The Last Impresario imagine...

Oh! Calcutta! - the groundbreaking stage show that made a mockery of

Britain's archaic censorship laws and was embraced by a new generation.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show -

the cult musical that, against all expectations,

went on to become a multimillion-dollar smash hit in the States.

The subversive genius of Monty Python translated into film.

All these now infamous productions helped shape

the cultural landscape of Britain in the 1960s and '70s.

They're now part of our DNA.

Chances are you'll have seen one of these shows.

You might even have come here, to The Roundhouse, to see Oh! Calcutta!

But unless you're in the theatre or film industry,

you probably won't know the name of the man behind them.

He's called Michael White,

affectionately known as Chalky to his legion of loyal celebrity friends.

And tonight, Imagine celebrates the illustrious

and unconventional career of the man some call The Last Impresario.

A man whose lust for life and insatiable curiosity

saw him spot talent and connect people like no-one else.

The filmmaker Gracie Otto

bumped into Michael White in a bar at the Cannes Film Festival.

The result of that chance encounter is this intimate portrait,

filmed over two years, of an unlikely, unsung hero.

This programme contains some strong language

UPBEAT INSTRUMENTAL

OK, so, tell me, when was the first year you came here?

1968.

1968?

Hello, girls.

-Hello.

-Hi.

THEY GIGGLE

You are unbelievable.

-Masha.

-Hi. Nice to meet you.

-Gracie.

-Hi.

-Hi, there.

-Gracie. Nice to meet you.

-Nice to see you.

-Photograph him.

-What? I don't think I could do that.

He walked down the road.

Well, I didn't see him from that far away.

This is a very good place to sit.

You've missed all the celebs.

Him.

Sit down.

UPBEAT INSTRUMENTAL

Well, hello there!

-Oh, Michael, how are you?

-Good to see you.

You've met Gina? Gina, this is Michael.

-Hello, Gina.

-Michael.

Michael's been going to that festival for I don't know how many years.

And I think, you know, he just...he likes people.

He's interested in people.

You know, I've met the most extraordinary people with Michael.

You know, one minute he's hanging out in some grungy bar,

then he's dining with Thatcher.

It seemed to me that I always knew Michael.

Michael was one of those extraordinary people

that just seemed to know everybody on the planet.

Michael just liked being where the action was.

That's when he came alive.

When you felt he was at the centre of all these different worlds.

I was in New York.

And I think I was about 19 or 20.

I'd just met Christy and Naomi

and it was all really exciting for me.

And, um...I don't know, one night,

I ended up just hanging out with Chalky and going on and on.

Like, "Let's go to another club. Let's go to..."

And he was like the only one that could really keep up with me.

Michael's been coming here for many years

and we've spent many holidays together.

So this is a very important pool. Every year, we have a party here.

And Michael was here for the party this year.

What I'm doing with this documentary is I'm trying to find out about him.

So now I have to meet all the people

and find out what I can about Michael.

Because he can't tell me everything any more.

What if I follow you for another five years?

No.

I won't be here in five years.

-SHE LAUGHS

-Yeah, you will.

He's the most famous person you've never heard of.

I mean, nobody's ever heard of Michael White, have they?

He knew everybody. You would go to these dinners

and you're surrounded by all the faces.

And he's probably the only person

that your average man on the street wouldn't know.

And yet everybody in the room wants to talk to Michael.

Michael's a very interesting kind of guy, you know, visually.

Very cool and beautiful.

Really, the way he sat on the sofa

embodied the fact that he found it to be a pleasant experience.

He was the most brilliant, successful

young producer in London.

You know, one of the things that's so striking

when you look at Michael's body of work

is just how cutting edge he was.

Oh, what I loved about Michael is that he was one of those people

who didn't try to dominate.

And he trusted us.

He thought we had talent.

I don't think I would have become an actress

or been in showbiz if it wasn't for Michael.

I never felt that the suits were here.

You know, I didn't feel like that when Michael was there.

If he was a suit, he had a great one on.

In any period in the last 40 or 50 years,

Michael was probably there at the centre of

whatever the pop cultural thing that was going on at that moment.

He's very interested in people.

He's fascinated by people.

And he loves people-watching and involving himself with people.

That is his other great love, and his art.

There's just something about him as a human being

that is complex, funny and very, very warm.

I would say that I always found him a charming enigma.

Michael's the most hidden man you'll ever, ever meet.

PIANO RECITAL

Michael grew up in Glasgow with lots of cousins, aunts and uncles.

It was a very warm, loving environment.

My grandparents were effectively

children of refugee families from Eastern Europe.

And my grandfather was very successful for a time in property.

So at some point in Michael's childhood,

my grandparents were relatively affluent.

But Michael was sent away at a young age to boarding school,

which was quite difficult for him, really.

It was a childhood described in some of the profiles as being miserable.

What was miserable about it?

Well, it was miserable because I had very acute asthma.

Is that why you were sent away to school to Europe?

Correct, yes. I was very sickly.

I went to Switzerland when I was just seven.

It was quite difficult.

-By yourself?

-Yes.

To a school where none of the other boys spoke English.

And so I learned French pretty quick. Had to.

You must have been terribly lonely.

I was, yes. Very.

It was quite a cruel thing to do to you, wasn't it?

Well, it was and it wasn't.

It was quite lonely, but it also had its good side.

It made me very open-minded.

By the time I was 12, I spoke all these languages.

I had a very open, cultural,

different attitude to things than most people.

Most English producers came up through the English system.

But Michael, of course, had a very different background.

And in his background...

I mean, first of all, he grew up in Scotland.

He was educated in Switzerland and at the Sorbonne.

He'd worked in New York.

He was an internationalist.

Michael found his metier, his vocation, really,

working in Connecticut at the White Barn Theatre

when he began sweeping the stage for Lucille Lortel.

And, of course, Michael came back to London

and worked for Peter Daubeny.

And Michael told me that he caught Peter Daubeny's eye

by writing in green ink in his job application.

And that sort of shows, I think, Michael's quirky side.

