it, the film I made, that is. And I imagine that has been destroyed. There was one wonderful time--Barry Fitzgerald sometimes had trouble with texts. You remember--he didn't remember well. And I had this scene where he would talk about the differences in New York and he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember. And I remember Hellinger [Mark Hellinger] helped me with this because I was waiting to shoot this as the sun was sinking into the river. And that was it, and we had it. And I said, “Turn your back to the camera and say anything you want. Tell me about O'Casey [Seán O'Casey], tell me about James Joyce. Tell me about the Abbey Theatre. Just keep talking, and we'll put in the text later.” And it was a good text. A very human, and with humor, and about the city. And when that was taken out, I was so sad. And there were was wonderful shots. I think--I ever tell you about this, Bruce? There was one place we shot on the Bowery and it was a hotel called Progress Hotel. There was a long flight of steps, and facing--facing each step was “Progress Hotel, Progress Hotel, Progress Hotel.” And I panned down all the [02:18:06;04 loud noise] steps out into the street, with a guy sleeping in the gutter. There was another one, which I remember well. You know, the Bowery there was a great diamond exchange, and it had--you saw these diamonds, diamond exchange, and in the foreground, an exchange was being made by one guy who's giving a fellow a shoe, and the other guy gave him a hat. Stuff like that. Many, many little things that really were not offensive, but New York. All of that was out. All of it. [INT: They considered social commentary.] Yeah. [INT: Red stuff.] Red stuff, yeah. [INT: That thing with Barry Fitzgerald where he was reciting--] All out. [INT: Was that the ending you were telling?] No, it was not. He was talking to the parents of the girl who had been killed in the, early in the film.

INT: It seems like on all of your--a lot of your films, early films, even the great ones, so many compromises of things that turned up without your knowledge. For example, in THIEVES' HIGHWAY.
JD: There my friend Darryl Zanuck did something not nice and never told me about it. I was in London [England] making NIGHT AND THE CITY, and when I came back, I looked at the film, there was a scene of some violence; very justified violence, and it went its own way. I saw the film. Suddenly, I see a policeman come in, I said, “Who's that?” And the policeman was saying to the guys who committed the violence, against Lee Cobb [Lee J. Cobb] because he was very mean, and he said, “Boys, you must not take the law into your own hands.” Something like that. That was Darryl's contribution. [INT: And it sticks out like a sore thumb.] Oh it's--[INT: I mentioned to you that I know you didn't put that in.] No.

INT: Also, now on NAKED [THE NAKED CITY]--oh, also, in BRUTE FORCE.
JD: Oh yes. Wonderful scene in terms of just good acting. It was Hume Cronyn and Sam Levene. Both wonderful Actors. And it was a crural scene. The warden, prison warden, warden played by Hume, was torturing Sam Levene to get some truth from him. And it was a violent scene. It was. But not gratuitous, really grew out of the situation. And a lot of wonderful stuff was cut out of the film because it was judged too violent or something. And I do remember coming to New York having seen this, and Sam Levene came to visit me in a high rise hotel here, and he talked about that scene 'cause he was very proud of it. He was wonderful in it. And he talked about it and I said, “Sam,” he said, “Don't say it.” I said, “Yes.” “How much did they take out?” I said--no, before he said, “If you tell me they hurt that scene or cut it out,” he went to the window and said, “I'm gonna jump.” I said, “Sam, jump.” And there was a--again, ripped out. [INT: Was that Universal [Universal Pictures] or Hellinger [Mark Hellinger]?] Universal. Wait a minute, no. [INT: The Hellinger pictures--] Hellinger [Mark Hellinger], yes. Universal. Run by Mr. Spitz [Leo Spitz] and Mr. Goetz [William Goetz]. [INT: Was there a pun on that?] Yes, who gets for Spitz, and who spits for Goetz.

INT: The other thing about BRUTE FORCE, though, is the injection of a love interest.
JD: He said, “We gotta get women into this film.” I said, “How do women--Darryl [Darryl Zanuck], it's a men's prison!” And he worked it out, and also when I see the film, there are all these guys, all these prisoners are such nice, sweet people. No one could conceive of anybody committing a crime, but they were there. But we had some wonderful Actors in the film. That was Burt Lancaster's second film, but there was Charles Bickford, if you remember the name. He was wonderful. Sam Levene and the others. We had a wonderful time making it, and I was free as a bird. I was directing, nobody was telling me what to do. It was lovely.

