The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

THE MAN OF 84 FACES YOU say you don't remember, what he looks like. Why, it's easy enough to describe him! He's an impressive, commanding giant of a man — 6 feet 2, 197 pounds stripped, square of face, curly dark hair, ingenuous eyes, and a resonant bass vojce. But still you don't remember him? Ah, now we come to the reason! The reason is the simple one that he has, to date, 84 faces! Surely you've seen him around Hollywood, or on the Metro lot, or at least in pictures. He towers above everyone. Yes, that's the fellow over there — without a hat, his smiling face held high, brown coat opening to reveal a white knit polo shirt, cut low across the broad, hairy chest. He's the chap Metro picked to take the place of Clark Gable, graduated to stardom now, as a dynamic leading man for their collection of lovely feminine stars. But you don't remember him . . . Well, even his best friends go to movies and don't know he's in them, until they see his name on the title cards ! That's what having 84 faces does for you. During his theatrical career Preston Foster has been in twenty pictures, a dozen grand operas and a score of plays, has done every kind of role from a hard-boiled mugg to a high-minded Utopian, yet never looked the same on screen or still pictures. Uncanny, isn't it? He isn't a Lon Chaney. He's just a regular American youth — hearty, open and frank, who freely admits, "I'd rather be considered a good actor than anything I can think of." Perhaps that's why he won't feel terribly awed when he strides on the stage to act with the fascinating feminine stars. Well, perhaps he'll be a little awed, but not so much by them, because like lots of Americans he isn't terribly awed by reputations, dignity, wealth or even queens of the movies, but awed more by the fact that he's undertaking the biggest assignment of his career. A man of multiple personality, Preston Foster was registering elation when I encountered him on the Metro lot. He was happy, and readily admitted his happiness, at being chosen for this grand opportunity out of the many who were tested for it. He couldn't very well deny it because that warm smile, the triumphant twist of his head, and his erect carriage were those of a man who's just done something well. As we strode along to a quiet corner of the M-G-M lot, I couldn't help feeling The New Movie Magazine, January, 1935 w -j>» All the pictures on this page are of the same man, Preston Foster. Look at them — then read the story By THORNTON SARGENT a bit insignificant beside his imposing stature and evident brawn. He towers above any average sized man. And as for women — he's an evident protector type with arms that could easily crush the fragile Garbo between them. Yes, Preston Foster's quite an individual, one who would stand out anywhere, but no sooner were we seated than he amazed me by saying, "I don't want to be Preston Foster on the screen." I couldn't even express my astonishment — at such a man wishing to submerge his distinctive personality. "You don't believe me," he laughed. "You're not the only one who hasn't till I explained why. It does seem funny. But, you see, being Preston Foster on the screen means a personality type. Of course, it pays better. It frequently means stardom. But that kind of career doesn't last as long. You bloom overnight and fade quickly. And I want to be in the movies a long, long time. "As a matter of fact," Preston hurriedly explained. "I don't even know that I could be a personality type, or myself, if I desired. There's something almost weird about my work on the screen. I've never looked the same in any two pictures. I've even looked different in the same picture. What it is, or why it is that I have seemed so absolutely different, I can hardly explain myself." Before my doubts could be registered in words, Preston Foster had pulled a picture from an envelope, asking, "Do you remember the first picture you saw me in?" I shook my head negatively. "I was this tough mugg in 'Follow the Leader'," he said, illustrating with the still picture. I looked at the picture — then at Foster. Well, perhaps, there was a slight resemblance. "Who's this?" he asked about a cocky individual posed with Edward G. Robinson in "Two Seconds." Under such circumstances, anyone would guess Foster, but not because the man in the picture looked like the chap leaning over the table. "And this?" he exultantly asked. "Don't tell me you were that guy in 'Dr. X'," I gasped, as I looked at a frowsy-haired eccentric. "Not only weird Dr. Wells — but the monster as well," he insisted. He thumbed through others — an interne's gown and a thin mustache concealing his identity in "Life Begins," touseled hair and snarling lips revealing a still different Preston Foster as Killer Mears in "The Last Mile," and a stern expression and football helmet bringing him forth as a different personality as Steve in "All-American." "And here's a funny one," he continued, "when I was the swimming champ in 'You Said a Mouthful.' Yet, here's a still from the same production in which the camera brings out a likeness to Max Baer." So it went as I perused the photographic record of his work — the evangelist in "Ladies They Talk About," the grumbling manager in "Elmer, the Great," and the suave politician and mayor in "City Hall" — always a twist of the lips, a light in the eyes, or a hairdress that revealed a different Preston Foster. Then came "The Man Who Dared" — and a veritable chameleon as Foster interpreted the various phases of Mayor Cermak's life from the enthusiastic boy to the seasoned, worldly wise mayor. From Cermak he passed to the battered middle-aged barker of "Hoopla," the ingenuous, open-hearted small-town business man of "Sleepers East," the surly, sneering rat of "Heat Lightning," and finally to the opposite extreme in characterization when he portrayed the moody, idealistic Como of "Wharf Angel." "How do you do it?" I {Please turn to page 59) 21