Motion Picture Magazine (Aug 1924-Jan 1925)

editor, finishing the last chestnut, "we'll wait and see." And that ended that ! So I begin this story about my best friend under difficulties. Ordinarily, I can make myself look at people, for whom I care a great deal, from a rather detached viewpoint. I admit their little weaknesses and shortcomings, and try to understand them. But with Madge Kennedy, I admit nothing. I fiftd myself refusing to look for faults, even refusing to acknowledge that she possesses them. All I can sense is her amazing personality, her tolerance, and her broad and beautiful understanding. There ! Already I'm going strong and the interview not even begun! • But I hate interviews — stereotyped ones. I think I shall tell you about a day we spent together very recently, instead. T t was a late summer day when we set out for Sleepy Hoi j low Club in Madge's beautiful, beautiful car. We were on our way to play a photographer's game of golf. Which means that we would arrive at the club, hire a caddie, give directions to our photographer, and have pictures made of ourselves in various studied golfing poses. I wore my golfing best, altho I play but indifferently. Madge admitted that her costume was all wrong — as wrong as her golf, which she frankly loathes. Unlike most girls nowa days, Madge does not -"go in" for sports. "About the only exercising I do," she confesses, "is setting-up exercises, if I find I. am putting on weight, which doesn't often happen. I love nature and love to be out of doors, but it does me much more good and rests me far more to sit quietly and enjoy nature, than to play golf or tennis or any of the things that take my mind from the beauty all around me." "We'll just clown the pictures, Doris," she said ; "so the more inappropriately I'm dressed, the more ridiculous they will be." We didn't play much golf, but we furnished considerable entertainment to onlookers, wore out two or three caddies, and stretched the patience of the cameraman to Editor's Note. — Doris Kenyan and Madge Kennedy are outstanding figures in the world of the drama today. Both have beauty, charm, youth, and extraordinary talent; both arc equally successful on the stage and screen. When the call of the picture fans becomes too insistent, they exchange the footlights for the Kleigs — and then hie them back to Broadway when the stage fans call. Miss Kennedy will probably return to the screen this winter; Miss Kenyon returned last spring, as the exquisite Lady Mary Carlisle in Rudolph Valentino's new picture, "Monsieur Beaucaire." the breaking point because we would insist upon sitting Y down right in the midst of everything to talk about something we had forgotten to discuss on our way there. But we managed to produce evidence (photographically) that we do know how to play golf, whether we like it or not. It was a gloriously happy day. But the best part was the ride to the club and back when we were all by ourselves. Just to listen to Madge talk is soothingly pleasant. It is like music suggested by the theme of her face. There I am — slipping again! But the outstanding thing in my memory of that day is the satisfying talk we had — inconsequential chatter, most of it, of the quality and quantity that girls can crowd into a few hours. We talked of Poppy, the play in which Madge starred so successfully this past year, and it was like her to give all credit for its success to the supporting cast. She spoke in glowing terms of W. C. Fields, who •enacted the role of the vagabond father, of his love and kindliness for humanity, a neccessary qualifica. tion, she believes, for a great come*Ht *<2£---r ■ dian. The girls were all such "dears," she said, "and the boys fine — every one of them. "Ever since I have been on the stage, Doris, I've been amazed at the fact that I am able to earn my living by doing something that doesn't seem like work at all. That doesn't apply to making motion pictures, however. Whenever I make a picture I know definitely that I am working, and working hard. But I always have been able to make of my Victor Georg stage self a distinct personality, entirely detached from my real self which merely looks on, and waits. So, when the play is over, there I am, serene as you please!" f~\i course, .we talked about music and what it means ^-^ to both of us — of our studies and progress. We discussed our French teachers and their methods. We waxed enthusiastic over Geraldine Farrar, a mutual favorite. We talked of the new books, which neither of (Continued on page 86) 25 PAfi t