Glamour of Hollywood (Apr 1939 - May 1941 (assorted issues))

78 DOUBLE-DUTY DUDS Plaid topcoat that’s casual enough to wear over country suits — swank enough to throw across the shoulders of town clothes. It’s made of Dexter exclusive wool plaid in clear, bright color com¬ binations. $18. Marshall Field, Chicago Fuzzy-wuzzy jacket so simply cut that you can wear it equally well with either day or evening clothes. Comes in Sidney Blumenthal’s worsted wool — protection against cool Spring weather. White only. This is under $20. At Best’s, New York Military coat to make you smart as an officer, rain or shine. Note epaulettes and large dispatch pockets. It’s the “Regimental Girl” of cotton gabardine, “Weather-sealed” by Impregnole. Found for $7.95. At B. Altman in New York NORTH STAR (Continued from page 43) of Mrs. Ruth Roberts, a language coach who drilled the fundamental euphonies of English into her in record time. The re¬ sult, despite the fact that Ingrid resembles her in no other way, sounds something like Garbo. But where Garbo’s voice is tor¬ tured with overtones of tragedy, Bergman’s is musical and wholesome (a word gen¬ erally describing unattractive girls but used here in its pristine sense). If it were possible for such a thing to happen in Hollywood, Bergman made “Intermezzo” un-noticed and then slipped hack to Sweden before the picture was released. After its release Selznick’s star was a secret no longer. The immediate effect was for Vinton Freedley to offer her the role of Julie, the compassionate, bullied slavey in the Broadway production of “Liliom.” Ingrid said fine, but everything had to wait until she could return to Sweden, see her hus¬ band and come back with her baby. If war was going to engulf her native land, she wanted to be sure that her daugh¬ ter was well out of it. Once in rehearsal for “Liliom” she found the lan¬ guage difficulties infinitely greater. She could learn her part in the movies and give it in reasonably short “takes,” but a stage performance called for an evening’s sustained flow of English. “Liliom,” for reasons which drama critics have been unable to fathom, has taken on the dignity of a classic. Actresses regard the role of J ulie as though it were Juliet. For Ingrid to do the part and fail might brand her as a shallow actress trying something beyond her depth. Then, in addition to every other hazard, Ingrid missed the prompter’s box, long obsolete on the American stage, but which no Swedish production would be without. The stage manager prompts in the Ameri¬ can theater — if he isn’t too busy fussing with the light men. “AI wass fry-tened to death I woot for get my worts,” Ingrid admitted. And well she might be. A native actress can always ad lib until she gets her cue. But if Ingrid muffed her lines she’d be left high and dry to extemporize in a foreign tongue. She didn’t muff her lines — or her opportunity. “Liliom” was a complete per¬ sonal triumph and fulfilled all the promise she showed when she wrote, directed and acted in her own play at the age of fifteen. She stole “Liliom” right from under the competent nose of Burgess Meredith, prov¬ ing her own theory that in the theater an actress has a better chance to dominate the scene than in a picture where she is at the mercy of the director and film cutter. The secret of the Bergman charm — if it is a secret — is the fun she has doing things. Acting is serious work for her — there’s nothing dilettantish about her ap¬ proach — but the exuberant kick she gets out of it communicates itself to camera¬ men, director, grips, everyone on the set. THE first job she ever held, when she was fifteen and still going to school, was as an extra in a Swedish film being made just outside Stockholm. She worked the whole day as in a dream. That night the studio phoned her at home. Her heart did a rapid flip-flop, with the thought that per¬ haps the director had spotted her and she was on her way towards stardom. But it was only the accounting de¬ partment which wanted to know why she hadn’t col¬ lected her ten kronen ($2.50) for the day. She'd had such a good time, she explained, that getting paid for such work seemed inconceivable. Ingrid wentthrough dramatic and secondary school (the equivalent of an American fin¬ ishing school) before going back into the movies. Then she played in twelve films (she didn't star in any of them except "Intermezzo”) before coming to America. Learning to play the piano was also part of her education — today she plays extremely well. Selznick was delighted when he could shoot the piano-playing scenes in “Intermezzo” from all angles in¬ stead of over the top of the keyboard — the usual way of not showing the hands and avoiding conflict with the dubbed-in music. The result was so pleasant — it was Ingrid’s music you heard on the sound track — neither Columbia nor M-G-M could resist sticking her in front of a baby grand and showing her off in their pictures. Working in Hollywood she is con¬ stantly amazed by the prodigality of the studios and the unlimited resources at their command. She observed that a shooting crew here comprises forty people; in a Swedish production the usual number is eight. As a result, Swedish producers have to use more ingenuity. “If Hollywood want¬ ed a shower of sixteen-karat rubies,” she said, “they woot (Continued on page 83)