INT: It has a very epic ending, on the prison wall. That looks like a hoot for production, the ending. How was that sequence worked out? That looks like it was actually storyboarded to me. I don't know. Sorry.
JD: No nothing was storyboarded, no. But the prison set, the exterior of the prison set, was made by a young beginner, it was a young beginner called John DeCuir, whose done wonderful stuff after. And our prison walls were made of cloth. Such a beautiful, beautiful work. There's such talent out in Hollywood.

INT: One more imposition on your work. The ending of NAKED CITY [THE NAKED CITY], with the little montage of all the characters who were effected. [JD: Yes, yes.] And the catchphrase, which just became so famous, you had no knowledge of? “There are eight million people in the naked city.”
JD: Oh no, I knew about it because Hellinger [Mark Hellinger] himself did the running narration, and that was his ending. But then later it turned up in a whole television series, and it always was, “There are eight million--” [INT: I think they adapted by then to 10 million.] Was it? [INT: I don't know. It was always eight. But it wasn't--it hadn't become famous because of the movie. It became more famous from TV.] I guess so. [INT: Yeah, okay.]

INT: You worked--music's very important to your movies. You worked with some great Composers. We talked about Georges Auric? [JD: Yes.] But you're most associated with a Greek, I guess, more than any other.
 JD: Manos Hatzidakis, who wrote much of--many of the songs that Greek sings. There are two guys. One is Hatzidakis [Manos Hatzidakis], who won the Oscar for the song in NEVER ON A SUNDAY, and the other man is Mikis Theodorakis who wrote music for a film I made called PHAEDRA. Talented, gifted people, and truly Greece sings their songs. Did you want to ask me a question about Hatzidakis [Manos Hatzidakis]? [INT: Yeah, I wanted to ask a question. I've always wondered what would happen, even with a talented Composer, whether the music they write, they present you with something and you do a--what do you call? A scratch? And then you don't like it. What happens then? Aren't the--especially with artistic people. It would be a problem.] Look, if you have people you trust, there's a whole preparation around a piano. And then you just let them go. And you trust their orchestrations, you trust what they do. But the work is simply around the piano. [INT: And you play the piano to a--to the Russians?] I don't play the piano. They do. [INT: But you did. Everyone else in your family plays the piano.]

INT: Hatzidakis [Manos Hatzidakis], did he actually write a score [for NEVER ON A SUNDAY] or was a lot of it improvised?
JD: Thereby hangs a tale, Theodorakis [Mikis Theodorakis], the other guy, is meticulous. Everything is presented. The [inaudible] are there before the musicians. Manos [Manos Hatzidakis] has his music written on little slips of paper on the back of cigarette packages. And many of the great musicians in Greece do not know how to read music. And you had this really extraordinary thing and I remember my Editor was there and we had no more money. And there're all the people are, the musicians are there, and there are no--[inaudible]. I know the word. Scores, for them to read, and suddenly Manos [Manos Hatzidakis] takes this out and begins to play. Sometimes he's improvising, too. And he plays, and immediately--almost immediately--it's taken up by another instrument, and then another, and another, and in no time, they're playing. And they were so fast, and Manos [Manos Hatzidakis] was so fast. I remember once, I was on a soundstage, filming, when Manos [Manos Hatzidakis] was recording music for another film on another stage. And there's a passage of Melina [Melina Mercouri] going somewhere. I said, “I would like to have some music here,” and I had arranged a bit of business. And I went to Manos [Manos Hatzidakis] the next day, said, “Manos, do me a favor, please. Make me a click track.” We're all professionals here, we know what a click track is. “And I would like just a rhythm and then later we'll put in the music.” And he said, “When do you need it?” I said, “Okay, we're lighting now, we'll be back in three quarters of an hour, an hour. Just do this for me.” And what I tell you is so. I came back in an hour and the music had been written and recorded. That's the way they work, and it's in the film.