Peter specialised in doing international theatre seasons.

And when I was with him, it was an extraordinary time

of being involved with the Berliner Ensemble, the Moscow Art Theatre,

the Comedie-Francaise.

It was all very, very exciting.

And I think it gave Michael White an internationalist outlook.

The point about Daubeny was he created these world theatre seasons

every year in London and brought companies from all over.

And so Michael White's introduction to producing was exactly that.

Discovering foreign theatre.

In 1961, I think, he produced The Connection,

which was the first play he produced on his own.

It was a show done by the Living Theatre in New York.

It was about some drug addicts waiting for the connection to come.

It was very edgy, caused a scandal.

There were scenes of simulated intravenous injection on stage.

You can imagine in 1961,

when the theatre was still censored in this country

by the Lord Chamberlain's Office,

that it was quite radical, quite daring.

I think it's a great play and I think this sort of hostility

is not representative of the audience's feelings at all.

He said the English are a packet of old feather dusters, sir.

He then did the Son Of Oblomov with Spike Milligan.

That that was an extraordinary event

because Spike Milligan was not someone who stuck to a text.

So every night, Spike Milligan would quite simply improvise

around this sort of rather thin story about a man who never got out of bed.

And technically, the play was in breach of the law

because the Lord Chamberlain had not approved of the script.

But your performance departed from the script quite a bit last night.

Did you lay on a special royal performance?

No, no. Just as it came, man, you know.

But would you say the Queen entered into the spirit of things?

No, she stayed alive all the time.

It's hard to believe, but until 1968, every living performance

had to be licensed by the Lord Chamberlain.

And that meant that if you were critical

of the monarchy or religion,

or had an excessive amount of swearing,

your play would be either censored,

or sometimes even totally banned.

You can't just run down to Lord Chamberlain every day.

But doesn't this make a bit of a mockery of his office?

I mean, this is what he's there for, to approve public performances.

That's true. I mean, he is there for that, yes.

But, I mean, how...

If television, for instance, had to put up with the Lord Chamberlain,

it would mean that every day,

you'd have to have 100 people doing nothing else.

It's only in the theatre that this act,

which dates back to 1843, goes on.

It's really not in tune with modern theatre thought, or anything.

Michael was very much a man of the '60s.

He was almost like a mini Diaghilev of the permissive society.

He wanted to express, through his productions,

the culture that was going on around him.

And whereas other producers of an older generation

would retire to their clubs and drink their G&Ts,

you know, you could imagine Michael with a joint.

I'm not making sort of statements,

but, you know, his culture was different. His world was different.

The Cambridge Circus!

APPLAUSE

Every year, The Footlights had an annual revue.

And in 1963, I was in the cast with a particularly good bunch of people.

There was Tim Brooke-Taylor, who's a great physical comedian.

There was Bill Oddie, who wrote some great pop songs

and really sang them like a professional,

except they were parodies.

# The London Bus, it goes Acton Town

# All God's children on the London bus

# When you've got to stand up and when you want to sit down

# Hallelujah on the London bus

# Well, all you need is a three-penny fare

# Love it on the London Bus

# And the good conductor's going to get you there...#

I don't know whether somebody had said to Michael,

"Go and have a look at this,"

or whether he was in the habit of scouting around universities,

but Michael got us on in London.

And that was the first Footlights show,

first university show, as far as I know,

to actually transfer straight into the West End.

We were suddenly told somebody called Michael White

wanted to put us on in the West End and we thought,

"What?!" You know, "The West End?!"

And the critics liked it.

And we just had the most wonderful experience.

From my point of view, that enabled me to pay off my entire student loan

that I'd accumulated over three years, in about three months.

It was extraordinary.

Between us, Michael had discovered and promoted

the groups which became Monty Python and The Goodies

and various other things in between.

I was never quite sure who he was,

what he was doing, whether he liked anything.

He was very, I think, shy.

I don't know whether he was shy,

or whether he knew there was an air of mystery which would help.

I just remember he was a bit like a Bond villain.

He always had a glamorous blonde on his arm somewhere.

I'd been modelling

and then I started with a friend of Michael's called Alice Pollock.

We made clothes for Julie Christie, various people.

How did you meet Michael?

-SHE CHUCKLES

-My children always ask me this.

At a cocktail party of a friend of his.

He asked me to go out to dinner.

He probably asked everybody he met at that time to go out to dinner.

I just happened to be one of the gang.

We got married shortly before our first child was born

because Michael's mother didn't approve of him

knowing anyone who wasn't Jewish.

So that caused a lot of problems.

I think the interesting thing about Michael

is that even then, he was phenomenally interested

in everything that was going on.

And doing things, seeing people.

He was incapable of walking past somebody in the street that he knew

without either inviting them to dinner or arranging to meet them.

Michael was the best-read person I've ever met.

And he was always looking to the new.

We used to have after-supper parties

which used to go on until the early hours.

And anyone dropped in.

So somebody might bring Van Morrison, or...

-And Vanessa Redgrave.

-She was there.

The major stars of the time were sort of his contemporaries.

Michael and I met at the Indica Gallery.

Indica Gallery was the most extraordinary laboratory of arts.

Visual arts, portrait, film.

Drugs, sex and rock'n'roll of Swinging London.

The famous Swinging London.

And Yoko Ono was having a show at Indica.

I was in London and Michael White

told me that he had a place called the Jeanetta Cochrane Theatre.

And that's where he wanted me to do a show.

I'd like to share with you a press release I got today on Yoko Ono,

a Japanese artist, composer and filmmaker.

She's the young lady who made that imaginative film

which consisted entirely of nude backsides.

She's now planning a definitive Music of the Mind concert.

During the concert, Miss Ono's film, Number Four,

will be shown in the men's toilet of the theatre.

So she and Michael became quite friendly

and did quite a few things together.

I remember one where she simply performed inside

a black stretchy bag that covered her all over.

And Michael just didn't care whether it was women or men.

That was very, very different from the other producers, I think.

I think most producers were trying to give an opportunity

to male artists, you know.

