The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

"SO SORRY" "I'm such an awkward dancer— I'm afraid I ruined your shoe!" DON'T WORRY Shinola removes dirt and stains quickly — leaves shoes white as new! NO RUB-OFF yC Properly applied, Shinola White does not rub off on clothes or furniture. •fc Shinola White Cleaner dries quickly. After drying, the shoe should be rubbed or brushed. Shinola cleans and whitens; removes all stains and will not discolor shoes. On-the-Set Reviews "My name is Hood — R. Hood," he says. "I'll be in town for some time on business and — " " — and you want a good, clean bed and home cooked meals while you're here!" The landlady is very friendly and loquacious. "Well, you've come to the right place." Fred says he hopes so. "If I do say so myself," she goes on, "the Ella Ferris place is known far and wide as 'a home away from home'!" "Get many out-of-towners?" "Land sakes no!" Aunt Ella chuckles. "That's just our slogan! You're the first since . . . well, since I don't know when!" So Fred moves in, parks his toothbrush and sets out to round up the bandits. Meeting up with Madge Evans, who edits the local newspaper (such as it is), Fred goes the way of all youth and, with visions of a vine-covered cottage where Madge can empty ash trays and run the sweeper, he makes a snappy job of capturing the gang and turning them in. Ralph Murray is directing, and the cast includes the names of two of your old favorites, Herbert Rawlinson and Creighton Hale, whom we haven't seen since the Fourth of July, ten years ago, when our dear Aunt Emma fell off the bus! Also, credits go to Lynne Overman, Dean Jagger, little David Holt, J. C. Nugent, Grant Mitchell, Elizabeth Patterson (Aunt Ella), and others. For reasons best PAGE MISS known to herself, GLORY Marion Davies • (adored by the entire WARNERS profession for her kindness and generosity) packed up her make-up kit and, shaking the dust of M-G-M from her feet, moved in on Warners' lot for a fling at the high comedy she does so well. From Red Hook, up-state, to New York, comes Marion, a gawky, unsophisticated, backwoods child of nature, determined to make a mark in this cold, cruel world. Under the tutelage of Patsy Kelly, Marion learns chamber-maiding in the swanky Park-Regis hotel (and, as this isn't a mystery picture, you've got to figure out for yourself just how a country gal falls into a job like that!) When a famous yeast company offers an enormous prize for a picture of America's most beautiful girl, Pat O'Brien, a promoter with nothing to promote; Frank McHugh, a newspaper photographer out of a job; and Frank's girl friend, Mary Astor, get together and make a composite picture of several girls, naming the glorious result of their efforts "Dawn Glory"! Well, they win the prize, and there they are — stuck with a prize-winning photo and nothing to back it up! The radio, the movies, the newspapers (not to mention the yeast company) demand "Dawn Glory." And there ain't no such animal! Dick Powell, a daredevil aviator, sees the picture, falls in love with it and takes it with him on a dangerous nonstop flight to Alaska. Marion sees Dick's picture in a newsreel, falls in love with him and, while she can't take the reel of film home with her, still she holds the memory of his handsome face in her aching heart. Stuck for a "Dawn Glory," Frank and Pat run across Marion, who has ac (Continned from page 59) cidentally stumbled into a beauty shop on her day off, and — well, you ought to know that the chambermaid just fills the bill. Before her transformation, with hair skinned back and nose unpowdered, Marion is shuffling along the hall when the elevator stops and Dick steps out. Trembling like a new bride, Marion stops him and asks: "Aren't you . . . Mister Bingo Nelson . . . the aviator?" "Guilty, Judge," Dick grins. "I seen — " she corrects herself, "I saw your picture ... in the newsreel. . . ." "Did you ask for your money back at the box office?" "Oh, Mister Nelson," she breathes, "you look just like your picture!" "I know," Dick sighs. "But I'm very kind to children and dumb animals." Marion is flustered. "Will you autograph my — my apron, Mister Nelson?" "Sure!" Dick takes the pencil. "I'll sign anything. That's been my undoing all these years!" So, as Dawn Glory, Marion dazzles all and sundry. Dick lays his heart at her feet and the finale finds the two of them honeymooning high over New York in Dick's plane. Joseph Schrank and Philip Dunning are responsible for the authoring, and Mervyn (Papa) LeRoy directs. The cast includes such troupers as Patsy Kelly, Lyle Talbot, Helen Lowell, Berton