The following text is an abridged excerpt from the book, The Films of Barbra Streisand, by Christopher Nickens and Karen Swenson, which
was published by Citadel Press/Kensington Publishing in 2001.
On March 31 [1981], Daily Variety announced that a deal with United Artists was in the offing. Ironically, the studio that had spawned Heaven's Gate--and ultimately quashed a number of big-budgeted Hollywood pictures--symbolically performed a bit of artistic penance by virtue or its commitment to do Yentl. Equally dramatic was the fact that, after a shuffle of studio management, the agents who bought Singer's short story for Barbra in 1968 (David Begelman and Freddie Fields) were now her compatriots at the MGM/UA Entertainment Co.
That didn't mean, however, that Barbra didn't have to make important concessions to the studio. "I had to give up everything," she said, "I didn't get paid for writing, I got paid scale for directing...I got paid much less as an actress than I did in my last film, and then I had to give back half of my salary if we went over budget." (she had already invested over $500,000 of her own money in the project.) In exchange for a $14.5 million guaranteed budget, she also had to give up "all of my so-called power," including the director's treasured approval of final cut. Admittedly at the studio's mercy, it appeared that she would retain creative control only under the most perfect of conditions: with the film on schedule, under budget and the director's cut certified as the accepted cut by the studio. But Streisand was poised to put her vision to the test. "Nothing mattered to me except getting this movie made," she reiterated.
An agreement was formally announced on June 22, 1981. The production was scheduled to be shot entirely on location in Czechoslovakia. Barbra returned to England and enlisted Jack Rosenthal to collaborate on polishing the screenplay. (Rosenthal had written The Bar Mitzvah Boy, a popular play on London's West End.) The balance of 1981 was spent assembling key members of the cast and crew. Avigdor, the romantic male lead, proved to be the most challenging because the choices were so diverse. Richard Gere's name had been introduced as early as December 1979. Gere agreed to do the picture if Barbra simply acted in it, "...or he'd let me direct if I didn't act." The possibility of adding Gere's raw sexuality to the lusty but brooding role of Avigdor intrigued production executives--but not enough to sweeten the deal by investing more money in the film. Other suggestions included Michael Douglas, Kevin Kline, John Shea, and even Christopher Walken. In December, Barwood and UA jointly announced that Mandy Patinkin would take the role.
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Barbra saw the darkly handsome, intense actor onstage in Evita and in Milos Forman's Ragtime. They met several times throughout 1981 to discuss the script, but Patinkin held back from making a commitment without certain changes. "I thought [the character] wasn't serious enough," he told USA Today, "that he didn't have enough weight. We went back and forth, but the bottom line is [Barbra] was absolutely open to whatever feelings I had." The actor would further state that "almost every single thing from that initial meeting that I had any question about was satisfactorily changed by the time we shot it. So I was quite taken with how approachable and how caring she was about the piece."
Amy Irving's experience with Barbra went a little further back. "I used to see her (occasionally) when I was living with Steven Spielberg," she said in 1983. "Once, we spent an entire day at her ranch while she was pitching Yentl to him." Irritated at the time that Barbra focused most her attention on Spielberg and couldn't remember her name, Amy soon put the incident out of her mind. "Now, I realize that was evidence of Barbra's tunnel vision," she explained. "When she zeroes in on something, she can think of nothing else."
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Irving's initial response to the Yentl script was not encouraging. "Just another sweet young thing," she thought, "I can do that standing on my head, and it's boring." She declined the role.
"My agent was astounded," Amy admitted. "'How dare you turn down a chance to work with Barbra Streisand! At least meet her and let her explain what's she's doing.'" A meeting was arranged in which Barbra took the opportunity to describe her own feelings about Hadass. "That was more stimulating to me," Irving recalled. "I just didn't read the script well...I was also very attracted by Barbra because she was so dedicated...It was obvious she wasn't doing it for fame or fortune. It was something inside of her that she had to realize and when someone asks you to help them realize their dream, you know the focus of the work is going to be something exciting."