INT: In that film [NEVER ON A SUNDAY], did--for the bouzouki, what--third major to the zither.
JD: I'll get to the zither story, but I want to tell you one more about the bouzouki. Knowing what the bouzouki sound meant to the film, I put in the contract with UA [United Artists] that whatever other recordings are made, if ever, bouzouki should be in the orchestration. And now we are in Vienna and we're going to record the song for NEVER ON A SUNDAY, and these were these guys who probably played in the philharmonic orchestras and so forth. Very proper. And I--there was no bouzouki. I said, “Hold it. We'll do it tomorrow.” And I called Melina's [Melina Mercouri] brother and I said, “Get Zampetas [Giorgos Zampetas] over here.” Zampetas is the giant bouzouki player. And I remember coming--we came to the airport to get him. This was dead winter. And he came in a little T-shirt, like this. He thought he was coming from Athens. Freezing weather. And he was alone there because our car was held up by traffic. Anyhow, we brought him to the studio and they put the music before him and he threw it away and the Viennese musicians are the snobbiest of snobs. They were looking this way at him. And they said--he said, “Go play! Play!” And in a minute he was [mimes strumming]. And those men who looked down their noses at their--Austrian, Vienesse, philharmonic noses, looking down. Later they said, “Will you play for us?” And they stayed for hours listening to him play. He was wonderful. [INT: This was the actual scoring of the film?] No, this is recording music for it to be sold on records. [INT: Oh, I see. Okay.] After the film. [INT: Okay, because the film was scored entirely by Greek musicians.] Oh yes, in Athens. In Athens. I know you're prompting with the zither. Say it? [INT: Zither. You remember the ad line.] No. [INT: THE THIRD MAN?] The ad line? [INT: Have you any dither with the zither? Probably one of the worst ad lines in history, I might add.] It's true? [INT: In THE AMERICAN, the Selznick ad, yes.] Well my story is this: we were--he was filming on the same lot that I was making NIGHT AND THE CITY, in Pinewood. And I saw him walking up and down, pondering, worrying, and very, very disturbed. [INT: We're talking about Carol Reed.] I'm sorry. Carol Reed. The great Carol Reed. And I said, “Are you okay?” He said, “No, no. I'm alright, but you got some time? I want you to come listen to something.” I said, “What?” He said, “I'm scoring this whole film with a zither.” I said it right, didn't I? [INT: Yes.] “And I'm not quite sure about it. Will you come and listen to it?” He said, “I want you to hear the main motif.” And I said, “Sure.” And he ran it for me and he said, “Do you like that song?” I said, “Yeah, maybe.” And since then, I said, “My god, if he hadn't listened to me, this thing gets all over the world, [sings] da da dee da da da.” I said, “You know, yeah, maybe.” [INT: You did this with one of your son's songs. This has nothing to--] Yes I did. [INT: We'll talk--that's not really pertinent.]

INT: So, how do you think film directing has changed? Just from 40s [1940s], 50s [1950s], 60s [1960s], to today.
JD: I don't know what you mean about change. [INT: Well do you think it's the same job? Or do you think--especially on a big budget film.] Well, that's it. I think that the burden of these budgets must influence--of course I'm not talking about men who can do anything out there--but it costs so much money to make a film. Millions and zillions and of course it must have an effect. Must have an effect. Because you always feel the pressure of that budget. Even when I was free and didn't have studio interference, I had to, many times, say, “Okay, you have to accept it. Make a compromise. Because the set has to be struck, has to be ready for this in the morning.” And I know I had to compromise many times. Maybe with the big budgets, you can shoot and shoot and shoot. I don't shoot much film. I don't make many--I kind of got the montage in my head. But still, sometimes you end up saying, “Well, it's not what you wanted, but you can't afford to go on.”

INT: Does it make a difference when you're producing your own films, how you approach the film?
JD: Same problem. Your money is running out. I--they still don't know it, but nobody's around from United Artists. I didn't have the money to insure the film, and I never told them that. [INT: NEVER ON A SUNDAY.] Yeah. And the whole budget was $120,000. And just--so when you have these pressures, it's tough. I don't know how it works today because there seems to be so much money to do anything. But I don't know.

INT: Did you--if you raised your own money a lot of times--
JD: That is the tough thing about being free. Go looking for money. It's awful. It's awful. And very often you feel diminished and embarrassed, but you have to do it. [INT: Have you had a lot of projects that were unrealized because of that?] Oh yes, a number of them. The ones I liked the best. [INT: Like?] Oh, long--a whole list of them. [INT: And you wrote--you actually finished scripts?] Oh yes. Oh yes. I had one that I really loved. It was about my family. Very close to me and almost biographical, the family. It was about my father. And the title of it was MY FATHER WAS NUTS FOR CRUSOE. He loved him. And I went to my friends in UA [United Artists] for whom I've made a lot of money. I said, “Give me money to make this.” They said, “Oh, forget it.” And as interestingly enough, I had money for Muir if the Americans would distribute it. The Americans said they would distribute it if I used stars. And stars were just impossible in these situations. And yet I got a lot of wonderful Actors who would play small parts one day, two day, were outside of the family circle. I didn't see anybody in my family as stars. And even with all those names--Lillian Gish was ready to work for one day. Wonderful Actor who--I think it was Dreyfuss [Richard Dreyfuss] who was going to play Zanuck [Darryl Zanuck] or somebody. I forgot. I'm forgetting things. But I couldn't get the money. And I felt bad about that because I think it was good. And commercial. [INT: Who was gonna play your father? That's the question.] I went to England because thats when I was getting European money, and I interviewed some of their best Actors and was so amazed how all of them could have that New York sound. And one of them who was going to play a small part is now--you know the name Mark Rylance? [INT: Yes.] A whole group of wonderful people. Diana Rigg and others. All ready to play. The Americans wouldn't give me the money for it.

