The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

"What! you can put these lovely TABLE DISHES in the OWEN?" YES, these gay OvenServe table dishes are actuallymade so you can bake in them. You can bake meat dishes, for instance, on the very platters or serving dishes you use on the table. Puddings, pies and creamed dishes, scalloped vegetables, anything you wish, can be baked in these dishes. And then popped right from oven to table. Even the cups, saucers and plates are built to stand oven heat. It's something new in table dishes ! Saves a lot of work in serving, of course. Saves on dishwashing, too, for it cuts out all the pots and pans. Then, the dishes themselves are easy to wash because they have a high glaze that nothing sticks to. Notice also their convenient shapes and sizes . . . handy for parking left-overs in the refrigerator. Cost? Very low. And you can buy them by the piece and fill in as you need them. TRY THIS RECIPE FOR COTTAGE PIE— Cover bottom of one of the deep oval OvenServe serving dishes with mashed potatoes, add small pieces of cut left-over roast beef well seasoned with salt, pepper and minced onion, and moistened with some gravy. (Bouillon cube dissolved in hot water is good in place of gravy.) Cover with layer of mashed potatoes and bake in a hot oven (425° F.) long enough to heat and brown. Lift Cottage Pie in same dish to table. OVENSERVE SOLD AT F. W. WOOLWORTH CO. FIVE AND TEN CENT STORES To Withstand Changes of ''Oven and Refrigerator Temperatures " OVENSERVE "The Oven Ware for Table Service" .The Homer Laughlin China < Ncwtll, W. V*. The Most Uninteresting Man in Hollywood {Continued jrom page 24) screen, instead of just a series of comedy gags, but Lloyd knew what he wanted and was willing to take a chance. The latter comedy still ranks as one of his greatest successes and one of the truly memorable fun-fests in screen history. Roach grew as a producer, and finally had so many companies in his own studio that he persuaded Lloyd to form his own unit organization. On his own, then, the comedian turned out such hits as "The Freshman," "Safety Last," "Kid Brother" and "Girl Shy." He readily adapted himself and his productions to the talkies, and when they took hold while he was producing "Welcome Danger," he about-faced and re-made most of the picture in sound, with the result it was an outstanding comedy achievement. Following, came "Feet First," "Movie Crazy" and now, "The Cat's Paw." "The Cat's Paw," his latest screen offering-, and hailed as one of his best pictures, marks a new type of comedy for Harold Lloyd. The feature is his first pictorial endeavor with a story from the pen of a recognized author, and a distinct departure from the style of comedy which won him world-wide acclaim. Instead of depending upon gags and situations, as formerly, in "The Cat's Paw" a well-defined plot and story are unfolded to hold the audience, with gags interpolated only when they occur in the natural course of events. With his transition in the line of story, Lloyd stands at the turning point of his career. Possibly I should say, he is embarking upon a new career. He feels that the old type of comedy is doomed, and should he insist upon following his original formula he will lose both caste and popularity. For that reason, he is starting a new deal for himself (even a millionaire has that privilege) and henceforth will offer only productions which have some very definite plot for substance. On the threshold, as it were, of a new professional life, Lloyd must necessarily adapt himself anew to the changing of the times. His action in abandoning gag-and-situation comedy for the plotted narrative is his most radical step since he progressed from three-reelers to features. At forty, at the very peak of fame and success, he is initiating a complete conversion of policy in his pictures and is looking forward with a keen anticipation to how motion picture audiences will, react. At forty, Lloyd is moving very much along with the times, and since the public demands new standards of entertainment he plans to satisfy that demand in a fashion leaving nothing to be desired. Considered by many the most fortunate man in the film colony, a perusal of his standard of living seems to bear out the truth of that belief. It must be remembered, however, that Lloyd earned everything he possesses now — and the position he occupies in motion pictures — only as a result of years of laborious struggling . . . years, early in his career, that seemed to offer but small promise of bearing fruit. As a beginner, he knew hardship and despondency — al though at no time did he actually go hungry — and there was a time, after the explosion of a bomb, that surgeons despaired of saving his vision. For months, he remained in a shuttered room, with bandages over his eyes, anxiously awaiting the outcome. Fortunately, he emerged from what might have been a tragic accident with his eyesight unimpaired. Although the owner of halls that would have caused a robber baron to rub his eyes in amazement, Lloyd wanders about his vast estate entirely unconscious of his standing in the community. In all truth, he is the squire of Beverly Hills. To visit his magnificent home, set high on a hill surrounded by sixteen acres of landscaped wonderland, is to realize that the ultimate in simplicity and grandeur has been reached. Presiding over this establishment — as, indeed, it is, in every sense of the word — Lloyd accepts his responsibility with the same unconcern and absence of affectation that distinguishes all his actions. He entertains world-famous celebrities and prop men from the studio with equal courtesy and hospitality, and he is never so happy as when he can strip to the waist and engage in a strenuous game of handball or tennis with one of his studio gang. On his estate is a nine-hole golf course that champions declare one of the finest in the country. Where others might be pardoned in boastfully showing off their home, were they in Harold's shoes, Lloyd is reserved, so reticent that it is difficult at times to realize his being master and lord of the manor. He and his wife live in quiet simplicity, along with their three children, Gloria, Peggy and Harold, Jr. Lloyd married his leading lady, Mildred Davis, in 1922, and about four years ago they adopted beautiful, round-eyed Peggy, to grow up with Gloria. Occasionally, the Lloyds will stage a party . . . and everybody in Hollywood strives for an invitation. You can generally find a news scribe or two lolling at his ease in the Lloyd den or down beside the enormous, magnificently-tiled swimming pool. Although these men, many of them known through their nation-wide syndicate columns in every city in the country, are Harold's friends, few of them mention the comedian in their daily Hollywood articles . . . for the reason that there is nothing to say. He has everything . . . yet his very existence is so uneventful, even though one of filmdom's greatest figures, that they cannot put their fingers on a single note to exploit. It is a travesty on the laws of newsmaking, but the one man in Hollywood whose home is the showplace of Southem California, who enjoys the acclaim and affection of the entire world for the pleasure his pictures have given, whose income can be computed only by experts and whose rise to international renown is one of the greatest success stories ever revealed ... it is he who can be described as the most uninteresting man in Hollywood. A NEW SERVICE FROM HOLLYWOOD FOR READERS OF NEW MOVIE MAGAZINE And now to help you, and other readers of NEW MOVIE Magazine, we have arranged to P™v'dF'*on'(*hjng entirely new in the way of personal service. Write to the Hollywood Type Editor care of NEW MOVIE Magazine. 55 Fifth Avenue, New York, giving a brief description of yourself— your height weight ha r and eye coloring— and the name of the star or featured player whom you think you most resemble If you have an inexpensive photograph or snapshot of yourself, enclose it in your letter In reply, our .Ho'lywood beauty and fashion editors will give you advice and suggestions regarding make-up, dress, coiffure, etc., most appropriate to the type to which you belong. 52 The Ne%v Movie Magazine, February, 1935