Hollywood (1942)

Record Details:

Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

V * just fired a snowball at Anne Baxter and had sought swift and sure sanctuary behind the protective authority of Welles. "Ready for the next take, Mr. Welles," cameraman Cortez semaphored. "Carry on, Joseph," Welles said. "Well," Cotten picked up, "in a moment of weakness I get tipsy, and in a moment of inspiration I decide to serenade the old girl. I don't do .so well, however. I fall through the bass violin. Isabel is properly disgusted and pays me off by marrying this fellow, Wilbur. I leave ^r "Well, I still love the old girl, it seems, although her husband is still alive, and if that isn't enough of a predicament, her son George falls in love with my Lucy. "Wilbur, the dullard, dies, my attentions to Isabel increase, a scandal breaks over my attentions, and George, the heel, packs his mother off to Europe and doesn't bring her back until she's dying. That's the very scene they're filming. Let's watch." Tim Holt was in the midst of a lengthy plea to his mother who, by the way, was nowhere in sight (that's how things are in that's available. The mighty have fallen, just as is promised in the Bible. Not quite so haughty, and not quite so inhuman, he is on his way home when he is run down by a cheap car. Lucy and I are with him at the end. It isn't the same George. The awakening has come too late." There was a sudden whistling noise followed by a splash. A snowball, the size of a grapefruit, had splattered ka-plop against Mr. Drake's skull. Mr. Drake was scooping up some snow when Welles sauntered up. Orson Welles, master showman, takes pride in uncovering new talent. Two of the leading roles in The Magnificent Ambersons were entrusted to newcomer Anne Baxter and Tim Holt That's real snow you see in the above scene. Welles will allow no faking in his films, so he rented a real ice house for the winter scenes. Anne is the young lady, Joseph Cotten the pensive escort in the carriage Dramatic camera angles are a trademark of the Welles films. Here's an example, in which Dolores Costello worriedly watches her son, handsome young Tim Holt Tim gets his first crack at a really dramatic role in the Ambersons, as arrogant, spoiled George Minafer. Dolores was lured out of retirement by Mr. Welles town in disgrace, not to return for over twenty years. "Meanwhile, a lot has happened. For one thing, I am rich. Furthermore, I've been married, made a widower, and blessed with a daughter, Lucy." "That would be Anne Baxter." "Isabel, wouldn't you know, is not only losing her great fortune but is the mother of a grown son named George, the most arrogant, obnoxious character in town." "That would be Tim Holt." MAY, 1942 Welles productions) when out of nowhere a voice boomed "Cut!" It was Welles who had approached silently and was now entering the door beside which young Holt was standing. "That was bad, Tim," Welles says. "It sounded like the movies. Do it again, please. Only this time don't act." Mr. Cotten resumed: "After Isabel's death, George discovers that the Amberson millions are gone and he takes a job in a nitro-glycerin factory, the only job "Tormenting our little star again, eh Drake?" the Great One said reproachfully. "Supposing you lay off and lead the way to the commissary." "Sure, Boss," Drake said meekly. "Anything to get out of this . blizzard. It's getting in my hair." And they were off, master and man, little Anne following discreetly at a distance until the party was out of the fabulous ice plant masquerading as a sound stage. | 19