INT: What's the best part of directing?
JD: Loving the Actors. It is what is most dear to me. [INT: That's it?] That's it. We're free? [INT: No. One more. I just want to point out the ambient sirens which have always existed in this neighborhood. Dick Cavett used to film on 57th Street and they would go through those walls, soiIt has nothing to do with the current situation, I hope.]

INT: What's the worst part of directing?
JD: The pressure of money and those sad compromises you make because you're counting the--you're measuring the budget. I don't think you measure a budget. You calculate a budget, but that's the tough part.

INT: I shouldn't end on a negative. [JD: No.] So, which films do you cherish of yours the most?
JD: I can't answer that question because I like parts of this and parts of that and parts of that, and I have this thing that I loved the crews that I worked with. Every crew. They're such brilliant technicians and wonderful people, that when I look at a film, very often I'm imagining the ambiance of the crew. This guy on the dolly, this guy with the sound, and so it is true that when I think of the film, and the making of it, I always think of my camaraderie with the crews, but I can't tell you--I know there is one picture that is closer to me than any I've ever made, and that's a film that no one ever saw [THE REHEARSAL]. It was about--it was a reenactment of something that happened in Greece in 1973 when the kids in protest couldn't stand anymore the reign of the coronals and the stupid men who were the dictators of the country. They occupied the polytechnic university and that was the beginning of the end of the Junta because people began to gather support and were--became unafraid. But, the Junta, the coronals, the dictators, sent tanks and they rolled over some of these kids. And when some of them tried to run out, there were sharp shooters shooting in all directions, killing a lot of kids, and we were in exile. Melina [Melina Mercouri] had been deprived of her Greek passport because she took a strong position against the Junta, and I said, “We must do something about this,” and we came to New York to make this reenactment. It was a wonderful experience because many of the finest Actors in New York volunteered to be in the film, and Lillian Hellman came to be in the film, and Arthur Miller and Maximilian Schell and Laurence Olivier, and this whole composition of the New York Actors. Most of the Greek students and these professionals, and it worked. I can't say much for it as a film because it was shot in a room twice as big as this, but it was very dear to me. And there was wonderful music by Mikis Theodorakis, and I think maybe it's the film that I care most about, which nobody ever saw because I had made it for to be distributed in American universities, because the universities here in America were so wonderful in their doing everything they could to oppose the Junta. And I just finished the film. I was in New York, Melina [Melina Mercouri] was in Paris, and she called and said, “The Junta has fallen.” I had been in the shower at the time, and came out dancing with my nakedness, saying, “The Junta is over!” I thought, “Oh my god, the film.” And I'll tell you a wonderful story about that. There was a man here. Would his name be Rudolph? [INT: Donald Rudolph.] Who somehow found his way--somebody brought him into a projection of a film here when it wasn't really fully cut and all the music was not in, and he turned to the lady who brought him there and he said, “What did you bring me here for? What am I gonna do with this?” And he went away. And before I left New York, he said, “Alright." Something happened to his citizenship, and he said, “I'll run this picture for one week,” and that's why I came to New York to see him about that. And then there was the news that the Junta has fallen. And he said, “You come to see me tomorrow and we'll get this film out right away.” He didn't say right away. “We'll get this film out. And come, we'll talk about it. Be in my office tomorrow at nine. I'm gonna release the film in my theatre.” And I said, “I don't understand this. The Junta's fallen, he wants to release the film?” And I was in his office at a quarter of nine. And he was there and he came rushing out, “I didn't know about it! I didn't know that the Junta had fallen. Get out of here!” So it was never seen. [INT: But it will be.] It will be, in th Film Forum. [INT: Wednesday and Thursday. US theatrical premiere!]

INT: Okay, one more thing. We didn't talk about Melina [Melina Mercouri] at all. You made nine of your films with your wife. Nine, I think, right? [JD: Eight or nine.] Eight or nine. Was that an asset to have your wife? Or would that sometimes cause problems?
JD: It was sheer joy. Every single bit of film we made together was made with fun. Melina had this wonderful gift of cheering, making everybody feel good. And we made these films and the crew loved her and she loved the crew, and I loved her and she loved me, and it was--every single time was happy. The word was happiness.