Motion Picture (Feb-Jul 1941)

THE FAMILY'S fflWWW1' Hi very ty pe of pan tie ♦ * * to wear from dusk till dawn. These unique "undie fashions" fit like a charm under your suit, daytime dresses, evening gowns or play suits. Each answers a different costume need. You'll 3^ want the whole family ! ill miniKins* is brief as a breeze... hence perfect under a loit. No bulges to mar your trim lines. Celanese tayon with No-Belt* Waistband 39< FRILLlKinS is pretty and practical. Shows off tines of your simplest daytime dress marvel ousiy. Holds shape after countless washings. Flexible rayon-and lastex *. . . 39c \. -0/ i siEnoiHins* is superb under evening clothes. Fits as if it were part of you. Takes place of lightweight girdle. Slenderizing, run-proof royort-and-Laton . . 59c lll"""*lllHM)i sissiKins* Is a charmer of soft rayit on-and lastex with intriguing ribbon bowls. Fits like a dream under the new dressmaker fashions. New! ... 59c Ask about Smoothikine* ami Flarikins'the other members of Southern Gentleman — Virginia Style [Continued from page 44] Whereas we try to show, in our houses, the most attractive possible facade and exterior, the Chinese feel that that's sheer nonsense and waste. The exterior of a Chinese house is the most unattractive, even repulsive feature of the place. It's even repellent, rather than inviting. It's usually a bare, unfriendly, hard wall. "And even after you get inside that wall — IF the ones inside wish you to — you still have to traverse a nonc-too-attractive outercourt, and enter another unprepossessing outside wall, before you finally are allowed actually inside. And it's not until you've done all this, and really gotten really INSIDE that you experience and feel the charm of the house and the household!" "Well," and she waved her hands expressively, "that's Randy Scott for you. That's all. Simple, isn't it?" So I put together all the things she told me about Randy, after knowing him ever since he came to Hollywood; and I added the things I knew about him myself, and the items other people had added — both the uncomplimentary kind and the sweet kind — and it all added up to the fact that the girl was right. Randy Scott, of all people in Hollywood, presents probably the most unpromising, most closed "front" to strangers that you'll find among Hollywood personalities. People who meet him for the first time, and never get beyond that Chinese-house exterior form the greatest proportion, by far, of those who call him a stuffed-shirt. Randy doesn't care. He doesn't care what he's called by the sort of people he doesn't allow inside that outside wall of his. BUT — let Randy open the gates ; let him permit you inside the wall, past the courtyard of a few weeks' acquaintance, and inside the inner wall — and you'll find one of the most utterly charming, friendly, openhearted, relaxed, fun-loving, human guys that ever strutted his stuff before a Technicolor camera. Reticence gives way to allenveloping friendliness ; aloofness collapses and becomes almost naive comradeship. And you discover, finally, that rarity among all persons — the sort of chap with whom you can even enjoy long silences; with whom the task of making "small talk" is quite unnecessary. There are very few people like that. Mistuh Scott is one of them. More, he never seems to get ruffled. That is, not easily. Come what may, Scott seems to take it in his stride, and makes the best of it. That's a trait that makes a good companion, too. He's not one of these muggs who gets his back-up when he fancies he's been insulted every ten minutes, and thereby spoils the rest of the day or the evening, or whatever it is. I've seen Hollywood stars go into positive furors of indignation when they've been denied admittance to this or that lunchplace or dining-spot because they didn't have a tie on. Yet, the other day, I saw Randy driving along the Boulevard with a girl in his car, and they were laughing like clowns. They stopped for a red light, and I drew up alongside and asked what the hell's so funny. "We've just been told to get out of the So-and-So night club because we have our tennis clothes on instead of evening outfits," they roared. "And," I supposed, "you're going to call up a big shot and have the club put in its place ?" "No," howled Randy; "we're going to have a hamburger!" That doesn't sound like so much, but when you know your Hollywood, and the offstage "acts" people put on to preserve their fictitious BlGness, then you'll realize what a keen index that little incident is. But get this— when Randy DOES get mad, he gets MAD ! It takes a long time, but when he's convinced he's "being had," then he really gets sore. Paramount found that out, quite a while ago. It was when Randy had stepped into the shoes Gary Cooper had grown too big for. Gary had quit playing hoss-op'ry roles because he was too good for them. Paramount had to have someone to play the Zane Grey things, and they picked Randy. That was all right with Randy. Until they'd done it 18 times. Now playing in 18 Zane Grey westerns without any other kind of role is too, too much. Randy began to realize that he was nothing but a Zane Grey dummy. And Randy got mad. Randy said to hell with any more Zane Grey westerns. Studios usually manage to slap down guys like that. If Randy Scott had been just an ordinary sorehead, they'd have been able to slap him down. But he was Mistuh Randolph Scott, suh, of Vuhginyuh, suh, with a fine old Southern aristocratic rage on — and Paramount gave in first. Randy won his ' point, he was loaned out to RKO for a role in Roberta (certainly non-western) and when he returned, he had graduated from the zane-greyies or the grey-zanies forever. ( Except that he can laugh at himself, too — over the fact that his greatest success in recent years has been in — of ALL things ! — ) a glorified WESTERN; this picture called Western Union. But, says he, that's because he had a really good role to do — not just a bandy-legged cowboy.) Randy is honestly unaware of his handsomeness. It's not a pose with him. All you have to do is to see him squirm and almost retch when he's called a "glamour boy" to realize how that sort of thing affects him.' The greatest cross in his life, particularly recently, is the "glamour" campaign that's being built around him now. He does his best to dodge it. He looks like a Greek god in his evening clothes, but he'd rather wear a six-year-old pair of pants and an ancient sweater, just to get away from the pretty-boy stuff. Not that his ancient clothes LOOK ancient. You see, he has the sense and the knack to buy the best things when he buys them — and they're the kind of things that look better, the older they get. And, before we drop this characterization stuff — there's one other point. Randolph Scott's sense of humor is the kind that marks him for what he is — a considerate, thoughtful GENTLEMAN. Scott has a swell sense of humor — but it isn't the kind that manifests itself with giving a pal the hot-foot. He figures that the sort of fellows who do that sort of thing probably can't help it, because, after all, they can't all be f'um Vuhginyuh, suh. Randy Scott doesn't laugh at the hot-foot. But he laughs, often. He's no frozen-faced aristocrat, he's an openfaced one. And when he does laugh, it's no measly little snicker. It's a full-throated, full-bellied, low-starting, rumbling laugh that makes everybody within hearing look around to see who's doing it and why — and then join in the laugh. Nice fellow to know, that kind. Randy's closest friends are indicative, too. They are the Fred Astaires and Cary Grant. | Anyone who's in the Astaire circle is automatically rated as among Hollywood's upper