And usually, producers of a show like that,

they're not particularly so cool-looking, but he was.

He was like somebody who just came

right out of a 1930s film, or something. He was great.

In those days, arts were completely academic and constipated.

You know, you had to castrate whatever you were doing.

And, of course, we refused to do that.

We were from the Dada strain, you know, the anarchist strain.

And we were doing what we called happenings.

I want an evocation in space.

A place between desire and experience.

A happening is a happening. You know, it's, er...

I know several people who do happenings,

they make a rehearsal before.

And this time, it was direct.

It wasn't theatre, it wasn't painting

it wasn't poetry, it wasn't music, it wasn't dance.

It was a mix of all that stuff together.

And I can't remember exactly how Michael White heard about this.

Maybe it was from the press, from the radio.

But he...he showed up.

And he said, "Hey! That's interesting!

"I'd like to bring this to London."

And it occurred. And it was a very high-level artistic event.

The Tory press, of course, accused us of being agitators.

We were just artists, you know, doing our stuff.

And looking back, you understand

that some boundary was...broken.

And people overstepped what was allowed.

England was emerging both from post-war austerity

through Swinging London

and into some kind of new version of itself.

And I think that Michael was one of the few risk-taking producers

who would actually take a gamble, a punt,

on works that absolutely challenged the status quo.

And I think that many of those works contributed in some way

to the transformation of English society at the time.

BELL TOLLS

And the Swinging Sixties were very much about London.

It was very inward-looking.

Michael was a sort of lone figure

because he was interested in an international perspective.

Most people don't remember that it was Michael White in 1960

that brought Merce Cunningham and John Cage

to Britain for the first time.

I mean, there is no doubt that the visit of Merce Cunningham

and the visit of Pina Bausch's Tanztheater Wuppertal,

both of those visits changed the face of British dance for ever.

Both represent something that wasn't being done before

and certainly was completely foreign to the dance scene in Britain.

And I don't know that Michael realised at the time

quite what an impact those visits would have.

Michael invited us

and the company did not go back to London for about 17 years.

He got us two years before New York.

And, you know, it was pretty amazing.

Working with Pina, you had to give everything.

And they were quite hard, like,

in Kontakthof, I had this scene where the whole company of men

came to me and did their tenderness on me.

But, you know, when you've got all these guys pulling you

and licking you and patting you and kissing you, it's just...

you know, it's pretty hard.

INSTRUMENTAL

Michael took something that was quite small

and fringe and on the edge

and introduced it to a much wider world.

I mean, that was part of his genius.

I mean, Michael is an impresario in that way

and a Renaissance man in the way he has

these tentacles in all these different worlds.

But much more importantly,

he wanted to share what he found with other people.

I have many different sides to my personality.

A serious side...

..and a frivolous side.

I mean, when you see the number of plays I did,

nobody sane could have done

the amount of plays I did.

INSTRUMENTAL

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Welcome to the Olivier Awards!

You can leave a note at Stage Door.

And the winner is...Crazy For You!

Accepting the award is Michael White. He is the producer,

he has presented over 250 productions in London and New York.

PIANO RECITAL

Do you want to photograph me, or the picture?

Neil Simon, Princess Margaret.

Sean Connery, Michael Caine.

Sharon Stone, Brooke Shields,

Johnny Depp.

I mean, there's so many albums.

When do your albums start?

'60.

'68.

'70.

And how many albums do you have?

30? 40?

I'm addicted to taking photos.

UPBEAT INSTUMENTAL

Well, what Michael did is what the generation of today is doing.

They're all using their phones to take photographs.

Michael always had a little miniature camera

and he would do the same thing.

So his photographs, even though might be interesting,

they weren't shot for beauty.

Most of the time, they were shot just to capture a moment in time.

Everybody trusts Michael.

And I think that was like a little tool, his camera.

It wasn't just about the result of taking the photo

and having it, that memory.

I think it was, like, his way of connecting with people.

Because he would just pull it out all the time.

And, you know, sometimes in places where it's, like,

nobody wants to see a camera here.

It's a curious eye that he has with his camera.

And it's an intelligent eye,

but it's not a Peeping Tom kind of a camera at all.

I mean, he's not, what do they call them? A pap.

You know, he's... He's an interested observer.

And he sort of chronicled his life.

And as he's a man of few words, you need to look at those photos

because those photos tell you

about the things that captured his attention.

He's been taking photos for years.

That's his testimony to who he is and where he's been.

UPBEAT INSTRUMENTAL

Michael ran his theatre empire from here.

And it was quite fun because every day,

some other famous person would run in and run out.

One of the very early times we were here and the door opened

and Koo Stark put her head around the corner and said,

"Can I come in with my friend?" And the friend was Prince Andrew.

That was one of our first memories of this office.

It was sort of, um...artistic, literary chaos.

There were books everywhere and people everywhere.

I seem to remember it was always... The curtains were often drawn.

I was here from 1961.

I had an office down here

and an apartment up there.

And this is where John Lennon met Yoko.

They were next door, as well?

-There.

-Really?

Yeah.

People would say you would come in here at 11:00am

and have a Bloody Mary.

And that's not all.

THEY LAUGH

That was a light morning.

Well, the office, when I went there, it was unlike anything

I imagined an office to be.

It was full of pretty girls, which was always very nice,

and lots of people running around doing stuff.

Sometimes, some drugs were involved.

But everybody worked hard and it was incredible fun.

UPBEAT INSTRUMENTAL

The '60s and the early '70s

wouldn't have been what they were without Michael White.

Here was a different sensibility.

Someone who was quite brave, trying things out.

And I think that's really where Michael's reputation rests.

He was an impresario in the theatre who took risks

before Cameron Mackintosh and people like that were around.

So other people kind of played safe.

So I suppose you went to Michael when nobody else would listen to you.

INSTRUMENTAL

Well, my father had this idea of this erotic revue.

And he would get all his famous playwright friends -

Samuel Beckett, you know -

all these people, to write these little pieces for it.

But Michael White got involved with my father.

