The international photographer (Jan-Dec 1935)

Thdrty-Hvt The INTERNATIONAL PHOTOGRAPH E August, 1935 CINEMACARONI By ROBERT TOBEY HOLLYWOOD HONEYMOON (A novel novel of a thousand and one nights in a daze. ) What has gone before: Well, a lot of water has gone under the bridge, for one thing; and for another, Lili Liverblossom, star of Flamboyant Films, Ltd., is trymy to rescue her press-agent, Perriwether Murgle, from the clutches of a Bald Eagle named Willy Nilly. The Eagle has carried Perri off across a desert near Hollywood. In the last installment the Eagle set Perri down on a hillock to rest awhile, and they both took a nip out of Perri's bottle of hair-restorer. The Eagle takes a good long swig from the bottle, and we carry on from there. So does the Eagle. Chapter X TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY Willy Nilly wasn't used to bottled refreshments, and right away his drinks began to go to his head. From there they went to his claws... No, kiddies, that has nothing to do -with Santa. It wasn't long before Willy Nilly was lurching around like a drunken sailor; or he would have been, if he'd only had his bell-bottom pants on. Suddenly Willy set Perri's bottle down on the sand. It -was practically empty by now anyway. "I must be getting home," he said. "My li'l wife'll be waiting for me. I really mess be gutting ... I guss be metting ... I huss be goating mam — aw, you fird me the hearst time," he cried. The Eagle squared himself and ran along the top of the hillock. He flapped his wings once or twice, got a few inches off the ground, then did a wing-over and landed keel up, like uu airplane hitting soft sand on the takeoff. Willy got to his feet, walked a few steps, and then sat down on the sand and cried. "My li'l wife is waiting f'r me," he ■wailed. "Woll I do now? I'll never be able to fly home in this condish — hie — in this condish — his — in this state. An' my li'l wife will be furioush. Jus' furioush," he finished, his voice breaking at the thought of his little wife all alone at home. Furious. "It's just as well," said Perri. "Your tongue is pretty thick. Your wife wouldn't understand." ' Wha' you mean," said the Eagle, lurching indignantly. "My tongue is not thick." He pulled out a ruler and stuck out his tongue. "See — iss jush normal," he said blearily. "I want to go home," he cried. Perri suddenly felt sorry for Willy Nilly, for this Eagle who had never been drunk before. He walked over and stood beside him. "I'll help you get home to your wife, Willy," Perri said. "Grab hold on me and hang on tight." The Eagle grabbed Murgle by the coat-tails, and with a terrible screech, Perri flapped his arms and flew off across the desert with the Eagle dragging behind. (It's really wonderful what a bottle of hairrestorer will do to an Eagle at times. If yon want to knenv more, pick up the bottle — er, magazine— next month and see what happens.) The young Ohio clergyman who came out to Hollywood with the notion of converting Clark Gable to evangelism, has fortunately returned to his home town of Bloomingdale. The young demagogue, whose name -we will not bother to mention since his mission presumably was merely a play for publicity, had to return without even seeing Mr. Gable. How sad. According to news reports, Mr. Gable has reserved comment on the affair. Probably just as well. Freedom of the press can be carried too far. But, on the other hand, consider the countless women who would be happy, nay eager, to have Gable guide them to heaven. There's a picture bride among the movie stars. Dolores del Rio — now don't anticipate me — has a (With sauce for those who like it.) beautiful white pit bull, and of choice pedigree, named Michael. Dolores was not content with the ladies of high degree available in this country for Michael's courtship, so she selected a mate for him from pictures sent from famous kennels in England. And so the picture bride came all the way across the Atlantic to meet Michael. Her name should have awed an ordinary dog, for the bride was "Champion Faultless of Blighty." But Michael does all right himself, for he is "Michael of Kapurthala." From a urrcnt theatre marquee: LADIES LOVE DANGER THE NITWITS And so, to answer with another picture title: LET 'EM HAVE IT KNEECAP REVIEWS (No space left on my thumb-nails) "BECY SHARP." If you don't read too many rave reviews about this, you may easily enjoy the picture. Most of the critics climbed right up on the old watering cart and let 'er go as they passed "Becky Sharp." Probably they wanted to make sure they were secure in the role of clairvoyant in case the production starts a new cycle of color films. I don't think it will. Technicolor's new threecolor process is a great technical achievement, and an obvious improvement over the old twocolor method, but natural color is yet a long way off. The new process is still capable of scenes that show an over-all predominant color; or, in