Modern Screen (Dec 1934 - Nov 1935)

**Mad Love (M-G-M) Not being too ardent an enthusiast over these "horror pictures," we were impressed by the fact that this latest chiller held us enthralled. Peter Lorre, of course, is the whole works, but nevertheless the plot which forms the background is the most fascinating yarn yet invented for this type of flicker. It's as preposterous as all the rest of 'em, actually, yet so convincingly are the gruesome details presented, that for the moment, at least, they appear plausible. Photography, recording and timing are so artistically done that they lend a feeling of reality to the whole. Mr. Lorre tries a new stunt, this time to make your hair stand on end. He's a famous French surgeon who specializes on piecing together any part of the human body which has been blown to bits, mangled or deformed. When a famous pianist, Colin Clive, must have his hands amputated, the doctor replaces them with the hands of a recently executed murderer. From then on, Mr. Clive has trouble with more difficult things than scales. Frances Drake, as his wife, does a nice piece of acting and a truly remarkable piece of screaming. Preview Postscripts Even the cast had severe cases of chills while this picture was being made, what with the dank, eerie sets, the weird music and grotesque make-ups. Peter Lorre is actually a very gentle, kindly man, but he did enjoy scaring chance visitors on the set once in awhile. In one scene where he was working on a supposed corpse, stretched out on the operating table, Mr. Lorre suddenly swirled around and pointing his scalpel at a dear old lady visitor, he shouted, "You're next!" But it wasn't all fun for Peter, for the heat of the kleig lights was so intense on his shaved head, that he had to sit around in a chamois dripping with ice-water on his head most of the time. He and Frances Drake struck up a close friendship while working together and were always sneaking off for lunch and cocktails at odd hours, in spite of his "Mad Love" for her in the flicker. . ; . Miss Drake is a case of a chorus gal who worked up in pictures. . . . Ted Healy's another one who has worked right up to his present place as a very popular comedian. Famous for his stooges in days gone by, Ted is now a comedian in his own right, having graduated with honors from the slaostick school . . . Keye Luke's a great favorite in this town. He came from China not so many years ago to study painting, on top of an excellent education obtained at Chinese universities. His art exhibit gained him so much publicity that studio directors heard of him and gave him a chance in fill urns. He hasn't disappointed them, either. Accent on Youth (Paramount) Surely Playwright Raphaelson differs with Oscar Wilde, who is reported to have said, "Youth is so wonderful, it's a shame to waste it on the young." After viewing this one, you're apt to be convinced that young men should neither be seen nor heard. They're a humorless, stupid, conceited lot and the gent in the foolish forties is really the lad who has "what it takes." The picture is almost a replica of the stage play which, while a bit talkie at times, abounds in subtle wit, amusing dialogue and a novel situation. Sylvia Sidney and Herbert Marshall are excellent in the roles of a young lady much in love with an "old" man. However, Ernest Cossart, as the butler, sort of histrionically overshadows the rest of the fine cast which includes Phillip Reed, Astrid Allwyn and Holmes Herbert. The locale of the story is a playwright's New York penthouse, with a Santa Barbara sequence revealing a rather unusual honeymoon in which a young bridegroom and his equally young pal figure prominently for comedy purposes. Director Wesley Ruggles has done a neat job; in fact, everyone did, except the gent who designed Miss Sidney's clothes, which are pretty dreadful "creations" and give her more weight than a big fudge sundae. Preview Postscripts Sylvia Sidney claims she was "born serious." Not that she doesn't have her moments of silliness, but Life on the whole has been a problem to her. From childhood, Sylvia's been an omnivorous reader — mention any classic and you're on her home territory. At fourteen, she set out to earn a living. Was crazy about the theatre, but considered herself best adapted to the technical end of it. Got a fob with the Theatre Guild dressing and designing sets. After eating paint for two years, she decided to try the acting end of the stage. Went on the road at sixteen and was starred that same year in "Crime" — and from there you know the rest. . . . Herbert Marshall's well known on the London and Broadway stages, where he played for several years with his wife, Edna Best, in a number of successful plays. That quiet, unassuming Marshall manner seems fatal to the ladies. He devoted hours to teaching Miss Sidney the mysteries of billiards while on the set. That view of Manhattan seen from the pent-house terrace, was just a huge cardboard picture! Photographs of buildings were "blown up" many times their original size and fitted together to form the magnificent "view." With lights behind, you'd swecr it was gay Gotham at its best. Director Wesley Ruggles has an antipathy against blondes, so instructed Astrid Allwyn to dye her blonde curls a dark brown before reporting for work. . . . Ernest Cossart's a genuine old-time