The show went into rehearsal

and the actors were very good and very nervous.

Three days before we opened, the actors said,

"Well, we can't go on. We can't do the show nude".

HE CHUCKLES

And Ken Tynan stormed out.

He went to get a taxi and he said,

"I'm going down to Fleet Street to announce my resignation".

And 20 minutes later, he came back and said,

"I can't find a taxi. Will you give me a lift?"

Oh! Calcutta! was a huge deal.

I mean, there was uproar

and much moaning and groaning from the suburbs.

I mean, it was a real sea change in theatre.

It sort of broke down those last walls of censorship

that had existed in the theatre in London for a long time.

Lady Birdwood, what were

your particular objections to Oh! Calcutta!?

Well, the sickening perversion I found in it.

I've approached the various state departments, police, etcetera,

who are involved with these matters

and explained to them that our intention

is not to have a confrontation of any kind,

but to present entertainment.

INSTRUMENTAL

The choreography for Oh! Calcutta! was quite avant-garde.

They did this nude dance.

And it was quite amazing, actually.

And it was erotic and kind of beautiful.

It was a very difficult show.

We opened and it was a real smash hit.

It had a terrible review in the New York Times.

And, er...it didn't matter.

It ran...seven years in London

and 13 years in New York.

Somehow or other, that show never got banned.

In terms of, you know, the judicial process or the law,

it sort of got away with it. He got away with it.

HUBBUB

Both Michael and my father, if they had to make a choice

between doing something daring and doing some safe

they would do something daring.

And I think they both had similar interests

in art and, you know, they liked to be with

the young and the beautiful.

Well, girls, you can take my word for it,

and being a lady, I'll just say, it's as cold as it looks.

Lyndy Hobbs for National Nine News.

Richard Neville called me one night and said,

"I just got a great invitation to go..." I think a Who concert.

"But I can't go and this fabulous guy, Michael White,

"has got the tickets. Why don't you go?"

And so, like a game Aussie girl, I said, "Fine".

And Michael pulled up and tooted the horn

and I looked out the window and there was this fabulous blue Jensen.

And he just was...very, very nice.

So I moved in with Michael, I'd say within about six, seven months.

So, yes, that was the beginning of the...I would say, the heyday.

The Michael White-Lyndall, um...

I suppose nine years at Egerton Crescent.

Just an amazing, you know, kind of magical,

extraordinary time filled with

dinners and parties and West End openings.

And it was weekends in Paris,

it was weekends in the South of France.

We'd have these unbelievable lunches out on this huge table.

And the Lycett Greens would be there and Nell and Gael.

And that was the time when he really was

the, you know, impresario of the day.

Can you imagine?

We came from Australia. Huh!

We didn't really know that many people when we arrived

and we met Chalk and he created this life for us that was unbelievable.

And we got to know the most extraordinary people of our time.

Actors, songwriters and royalty.

And, you know, Prince Charles was around for dinner

with, you know, Bowie and Iman and...

Yeah, he was amazing at mixing people

with just such fascinating backgrounds and interests

and it was... It was pretty wild.

He was living in this enormous house in Notting Hill Gate.

And he was divorced and had custody of his three children,

which was very unusual in 1973.

They were mostly at boarding school,

but there was something rather exotic about him

having these three children.

Lots of late nights, lots of drugs,

lots of drinking, lots of parties.

Michael sort of introduced me to bohemia, I suppose.

I sort of came from a kind of very establishment English background

and he sort of opened up my world to artists.

And as he had the sort of THE salon of London,

and he'd say, "Do you want to come to dinner?"

And if you were lucky enough to sort of be,

you know, one of his chosen girls that he liked,

you were just denied nothing.

He had this extraordinary ability to combine

the artistic people with people in sort of society.

Or in those days, there was still a bit of a class system.

In those days, one's got to remember

the paparazzi weren't as bad as they are today

and people didn't have publicists and people didn't have...

There wasn't this sort of celebrity culture.

But had there been this celebrity culture,

Michael was in the heart of it.

There were no cellphones, there was no internet,

there were no computers.

You couldn't invite people via Facebook or e-mail.

We just never stopped.

It was incredibly social.

And we did it all just...yeah, on an old phone.

LOW CHATTER

Well, Michael was, by now, loving the Aussie contingent

who were at our house almost four nights a week for dinners and things.

And one of them, of course, was Brian Thomson

and Jim Sharman, who was in town.

I was aware of Michael White

as an adventurous and interesting producer,

even when I was in Australia.

So when I was trying to get a musical, that was then called

They Came From Denton High, happening

at the Theatre Upstairs at the Royal Court,

I said, "Is this something that would interest Michael White?"

# Science fiction

# Ooo-ooo-ooo

# Double feature

# Ooo-ooo-ooo

# Dr X

# Ooo-ooo-ooo

# Will build a creature...#

I do recall going to a basement

off the King's Road somewhere one evening

with an acoustic guitar and playing some songs.

Michael was a theatre producer that was

just a little bit edgy, out there.

The only producer in the West End that was really hip in those days.

# I knew Leo G Carrol

# Was over a barrel

# When tarantula took to the hills... #

The Theatre Upstairs at the Royal Court's a 60-seat theatre.

And that's... It's minute.

And, um...there was no dressing rooms.

So we all had to dress in the office.

So I met the world and his wife.

# Science fiction

# Ooo-ooo-ooo

# Double feature

# Ooo-ooo-ooo... #

I remember going to a preview of Rocky Horror Show

at the Theatre Upstairs

when really nobody knew anything about it.

And I remember being grabbed by the masked ushers and usherettes

and thinking, "What the fuck is going on here?"

It made me really furious.

Greatest thing about the show was Tim Curry's entrance,

which in the film, is in the lift.

But on the stage, he came from the back, down a ramp.

So it was fantastic because suddenly, you had, you know,

"How d'you do? Ah!"

And the whole audience went, "Whoa!" You know, "What's that?!"

# I'm just a sweet transvestite

# From Transsexual

# Transylvania

# Uh-huh. #

I thought it would have limited appeal.

