Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Jul 1929)

104 Continued from page 49 In the next scene Mitchell Lewis, filthy, savagelike — her "island benefactor"— glowers threateningly over her, and after vile denunciations, beats her. She crumples to the floor. It is when she raises herself on one arm and, sobs out to him, "Somewhere— I've got a boy — who ought to be as big as you. I'm going to find him one day, and tell him what you've done to me," that one fully realizes Ruth Chatterton is a very excellent emotional actress of wide versatility. Not alone stunningly effective in society drama, and capable of capturing the whimsy of a Barrie fantasy, as she has often done on the stage, but capable, also, of wringing one's heart in drama that throbs with elemental emotions. Her voice is iridescent. Even in ordinary conversation it reflects many colors, so whatever she happens to be talking about takes on the value of something that must be listened to. And it usually is. She is a thoughtful, sensitive type of woman. She is about thirty, but impresses one as being much younger, without being obviously and irritatingly so. There is gayety in her laughter, and she tosses serious and philosophic subjects about with a lightness that is intriguing, yet reflective of the working of a keen, alert mind. Possibly her preeminent quality of spirit is wistfulness. Her dominant qualities of mind are sincerity and idealism, particularly with reference to her work. The Second Madame X Her heritage from the stage is her association for twelve years with that imposing figure of the American theater, Henry Miller. Up to the time of his death, a few years ago, Miss Chatterton had almost steadily appeared with him. . At seventeen she made her New York debut, under his guidance, in "The Rainbow." "Daddy Long Legs" was one of their early successes, and in recent years nothing was more charming than their appearance in "La Tendresse," which Miss Chatterton translated from the French and herself produced. It is not at all unlikely that she will some time soon reenter the production field, playing the heroines of Shaw, Barrie, and Galsworthy, provided, of course, that films do not engage too much of her time. And this, too, is not at all unlikely. "I am terribly, terribly thrilled over them," she said. "Their possibilities are so vast. They will have to combine the best of the stage and the best of the films. That is why I am so enthusiastic. "You know, for a long while — in fact, not until I married Ralph — pictures had no allure for me whatever. It never occurred to me that I might not photograph. I just would have nothing to do with them. I only cared to see them occasionally." This was followed by a merry laugh. "I am thinking," she continued, "of how disdainfully I turned down an offer of $300,000 a year for five years from Mr. Selznick a while back. Then I was all heart and soul in the theater. But that was before the debacle of tawdry plays I was also six years younger ! A few years mellow us, do they not? Mr. Selznick saw me working the other day, and reminded me of the incident." I inquired how she happened to be converted to pictures. "After Ralph and I did 'The Green Hat,' I stayed on, loving California very much and being very happy. Norma Talmadge and I are friends, and one day I went out to watch her work while she was making 'Camille.' Fred Niblo, also an old friend, jollied me into having a test made. Then, for the first time, I became frightened of the movies, and realized that I might be a ghastly failure photographically. "After serious deliberation and numerous pangs of fear, we all finally decided that I make the test. Fortunately, it turned out better than I dared hope. That was my true beginning— and conversion. And here I am, happy, but still a trifle bewildered. I wonder what we will be saying about the present talking films a few years from now ? And I wonder if we will not have to develop almost a new race to be the perfect talking-picture type, as the screen has had its perfect picture types?" Many persons wonder about .this, too. Who knows, maybe Miss Chatterton is one of that new race. Continued from page 65 Brother Julius is now an assistant director at one of the studios in Budapest. Most foreign importations become Americanized through their success on the screen. They live in their theatrical personality. Vilma Banky is one of the few stars who remains divorced from her work when away from it. It is also interesting to recollect that her one-time film partner, Ronald Colman, is of the same fiber. Her sympathies and affections have transformed Vilma into the person she is to-day. Nothing of the studio surrounds her in private life. Even so, she does not try to impress you with her reluctance to glitter. "I don't like show and pose, so why should I assume them?" She could, if she wished, for she is now a star. Yet it is quite evident that stardom has had little effect on her. "The Awakening," her first starring film, was almost prophetic in name. It meant to her that she had achieved success in this country, and She Refuses to Glitter the desire of her life. Also that she had awakened to a new personality — not in any way flamboyant and dazzling, but a new spirit that America instills into most newcomers from other countries — a spirit of self-reliance, fearlessness and alertness. Such things were evident in her acting in this picture. Perhaps it will be more interesting to see Vilma as a Hungarian immigrant, working in New York as a waitress in a restaurant. James Hall was borrowed from Paramount for the young man concerned in "This Is Heaven." As there are to be talking sequences in the film, the topic of course cropped up. "The only thing that is difficult for me right now, is to talk and act at the same time," Vilma said. "When you have worked in pictures for several years, using only your eyes and face and hands, it is difficult to add speech. In fact, you have to stop acting and just talk, for you cannot move about very much. You must remain close to the 'mike.' " I confessed that this was what I found most boring in listening to talking pictures. Also that I had to use more senses than my sight. In any case, Vilma has a beautiful throb in her voice, even if she does speak with an accent. In "This Is Heaven," you will hear it — I mean the throb and the accent — that is, if her voice is well reproduced. In spite of the fact that Samuel Goldwyn has decided to film only stories of everyday life for a while, after his deluge of costume pictures, I think he ought to make a production of "Joan of Arc," and give Vilma Banky the role of the Maid of Orleans. This is only a suggestion, but I herewith call Mr. Goldwyn's attention-to it. "This Is Heaven" is the first picture Vilma Banky has played in which is laid in the United States. Like "The Awakening," the title is again prophetic in connection with Vilma's Americanization. She came here a shy stranger. Of Continued on page 112