The educational screen (c1922-c1956])

The Educational Screen you. He is in makeup, but you'd know him anywhere. Heavens; Haven't \ou followed his pictures from theater to theater all over town? Know him! And here he comes right at you! Your breath comes fast, and you discover that your hands are cold, and all the time he's com- ing— Soandso presents you. He smiles, and shakes your clammy hand, and is de- lighted to meet you. So he says, at any rate. You are delighted too, but stricken dumb. Do such people speak the same earthly language as you? It seems so: "Is this your first visit to a studio?" "Yes." "What do you think of it?" You try hard to think of something pro- ound, something epoch-making to say to nis man, or failing that, at least something clever. You say something, but you'll never know what it was. Soandso is hailed by a man in overalls, and darts off without a word of apology. You feel lost; you feel horrible. Here is a world-famous movie star at your side, and you haven't a decent word at your command. He talks in a leisurely way of Califor- nia, its beauty, its climate (inevitable, that!), asks you how long you have been here. You answer mechanically, watching his face. The yellowish makeup gives him an unnatural appearance, fantastic, almost ghostly. A touch of black at the cater corners of the eyes makes them look long and narrow. The eyebrows are hardly touched, but the mouth is brilliantly scarlet, with a little smear at one corner that fas- cinates you. You watch it as he talks— that and his eyes. He has remarkable • ves. Soandso returns and for a few minutes the conversation is three-sided. That is, the other two talk, and you listen. Von find time to wonder if this is really vou. It seems doubtful. "Well," says the star finally, "I must run along." And in a minute or two he does so. After that—well, nothing matters. And so it happens that you find your- self again in the outer office. You recog- nize the place in a vague way; it is so long since you were there. The girl at the desk hardly looks up from her em- broidery. The spring lock snaps, the door opens, and as you step out, slams with a final click behind you. The hum of the lights still sings in your ears, and their purple radiance dances be- fore your eyes as you linger on the pave- ment outside. Your very feet are loath to leave this place. The spell still holds you. Just ahead, you see two women in earnest conversation. You know who they are—have seen them often on the screen You loiter in passing, hoping for a shred of the conversation, a last bit of enchant- ment to carry away with you. This should be worth hearing, and worth repeating at home. Listen! "—and with a little electric hot plate one can get one's, own breakfast. It's much nicer than living in a hotel." Reality wraps itself about you with dis- concerting suddenness. You grin to your- self (or at yourself), and step forward with a brisker air, glancing down the length of the tall fence, brushed by ihe drooping pepper trees. How different it looks! Well, it should—you've been in the movies! Limitations of space have forced the omission of Production Notes, which usually appear in this department. For the same cause, the departments of Among the Magazines and The News Chat have been excluded in this number. This will all reappear in the January issue. \,