To people who liked the same kinds of things that I did,

but I thought that we were a pretty small group of low-brow,

kind of liked sci-fi, horror, rock'n'roll.

So I didn't think it would really have that much longevity.

I'd turned 20 two weeks before we opened

and I sort of took everything in my stride, as one does at that age.

And then it was this immediate overnight sensation,

which, I guess, I also took in my...

"Oh, so this is what happens when you're in a show in London!"

If anybody had said this thing will be around in 35 or 40 years,

you would have been howled down. "Oh, don't be stupid. Don't..."

It just sort of took off in a way that nobody

was able to kind of comprehend or understand.

It was like wildfire.

Within days, it was sold out at the Royal Court

and became the hottest thing that had happened for years

in the theatre in London.

And then Michael had the brilliant idea of moving it,

not to a conventional theatre,

but to this old cinema on King's Road

that was kind of shabby and rundown.

I think for nearly seven years, Rocky Horror played,

but it never played in a conventional venue.

# It's just a jump to the left... #

At the time, I was involved with Britt Ekland

and she took me to see the show on King's Road and Michael was there.

At that point, I started talking about

the possibilities of bringing it to the United States.

I think he liked the idea that there was rock'n'roll involved,

as far as what I was involved in,

and also bringing it to the Roxy,

a club theatre on Sunset Boulevard.

And, er...we made a deal.

Michael allowed him to get involved in the show

and to put it on at his theatre in LA.

And Michael went over and got involved with this woman

who seemed to have a lot of very good drugs.

And Lou sort of said to Michael,

"You know what? You've done all of this.

"You just go up the coast and have a nice time

"and I'll put it all together and we'll..." Ba-ba-ba.

And Mike was just signing contracts.

And those contracts, Michael gave the shop away.

And Lou is a tough rock'n'roll businessman.

But Michael lost that show as a result of it.

# Let's do the Time Warp again

# Let's do the... #

I invested nothing in the film and neither did Michael.

20th Century Fox put it up.

We put up some money to secure it and guarantee it,

but, um...Fox put up the money.

So, who owns Rocky Horror now?

Er...as far as the, er...

I don't know. I mean, why are you asking that question?

Is this a question Michael wants to know the answer, or...?

No, it's Fox owns it, I own it

and, er...Michael sold his company and his name, basically,

to, um...a Dutch bank.

And that's who participates in the film at this point.

# With your hands on you hips

# You bring your knees in tight

# But it's the pelvic thrust...#

I did a deal with Lou Adler.

A pathetic deal for me. Ha-ha!

And, er...

What was the deal?

I don't know remember the deal.

HE CHUCKLES The details of the deal.

But it wasn't good for me.

Then why did you sign it?

Why did you sign it, then?

Didn't you have control over everything at the time?

I did have control.

But...

Yeah. We'll go on tomorrow.

No, we can go on for a bit more.

I can't go on. Enough.

This is one of your new boxes that you've just brought.

You've added.

This is full of diaries.

Don't you want one that's got interesting things in it?

Have you got a strategy? What is it you want to keep?

The invites, photographs and interesting letters

-and press cuttings?

-He says he can't throw anything away.

Michael said he can't throw anything away?

No, I know he can't. He's a hoarder.

I was trying to ask Michael,

how many productions do you think are in this room?

From the plays?

Oh, paperwork for, I don't know, 30 productions.

I can't throw anything out.

There's piles more boxes in other places, in numerous locations.

This is just scraping the surface.

I can't do it.

This is all invites in here.

-I mean, just zillions of invites.

-I feel ill.

Do you actually remember half the events you've been to?

At least you're not sleeping on top of all of this

-like Bill Cunningham with his photographs.

-Yes!

I love your sophisticated book-keeping here.

The list, handwritten pages and pages and pages of investors.

-People.

-Really?

-You know.

-Here. Here. Here!

-Just a minute.

-Just a moment.

Throw them out. Throw them out.

Thursday here at Sotheby's we'll be having a sale of

English literature and history from Michael White's archive.

So we're selling a collection of posters

and his correspondence

which is about 1,500 letters

by a huge range of writers, actors,

celebrities.

So, yeah, it's quite an exceptional range of material.

Mad. It's mad.

1,500 letters are going into the auction

and Michael wants them all copied so that he knows what's there.

But it's like, you know, a week before the auction

so it's not very...

It's a bit late in the day.

An incredibly nice letter. Flattering.

Truthful.

Meaningful.

-You should keep this one, then.

-No.

I get ill when I see all those letters.

From everyone.

These are all the ones that I've put into the folders originally.

And they've copied all of them.

I've forgotten these letters.

Paul McCartney.

Some amazing letters. Amazing.

-AUCTIONEER:

-We begin this morning...

MUFFLED PATTER

At £1,000, £1,100.

Lots of ephemera here. £2,000 to start it.

2,200, 2,400.

5,000.

Thank you very much.

He was very attached to a lot of things that he sold

because I mean, he used to have an amazing art collection

and he got rid of all his furniture and all kinds of things.

And he really needed the money.

Had he not been in the situation that he was in,

he would probably not have sold anything

and he would have left it for his children.

I remember it - it seems only yesterday,

Norm and I going over all the pros and cons finance-wise

on the kitchen table.

'I'd done one of my shows before in London in the late '60s

'and it had not really caught on.'

And I decided that whatever I did in Australia would be done in Australia

and I wouldn't attempt to do them anywhere else.

Michael thought otherwise.

And with encouragement of

his then-girlfriend, Lyndall Hobbs,

he produced me at the Apollo Theatre

in Shaftesbury Avenue and we had a huge success with it.

And then I decided to take him to New York

and people didn't think he was a man.

They thought it was a woman.

It didn't go down at all well.

Tell everyone, Dame Edna, just what it is that brings you to New York.

Well, I'm really in New York, darling,

-for Jacqueline Onassis's wedding.

-Really?

I haven't received the invitation yet,

-but that's just a little formality, isn't it, sweetheart?

