Every Inch a Star
In a gated community high above Los Angeles, Tony Curtis is holding court in the foyer of his two-story house in the shady corner of a cul-de-sac. Wearing white shorts and Birkenstocks, he is reclining on the staircase like a prince from one of his early movies. His famous blue eyes peer over spectacles as he simultaneously signs bills, rejects scripts, answers the telephone, and coordinates two assistants, a housekeeper, and sundry deliverymen.