The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

Vedettes, garcons, snails and onion soup. New York has gone Parisian in a big way, says Herb. Every restaurant is a "Chez" Something-or-Other, Chez Marianne, Chez Dinty Moore. The old town is just a One-Horse Chez. DKiWIXGS B X D . B . H O L C O H B ALL THE WORLD'S A SCREEN And what isn't, looks like a movie set, says Herb Howe. Writing this month's column from New York, Herb forgets his English entirely and uses some of the worst French we've ever seen. Sacre Bleu! Out of My Mind — Francis Lederer is one actor who can wear a costume without looking like a participant in a Marion Davies' homecoming. . . . Gloria Swanson's clothes are smart but her comedy dated. (Sennet period.) George Arliss affects me as a magician rather than an actor in that I'm always aware he is pulling tricks. Gary Cooper, on the point of sewing up feminine fans when he suddenly decided to bag lionesses in Africa, is moving in on Gable — and gaining subtlety with each picture. Barbara Stanwyck, superior as an actress to many a star, lacks the fillip of distinction that makes a star. Nomination for Best Undressed Woman: Sally Rand, Wampas Baby, who after fanning the nation to a white heat is now dancing in a bubble behind a fire-screen (protection against visiting firemen cigarettes). Once Bacon got the credit for Shakespeare's plays but now it's Max Reinhardt. Wally Beery seems laboring at times to play both Min-and-Bill. Garbo, Crawford, Hepburn would like to play Joan of Arc but my choice is Elisabeth Bergner; she has the mysticism. Close second, Hepburn. Add to collection of marquee signs: THE CAPTAIN HATES THE SEA & could name several Hollywood deities who are not up to it in bumpy weather. The Boulevardier freely admits he gets as air-sick as Lupe and her two chihuahuas. With the four of us howling in a plane even Will Rogers might lose enthusiasm for aviation. My impulse for New York was a tip the Revolution would start here this season. Instead, everyone decided to get drunky. People have to do something to pass the time while waiting for Jean Harlow's book. Sally Rand is the Best Undressed Woman, and Wallie Beery is Min-and-Bill with lighted MRS. WIGGS. UP POPS THE LOMBARD. CALL IT LUCKSAILORS. DEVIL WITH CAROLE -SHE LEARNED ABOUT Stars in the Sky — Leonardo da Vinci thought men would be as gods when they could fly but I Street Sisters — Broadway may now boast of being the Hollywood Boulevard of the East. They are street sisters in the skin game. No one need go abroad any more to be gypped. All Paris has moved over. Vedettes, garcons, can-can dancers, snails and onion soup. Restaurants have all turned chez — Chez Marianne, Chez Folies, Chez Dinty Moore. An American could guzzle around Paris without knowing French but he'd feel pretty jou trying it in New York these days. When Wally Beery as The Mighty Barnum mispronounced maitre d'hotel the Rivoli audiences rolled in the aisles. "Tres drole!" we screamed, nudging one another, "ne c'est pas?" Miss Terry's Dilemma — At the Cow on the Roof (Boeuf sur le Toit, a vous) where you may sip Pernod under plane-trees as on the grand boulevardes and gaze into sunlit Parisian vistas cunningly contrived through walls, I found Billy Arnold leading his orchestra. Billy took the first American jazz By HERB HOWE, THE BOULEVARDIER What Gloria Swa Francis Ledere band to Europe in 1920 and has just returned. He told me of singing a farewell gala at Juan les Pins with Alice Terry guest of honor. Prizes were offered patrons for the best impersonations of film stars. Alice acted as judge and awarded first trophy to a German version of Joan Crawford. Since that time I have had a letter from Elysian Terry. She was being shot at in Barcelona amidst a Spanish revolution. On the way to a night club she was compelled to flatten herself in a gutter. "But I had the satisfaction of knowing," she adds philosophically, ''that it .took a revolution to land me there." Meet Lupe Harlow — I told Mr. Arnold he wouldn't have to offer prizes to induce American dolls to imitate the marionettes. Au contraire, I am thinking of offering a gold tooth pick for the discovery of one who doesn't. At the moment I'm in the toils of a cocktail partner who simulates Gloria Swanson so effectively she has me behaving like Bart Marshall, almost. A very genteel couple we make, no doubt, but hardly cozy. On the boat back from Europe I was hexed by another who made up like Harlow and acted like Lupe. It was a pretty rough passage, as I recall. Grapefruit Putsch — Shakespeare thought art held the mirror up to nature. Wilde said nature ended by imitating art. Oscar was prophetic of screen art and female nature. Everyone of us has had near and dear ones who have passed into Garbos, Crawfords, Shearers, Harlows or Lombards. In view of the expense attending such transformations into star elegantes it i's little wonder that impoverished males fanatically applaud the corpuscular Cagney and pray fervently on bended knee for the guts to push nson is to clothes, the pomelo. r is to tights. {Please turn to page 40) The New Movie Magazine, April, 1935 31