Modern Screen (Dec 1934 - Nov 1935)

HAT new man. . . . M For weeks Hollywood and Beverly Hills and m Brentwood had been in a dither. The feminine part " of Hollywood and Beverly Hills and Brentwood, anyway. The new man in town, come to play in pictures, of course, was something! Everything in fact! He laughed with his eyes. And, as if that wasn't enough, his personal history proved him gallant and brave. Interesting looking, rather than out-and-out handsome. Darn wellmade. With an easy manner of wearing expensively casual clothes. The men of Hollywood and Beverly Hills and Brentwood were stymied. They couldn't laugh this newcomer off as they would have liked to do. fie was no sleek, hand-kissing gigolo. He had their instinctive approval. At the club. Over backgammon and bridge tables. On the tennis courts. At dinner parties. A new man in any suburb causes excitement, affords a social' impetus, inspires loads of parties, and sets fathers — and husbands — to wrinkling their foreheads over bills for new dinner dresses. In Hollywood and Beverly Hills and Brentwood life follows the suburban pattern. To a T. Except that here the advent of a new man is likely to cause even more commotion than it does anywhere else. The girls in the movie suburbs largely outnumber the eligible men. When the Girl With Flyaway Hair returned to the film colony after a holiday she found the chase well on. "My dear," fairly screamed a friend who spied her coming into the hairdresser's, "wait until you see him ! You won't be any calmer than the rest of us !" * That evening in the BeverlyWilshire dressing-room, between dances, the girl met another of the new man's admirers. A somewhat older woman. On the screen she played society matrons and smart divorcees. A quick, frank, discerning woman. "Well," she sighed, dropping into a chair, "you did pick an unfortunate time to be away, I must say. You've never known such dinner parties as we've been having, angel ! For the new man, of course. I don't mind telling you, I'm exhausted. If he wasn't starting work on his picture and hadn't announced he wouldn't go out again until it was finished, I'd leave for Arrowhead or La Quinta. In self-defense. Because I'd never in this world have the will power to stay home from a party if he was to be there. And an old girl like me has to think about rings under her eyes. "Come to think of it, maybe it's just as well you aren't likely to meet him until things have calmed down somewhat. He'd fall for you. Men always do. You look so . . . oh, so innocent and wicked all at once. As if you didn't know it. angel ! And I do believe, without a doubt, the other girls would start a pogrom against you !" The Girl with Flyaway Hair was pleased. Her little hands went fluttering among the curls at the back of her head. "We'll see. I have an engagement with this marvellous creature. Tomorrow morning. At nine o'clock." The older woman pursed her lips. "Angel !" she exclaimed, but with an incredulous note. She knew, you see, that he had been out on the desert ever since the girl returned and that the f ollowing morning he started work on his new picture. "You don't believe me?" the girl taxed her. "Why, Angel. . . ," The girl laughed. "We're to be in the same picture," she explained. "That's why I came back." The attractive matron snuffed out her cigarette. "Of all the lucky girls! Of all the lucky girls!" She sighed. For her lately departed youth. And others things, too, no doubt. "Imagine Angel, you'll have him making love to you !" Angel shook her head. "You sound like a visitor from Dubuque. You know perfectly well love scenes aren't any more exciting or romantic than any other scenes. Part of the day's work. Nothing more." "Not always. ..." A little excitement beat in the matron's voice. Some memory lit tiny flames in her wide gray eyes. "Not always, angel. ..." THE opening sequence of that picture — a very gay, sophisticated and successful picture which appeared on neighborhood screens about a year ago — was laid in a smart and ultra-modern drawing-room. One entire side of that room, overlooking a flagged terrace, was windows. White predominated. There were sofas and deep low chairs complemented by glass smoking tables. And all about there were great crystal bowls of lovely garden flowers. It was a beautiful background {Continued oh page 90)