Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1939)

SUB-DEB LIPSTICK The blonde girl was impatient now. Her case was so nearly finished — "Listen," she said scornfully. "Could you keep on being in love with a name, a photograph, a voice on long-distance? Could you tie yourself down to as little as that? Remember last Christmas — and all the big plans about Herbie coming out here to be with her. Something turned up, just as it always did, and he couldn't make it. And Dottie sat there in that new little house with the Christmas tree and the presents — I can see her now. She was crying. She said, 'I've looked forward all year to the holidays. Now he can't come after all. I've never in my whole life had a happy Christmas — but this was to be the first.' " The blonde girl paused to light a cigarette hurriedly, waving her free hand to signify she wasn't finished. "And then the final straw, this spring. Herb signed at the St. Francis, up in Frisco. Dottie was going to fly up and stay with him. So what happened? So her show moved to New York just then for two broadcasts and, according to her contract, she had to go along. It was the end, that's all. Herbie must just have told her to make up her mind, that he couldn't give everything up to come here and be Mr. Lamour and that she'd have to choose between him and her job. It always comes to that. She chose. Or she quibbled so long he gave up and filed that divorce on desertion grounds." She was finished now, the blonde girl. She relaxed, sighed, reached for her cocktail. And there was no dissenting voice, nor any further argument. The assembly was convinced. "That's the way it goes," someone said, adding a note of philosophy to the buried topic of Dorothy Lamour 's ruined marriage. "But I still think," persisted the woman who thought it might have worked, "that it's a shame." • If you want lips of siren softness . . . lips as smooth as satin ... choose your lipstick wisely. Don't risk a lipstick that may dry or roughen your lips. Coty "Sub-Deb" Lipstick does double duty. It gives your lips warm, ardent, exciting color. But — it also helps to protect lips from lipstick parching. This Coty benefit is partly due to "Theobroma." Eight drops of this softening ingredient go into every "Sub-Deb" Lipstick. In seven fashion-setting shades; 50<? or $1.00. For an "Air-Spun" Make-up . . . use Coty Lipstick with "Air-Spun" Rouge and "AirSpun" Face Powder. Textures blend magically. The colors of your skin, cheeks and lips harmonize, as Nature intended! Boos and Bouquets Eight drop* of "Theobroma" go into every "Sub-Deb" Lipstick. That's how Coty guards against lipstick parchine. lady is crazy, saying Friday and Saturday and Sunday nights I kept the other roomers awake with a muffled sound like crying. Say, if you suffered from a toothache like I did, you'd cry, too. Honest, I hurt all over. But not about no guy named Nelson. Not me. Julie Sherman, Chicago, 111. LONG-FELT WANT BREATHES there a gal with soul so dead She never to herself hath said — Thanks, Deanna Durbin, Judy Garland, Bonita Granville, Marcia Mae Jones and others, for tips to the teens on 'How to Wear Clothes and Influence People' "? Not only do we owe you fellow "in-betweens" thanks for showing us how to wear clothes, but what to wear, when to wear it, how to comb our hair to keep it from looking like Old Man Hicks' haystack, or whether younger sets wear fingernails like old Dobbin's toenails or the Carole Lombard digits. Let me recall that, before the Reign of the Adolescents, there was a primitive idea — at least in many small towns — that the minute we girls graduated from the cradle, we were ready for skirts like Ma's, hair-do's like Aunt Frizzle's bangs, and make-up like the village vamp's — the latter making us all look like "Angels with Dirty Faces" and the former, inexpressible! The appearances of these young girls in the cinema industry have not only enlightened us small-town girls so that there need be no such thing as a "hick" any more, but have proved to us and our elders that we look better when clad in clothes to suit our own age, and these d la modern. Maxine Bellew, Lexington, Neb. Here's one reader we know is going to get an extra-special thrill out of "Young Fry Society" on page 24 of this issue! (Not to mention the Deanna Durbin Fashion Letter on page 76/) ENGLAND TOSSES A FEW BOUQUETS NEVER having visited America, but having seen a great number of your films, I now feel as if I have approached the New York harbour on a liner and seen the Statue of Liberty with its hand in air, New York with its slums, the children in the streets, the overcrowded tenement houses, the subway, and the streetcars. Main street, Broadway, the