The Modern Screen Magazine (Jun-Sep 1931)

Greta Garbo— the woman so closely associated with the expression of love on the screen— has known remarkably few men in her life. Mauritz Stiller, John Gilbert, Nils Asther, Prince Sigmund, and Sorenson. Did she love any of them? This writer tells us. Hollywood by Greta's tales of that amazing colony. And quite possibly by Greta herself. During the months that he spent here he was constantly in her company, and it was apparent that she liked him immensely. Liked, not loved. And so when his passport expired he went back to Sweden and boxes. The prince charming legend subsided like a pricked balloon. And the world was thwarted once more in its attempt to construct a romance for its reigning queen of hearts. But what of Stiller and Gilbert? Surely, you say, one of these two must have quickened love in that inscrutable, secret heart of Garbo's. I do not think so. Even though Garbo fainted at the news of Stiller's death. Even though she once almost eloped with Gilbert. WITH Stiller it was the old Svengali-Trilby story. He was the master, she the pupil. Everyone knows how Stiller forced the Metro-Gold\»yn-Mayer studio, because of their eagerness to secure his directorial genius, to accept his young acolyte also. Everyone knows how Garbo rose to worldfame through her achievements in the studios of Hollywood while Stiller returned defeated and humiliated to die in Sweden. It is already an old wives' tale. Stiller's broken heart was not the result solely of his professional failure. He was jealous, hopelessly jealous of John Gilbert. Gilbert, handsome, young, gallant, could offer Garbo what he, for all his magnificent brain and wise, tender guidance, could never give her. It must have torn his heart to think of the two of them together. The sight of his own plain face must have filled him with an agony of loathing and despair. For the master had fallen in love with the pupil. Garbo respected, admired — -even worshipped Stiller. But she was not in love with him. The shadow of his lonely death still hangs over her, has deepened and pointed her fundamental sadness. And it is doubtless partly because of that shadow that she is unable to surrender her heart completely to any man. SHE holds herself irrevocably and inexcusably accountable. One day a woman friend was visiting her at her home. Garbo insisted upon playing over and over a collection of melancholy Swedish records. "Why do you play that sad music?" asked the friend. "It must depress you frightfully." "Yes," said Garbo. "It reminds me of one I hurt — one I murdered. But that is good — it is right that I should remember." No one else in the world would dream of saying that Garbo killed Mauritz Stiller. No one could possibly hold her responsible that a man died because she did not love him. John Gilbert, too, was doomed to find only unhappiness in his love for Garbo. Garbo was drawn to him — he was her first real friend in America. His spirit of gaiety, his dashing good looks, his obvious infatuation for her, must have created in her at least the illusion of being in love. And yet, in the last analysis, Greta Garbo was not in love with John Gilbert. Once, it is true, he persuaded her to elope with him — but at the last moment she ran awav and fled back to Hollywood alone. The factors which kept Greta Garbo from surrendering to the man who came nearest of any to winning her were three. There was that ever-present shadow of Stiller — Stiller who hated John Gilbert. There was fame — the relentless, avid curiosity of the public and the press which has spoiled so many things for Garbo. A romance with John Gilbert could never be anything other than common property. Any romance of Garbo's would be that — but particularly so if the man happened to be equallv in the limelight, equally the idol of millions. And Gilbert was then riding the crest of his popularity. What chance would those two have had for happiness? Ina Claire found out later the tragedy of (Continued on page 12S >