Olivia the charmer who beat Hollywood
Olivia: The Charmer Who Beat Hollywood
By Peter McDonald
There used to be a joke in Hollywood that if white bread could sing, it would sound like Olivia Newton-John. But these days, you don’t hear anyone telling it any more. Much like the virginal Sandy she played in Grease, the Australian-reared pop singer seems to have undergone a metamorphosis that has everyone doing double-takes. Once dismissed by some as the epitome of bland pop, Liv is now a Pied Piper on the way to superstardom, disarming her critics, leaving eager Hollywood moguls in her wake and with teenagers apeing her vampish Grease look.
“I’ve done nothing to change what image people have of me,” she insists with an Aussie twang untouched by five years in Los Angeles. “People always find what they want in a performer. I knew my image would change as people saw something more not something different, but more of me. I’m a novelty at the moment, and I must admit I’m loving it.” Liv is considerably more than a novelty. She has more movie and television offers than she can possibly handle, tours of Japan and Australia later this year and a new album in production which, aides predict, will silence critics of her voice once and for all.
Her only apparent worry is a legal battle to break her ties with MCA records which, if the court rules against her, could knock her out of the American market for as long as four years. But, win or lose, the chief focus of her career will become movies, and despite some mixed reviews for her acting debut in Grease, many critics are convinced she will become the new Julie Andrews or Doris Day. Plans for a sequel to Grease have been scrapped, but producer Allan Carr has already signed her for Riviera, a musical remake of Lili, in which she would play the Leslie Caron role. “I mean, I never thought I’d get to make a movie,” Liv says, gulping at the idea of becoming another Julie or Doris. “Look, I’m not out to prove I’m the world’s greatest actress. I’ve been very lucky. All of a sudden, there is a demand for light, romantic pictures and musicals. My timing has been pretty good.”
It is just this kind of Aussie directness and lack of ego that has helped Liv charm Hollywood where the norm is more Ryan O’Neal’s brashness or Paul Michael Glaser’s glowering introspection. In fact, it was Olivia’s very naturalness that won her the plum role opposite John Travolta in Grease when, at a party, she met Allan Carr who was trying to choose between two established actresses. “She made no impression upon me until she started telling a joke,” Carr remembered. “Suddenly, all this marvellous natural charm began emerging. I told her then: ‘You should be in the movies’.”
One of John Travolta’s associates perhaps summed up Hollywood’s warmth towards her. Denying a romance between them and attempting to explain their relationship, he said: “Look, who wouldn’t be drawn to Olivia?” Amid all the pretentiousness, cynicism and backstabbing of Hollywood, Liv prefers Levis to Gucci, will confess to an interviewer that she can’t wait to get her “wretched” make-up off, and tends to think the best of everyone. “My close friends are those I’ve known a long time,” she has said. “Basically, though, I’m the sort that likes everybody… and I find out later I was wrong.”
While other stars expound endlessly on their virtues and talent, Liv giggles: “People don’t want to hear that you’re nice. But that’s what I am. In fact, I’m pretty boring.” Success has not affected her, neither has wealth, although she lives in a large, rambling home set on four acres of grounds with swimming pool and stables. “I do feel a bit guilty about hiring a cook,” she admits. “But it’s wonderful to be able to ring up home and ask for dinner at 8.30.”
While she insists she has done nothing to change her image, Liv does believe the confidence she has gained in America has allowed her to be more open. When Liv first arrived in America, live audiences terrified her, and she continued as a support act on the club circuit long after she had earned headline status. She finally conquered her insecurity which she blames on being branded “just a pretty singer” for so many years by forcing herself to work the country fair and concert circuit.
“I was terrified of falling over my feet on stage or forgetting the lyrics,” she recalls. “I’d be dying a thousand deaths trying to tell these slick jokes. I was pretty awful. “Then one night on stage I was being myself and doing something dumb, and the audience laughed and applauded. After that, I cut all the rubbish out. Ever since, I just get up there and be myself.” She beamed. “I haven’t looked back once.”