Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Jul 1929)

96 Continued from page 19 who does not spread his friendship oyer a great number of people. But those who possess it hold something of value. I have known Gilbert for a long time, and regard his friendship as something worth having. His loyalty to his friends is never found wanting. I like Goudal for her brilliancy, her reasoning powers, and her personality. An interviewer will always get the respect of the occasion from Jetta. Victor Varconi, and his wife, Nusi, and I took a great liking to each other from the first time we met. Our friendship has lasted ever since. If you knew the Varconis you'd understand why. Then the little Gaynor. Janet and I met thousands' of years ago, it seems. I do not often see her, except on the studio set, I do not know her circle of friends ; but I don't think I'm mistaken when I say she likes me for myself— just as I like her. Last but not least, Barry Norton. Perhaps I should say Barry is a distraction, rather than a friend. I knew Barry long before pictures ever revealed him to a host of adoring fans. I like him because he makes me laugh — he is humorous when he Pity the Poor Interviewer wishes to be. And I like any one who can make me laugh. So famous has Barry become that his elder brother, Marcel de Biraben, is now in Hollywood, representing several Argentine magazines and newspapers. He has come just in time to mix up in this new conflict between stars and interviewers. It is sometimes pleasant for a writer to learn that his story has been appreciated. But rarely will the star call him up and say so. Only the players I have mentioned as being my friends have ever thanked me for any piece I have written about them. All except Barry. Barry always upbraids me instead. Often instead of praise the writer receives disapproval. Dorothy Dwan was interviewed by Dorothy Manners, a remarkably clever young scribe. A few months went by, and no mention of the published story was made by Miss Dwan. At a bridge party Miss Manners said, "How did you like your story?" Miss Dwan put down her cigarette, and went on arranging her cards. Finally she said, "Oh, all right. But you need not have mentioned about my smoking so many cigarettes. It's not good for the public to know that." "Ah, there's always something, isn't there?" the Manners admitted, living up to her euphonious name. The Dwan may not like my mentioning her smoking again, but you see I had to point out the moral, or whatever it is. And, again, she should remember that the sensational is said to be the only stuff the fans wish to read. Now, do not think that writers expect cars and lunches when an interview is on the carpet. Far from it. They only expect courtesy. Personally, I always prefer to see the players away from a lunch table. First, because I dislike to see people eat ; second, because I cannot talk and eat at the same time. Say and think what you like, there is a war, silent but sure, existing between the stars and the writers. It is becoming almost impossible to arrange an interview. Appointments are made, but rarely kept. When they are kept, the star is apt to make you feel that you have annoyed by your intrusion. The only thing we need bother to think about is, in what will all this silent conflict end ? The war is on — but which side will emerge victorious? Will the writers be disciplined — or the stars? Continued from page 27 which boasted a cast of stage actors. I suffered by the same comparison I did in 'The Jazz Singer,' and in the two other films. The influx of stage players began to take the places of players, myself included, who weren't considered up to par on the Vitaphone." May looked up in time to say "Hello" to Bebe Daniels, who had just entered the restaurant and was seated at a table near us. We talked for a minute of Bebe's cleverness, and how she had sacrificed her dramatic ability for years to make money for Paramount in comedies. After the advent of the talkies they allowed her contract to lapse. "How do they know Bebe wouldn't have been good in dialogue pictures? They didn't give her a chance to test herself before the public. Hollywood is in a perfect uproar of excitement, and I think many mistakes are being made. The funny part of it is that many stage-trained voices do not record at all. But the studios and the critics seem to forgive them, for the mere reason that they should sound well. 'If the stage actors can't make the grade, who can?' is their attitude. "Personally, I don't believe the cultivated voice, with its broad vowels, Pioneer's Luck will be as effective in the long run as the natural voice. We all have a voice that goes with our physical make-up. "I don't want to train my voice. Even in the face of my critics, I want it to remain natural. But I would have liked the opportunity to learn spacing, timing of speech, and expression, before I was held up as the untrained example." From the very start of her career, the movies must have kept May wondering. Wondering what their strange ups and downs would eventually lead to. Five years ago she stood in the position of Janet Gaynor. With fair breaks, she might have been where Janet is now. First, there is her delicate beauty, that for sheer perfection of feature is barely equaled in Hollywood. Moreover, it was, and is, a camera beauty, which is not always true of fine features. To top everything, she can act, as was proved so appealingly in "Sentimental Tommy." The girl had everything that spells stardom. So she was> starred. The great mistake was when her company tried to make a moneymaker out of a personality that needed more care and attention than a run of program pictures. She was cast carelessly in roles that any pretty extra could have filled, and her peculiar talents were allowed to waste on the desert air of mediocrity. The starring contract was permitted to lapse. May became a featured player, leading woman to the virile he-men of the screen. This was no more her field than was the discarded stardom. But the company, realizing her charm and talent, clung to her, though they had no conception as to what should be done with her. In time the puzzle wore them out. May became a free-lance player. Nothing came along from the independents to frame her delicacy. "Seventh Heaven" went to another girl. "The Shopworn Angel" featured a new face from Broadway. Both were roles that would have made May. Bad breaks — bad luck all along, almost from the start of her career. Included among them may be considered her Vitaphone experience. It has done May no good, that pioneering work in the talkies. But maybe when the hysterical colony settles back to normal, the little McAvoy girl will find herself again with the big chance that has always lurked just around the corner of her career. Pioneers are not without their glory, ever !