The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

Connie Should Have Been a Boy {Continued from page 29) Even as a child, Connie could not stomach affectation. People who "put on a front" have always disgusted her — and she finds a perverse delight in stripping off their masks. Pretence and insincerity being a vogue in Hollywood, it is easy to understand why many poseurs in the picture colony fear and dislike her. One of her worst faults is intolerance. Most issues, to her, are clear-cut, and she lacks the patience to seek excuses for other people's actions and beliefs. Above all else, she is intolerant of stupidity. An unintelligent person bores her insufferably — and, again, she lacks the patience to disguise her boredom. She resents bitterly and volubly, anything which she considers an "insult to my intelligence" (the phrase is hers). In that resentment lies the cause of many of her quarrels with the press. I remember a story published several years ago, which asserted that she spends $250,000 annually on her clothes. It threw her into a rage. "I don't care what they write about me so long as they don't insult my intelligence like this!" she stormed. Characteristically, her anger burned until she had answered. Constance can never be content until she has had an eye for an eye. Step on her toes, and she will treasure the injury jealously until it is repaid, with interest. To continue with her faults; she is, I think, too egotistic, too determined to have her own way, no matter what or who must be over-ridden in obtaining it. Life has been prodigal in its treatment of her. True, she has unusual intelligence, unusual ability, unusual capacity for work, unusual force of character— but she has also been extraordinarily lucky. She has no conception of the meaning of poverty. She has never been forced to impose upon her own inclinations the restraints mothered by Necessity. As a consequence, she is apt to be — and sometimes is — to be inconsiderate of others who have been less fortunate. Again, her psychology is that of a man . . . and, in a man it would be more generally understood. She takes what she wants! Yet, paradoxically, she wants to be kind and helpful to every creature less fortunate than herself. I know of many things which she has done for unfortunates— and I know better than to recount them here, for I would only invite a quarrel with Connie. She has • been criticized, and she is proud — consequently, she disdains to cite in her own behalf any of the countless good deeds which might confound her critics. Her sympathies are quickly and deeply touched — if she considers the object worthy of sympathy. If not, she can be quite merciless. She has always been too quick to judge people. Even as a child, she either liked, or disliked — and there were no half-tones in her appraisals. Maturity has strengthened, rather than weakened, that trait. But it is amazing how correct her judgments usually are. To those whom she loves, Constance is loyal, almost to a fault. Despite her independence, she is intensely loyal to her family — to "the Bennetts." During his recent illness, she sacrificed all her own interests to be with Father, night and day. Time and again, she has rushed half-way around the earth to "stand-by" when some member of the family needed her. She is proud, I believe, of the theatrical traditions of the family — although I have never heard her express that feeling in so many words. As a matter of fact, she prefers to talk about acting, stardom and everything else pertaining to her profession from the standpoint of hard-boiled business. But I remember the eagerness she invariably displayed when she and Barbara and I, as kids, played theater. When she married Philip Plant, it was with the avowed intention of never acting again, but, even so, I think she was unable to shake the conviction that her real career remained before the cameras. *T^HAT she has been able to achieve so *■ much has always been a source of amazement to me, for, physically, she has never been strong. In her case, ambition and nervous energy have combined to drive her body far beyond its natural powers. Physicians have often warned her to "take it easy," but they have advised the impossible. Constance is a dynamo. Idleness, in her estimation, is stagnation, and stagnation she cannot stand. She must be forever on the move, driving forward, picking up new experiences, new stimuli. And, characteristically, she drives others. She lives now — and always has lived — with regal magnificence. She denies herself nothing that she wants, yet, surprisingly, her wants are comparatively simple. In many things, she is extravagant, in others she is very saving. Brilliant, yet logical; intolerant, yet sympathetic; combative, yet quick to admit an error; poised, yet unaffected — Constance has as many facets as a well-cut diamond. But I like best to think of her as I — and few others — have seen her in the privacy of her home with Peter Plant, her son. I like to see the eagerness with which he runs to her on her entrance and the unfailing patience with which she shares all of his troubles and his joys. And like all the Bennetts, I'm very proud of Constance, who is neither perfect— nor wants to be considered so! DON'T MISS THE ISSUES TO COME Many thrilling stories and features are planned for the forthcoming issues of New Movie which will bring you a great deal of reading pleasure. A yearly subscription in the United States is $1.00. In Canada, $1.60. Foreign, $2.00. NEW MOVIE, 55 Fifth Avenue, New York City Please send me New Movie for one year for which I enclose $ Begin my subscription with the issue. Name. Address . City .State. 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