-OK, OK.

Oh, it's lovely to have you on the show, Madeline Kahn, it really is.

'I remember at the age of like 22, I guess,'

going to the opening of Barry Humphries on Broadway

and then going to Sardi's afterwards

and waiting for the reviews to come in.

And I remember Michael going up the stairs to...

The New York Times used to come through at about

11 o'clock at night.

And the story was that if the show was a hit

then these reviews would come down very quickly

from the eighth floor to the party.

So I went in an elevator up to the eighth floor with Barry.

And I opened a door and I saw Michael White slumped at a table

with the New York Times open in front of him.

His head was in his hands.

His hair, this modified afro hairstyle that he had...

Can you say afro now? Probably not.

Already greying slightly.

It sort of got greyer as I looked at it.

I didn't interrupt him.

I knew the verdict of The Times critic already.

So I went back to the party

and when I got there the room was empty.

The news travels fast,

and failure on Broadway is like leprosy.

People don't want to catch it.

And the show should have closed the next day.

But Barry didn't want it to close

because he wanted not to be humiliated, understandably.

So he said to Michael, "Look, if you keep supporting the show

"I'll bring my next show to you in London."

And I said to Michael, "Get it in writing."

And he said, "No, no, no, I totally trust Barry.

"I totally trust Barry."

So Michael, having made all of this money

on the original Housewife Superstar

then loses that, plus, in New York.

No, I'm never sure to this day whether Barry actually knew

how determined Michael was

that Barry was not going to lose face over the show.

I fell out with him a couple of years later

because I put on another show in London

produced by different people.

I'd said to them, "Look, I think I have

"a commitment, an obligation to Michael."

And I think they told Michael White another story altogether.

So Michael's integrity's always been that,

"I've shaken hands with somebody. That's a deal."

It is part of his make-up that he just absolutely trusts people.

Barry was wonderful.

And he became a very close friend of mine.

The West End theatre has enjoyed a boom for almost 30 years.

But the recent drastic rise in costs comes at a time

when audiences have started to fall.

Those who put the shows on

say the theatre is about to suffer its biggest crisis

-for 30 years.

-How difficult is it

to get angels to invest money in shows now?

Well, it's much more difficult than it was.

Like, in the '60s, it was very easy.

We got money at the drop of a hat even for the most improbable shows.

Today it's very difficult. Everyone is hard up, or squeezed.

The thing one has to remember about Michael is that he was,

on the one hand an innovative, bold young producer.

But he also had to make money. He also had to have

a steady succession, if possible, of hit shows.

6, 7, 8.

And that explains why he does shows

like A Chorus Line or Annie or thrillers like Sleuth or Deathtrap.

He managed to combine these two roles -

the producer of the occasional smash,

and at the same time rather unusual or experimental work.

So what I'm saying is, Michael White was a product of his time

and I think that time has now changed and gone, probably for ever.

He really was about, "Let's put the show on.

"Let's get it on." If he believed in it.

And the reason he should go down in history

is because he would just foster

so much talent that otherwise wouldn't have gotten a chance.

What's interesting, I think, about Michael

is that he's always been drawn

more to the excitement than to the money.

There've been a few situations

where he could have gone more into the mainstream

where he had an opportunity with people like Andrew Lloyd-Webber

to ride a very successful gravy train.

And I think it just didn't interest him.

And I think that he took the same kind of...

theatrical spirit of adventure

that he had been working on in the stage into cinema,

and so I think he continued to just bet on people.

If you will not show us the grail, we shall take your castle by force!

You don't frighten us, English pig dogs!

Go and boil your bottoms!

'Just last week I was in Los Angeles

'and I realised it was 40 years

'since I had gone into Michael White's office,

'met John Goldstone for the first time'

and we had started talking about how to get finance

for what turned out to be The Holy Grail.

And again, he was very supportive. He loved the script,

which went through an extraordinary amount of changes.

I fart in your general direction.

Your mother was a hamster

and your father smelt of elderberries.

'They somehow got together what I believe was £240,000.

'And somebody rang me up

'saying would I mind sharing a hotel room during the course?'

And I remember saying, "I thought I was a film star!"

And it was a pretty sparse production.

And you got on the mountainside at eight o'clock in the morning

and at ten past it rained.

And there were about 12 large umbrellas for about 60 people.

And at the end there was this mad rush

to try and get back to the hotel to get a hot bath

because you were freezing, you know.

You know, I took LSD, so I don't remember things that clearly.

But I do remember Michael at the premiere in Cannes

because it was one of the most exciting nights of my life.

It was the first time we were going to see the Odorama card

with a live audience. And people smashed the doors,

there was broken glass and everything, to get in.

It was really thrilling to me.

And we saw everybody doing the cards, and it worked.

-Yeah, I got something I want to show you.

-Yes?

It's long, and it's sleek,

-and it's powerful.

-Ooh, what is it, Todd?

It was something international.

I've never seen an audience in any country in the world -

capitalism, communism, anarchy -

not dive to scratch and smell a fart and give me money.

It was a perfect thing for Michael to be a part of.

It was so much fun to go to a theatre

and Number 3 show up and everybody's, "Where's fart?"

Oh, you don't know what it is,

and everybody in the whole audience goes, "Oh, I can't stand it."

Then number 7 was dirty socks and, "Oh, no, it's unbelievable."

And people were having so much fun in the theatre

and Michael was having fun.

The peak of that time

that I was doing films in my 20s was White Mischief

which was a film that's remained quite iconic for me which was

again largely helped into existence by Michael White.

He was there with it from the moment he gave me the book.

Michael asked me to be in the film he was making,

The Turn Of The Screw.

My character, I remember, modelling very much on Brian Jones

so he was just too out of it to be able to take care of his children.

And we played the whole thing from an opium bed.

I mean, I know what you're talking about.

I don't REALLY know what you're talking about.

'I went to my agent, Peggy Ramsay, and I said,

'"We're all set to make this movie. We've lost the money."

'And she called Michael White and he...'

said yes immediately.

