Hollywood (1938)

ting on! I'll confess that I don't know much about acting, but I doubt very much if there are many American actresses who could have done this scene as splendidly as did Danielle. I doubt very much if there will be much of this disrobing act in the finished film, but I'll say this — if there is, neither the Mr. Pecksniffs nor the Mrs. Grundys will find occasion to take offense. The whole thing was done with a delicacy and charm happily combined. The "how ccme" of this clothes-shucking business was explained to me by Vaughn Paul, the 2nd assistant director. Danielle plays a girl stranded in New York who becomes desperate when a Model Agency refuses her work. From a clerk's desk she grabs a slip of paper bearing the address of an artist who has requested a girl to pose in the nude, and with this paper in her hand she dashes from the building. Unaware that in her haste she has taken the wrong address, Danielle goes to the office of James Trevor (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.,) and timidly starts to disrobe. This takes us right up to the point where she starts pulling off her stockings and right up to the time when Trevor enters and lets cut a yell (but not until he takes a good, long look at Danielle) that he's being compromised, and that she's trying her lovely best to trick him. Well, you can imagine Danielle's embarrassment! Sans hat, sans gloves, sans shoes, sweater, skirt, and stockings, she finally realizes her terrible error, somehow manages to fling on her duds, and then flees in tears. Director Koster says, "Cut!", and smiles as though Santa Claus had just paid him a visit. ■ After the cameras stopped turning, Danielle borrowed a cigarette from her husband, Henry Decoin, put on a blue dressing gown, and came over to where I was and said: "I was very nervous that time, but I can do better. You watch." Director Koster, who, with her husband, used to write screen plays for her in Europe, spoke to her in French. When he was through with his parlez vousing she smiled and then said very emphatically: "No! I speak English!" The dainty little French girl not only speaks English fluently, but must possess a camera mind. And Til give you an example. Bruce Manning, who, with Felix Jackson, collaborated on The Rage of Paris script, wasn't satisfied with the dialogue of the sequence that was to follow and neither was Director Koster so, whils the lights were being arranged, Bruce jumped to his typewriter, rewrote two full pages of dialogue, handed Danielle her copies and believe it or not just as you chose, it wasn't five minutes before she had every word down pat and was leady to rehearse! And nary a single prompting did she have to have from either Manning or the director! The next scene was where I was supposed to earn my money, but didn't, due to another quick and clever rewrite by Scripter Manning; but being eased out of the film made no -never -mind with me because by now Id rather watch Danielle than go through with my awkward motions of trying to be an actor. When Director Koster said, "We're turning 'em," again, we were on a set representing the bedroom of Trevor's mountain lodge and Danielle, looking as pretty as you please and maybe prettier, was in Trevor's bed telling him that she isn't as "bad" a girl as he thinks. It's a tender, pathetic, tear-jerking little speech that finally gets under Trevor's skin and he admits that he believes every blessed word she says. This scene didn't go so well for some leason and Koster, who has the happy faculty of keeping the cast in good humor, kept blaming himself for the mishaps that necessitated the eight "takes." Doug, not to be outdone, kept walking around while he muttered "ham" to himself, and Danielle kept pretty close to her handsome husband, who kept patting her hand while he consoled her in whispered French. When the ninth "take" won a "print it!" order from the director everybody patted everybody else on the back. ■ When the hired hands were called for lunch that first day only two were fast enough to beat me to the studio commissary. Gordon Clark, standin for Fairbanks, was one; and Frances Hayden, stand-in for Danielle, was the ether. And both very interesting youngsters, by the way. Gordon could easily be mistaken for an identical twin. He looks like Doug, little moustache and all, he talks like him and displays all of the mannerisms of the talented actor. He was born in New York state but has spent most of his life abroad where he has been very active in the theatre. He springs from the Von Thranes, for more than 400 years a family of the nobility in Denmark and he could, if he so wished, tack on the title of "Baron" to his name. "The family dropped all titles seventy-five years ago," he says. Gordon has appeared in a number of French films and came here primarily to study our modern studio methods which he plans on applying abroad when he goes into the business of producing foreign films. He was visiting the Selznick studio while The Prisoner of Zenda was being filmed and there met Fairbanks whom he had known previously in England. More in jest than anything else, Doug suggested that he stay and act as his stand-in and Gordon agreed. H Frances Hayden, as pretty and as wholesome a little trick as one could ever wish to gaze upon and who will go places once she is given a start, was a child actress from the age of two until six. Her mother is a famous character actress and her father, Frank Richardson, worked as assistant director for Fairbanks, Sr. Richardson has been making pictures in England for the past eight years and is regarded as one of the top men in his field by our over-seas cousins. Well — the gabfest went on and on and the only sour note that sounded from soup to nuts was when I said The Rage oj Paris had all the signs and portents of being another of those semi-slap-stick comedies. It took Frances to "mow me down" on that one. ■ "The Rage of Paris is definitely NOT a slap-stick comedy," she informed me. "On the contrary it's a gay, romantic, adventure story — and you're going to see the difference when it's released. You see, it's this way — "Musette — that's Danielle — is stranded in New York and she's alone, penniless, and very hungry and when the Model Agency refuses to give her a job she becomes desperate. In the first scene this morning you saw what happened. "A casual acquaintance, Gloria— played by Helen Broderick — sees a chance to make some money in the unspoiled Musette and she persuades a guy named Mike — played by Mischa Auer — to sell his cafe and back her scheme to land a wealthy hubby for Musette. Mike agrees and the three of them move into a fashionable suite at the Waldorf-Astoria. Gloria poses as Musette's aunt, and Mike becomes "The Count." His job is to make violent love to the girl so that eligible millionaires will become interested in her. She is introduced as "The Rage of Paris," in this country so that European ncblemen will stop killing each other over her. "Musette soon becomes a sensation in New York. Bill Duncan, young, wealthy and of good family, seeks to marry her. but her heart is filled with dreams of James Trevor who is always popping up at odd moments and threatening to expose her. He warns Bill about her and Bill smacks him on the jaw for his trouble To save his friend Trevor kidnaps Musette and takes her to his mountain lodge. You saw that scene this morning, too Musette, after telling Trevor all about herself, runs away and returns home Back in her own little nest she gives friend Bill the air, packs up her bags and disappears. Trevor discovers that she is working in a gown shop, goes to the shop and orders a wedding gown demanding that it be modeled on the girl. When she appears he leads her out into Fifth Avenue where, wedding gown and all, they walk up the street and head for a church, wedding bells and rice." After this recital there was nothing to do but agree with Frances about the type of story. It certainly wasn't a slapstick and it did look like a gay romance. Well — I'm eating at Joe's De Luxe. Cpen Air Hamburger again between five and six o'clock and the two pretty blondes. I was on The Rage of Paris two days and unless they shot me when I wasn't looking, I wasn't in a foot of celluloid! There were times when I thought I would be but ever so often Director Koster and Bruce Manning would take the script, give the scenes I was scheduled to appear in a swift rewrite and I'd find myself crowding up to Joe Valentine, the cameraman. I remember Joe saying "Thank God!" when I told him I was through. Maybe you'll say the same thing when you reach this last line. 21