The names behind the camera began to fall into place. Larry De Waay, a production associate of director Norman Jewison's, signed on as executive producer. Director of photography David Watkin and editor Terry Rawlings (both Academy Award winners for their work on Chariots of Fire), production designer Roy Walker (another Oscar winner) and costumer Judy Moorcroft joined the talented ensemble.
After the year-end holidays, most of principals journeyed to London to complete the final phase of pre-production. That first step, Lemorande ventures, is what constituted the real act of courage for everyone. "The giving up of family life and isolating yourself in a foreign culture..." For Barbra, it also meant putting in long hours, while trying to provide continuing support for her 16-year old son. Additionally, her leave-taking caused her mother some anxiety: "You can't make a movie in Czechoslovakia," Diana fretted. "There's a war in Poland and they haven't got fresh vegetables there."
One relationship that didn't make it through the transition was her romantic involvement with Jon Peters. "We were butting horns," Barbra told People magazine, "because I was passionately involved in Yentl, and neglecting him. We had also been too dependent on each other. And you come to resent dependency. We needed to be apart."
Two weeks prior to principal photography, the cast reported to Lee International Studios outside London for rehearsals. Filming began on April 14, 1982--ten days before Barbra's fortieth birthday. The production schedule called for four weeks at Lee, ten to twelve weeks on location in Czechoslovakia, and then a return to London.
The affectionate support of the crew (they had presented Streisand with a custom-made, personalized director's chair on the first day of shooting), warmed her heart. "That power is very humbling. And I found myself being very soft-spoken, feeling even more feminine than I have ever felt. More motherly, more nurturing, more loving. I had patience I never dreamed I would have."
To her own surprise, even the financial constraints inherent in the project fueled her inspiration. "You have to create this scene but you have X amount of time. That's life. Life is a compromise. Life is imperfection. So my so-called perfectionism is quite realistic." Streisand's dedication, concentration, and stamina endeared her to the crew. But some aspects of it also worried them. With her typical day beginning at 6:00 am and ending at 2:00 a.m. the next morning, many expressed concern that she would run out of energy. "Yet she never flagged and [she] looks wonderful in the film," Mandy Patinkin noted. "Some mysterious power sustained her."
Filming one of Yentl's most famous scenes--Hadass's seduction of Anshel--brought out a new dimension in her costar." "In rehearsal," Amy Irving stated, "we never actually kissed. When it came time to shoot the scene, [Barbra] said, 'Well, we'll do some takes with the kiss and some without it.'" After the first take with the kiss, it was obvious there was no need to shoot an alternative. "I had asked [Amy] to be very maidenly before that scene, and she did it beautifully, Streisand recalled. "But the in the bedroom, when she comes on erotically, I asked her to let all her sexiness out, and wow! Did she let it out."
In July, Yentl moved behind the Iron Curtain to the tiny village of Roztyly, about two and a half hours outside Prague. Roy Walker had magically created the entire village of Yanev out of an area that had formerly contained a few wooden houses on a pig farm. Local residents, acting as extras, were thrilled when Barbra made sure the on-set buffet table was stocked with fresh vegetables and other imported provisions she thought might not be available in the area.
For Barbra, the experience of shooting in Czechoslovakia was physically grueling, but exhilarating. Lacking the extra time to spend on her vanity reaped wonders in terms of her understated characterization of the young boy, Anshel. "Yentl was a stretch for her because there was no way she could fall back on past mannerisms," Marty Erlichman says, "Barbra the director was smart enough to know that Barbra the actress couldn't do that." As a result, Streisand delivers a marvelously fresh and subtle performance in Yentl--the kind of work many critics had often claimed a strong director would bring out in her.
By September 1982, the production team was ready to return to its Lee International Studio base. All that remained for Barbra to do was Yentl's first soliloquy as Anshel, the prayer-like "Papa, Can You Hear Me?", which was shot on a soundstage, and the rousing finale, "A Piece of Sky," which was filmed on a freighter of the period outside Liverpool. Production officially wrapped in late October, though for the next nine months Streisand continued commuting back and forth between London and L.A. to oversee countless post-production and recording details.