I mean, he wrote us a very large cheque instantly.

It got mostly bad reviews.

The New York Times said

it was a sort of Winnie the Pooh kind of fable,

if you liked that sort of thing.

Michael said, "Don't worry, boys.

"Every party I go to,

"all they're talking about is your movie.

"It's just going to be a matter of time before it clicks."

And of course it did.

Making a film of something that's been proven

a success in another format,

whether it's a book or a theatre show, helps enormously.

What's more interesting is when you try and do

something like The Comic Strip

because taking that group of people, putting them together

it wouldn't necessarily work, you know.

You're not sure that it's going to take off in the way it did.

But he really rode the zeitgeist and I think he's very good at that.

Well, if I lived here I wouldn't be bored.

I think you're jolly lucky.

Yes, I can't wait to go exploring for sea shells and wild flowers.

I talked to Michael and I said,

"Michael, I've got these fantastic comedians I'm working with,

"Rik Mayall, Alexei Sayle and all these people,

"and would you produce these films with us?"

We trusted Michael and we all loved him

and so Michael went, "How much do you want?"

People used to come up with the craziest ideas

and Michael would just kind of jump in.

I think that's why so many good things did happen

because Michael was impulsive that way.

Name me one thing, just one thing,

in that entire programme that you find offensive.

The item about how to get big things in your mouth.

Is that all? We could have cut that.

'Michael gave some great performances,

'very well-lit performances.'

But yes, he appears in three or four Comic Strip films,

er...

as characters remarkably like himself.

It was very nice having this strange man behind us.

How much?

And I think the reason he's not Sir Michael White

or Lord White of Soho, or something like that,

is because he's a subversive, because he's an alternative type

and he's not Establishment.

You know, the word "producer", especially

now that there's so much emphasis on movies and everything,

it's slightly lost its importance.

It's slightly become really about raising money.

And the thing that has always impressed me about Michael

is that he's more for me like an experimental impresario,

because all of Michael's work,

in very different ways, all says,

"Wake up. Don't be apathetic.

"Get out of your seats and think."

It's said that you've cultivated a semi-playboy image,

and I say semi, because you work rather hard at the same time.

Is that fair?

-Yes, that's not unfair.

-Why?

I don't think there's anything wrong with being a playboy.

I think beautiful women are very...

They're like, you know, people go to museums to look at pictures.

They're like living pictures.

Some people would say that's a very sexist remark, of course.

It works on both...

Well, I could feel the same way about looking at a very good-looking man.

It's to do with inner spirit as well, with character.

There is no such thing as a beautiful person

unless they have something inside as well.

He really likes women. He likes strong women.

He likes fascinating women.

He's not afraid of women. He embraces women.

He's not, like, Mr Suave. He's no George Clooney, you know?

He's, like, a funny guy,

and I think that really gets... gets him places, you know.

He's always been around very beautiful women

but they've always been something more, you know.

Whether you meet Naomi, or Thandie Newton,

or whether it's Luelle Bartley, all these people that you sort of meet

and often at the very beginning of their careers

and they go on to do great things.

But he spots it straight away, that's what's interesting.

Michael's never been old.

I mean, Michael has always just been in touch with

whatever's been happening, and particularly with young people.

I mean, he certainly was by far the first person to talk to me

about Kate Moss, way before any agent or any editor.

I mean, he just saw her beauty and her strength.

And he always used to say to me, "But there's only one Kate."

He was just such a good friend to hang out with.

I always felt really safe with him.

And you know, he'd always make sure I got home OK,

even if we were out till six in the morning, you know.

And he'd take me to really interesting people's apartments.

I'd never seen anything like it. Like...I was from Croydon.

I didn't really go to Fifth Avenue apartments, you know.

It was just always... It was just exciting.

You know, they're not going out with him because he's rich any more.

That's not the reason.

So all those guys who can kind of be critical of him

because he's always with younger women "because of his money",

well, that's not the case.

So he must have something that makes him good company.

Early on, someone said to me,

"Oh, he's a producer, but he's a playboy as well."

I always thought that was a great way of defining it,

that this sort of way that he could be both things

and taken seriously at both things.

Because obviously he worked incredibly hard at what he did

and he had this incredible success rate.

The winner is

Crazy For You.

APPLAUSE

I was sitting next to Michael

on the night and he said, "I think we've won."

And I think he realised then that he was back,

because he'd had a few years when he hadn't really been doing theatre.

He'd done some films and he'd just not been in the West End.

Suddenly he was back.

The award goes to She Loves Me.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

She Loves Me won five Olivier Awards

which was more at that point than any other show had ever won,

and it didn't sell at all.

We ran for a year

and there was one week in the 52

that we actually made the break figure.

Just to thank all the small investors who keep the West End open

and support it without much thanks.

But I'd like to thank them all.

He did confide to me at one point

that it was becoming harder and harder

to be an independent impresario producer.

That it was becoming more of a struggle

and he was enjoying it less.

I think that's just a sort of reflection on the way

in which theatre and film has been changing.

The big multinational entertainment companies

hold a lot more power.

And I think that for a long time he was able to persuade angels,

as they're called in the theatre, to back him.

But increasingly the returns became less, generally,

and the risk higher.

Hi. What's my account this morning?

Only £32?

Is that all?

Very good.

I'll have a bet today, at Ascot.

Via and Lear. Three o'clock, Ascot.

12 to 1.

Back them singly.

Five pounds each way.

So what's the most money you've ever bet?

I don't...answer that.

Isn't the rule, "Don't bet what you can't afford to lose"?

More or less.

First of all, to be a theatre producer, you have to be a gambler.

Your chances of making money are far less than losing everything.

And of course you've got the responsibility

of then losing everyone else's investment.

So yes, he was a gambler on and off the course.

Horses in his spare time.

Thespians in his professional time.

Well, there were mornings he would come into the office

and hand me wodges of money and say, "I just won this last night.

"Put it in the safe." That was quite a regular occurrence.

The gambling part is just a big part of producing, I think.

