Hollywood (1938)

"P^rt p*^«* Holly wood Magazine's favorite extra reports with unmistakable enthusiasm on Danielle Darrieux and her first American picture By E. J. SM1THSOX ot* *° tf& Dear Editor: Well — you've lived in California and know how it is. The native sons claim the air is almost good enough to eat, but I haven't found it so, although I'm willing to admit that it's very invigorating, and well worth an extra sniff or two providing you have the time and the strength to make the effort. But so far as I'm personally concerned, I haven't been able yet to consider our sun-saturated ozone as food. At least, not the kind I've been accustomed to eat between five and six o'clock and two pretty blondes at Joe's De Luxe Open Air Hamburger Stand, and which I couldn't eat, now, unless I could find a dib or two in my pantaloons since Joe refuses to take markers or let you put it on the cuff. "Pay First — and Then Eat" is Joe's hard and fast rule. Well, there I was with nothing in my pocketbook but a leak! I called up my agent (maybe I forgot to tell you that after working in Professor, Beware, I got myself one of these ten per-centers for no reason at all except that he promised me steady work with only half of his usual cut) and gave him the nudge for a couple of bucks so I could eat and he gave me a turn-down colder than -an old maid's kiss. I could take my pocketbook to a garage, he said, and get it vulcanized. Not only that, but I could take our Lovely Danielle Darrieux is fast becoming the rage of Hollywood. You'll see her first American picture, The Rage of Paris, soon agreement and try peddling it off at Joe's place for a "cuppa coffee anna sandwich" — if Joe was that dumb! Well, it turned out that Joe wasn't that dumb, so it became very clear to me that unless I wanted to eat the wolf at my door I'd better see about landing a job. Extra work, I discovered as soon as I started phoning, was harder to knock off than a rebate on your income tax, and it wasn't until I called up the publicity director at Universal Studios, that I finally promoted a couple of days' honest labor in The Rage of Paris. Believe me, it was a revelation — when shooting of the first sequence began Monday morning. Danielle Darrieux, the French beauty who plays the leading feminine role, was revealing; the polished performance of Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., playing opposite her, was revealing; and lastly, the directorial technique employed by Henry Koster was likewise revealing. Now let me reveal what actually happened. That first sequence was a honey — and I'm not forgetting to put in a good word for the delectable Danielle who is as lovely an eyeful as she is a fine actress. Frank Shaw, the 1st assistant director, and Vaughn Paul, the 2nd assistant director, took me aside after I'd been on the set about ten minutes and patiently told me what I had to do and just how I was to do it and then, after priming me with directions, informed me that I could take it easy since I wasn't to be in the first scene. Which was okay by me since it was about as easy a way to earn my wages as I could hope for. The set represents the luxurious office of a great advertising agency operated by Fairbanks, and when the cameras begin to grind, Danielle, as a lovely, unsophisticated French girl, comes tripping in, starts to undress — and you should have heard the gasps that literally whistled from the throats of the two hundred visitors who stood around. The director says, Cut!" and looks mad enough to toss everybody out on their respective ears, but he thinks better of it, being a kindly man, shrugs his shoulders, smiles a little, and says, "Let's try it again," and a minute or two later, Danielle, looking a trifle nervous, comes tripping in again. Off comes her hat. Off come her gloves. Off come her shoes. Then she slips out of a tight-fitting sweater. Then she slips out of her skirt. Then she slips out of a couple of silky thingamagigs — and I come mighty near slipping off the chair I'm sit hflMVMma