Churchill, Joe Cawthorne, Al Shean, Hobart Cavanaugh, Gayne Whitman ("Chandu," to you radio fans), Barton MacLane, Jack Mulhall and Gavin Gordon. FRONT-PAGE WOMAN • WARNERS While Director! Michael Curtiz' back was turned, we sneaked on this set just in time to catch Bette Davis and George Brent going through an amusing scene from this Richard Macauly story. Reporters on rival newspapers, Bette and George (who really love each other all the time) meet in the penitentiary press room where the boys are keeping a death watch, prior to an execution. George spots Bette and exclaims: "Well — I'm a so-and-so!" "You're telling me?" Bette says with that certain inflection. "What are you doing here?" George demands. "Covering a story. Have you got a sandwich?" "You mean, Spike Kelly handed you this assignment?" "I asked for it," calmly. "Asked for it?" George is most amazed. "Why not? It's a big story, isn't it?" "Look, tidbit," he says firmly, "an electrocution is no place for you." "Why not? I'm a reporter." "No you're not! You're just a sweet little kid whose family let her read too many newspaper novels!" "Oh-hh-h!" Bette is plenty exasperated. "You make me so mad — I — I could— oh, I could just— SPIT!" Brent points to the cuspidor. But Bette isn't so nonchalant after the heat has been turned on the condemned man. Folding up in a neat little pile on the floor, she goes completely out of circulation (and with a deadline to make, too!) Torn between love and duty, Brent slaps his sweetie pie with a wet towel, makes two copies of his story and sends the other to Bette's paper with a note to the re-write man telling him to soup it up so they won't be identical. Of course, the note is delayed (this is pictures, folks!) and when the execution stories hit the front page, Bette lands in the dog house just five minutes ahead of Brent! More determined than ever to make George admit that she's a good newspaper woman, Bette goes out to beat her b.f. to the punch in getting firsthand news on the mysterious slaying of a well known show producer and playboy. Well, it's nip and tuck, with Brent "nipping" the original scoop, and Bette "tucking" a good two yards on her beau by getting a confession out of the real murderer. And does George look silly? And is Bette going to have something to slam at his defenseless head after they're married? Oh, boy! This original play, ACCENT ON by Samson Raphael YOUTH son, is (to our way of • thinking) one of the PARAMOUNT smartest comedy farces ever written. Herbert Marshall, playwright, is in love with his secretary, Sylvia Sidney, who adores him. Convincing himself that he is too old even to consider a romance with the petite Sylvia, Marshall practically throws her into the arms of a wealthy young actor in his play, even going so far as to write the dialogue for the kid's proposal ! Resignedly, Sylvia marries the actor, played by Phillip Reed, but, after six months of athletic honeymooning — swimming, riding, golfing, etc., with her husband — Sylvia calls it a day and rushes back to Marshall. Very melodramatically, Reed rounds up a few of his college pals and takes them out to Marshall's place to get the goods on his wife. Actually, Sylvia has merely dropped in on her erstwhile boss for a very platonic get-together, but, when she sees Phil coming, she runs into the bedroom, slips out of most of her clothes and makes a staggering entrance, wearing one of Marshall's dressing gowns! Phil gets his "evidence" and Marshall finds himself more or less compromised. But realizing that Sylvia prefers his charm and brilliance to her husband's youth and callisthenic inclinations, 'Bart' gives in and it's happy endings all around. The scene is before Sylvia's marriage to Reed and she sits in a big chair in Marshall's study, taking dictation. "Bart" stands across the room, in the throes of creation. '"Bill! . . . Bill! Bill . . . dash," he dictates. " 'I've retired — dash — and I'm going to Finland — exclamation mark.' " Striding across the room, he leans upon the back of her chair and says excitedly: "I really am, Linda! Oh, boy, what a feeling!" Sylvia's eyes are unhappy. Marshall gestures to the book shelf behind him. "There are my collected works. Nineteen comedies! . . . I'm a success and I've got money — why do I have to write tragedies like "Old Love"? Sylvia continues to gaze off into space. "Bart" raves on: "You stick your head in the clouds. What does it get you? A crown of thorns! You put your feet on the ground. What does it get you? BUNIONS!" "Cut!" yelled Director Wes Ruggles. And, "Swell! . . . Print it!" 60 The New Movie Magazine, August, 1935