lights and the traffic, Park Avenue — I know them all. (Continued from page 8) Washington, the White House, Philadelphia with its colleges, and the smaller towns with their tree-lined avenues and Hardys and Joneses. All these are familiar scenes to me, and all on account of the wonderful way in which they are brought to us on the screen. I often wonder if our British films help make the American public acquainted with our different towns and people. I doubt this, for what I have seen of British films has usually left a poor impression of exaggerated characters, either speaking with a plum in their mouths, or with cap on side and scarf tied on neck, speaking with an appalling accent supposedly "cockney." I would doff my hat to all the American producers for giving us the hills 'way out West, California, the sidewalks of New York, the good and the bad, gangsters and national heroes, and making me love the Americans as if they were my own countrymen. Thank you, America. Sandra Sadie Lewis, London, England. I HE cinema, as you probably know, has to contend, especially in this rather archaic country, with biased and stupid criticisms. This being so, I find it most interesting to record that, through the extremely trying time that Europe is now passing, the people of the Old World seem to be flocking to the cinema in larger numbers than ever before. Here, for a while, they forget the horrors abounding in Central Europe. They enter the theater, jaded and dazed with sensation piled upon sensation and, for a while, enter into a make-believe world free from the expectations of war. If only for this very valuable humanitarian reason, I feel that the worth of the cinema is proved beyond prejudiced spite and, by reason of its far greater possibilities, is immeasurably superior to the theater. How often have I heard people in the past few months wish that they dwelt in the distant safety of America, with the soothing urbanities of its modern civilization, blessed by its cinema, that crystallization of the hopes and desires of everyone for freedom, romance and adventure. And so, to the motion-picture industry I, and millions more, express grateful thanks. John A. Petty, Walsall, Staffordshire, England. —BUT ENGLAND ALSO BOOS hi LOVE the little trade which thou hast learned, and be content therewith." But how many film stars are content with such a course? Robert Montgomery, a brilliant light comedian, hankered after tragedy, and "Night Must Fall" proved a commercial failure. George Raft desired to be a sjTnpathetic saint in pictures and has practically disappeared from the screen. And now we hear of Sonja Heme's ambition to become a dramatic actress, her superb skating consigned to the limbo of forgotten things. Carole Lombard making a "weepie" and Akim Tamiroff frolicking as a comedian. I quite understand the reluctance of film players to become "typed," but the frenzied leaping from comedy to tragedy shown by certain actors reminds me of the small boy who insisted on playing every part, including Henry VIII, Wolsey, Anne Boleyn and the executioner. He ended up by saying a prayer to his ambitious self as he cut off his own head. Peter Gordon, London, England. MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE HE'S IN LOVE? nLL the bouquets in the world to Don Ameche, Sonja Henie, Cesar Romero, Annabella, Loretta Young and all the other stars who came to the Treasure Island premiere of "Alexander Graham Bell." They were one fine troupe of stars, smiling to all their fans and letting us see what really fine people they are. Don Ameche and Sonja Henie are to receive extra bouquets for being the most jovial of the group. They smile so naturally; they really make you feel like one of their close friends. Now, I'm sorry that I can't include Tyrone Power in the above. I was really disappointed in my screen king. Everyone has had his Clark Gables, Robert Taylors, but mine was always Tyrone Power — and still is, though I've suffered a bitter disappointment. Why, the poor fellow never smiled once that I could see. I thought that perhaps he was shy, for he did sort of hide behind Annabella. Then, perhaps, I thought he was scared. But scared of what? The only reason I could think of was that he was afraid that San Francisco women would tear him apart as the South American women almost did. I really can't figure it out. Was he shy? Was he afraid of San Francisco women? Didn't he like Treasure Island or San Francisco? Or was he disgusted because Don Ameche got the greatest ovation, and couldn't take it? I wish I knew. Perhaps you other readers know. Won't someone add something to this criticism? A Power Fan, San Francisco, Calif. 82 PHOTOPLAY