Though carcely eleven percent over budget (typical for movies shot on location) when she brought the film in, a completion bond company demanded Barbra finish dubbing the picture in six weeks--even though it wasn't due to be released for a year. "It was all about money," she clarified, "I did anything to get it done so that they couldn't take [the film] away from me,"
Unfortunately, the ultimatum started rumors in the press that Streisand had lost control of her dream project, a charge United Artists was quick to dispel. "I want to make it clear that Ms. Streisand is, has been, and always will be the credited producer...retaining full artistic control," said MGM/UA vice chairman Frank Yablans. "I've never dealt with a person more responsible in terms of cost than Barbra was on this film. Every dime ultimately ended up on the screen."
Promotion was the next phase that preoccupied Streisand. She wanted to sell her film simply as "a film with music." All jokes about Tootsie on the Roof aside, the studio considered changing the title--to something deemed less ethnic. One executive wanted to call it A Secret Dream while Masquerade was suggested as an alternative. But Yentl, to Barbra's delight prevailed.
As the days drew near the film's November 16, 1983, world premiere at the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood, and as Amy Irving was telling the press "Everything Barbra Streisand has done before Yentl has been a rehearsal," Barbra became extremely anxious. "Don't worry that even if you fall flat on your face with Yentl," Rusty Lemorande reassured her, "and I have every faith that you won't--don't ever think that people will start to reconsider the brilliance of Funny Girl, What's Up, Doc? or The Way We Were." Nothing will ever tarnish those films; your stock is safe."
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Steven Spielberg's response following a screening of the film was even more encouraging. Dubbing her work one of the most dynamic directorial debuts since Orson Welles and Citizen Kane, the director would tell the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner that he was struck by the generosity of her direction. "I think she tried to put everyone ahead of her in her list of priorities. It's selfless directing...I have a feeling that all this comes from...her autonomy as a musician and vocalist. If you listen to her songs, they're impeccable on every level. That's Barbra directing herself."
Much would be made of the movie's dedication "To my father--and to all our fathers." Jon Peters felt Yentl represented Barbra's chance "to say kaddish for her own father. She created him on film so she could love him and say goodbye to him...I cried when I saw the movie. I sobbed, actually. I wish I had produced it." Director Sydney Pollack's response to the film was admiring as well. "It would be polished for a twentieth film, but particularly so for a first film. I was terribly impressed with it."
On November 18, 1983, Yentl opened in thirteen showcase theaters across the nation; the exclusive engagements produced excellent word-of-mouth. Two weeks before Christmas, the motion picture received its general release. It was to become the number three performer at the box-office that season (below Sudden Impact and Terms of Endearment.) With domestic film rentals of $19,630,000--a better showing than Funny Lady, a certified hit--Yentl eventually became the sixth ranking title on Barbra's all-time list. The film proved to be a hit in Taiwan; it broke records in Finland and Norway. Barbra noted with pride that her film was doing better box office in Texas than in Brooklyn. The film was greeted with mixed reviews: Vincent Canby in The New York Times characterized the score as "one long, dreadful song," while Richard Corliss in his review for Time called it "The most romantic and sophisticated original movie score since Gigi."
Yentl was welcomed warmly, however, by many of the most prestigious critics--some of whom had loathed Barbra's most recent releases--and it landed on the year-end Top Ten lists of The National Board of Review and Time magazine, among several others. Encouraged when Yentl was awarded Golden Globes for Best Picture (in the musical or comedy category) and Best Direction, Barbra was crushed when the film failed to receive Academy Award nominations except for its musical score and Amy Irving's performance. The obvious Oscar snub became a cause celebre among many journalists and a rallying cry for Streisand fans. In the long run, Barbra received more publicity and support as a result of the oversight than she might have had the picture taken home an armful of Oscars. But the refusal of the industry to recognize her for what she--and many others--considered the most heartfelt effort of her career, was a blow from which she was slow to recover.