Modern Screen (Dec 1935 - Nov 1936)

MODERN SCREEN Nine women out of ten turn their backs to the hght because they think it unflattering; but make this test; you'll never do it again] First, make up your face. Then take your KuRLASH and curl the lashes of one eye. Touch them with Lashtint and put a little Shadette on the upper lid. Now take your hand mirror and seek the full light of your brightest window. You'll find that one side of your face seems infinitely better looking . . . softer, lovelier in coloring, with starry eye and sweeping lashes. You'll know then why the loveliest women use KuRLASH daily. ($1 at good stores.) At the same window you'll have a chance to see how naturally Lashtint darkens and beautifies your eyelashes . . . without looking "made-up" either! It comes in 4 shades, in a special sponge-fitted case to insure even applications. $1, also. And the same holds true of Shadette. Even in the daytime it isn t obvious — just glamourous. In 10 subtle new shades at just 75c each. • Ha ve you tried TwiSSORS — the new tweezers with scissor handles — marvelously efficient — 25c. W^rile Jane Heath Jot advice about eye beauty. Gti>e your coloring Jor personal beauty plan. Address Dept. MM-3. The Kurlash Company, Rochester, N. Y. The Kurtash Company oj Canada, at Toronto, J. 62 ■fiduentute A A/ot -fin -Qct iVltk 7lifnn {Continued from page 49) liked it, and decided that when he went back to civilization, he'd tackle the stage or screen. But first, he had something else he wanted to do — some pearl fishing. He made some money at it and got enough fun to be able to write a book about it. He's doing that now. Right in the middle of his pearl-fishing, he got a cable from the film company he'd hired his boat out to. They said they could use him at Tahiti. He sold his pearl business and went to Tahiti where he discovered he had a role in the British version of "Mutiny on the Bounty." This isn't to be confused with the Americanmade picture. It was just an English quickie and it's never been shown in this country. "Thank the patron saints!" says Flynn. He liked acting, and when the picture was done, he sailed for England. There he got some stage work, had a film test made, came to Hollywood — and now here he is, playing one of the season's finest roles, "Captain Blood," and is married to Lili Damita. He met up with Lili in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. . . . ! ,You know how it is on shipboard, don't you? There was a moon, shining full and sensuous — and there was Lili Damita — young, alluring and vivacious. Lili superbly aloof, however, with that disdainful arrogance that is characteristic of her, giving not one of the shipboard Romeos a tumble. Not one, that is, until . . . "It was her darned arrogance that made me hopping mad," Errol told me. "I'd worshipped her in Paris, though she didn't know I was alive. Then when I met her on shipboard, I thought it was my big chance. So I got her alone. And then that darned high-hat stufi". I tell you, I never wanted to see the stuck-up little so-and-so again, ever ! And I told her so. She hated me just as cordially. We never got within ten yards of each other again, the whole voyage." AND Lili told me, afterward, "Yes, of a eerfainement, 1 hated thees fellow. He was so — what you call heem? — so cocky, so stuck-up, thees young fellow w'at nobody even heard of before ! He was unbearable. I nevair wanted to see heem again, evair!!" . . . and so what ? Well, so six months later these two, who hated each other, eloped from Hollywood to Yuma because they were in such a hurry to get married that they couldn't wait the three days California interposes between license and wedding. That's the kind of a guy Flynn is. He takes a gal who hates him on sight and makes her marry him. How'd he get the "Captain Blood" role? Well, Warners had been trying out a lot of Hollywood leadmg men for the part, but none of them had the fire, the recklessness, the to-hell-with-things air that they wanted the character to have. Flynn, who'd come over on one of those wishywashy contracts, itched for a chance at the role, but nobody even thought of him. "I'd have given a leg to play it, but I didn't have a chance. I was an unknown," he explained. And then somebody saw him swaggering down one of the streets on the Warner Burbank lot. They saw him rolling along, his eyes sparkling with an indefinable something that has died, long since, in most Hollywood actor's eyes. Some big shot, it was who saw him, and the next thing Flynn knew, he was being tested for the role. He got it! And so here I was, in the green room of the cafe on the Warner lot, talking to him. His hair was long, for the role. He came stomping in, hitched up his leather knee-breeches, picked up a menu, and beckoned a waitress. I rather expected him to bellow something like, "Yo ho ho! Come hither, my pretty wench, and bring me a sizzling joint of beef and a bottle of rum, and bestir your pins, lass !" INSTEAD, he lifted eyes which were paradoxical in that they snapped with a masculine vigor and fire, and yet were actually beautiful ! He turned them on the waitress, and she melted into a fluttery smile. "What," he asked, "is this egg foo yung?" "It's a Chinese omelette," she explained, "with bamboo shoots, almonds and herbs and . . ." A shudder ran up and down "Captain Blood." He gasped. "Enough, enough ! — er — bring me an egg-yolk, a raw egg yolk — some ketchup — and some Worcestershire sauce. . ." She scurried away. I grinned. I know what egg yolk, Worcestershire sauce and ketchup betoken. Flynn smiled wanly at me. "Uh-huh," he admitted, "it was that sort of a night." After he had swallowed the raw yolk with the burney sauce, he felt better. He rounded out some empty spots in his life story. He told me of the time he and a pal joined up with the Hong Kong Volunteers for the Chinese trouble, a few years ago. "We thought we'd find some fighting and some looting and some — well, never mind. But instead, they made us shovel snow for five days on end, so we deserted and went to Manila, where there isn't any snow, ever." He roamed the world in his talk. I asked him, finally, how Lili liked his wanderlust. "She doesn't," he said. "And what are you going to do about it?" I asked. "Well — I'm going to stay here, for a while. There's so much money to be made in Hollywood. I want to make enough to be free of the petty tyrannies of not having it. I want to go places, without having to travel third class. But I do want to go places." "You can't go places and make a success here, at the same time," I pointed out. "I know it, damn it," he growled, and that faraway look shone in his eyes. "But after all, life is only what you get out of it in the living, isn't it? I do want money but I won't pay too much of myself to get it. I hate discipline. Time clocks are abhorrent to me. "But — bosh ! — I'll be good for a few years, I think. I hate the very sound of 'settling down,' but I've got responsibilities now ! And so I've got to settle down — for a while, anyway. "Lili says she'll go with me, to faraway places, some time in the years to come — after I've made good here. She'll go with me to India, where she has some important friends. She's never been there. I have, but I traveled third class. Only punks travel third class there — and natives. This time, I want to go back, (Con tinned on page 64)