Hollywood (1942)

■ The coveted title of "nice girl" is now available over at Twentieth CenturyFox. It has been freshly vacated by Brenda Joyce who hopes it doesn't happen to her mortal enemy, if any. Catapulted into fame and stardom as the result of her very first role in The Rains Came, the ex-title-holder has watched her career toboggan as close to the bottom as a career ever could. Brenda reigned as the studio's "nice girl" for almost three years. And nice girls in the picture business are their own enemies, especially when they're as nice as our Brenda. Brenda happens to own one of the most perfect figures on the Twentieth CenturyFox lot. But, mark you, when the competitions come up and the best figure in Hollywood is being chosen, her name isn't even entered. With the result that the name of Betty Grable IS entered, said lady walking away with the trophy. The plain truth is that up until recently Brenda Joyce has been quite unaware of her "figger." Consequently, she has never stressed it. Ditto the T.C.-F. publicity boys who have made the Grable curves as familiar as the Grand Canyon — with Betty's hearty co-operation. The Joyce lady's upbringing has been a handicap to her almost from the day she signed her contract. Brought up not only to respect but to protect the rights of others, she assumed that the principle worked both ways. She joined the ranks of the T.C.-F. glamour girls firmly convinced that "if I show up on the set well made up, my hair in order, my gown wellfitted, my lines memorized, and a cordial greeting for everyone, I've done all that's expected of me." So in the wake of The Rains Came she was cast in a picture with one of the studio's top dispensers of sex appeal whose part, by the way, was less important than our Brenda's. But that isn't how it came out on film. Miss S. A. went a little further than our Brenda. Instead of just "Good morning," Miss S. A. discovered what kind of beer the gentleman liked and kept a case on ice in her dressing room. Result: in the scenes where Brenda and the electric one played together, Brenda found herself standing in a dimly-lighted corner while the other girl got all the lights. You'd think that that would have put Brenda wise. But it didn't. A few months later a new glamour girl "was put under contract. And once more Brenda's nice-girl instincts came to the fore. She had noticed that twice in a row the new arrival had eaten lunch by herself, and, furthermore, that she looked lonely sitting there alone, the caste system being what it is in Hollywood. So Brenda made a speedy gesture of friendship. She walked over, introduced herself, and chatted a while with the newcomer. She even went so far as to suggest that the two get together for a tennis game. Meanwhile, Miss Just Arrived wasn't even listening. She was looking over Brenda Joyce's shoulder at a studio big shot who was heading toward the table to chat with Brenda. Brenda was still talking and wishing Miss S. A. all kinds of success when the cunning little cupcake got up, smiled sweetly at the executive (who normally would never have noticed her) , maneuvered herself into an introduction, and engaged him in conversation. It never dawned on Brenda that the girl had no intention of playing tennis with her or even of being friendly. Younger than Brenda by two years, she was up to the fact that glamour girls are competitors and the devil take the hindmost. This same nice-girl complex has bobbed up in other ways to stymie her career. For one thing, it has taken her three years to learn what with most career girls is second-nature: the value and manufacture of publicity. She had only to say "yes" and those Zanuck publicity boys would have trumped up some publicity romance that would have sent her boxoffice rating sky high. But she never gave them the go-ahead signal. In fact, she confined her dates almost exclusively to Owen Ward, her high school sweetheart, which made things kind of difficult for the publicity boys. When she married Owen Ward and settled down to a quiet life as the wife of a $250-a-month accountant, she all but disappeared from print. Too, she never quite got around to mastering the art of pushing herself, although every other girl on the lot had. As a result the other girls got the good parts, while Brenda got the left-overs. But all that is past history. With the emergence of the new Joyce in Right To The Heart, the Joyce who is wise to herself, 1942 will witness a boom in her stock, a faith shared by Darryl Zanuck, himself. For years she has been telling Fox executives that she could sing. They all smiled very paternally, remarked "How nice! "and changed \ the subject. On the heels of her abdication of the "nice-girl" title, she has decided to use direct action. She will spend six weeks getting her voice into top form, after which she will make a series of records, classical, semiclassical, pop, and even jitterbug to show the boys what she means. At her own expense. Furthermore, she has quit waiting around for parts to come to her and is going out after them. She is reading every best-seller that comes along. She is making friends right and left with producers on the lot. And she is keeping her ear to the ground. As for the Joyce figure, at long last it is coming into its own. Hallowe'en night when she made one of her rare tours of the Ciro circuit, the photographers didn't recognize her. They exploded flashlight bulbs at her from Ciro's to the Scheherezade. Mr. Zanuck's cote of glamour girls would do well to look to their defenses. Brenda is tired of being nice. She is going to be wicked, but good. | 21