You're risking everything and...

there's a chance for great success and a chance for great humiliation

and I think it kind of keeps you living on knife-point.

Kind of keeps you focused.

Michael was, and is, an insane gambler.

And his attention to detail is...hopeless.

He started to make really insane decisions

and I could see that he was going to...

I mean, drugs, to be honest, drugs played a big part in it.

He partied like it was never going to stop.

As you know, Michael is a bit of a partygoer.

If that's not the understatement of the year or the decade

or possibly even the millennium.

The thing about Michael, though, that everybody knows,

the show's important, but the party is almost as important as the show.

The pre-party, like the first-night party, and the after-party,

these are things that Michael absolutely rolled up his sleeve

and wanted to organise. He wanted every party

to be better than the other party, the party before.

He's definitely got a lust for life.

Just really astonished at how much energy

and just would not care about staying out all night.

And still be in the office next day.

Amazing. They don't make 'em like that any more, that's for sure.

And do you still go out with him now? He still goes out.

Yeah, I know. Not so much now.

He goes out more than me. I've got a daughter.

I remember one night in London.

It was a Wednesday. And Michael said,

"Come with me to the club."

It was 2.30, three o'clock in the morning.

Well, we walk into the club.

Michael arriving was like a scene from Hello Dolly.

It was just, everyone knew him.

Everyone...

We sat with six or seven young women,

all of whom were thrilled to be with Michael, and I thought,

"Wow, this is him in his natural environment."

I think that's a fair assessment of Michael, to some extent,

and I mean that in the nicest way.

It seemed to me that he was incapable of growing up,

much like myself.

There was the eternal little boy in Michael

and I think probably that's why he once again

ceased being a producer, a player.

I think while he was enjoying it

and that little boy was being fed that was fine

but when it got to the point where you have to start to be

fairly ruthless, I think, to stay in the marketplace,

I've got a sneaking suspicion that that's when Michael decided

he didn't want to do it any more

and would rather be enjoying life on the primrose path.

He's had a pretty fast-track life and as far as I know,

that's caught up a bit with him in Los Angeles

with doing things he shouldn't do at his age, having had a stroke.

You know, going out and partying with Jack

and doing, well, I don't know what, but I wouldn't disclose.

Even if I did know I wouldn't tell you.

But all I know is he ended up in hospital,

you know, and he's lucky to be alive.

I mean, Jack actually saved him, I think.

You know, got him to the best hospital and stuff.

But you know, it's typical of Michael, isn't it, you know?

He's had a stroke and he's still going out...

acting like an 18-year-old.

The first time I think he had a stroke,

I remember being in the office

and Miriam taking a call from Celestia Fox.

She said, "I think there's something terribly wrong with Michael."

He couldn't remember anyone's name. He wasn't making much sense.

You know, she was very, very concerned.

And for the next sort of four or five days,

he then came into the office but then he would get lost

sort of between, like, the Ivy and the office,

which was obviously crazy

because he knows the West End of London like the back of his hand.

So we just knew something was wrong

and we were trying to get him to go to the doctor

and he kept saying he didn't want to go

because I think he knew something was wrong

and he didn't want to know what that was.

That was really tough and that was the second time.

And then I think the third time was in LA.

This is the doctor book.

Amazing book.

Yeah. Physio. Speech.

Masseuse - Walter.

Chiropractor. Doctors.

Acupuncture. GPs.

Pilates!

Duke Street. Healer.

Urologist.

How many appointments do you need to have?

-I was very ill.

-Yeah. Wow.

-Very ill.

Dr Khorsandi took people to watch me die.

They thought I was dead.

I was unconscious for six days.

They thought I was dead.

And then you just woke up?

No, I didn't wake up. He woke me up.

Did it feel like you were just having a big dream?

-No.

-No.

-I was in the hospital for three weeks.

-Yeah.

And in this hotel for six weeks.

Ten weeks, it took me.

Yeah.

He had a 1 in 100 chance of surviving an aortic rupture

and...and...he did.

His surgeon said he was incredibly lucky.

And then, you know, he is a bit like a cat with nine lives.

He kind of rebounds.

He's tremendously...physically, I think, strong, and determined.

I felt much better if he came to stay with us

so he stayed with us for about 18 months, till he got, you know,

well again.

We had nurses come and look after him

so we could do it all in-house

and he just had a lovely time in the garden

and you know, he managed to go out, still.

He'd go out a couple of times a week but we'd always give him a curfew

and we were really quite tough on him with his health.

Why do you think he still loves going out so much now?

You know, he's a social butterfly.

He knows absolutely everybody and...

he just loves going out and meeting people

and doesn't want to miss anything.

He's sort of addicted to it, I think.

PHONE RINGS

Hello?

I can't talk. I'll ring you in the morning.

I like going to clubs and I like hanging out with young people

because it stops you being

so "I can only do it one way, this way,

"and if you don't do it that way, it's wrong."

But what is extraordinary is that at the age of 60,

you still have the energy to work as hard as you do

and be out raving or clubbing into the early hours of the morning.

-How do you do it?

-Well, I suppose I'm lucky, in that sense

and I also like the kind of music that's happening at the moment.

But has all of that got anything to do with your own ageing?

It's you fighting against the ageing process?

Possibly. But I've always been like that.

I mean, the Michael now is a shadow of the Michael that was,

partly because of his illness, which he won't admit to.

And I think that's very difficult for him,

the position that he's in now,

and he just tries to hide it. Covers it up.

I don't like "suffered a stroke".

I didn't suffer a stroke.

I don't want these questions.

I don't like these questions.

I don't like the tone of them.

-That's my asthma. I've got asthma bad now.

-Yeah.

HE COUGHS

Hold on.

OK, cool. Let's just take a break.

Michael as a child had such bad asthma

he used to have to go to school to Switzerland on a stretcher

because he'd spent the holidays with his family

and it had got him so worked up.

Michael can't show his feelings.

He's absolutely incapable of showing his feelings,

which is why he surrounds himself with photos,

because photos don't get up and bite back at you.

I'd like to say how guilty I feel