Photoplay (Apr - Sep 1918)

120 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section * lillA JfvL PE RFU M E o) f Personality Half revealing. halfconcealinq. but wholly appealing in its subtle. haunting fragrance, which personalises the user lOcents brings a dainty BEAUTY BOX wttii r...ou. ■anpla, .f AZUREA F.cFImV Sotk.l Powd.r ,~J Po-tum. ""'"LT. Pi vr. «■■■■■ iS.BAEZ SclcA^4>rU S dW Conodo Put Roses in Your Cheeks SOAP A pretty skin — evidence of cleanliness and glowing health — distinguishes all who use Jap Rose Soap. Note how quickly it lathers — its delightful effect on the skin — how clean and fresh you feel. Ideal for shampooing — makes the hair fluffy and glossy. Try it and you'll always prefer it. Sold by most good dealers. Trlrml (~i(f„r. Send 20c for an attractive Week 1 Tiai KJTTer. End Package containing 4 Jap Rosr Miniatures. consi*tin*r of one each of Jap Robc Soap, Talcum Powder. Cold Cream and Toilet water. JAMES S. KIRK & COMPANY, 724 E. Austin Avenue, CHICAGO Your Movie Star pa K were the first to produce postcard photos and photographs of the movie stars and today are the rtfest direct-to-you distributors. Ou 1 acquaintance with the and "over 60) others that _. lor Actual photographs in attractive poBes, .in. <>l :<]l Feature Stars, at SO Get 3 beautiful photos <>f y ' 25c Special at $1.00 for 3. Send a stamp lor sampl card and our list, sent free with all orders. Still of well known stars 10 for $1. Send the names of your favorites, we may have them. FILM PORTRAIT CO.. 127A, 1st Place, Brooklyn, N. Y. DELATONE BEAUTY specialists recommend DEL-A-TONE for quick, safe and sure removal of hair from .inns, link or face. At druggists ; or mailed to your address for $1.00. SHEFFIELD PHARMACAL CO. 339 S. Wabash Ave. Chicago, 111. Dept. GA What Makes Them Cry (Continued from page 56) Gladys Brockwell, another Fox emotional star, believes that music is almost a necessity in dramatic scenes, but she has no preferences. She leaves it to the musicians, — usually a trio, violin, cello and harp, — just so the tempo of the action is maintained. The Universal Company has more musicians on its payroll than any other film producer. It is no unusual occurrence to see as many as four orchestras playing for as many companies on adjacent stages. Nearly all of the Bluebird stars like music for their dramatic scenes, but Mae Murray just can't get along without it. She likes a string quartet, and her favorite weep song is Irving Berlin's "When I Lost You." She also likes our old friend "Melody in F." Then there is a goodly group of players who not only are not affected advantageously by music but are actually annoyed and unable to depict any emotion but peevishness with music on the set. Among the more prominent of these is Blanche Sweet. She is one of the Biograph school of ingenues, taught by Griffith to act without outside assistance. Mae Marsh is another. Both must feel what they are portraying — must actually be the girl they are characterizing, before they can emote — and music bothers them. Either can shed tears by the hour and bucketful without recourse to musical aid, but only when properly directed. Pauline Frederick is another who relies on her director to put her in a frame of mind that will eventually lead to tears. She has the ability to characterize at a moment's notice but when it comes to tears. Miss Frederick pauses. She is of the type that is unaccustomed to tearful indulgences and she has to summon all the emotional sentiment that lies behind the mask of the true artist to bring herself into a crying mood. Marguerite Clark likes music but she hasn't been called upon to shed a tear, for public exhibition, since she became a Famous Player. Not that she cannot, for her stage experience has proven her to be more than just a portrayer of pretty child roles. Billie Burke is another famed actress who is seldom called upon to shed tears but when she does, well, it's some cry. She also likes music but doesn't need it to register deep grief. Well, here wc are with a lot of space filled and the roll far from called in its entirety, but perhaps there's enough to give the reader some sort of idea of what the writer has been trying to get over. Of course, there might be some mention of the "nut director," as Pete Props used to characterize the type, who has to have music to get him in the proper mood for directing, of the musician who was committed to the asylum after attempting to play for the filming of a Doug Fairbanks picture and other unique incidents connected with the text, but they are specific and unusual and not general. So this will be concluded and summed up with the verdict of the little extra girl during the filming of a Pickford cry: "Ain't music just perfectly grand!" Viola Dana's director is her husband — John Hancock Collins. And everybody knows that any husband can make his wife cry. He simply tells her that he isn't going to buy her a new hat this year, or this spring, or whatever the season may be. But this wouldn't work with Viola Dana, because her salary is quite sufficient to provide her with all the millinery she wants. And as they are as happy a couple as you can find in the moving picture colonies of either coast, their relationship has nothing to do with Mr. Collins' success in drawing tears when he needs 'em. If it is a situation which Miss Dana can imagine herself actually experiencing, the tears come of themselves, but if it be one, which it usually is, which she cannot possibly imagine as part of her life, Mr. Collins has her think of something else. For example, Miss Dana started her public career as a child dancer. So Mr. Collins suggests that she think of a poor girl who has suddenly been discovered by a theatrical manager to be a wonderfully graceful dancer. He engages her for a production, and the girl has every reason to expect fame and fortune. As she is leaving her poor home to go to the theatre, the rickety railing of the front porch breaks and she falls, dislocating her ankle. As a matter of fact, one of the biggest tragedies in Viola's rather happy life was her enforced retirement for a few months with a twisted tendon. So the tragedy is real, and the tears come. It's quite simple. THE HOWLING MYSTERY By J. P. McEvoy I know why villains always have Those vicious black mustaches. I know why little heroines Have long and curly lashes, I know why vamps have supple spines And quivah all the while And make you thrill along the keel When they exude a smile. I know why guys that hang around W'hen movie heroes die Doff their hats and shake their heads ( Nobody else knows why) How letters pages long are wrote With just one scrawly stab. How movie trains are engineered From the left hand side of the cab. I know a lot of things about The movie tricks and twirls I know just why the leading men Have cute, ambrosial curls. I know why all the ingenues Have golden locks and sunny, But darned if I can figure out Whv custard D;e is funny. 1 rj .'I'.'iti. rr ni in rnoTorT.AY MAGAZTXE ia pi»i 1