What I Learned From Dean Tavoularis, Legendary Production Designer
Francis Ford Coppola, Vittorio Storaro and Dean Tavoularis in a scene from 'Apocalypse Now.'
Chas Gerretsen
-
Share on Facebook
-
Share on X
-
Google Preferred
-
Share to Flipboard
-
Show additional share options
-
Share on LinkedIn
-
Share on Pinterest
-
Share on Reddit
-
Share on Tumblr
-
Share on Whats App
-
Send an Email
-
Print the Article
-
Post a Comment
It’s rare that a film artisan attains such a level of craft that they wind up becoming an artist themselves. It’s even rarer that you get to spend hours and hours sitting by that artist’s side, learning firsthand how he pulled off all that movie magic over the years.
In the case of legendary production designer Dean Tavoularis, who died Thursday at the age of 93, I had the privilege of doing just that: talking at length with Dean about his remarkable life and career, which began with his childhood as the son of Greek immigrants during the Great Depression; shifted through World War II and into the 1950s when he was a budding animator, and then an assistant art director, at Walt Disney (sometimes working with the chain-smoking Walt Disney himself); and reached its apex a decade or so later when he designed masterpieces like Bonnie and Clyde, The Godfather trilogy and Apocalypse Now.
Related Stories
Movies
Dean Tavoularis, Production Designer on the 'Godfather' Films and 'Apocalypse Now,' Dies at 93
Book Excerpt
No One Ever Dominated the Oscars Like Francis Ford Coppola in 1975
Our talks culminated in a book that delves into those films, plus many others, in great detail, mixing Dean’s reflections with those of his most famous collaborators: Francis Ford Coppola, Warren Beatty, the cinematographer Vittorio Storaro and the costume designer Milena Canonero, all of whom held Dean in the highest esteem.
Rather than simply rehashing our discussions here, I thought I could offer up other reflections that aren’t necessarily in the book — things culled from talks that continued well after the book was published, until just a few weeks ago, actually.
I first saw Dean in 2020, after he had sold his gorgeous house in Hancock Park and moved permanently to Paris with his wife, the actress Aurore Clément, whom he had met on the set of Apocalypse Now. At the time, I pitched him the idea of doing a short interview for the French magazine So Film. A few weeks later, and after spending less than an hour talking with him for the article, I called my publisher David Frenkel and told him we had a new book project. He immediately agreed and we started the next week.
Our extended conversations took place in a ground-floor apartment, nestled away in the calm and residential 17th arrondissement, which Dean had converted into an artist’s studio after working on his final film, Roman Polanski’s Carnage — a movie that takes place entirely in a Brooklyn condo that Dean masterfully recreated on a soundstage outside of Paris.
To give you one idea of how obsessive he could be about detail, all the furnishings on the Carnage set, down to every single doorknob, light fixture and electrical outlet, were shipped over from the U.S. and installed by the art department. The appliances, which were shipped in as well, only worked on an American-compatible circuit, so Dean had the entire set rewired to accommodate that. This was all because of one scene in which the Jodie Foster character might or might not use a hairdryer in the bathroom.
Dean told me tidbits like this as we sat together for months in his studio, surrounded by tubes of paint, jars of turpentine, brushes, canvases, all kinds of masking tape that he used for his collages and, typically, a bottle of scotch and a bucket of ice. “I’m living the dream I had when I was in my teens: painting my days away in a studio in Paris,” Dean said between sips of whiskey. He was already in his late 80s and still going strong.
When he answered questions about his work, he thought carefully about what he was saying; every word seemed to count. He usually had a single strong idea in mind and then carried it through till the end. This, I learned, was also the way Dean approached his craft.
Dean Tavoularis on the set of William Friedkin’s The Brink’s Job.
Josh Weiner
It’s what allowed him to hold fast during the insane two-year production of Apocalypse Now, when, among many other crazy things, colossal sets that took months to build were destroyed by one of the biggest typhoons in the history of the Philippines and had to be built all over again. It’s what allowed him to resist Paramount’s insistence on shooting the first Godfather movie on their backlot, or in St. Louis of all places, rather than on the streets of New York as Dean and Coppola wanted — and finally achieved. It’s what allowed him to design the dizzying Las Vegas strip of One From the Heart, which took