other words, are "off balance." Other technical flaws are still apparent. Miriam Hopkins was amazingly real as the conscienceless, scheming beauty of the title role. Alan Mowbray, one of my favorite actors, seemed to have none of the old spark, but gave a rather wooden performance. Frances Dee's very real beauty and vitality seemed somehow buried in this film. It really isn't as bad as all this. In fact it is well "worth seeing. Maybe it ■will start a new cycle of color films. Who knows? "NO MORE LADIES." This is a delightful piece of entertainment. While the plot is frothy and implausible, it makes no real pretense at being otherwise; and the dialogue bubbles merrily along in enhancement of the gay charm of Robert Montgomery and Joan Crawford. I was particularly impressed with the zvork of Franchot Tone, by whose work I have not heretofore been particularly impressed. Latest note from Sue City (Hollywood to you): Echoes of the racing season at Santa Anita race track are still being heard. The wife of a studio technician — Mrs. Florence Losey, and a swell moniker as you shall see — is suing the Los Angeles Turf Club for $30,000.00. It seems she ■was about to bet ten berries on Azucar in the big Handicap, when a heavy odds board fell on her. She didn't bet. Evidently Mrs. Losey can take a hint. She wants heavy odds in another way. And if she wins the suit she'll get better odds than she'll ever get on Azucar. Or any other horse. It's a shame for an actor with a priceless sense of comedy like Benny Rubin's to do anything but act; but Benny -would rather do other things, and every horse to his own sweet grass. At present Benny is writing stories for Columbia, and the breezes whisper there are bigger things' in the wind for him, but that's another story. Benny must have his laughs. So he appointed himself a sort of unofficial Special Supervisor for the production "She Married Her Boss," starring Claudette Colbert and directed by Gregory La Cava. His best to date was writing a note to Claudette telling her how marvelous she was, and how terrible it was she didn't have a decent director for the picture; then writing a note to La Cava praising his splendid direction, telling him what a fine story he had, and commiserating with him over the choice of Miss Colbert as star, panning her acting as atrocious; and then switching envelopes on the two notes! POLITE SURPRISE DEPARTMENT There is a night club singer in Hollywood by the name of Marjorie Borum. Heigh-ho. THE MACARONI BOWL, by the Shovel Boys (they dish the dirt.) * * * Glenda Farrell posed for publicity pictures with Jess Willard, the badminton champion, and now Glenda's so enthusiastic about the game she's going to take lessons. * * * Frank McHugh bought a canvas swimming pool for his children, and now he just can't get the kids out of their bathing suits. They're in the pool every available minute. * * * Earl Blackwell has a new game, "Water Badminton." He and Grace Durkin, Pat Ellis and Glenn Boles spend all day playing it these hot days — on account of you play it in a swimming pool. It's great stuff if you just don't get too interested in the game and forget to tread water. Incidentally this young Grace Durkin gets prettier every day, and if some studio takes an interest in her she should really go places. She bears an uncanny resemblance to Grace Darmond — remember her? — and that won't do her any harm. * * * Clara Kimball Young comes out of the past to play a part in "She Married Her Boss," Claudette Colbert's current starring vehicle. * * * Claudette alivays brings her own lunch when she is at work in a production. But what a lunch — her ozyn cook prepares it for her. She tops it off with baba rum cake, than which confection there is nothing more heavenly. * * * Do you remember Marguerite Clark? She was one of the beauties of the old silent days. Emoting from behind the mask of the old flour-like make-up, Marguerite was one of my secret sorrows. Now she has been appointed by Senator Huey P. "Much Too" Long to a position on the motion picture censorship board of the sparkling State of Louisiana. Marguerite Clark will probably go down in /itstory as the only censor that ever knew anything abiutt pictures. It's a wonder the Kingfish didn't appoint himself chairman of the board. He's quite a connoisseur of fiction. What this country needs is a censor board that can cut out people like Huey P. Long. Silly Sally thinks a "quickie" is a drink you take when your mother isn't looking. SNAPPY SIMILE FOR TODAY Star HER in a picture t You're crazy, as passe as a chain letter. She's Charles P. Boyle, editor of our "Out of Focus" page, and who is now associated with Paul Perry in Manila, P. I., was too busy to get Otto here in time for this issue. Now he cables that he will be with us in September. He and Paul both report that business is good. Please mention The International Photographer when corresponding with advertisers.