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Bathtubs
Cecil B. DeMille Thinks They Make Splendid Pulpits
By DUNHAM THORP
BACK to bathtubs! And it'll probably bi many and many a weary moon before C. H. tackles another such picture as "The King of Kings." The King, " DeMille spoke difrom the pulpit, and in "The (lodless Girl" there was hardly any if his old-time splendor; but in "Dynamite," his latest, he'll take Ins stand in a crystal bathtub with a ^moking orgy-glass held high. Believe it or not, his drinks won't merely bubble and fizz, they'll actually boil and smoke.
But all this is a bit misleading. For I have come with no woeful tale of a little dreamer spanked by the nasty, wicked box-office and sent back to his chores without a chance even to say his prayers. Far from it. "The King" cleaned up (]uitc nicely, thanks, and he'd jump just as quickly at the chance again.
If he had it. Which he hasn't, and which he knows.
For no matter what else you may have been told to believe about this guy, he's just as shrewd as they come, and knows his why's and wherefore's.
"To begin with, there's the matter of variety, a thing that cuts two ways. If I keep giving my audiences the same thing over and over again, they won't keep coming to see it. I must never let them know what to expect, or [ lose the use of novelty, one of the best of tools. And in .iddition to that, I'd go stale myself. If you wish to keep .1 field fertile, you must rotate your crops.
R. H. Louise
Cleanliness on the screen: at the left is Gloria Swanson in a DeMille production glorifying the American plumber. Above is Cecil B. DeMille himself. His one great message to the world is as yet unuttered.
DeMille and Michel
SO after 'The King of 1 for love and beauty.
Kings,' in which I strove only
I made 'The Godless Girl,'
.\ fiich dealt with brutality and ugliness. And now in
i^ynamite,' I have something still different again.
"I have always considered Michelangelo as one of the
jreatest of all examples of the artist, and very few showed
_'reater versatility than he."
Here he lay himself open to a nice pot-shot; but he saw '. too. "Not that I'm comparing myself with Michelangelo,
mind. That's nor up to me, to begin with. We'd have to wait at least five hundred years. And marble is a bit more durable than celluloid."
His smile was positively beatific in its absolute benignit\, like that of a chess player who wins by a deft play oye move before you'd have him cornered beyond hopes or like a cat conscious of the telltale feathers in his whiskers.
Though he has left the pulpit for a time, DeMille has byno means ceased to preach. It's simply that he believes voluptuous splendor will pull 'em in (juicker than a plain board rostrum; and that once they're congregated, the sermon will slide down more easily if they're interested than if they're bored.
Propocandy
BUT no matter where he gives it, he still insists on the sermon. He decided several years ago to quit just "telling stories" — and he has stuck to the decision. In "Dynamite," for instance, under all the sugar-coating of crystal bathtubs, knock-'em-dead gowns, and giant-wheel races, the thing he wants to get across is a struggle between moral healthiness and semi-decadence, with the ultimate (Continued on page 76)
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