stage hand. After over forty years in the London and American theatre, he was prevailed upon to appear in a movie. It was the Hecht-MacArthur "Scoundrel." Mr. Cossart thinks the movies are swell, now. . . . Philip Reed had a tough proposition. He was playing in the stage version of "Accent on Youth" every evening at the same time he was making this picture. His lines in the picture weren't very different, but just enough to make them exasperatingly difficult to remember. He would surprise the stage cast every now and then with brand new lines. *** The Man on the Flying Trapeze (Paramount) Here's another Fields picture, which means W. C. is star, director, writer, producer and prop-man. Titles mean nothing, plot means nothing, the cast means nothing when the bulbous-nosed Fields wanders within camera range. So it is with this latest flicker! We can't for the life of us tell who or what we laughed at, but from the beginning to the end, the audience ran the gamut from guffaws to giggles. Mr. Fields is just another hen-pecked husband, at the mercy of not only his wife but her mother and brother. Between the three of them, you can imagine how much chance the poor, bewildered man has to fortify himself with his favorite spirits. He finally has to resort to cleaning his teeth with home-brew in order to taste a drop ! The story ambles along at a leisurely rate, with Mr. Fields taking plenty of time, as usual, to speed things up. Mary Brian, pretty as ever, does a nice piece of work as Mr. Fields' daughter, Kathleen Howard is excellent as the shrew whom Mr. Fields really does tame, while Grady Sutton does a good job of making himself detestable as the brother-in-law. Preview Postscripts The greatest treat in the world to W. C. Fields is a bed. From the time he was seven 'til he was twenty-seven, W. C. Fields slept in one. Alleys, park benches, barrels and such comfortable accommodations were his lot after knocking his father unconscious at the age of seven and starting out to see the world. Learned his famous juggling act from having to be quick about swiping fruit from vendors for years. Finally got a job on the stage and life became a little less complicated. Now is in the money — and still thinks a bed is the height of luxury. . . . Mary's known as the sweetest girl in Hollywood, and's been the college boys' despair all over the country. Looks like there's something to this "six times a bridesmaid" stuff, for she's gone up the aisle ahead of practically every star in Hollywood. . . . This was the first time Lucien Littlefield has even played himself in pictures for twenty years. At least it's the only time he's appeared without threeinch make-up on his visage, since his specialization has been in the Lon Chaney type of role. . . . Sam Hardy is another old-timer. He's noted to be the best dressed gag-man in Hollywood. Fields claims Sam's plaid pants, green caps and lurid ties are the cause of his astigmatism. . . . Kathleen Howard is the only woman in Hollywood that Mr. Fields will consider for his reel wife. He just flatly refuses to have any other woman scream ot him. Miss Howard was formerly c Metropolitan Opera singer. After twelve years of warbling, she turned to fashion writing and became editor of a woman's magazine. When "Death Takes a Holiday" was filmed, Miss Howard was offered a part and's been on the screen ever since. *** Anna Karenina (M-G-M) If you were a fan ten years ago, you will recall that Garbo played in the silent version of this Tolstoy classic, too. Oddly enough, this story of a woman who sacrifices everything — husband, child, friends and finally her life — for love, stands up well even in this day when tolerance ot indiscretion seems to be the vogue. Clar ence Brown has done rather an enthralling job of directing and Miss Garbo, given an opportunity to run the gamut of emotions, makes the most of every moment. While Fredric March is not too convincing in his impassioned scenes, he gives a nice account of himself at other times. Little Freddie Bartholomew is pretty fine and Reginald Owen and Basil Rathbone rate their share of honors. The picture itself is one of the most elaborately mounted we have ever seen, and everyone, from the scenic designer to the gentleman who supplied the beautiful musical score, is entitled to a bow. Preview Postscripts Garbo hopped a boat for Sweden the minute this picture was completed. But Greta tank she'll come back again, having signed up with M-G-M for another term at a sum that would give you the staggers. . . . May Robson, grand old great grandmother and great lady of the screen, claims that Greta is just a shy, sweet girl, who's glamorous languor comes from not consuming enough liver and vitamin E. . . . Freddie Bartholomew took the American public by storm after that performance in "Copperfield." It's a fact, though, that the child is even more amazing in real life. He has charm and brains enough to put many a noted actor in the shade. A tutor is always at Freddie's elbow on the set, to give him a little larnin' between actin'. He and Greta, though, managed to sneak away almost every day for a game of croquet together. Freddie generally beat, since his drolleries would get the Swedish siren so convulsed with giggles that she couldn't hit the balls straight. 98 Printed in the U. S. A. by Art Color Printing Company. Dunellen, N. J.