Hollywood Spectator (1931)

August 29, 1931 7 and I thought of what Carr had written. To-morrow it will be hot and I will go to town attired for a day of discomfort because I can not patrol Hollywood Boulevard as I have the beach. Yesterday on the golf course I saw a young giant, burnt bronze to the waist, playing along the next fairway with his shirt dangling from his trousers’ top. I wish I were as brave. Dress reform is on the way. It will be the next manifestation of the growing common sense of the human race. It will progress so rapidly that golfers wearing only a coat of tan from the waist up, will be a usual sight on fairways and greens in a year or two. Why not? Is there a single sensible argument that can be advanced against it? There is nothing physical about modesty. It simply is a state of mind, a concession to a convention that decrees that no man is entitled to a maximum of comfort; a symbol of his cowardice, evidence of his enslavement by the dictates of society. Let society undress itself and run around naked and it would cease to be novel after the first day. ▼▼I AM NOT a nudist. Perish the thought! But I do believe that I am a semi-nudist. The saving grace of my trunks kept me from being abashed to-night by the calm regard of the wise old moon, but my indifference to the braver breakers that came far enough up the beach to embrace my legs, and the caress of my upper body by the night’s gentle breeze gave me a sense of physical exhiliration that acted as a stimulant to a feeling of utter freedom that made me shed my years and want to sing. Women, always more sensible than men in the matter of dress, are draping their legs in wide-flowing pajamas that give them a grace they have lacked since we’ve seen their knees. It is the beginning of the end of skirts, the first step in the emancipation of our wives and daughters. It will restore the ankle’s power to thrill us and give back to man the ability to imagine graces that garments cover. For women it will provide freedom and comfort that heretofore they have lacked the courage to acquire. And it will make them beautiful. That is the real reason the era of pajamas is upon us. The more woman revealed herself, the more uninteresting she became. Now she is going to cover herself again and her power to intrigue us will increase. We Win a Ham npHE NIGHT was hot — it was four weeks ago — I had had eighteen holes of golf and two swims during the day, and I wanted to stay home, but I was away behind with my picture reviewing, and being the slave of you people who read the Spectator , I reluctantly left my porch by the moonlit sea and went to the nearest picture house that was showing something I hadn’t seen. I took with me Mrs. Spectator, with whom I’ve been going places and seeing things for the past quarter of a century. She’s a patient soul. The feature was Night Angel, written and directed at the Paramount eastern studio by Edmund Goulding and starring Nancy Carroll and Fredric March. I knew it was a pretty weak sister, for I had read many reviews which said so, and it has done rather poorly at the box-office. I herewith wish to quarrel violently with all the critics who found any except the most trivial faults with Eddie’s picture. In spite of my rebellious mood, I found it to be an intriguing bit of entertainment. And Mrs. Spectator agreed with me. We felt so good after viewing it that we put a dime on a number at an Ocean Park pier and won a ham. That made the evening complete, and we topped it off with a moonlight swim when we got home. ^ ^ The FEATURE of Night Angel that we enjoyed most was the fine direction accorded it by Goulding. It is crowded with expert touches that distinguish his work when he is thinking about what he is doing. His first love scene with Nancy and Freddie is directed and acted beautifully. Nancy and Phoebe Foster have a scene that is full of story value, but in which not a word is spoken, another superb example of directing and acting. There are many other silent stretches, all of which are pure cinema, their values stressed by musical accompaniments. Goulding distinguishes himself again by the manner in which he wrote and directed a trial sequence. Nancy Carroll gives her evidence dramatically, but we do not see her, our attention being attracted to an officer who is showing some late-comers to their seats. The picture is full of such brilliant touches. All the performances are excellent, particularly those of the two leads. March rapidly is becoming my favorite leading hga — ■ es* IRVING Thalberg is quoted as saying that the film industry “welcomes even severe criticism when it is deserved.” How does he know that? There has been lots of severe criticism, but up to date there has not been a single instance of the industry acknowledging that any of it was deserved. I’ll say this for Irving, though — he didn’t make the statement in Hollywood. He made it in London, where there is a possibility of it being believed. The film industry is intolerant of criticism of any sort. It whines every time anyone tells the truth about it. For five years the Spectator has been the best find the industry has had because it is the only publication printed anywhere that tells the industry the truth about itself and which offers it constructive criticism unaffected by material considerations. And d uring the five years the Spectator is the only film publication with which the industry has spent no money in advertising. Welcomes criticism? Rot! The only criticism that the industry welcomes is the criticism it can buy. It cries like a baby when it is criticised, and it never, under any circumstances, would acknowledge that criticism is justified.