The story concerns a writer whose specialty is debunking paranormal myths. In the course of his research he is drawn to the dreaded room 1408 in the Dolphin Hotel in New York City, a suite that is said to be so haunted that the establishment has permanently declared the room off-limits. The writer, played by John Cusack, is convinced this will be his next great investigation, even though the manager of the hotel, played by Samuel L. Jackson, tells him that in the hotel’s 95-year history 56 people have died in the room and that people never seem to last more than an hour once inside. Again King employs the notion that big, old hotels contain a lot of stored-up energy from all the different people who have come and gone and all the events that have transpired within their walls. For my money this film (and story) far out-creeps The Shining in terms of hotel horror. The inspiration for the tale was derived from the real-life activities of parapsychologist Christopher Chacon’s investigation of the notoriously haunted suite of Hotel Del Coronado in Coronado, California.
Even directors such as Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez got into the old-hotel-as-perfect-setting realm when they collaborated with two other hot young directors, Alexandre Rockwell and Allison Anders, on the 1995 anthology film Four Rooms. (Actually, the movie was supposed to be called Five Rooms, since Richard Linklater was slated to do a segment, as well, but dropped out before production began.) This film is set on New Year’s Eve at the venerable Mon Signor Hotel in Hollywood. It is the first night on the job for a new bellman played by Tim Roth (the role was written specifically for Steve Buscemi, who ultimately had to turn it down due to scheduling reasons) who has to deal with four crazy sets of guests during his inaugural shift. West Hollywood’s Chateau Marmont was used during the shooting.
Of all the movies, television shows, and novels set in or about hotels, perhaps the grandest of them all is Grand Hotel from 1932. It stars Greta Garbo, who utters her signature line and somewhat prophetic statement, “I want to be alone,” in the film. Based on a Broadway show adapted from a German play about the life and times of a luxurious Berlin hotel, this movie was audacious for a number of reasons. First, it was one of the initial films to buck the two-star formula of the day. Studio bosses, especially young Irving Thalberg who was running Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer at the time, believed that for a movie to be cost-effective no more than two big stars could be in it, otherwise salaries would cause the film to be budget-heavy and the studio would be unable to recoup its expenses. Grand Hotel featured the top five stars in the MGM stable and ended up being one of the biggest-grossing movies in the history of the studio up to that point. The film is still the only picture to win the Best Picture Oscar without being nominated in any other category.
Garbo and co-star Joan Crawford (who never appear in any scenes together) also made Grand Hotel legendary for their monumentally ridiculous diva behaviour while working on the set. There were two things that Garbo really hated: lateness and Marlene Dietrich. So, because Joan Crawford was terribly angry that Garbo was getting top billing in Grand Hotel, she exacted a bit of revenge by always showing up late and playing Marlene Dietrich records loudly between the shooting of scenes. Garbo, for her part, demanded that the colossal and ornate hotel set be lit a smoky red during rehearsals to get her in a romantic mood.
Incidentally, the original MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas (now where Bally’s is) was designed to resemble the Berlin hotel built on the MGM soundstages for Grand Hotel. As a further side note, Garbo herself lived in the Fairmont Miramar, a hotel in Santa Monica, California, in the 1920s and presumably found some of the solitude she sought.
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The Fairmont Miramar is known as a celebrity hideaway and has been such since Greta Garbo famously made it one. She was followed in the 1930s by Jean Harlow, who lived in the Miramar for years. In the 1950s, Marilyn Monroe, who spent most of her Hollywood days in hotels, resided in the Miramar. Most recently the Miramar was the hotel Britney Spears lived in while her Malibu mansion was being renovated.
Because of my long and deep history with Toronto’s Royal York, I tend to use that hotel as the standard by which I compare all others. In Los Angeles, as I mentioned earlier, I have a great fondness for Chateau Marmont due to its colourful Hollywood history. However, the L.A. hotel I most closely associate with the Royal York is a lovely place on Stone Canyon Road called Hotel Bel-Air. The Bel-Air has been around since 1946 but was originally built as a relaxing, secluded office space to service the Bel-Air Estates development mushrooming in the canyon area in the early 1950s. The structures that now make up the Bel-Air were bought by Joseph Drown, a Texan, who converted it into a 91-room hotel. He added lush grounds, a wonderful swan lake (with swans so big they look almost prehistoric), and a footbridge that guests must cross to enter the hotel.
Part of the charm of the Bel-Air is its relative seclusion deep in a canyon surrounded by trees and vegetation. When I stayed there, despite the relative isolation, I could still jog from the hotel to Sunset Boulevard in 20 minutes, only to get lost on a daily basis on the way back in the seemingly endless, twisty canyon roads. I spent a fair amount of time at the Bel-Air a few years ago and fell in love instantly with the place when I was told I’d be staying in the same suite Marilyn Monroe once occupied. As I was being shown to my suite by the delightful (and award-winning) concierge Charles Fitzer, we passed the large palm-tree-ringed oval swimming pool. Charles pointed out the area and the chair that John Wayne used when he lived at the Bel-Air. My suite was sumptuous and comfortable, with a working wood fireplace and a private patio.
The hotel is spread out over a number of acres, so no suite is higher than the second floor. You are either on the ground or one up. As with many older, classy hotels that attract movie people, an air of eccentricity and surrealism is part of the day and night there. It’s as if you’re always waiting for something strange to happen, and usually you don’t have long to wait. While I was there a typical Southern California heat wave scorched the landscape. In the canyon where the Bel-Air is situated it was marginally cooler, but the sun still seared skin as if it were in a blast furnace. Nevertheless, I was determined to do my usual morning laps in the big pool no matter what.
At Hotel Bel-Air in Los Angeles you can meet anyone from former U.S. First Lady Nancy Reagan to actor Daniel Day-Lewis.
That first morning I did my laps alone, since it was pretty early. The only other creature nearby was a strange, colourful, duck-like bird that splashed around with me here and there. After swimming I sat in one of the lounge chairs with a book and the Los Angeles Times to dry off. Without seeing them until the last second, I was flanked by two guys in black suits. I assumed at first that they were with the hotel, but they seemed a bit too officious for that upon closer inspection. Then one spoke to me. “Good morning, sir. We were just wondering if you wouldn’t find it even more comfortable over in that area there.” He indicated the other end of the pool.
I chuckled and asked the fellow why he was making such a suggestion. He produced credentials that identified him as an agent of the U.S. Secret Service and explained that someone under the Secret Service’s protection took morning tea where I was sitting. They would appreciate it awfully if I’d change spots for a while.
Seeing no point in arguing with two Secret Service agents, especially over a poolside chair, I moved to the spot they indicated and even asked them if my choice was okay. They waved and said it was. A tea service with fine china and silver was set up, and the two guys returned with former First Lady Nancy Reagan and a lady guest. Mrs. Reagan waved in my direction and mouthed the words “Thank you.” I thought that was nice, though I was sure that moving locations wasn’t actually a decision I could really make.
A few mornings later I was back in the pool doing my laps. There were a few people around the pool reading the morning paper and drinking coffee, but I was swimming alone. I noticed someone come in and take notice of the book