The New Movie Magazine (Dec 1929-May 1930)

Adventures in Interviewing {Continued from \xiijc .'.'/) however misdirected. At times I feel t:iat no successful man is an accident, even in films. Griffith has sentimental chaos in his soul. His intelligence was strong enough to guide him into middleclass success. It was not keen enough to keep him from making that epic of the Klu Klux Klan, "The Birth of a Nation." He is a showman first, a half artist afterward. A complete artist, giving the truth in that film, might not have been the indirect cause of greater hatred for Negroes in the South. But Griffith's mind and heart are saturated with the Civil War period. He is before all else the child of a Kentucky General, called, if I remember correctly, "Hell-Roaring Jake." The son of a man with such a moniker could scarcely be expected to be an Anatole France. CONTRARY to popular opinion, Cecil B. De Mille is more appreciative of kindness shown by an interviewer than any other director of the first class. If his films represent middle-class ideas of luxury, it may safely be said that he knows his public. No man in the entertainment world is more sure of himself. That he can shift suddenly and still hold an audience is shown by his direction of the box-office success, "Dynamite." Containing all the ingredients necessary for cheap melodrama, it also has something more — the deft, sure touch of able direction. De Mille is the Belasco of the films. \A/'HEN I called upon him the stage * » was set carefully. I stepped into a large room, furnished in bizarre manner. The head and skin of a striped tiger stretched across the immediate entrance. Everywhere was the paraphernalia of bad taste. Apparently oblivious of my presence, De Mille stood behind a large, highly polished desk, which needed only silver handles to make it complete for burial. For some moments he stood, quite silent, to all appearances sunken in the deepest of thought. It did not seem likely that I had been ushered into the room without his knowledge. Without looking up he reached for a paper on the desk and scanned it carefully. In abstracted manner, he reached for an ornate fountain pen. He signed the paper as though it were the Emancipation Proclamation which would make all movie extras economically free. I waited patiently. With a mind to the business at hand, I observed the room closely. Whether or not this was Mr. De Mille's object, I do not know. There was nothing else to do, at least. Finally he looked up. Startled beyond measure, he came from behind the Three leading members of the RKO beauty chorus: ieft to right, Estelle Erherro, Mary Jane Halsey, and Lita Chevret. They all appeared in "Rio Rita' and they may be future stars, as intimated by Rosalind Shaffer on Page 43 in "The New School for Stars." desk and walked toward me with hand outstretched, enunciating slowly, "I beg your pardon." MR. DE MILLE backed up all statements concerning his films with box-office reports. Unlike many lesser charlatans, he had nothing to say about art. A former actor, he is theatrical even in silence. He stood at the end of his desk, his arms folded. Unobserved, a Japanese flunky glided into the room. Silent as chaos, he started to glide out again. His foot caught in the deceased tiger's mouth. He sprawled in utter abandon. This commotion did not even break the sentence which Mr. De Mille was arranging with definite precision. Neither did he look up. When the Oriental had limped painfully from the Great Presence, he leaned for-ward slightly. With an effort he picked up a book. It was the second I had written. "I haven't gotten to it yet." He rolled the words with regret. "It's the third on my list." "That's very kind of you, Mr. De Mille. I'm so flattered." He went on to weightier subjects. THE interview when published evidently pleased him. He had thousands of copies printed and distributed over the nation. I had written of him, "If he has ridden to fame on a spavined horse, he is aware of it." He repeated the words to me a year later, smiling, with no comment. It has long been the habit of callow and humorless young writers to attack De Mille. The man has no pretensions. He knows exactly what he wants. If De Mille were assured that the great mass of people was ready for highly sophisticated film plays, he would be among the first directors to produce such entertainment. His one great failure, perhaps, was "The King of Kings." Though he began each day with prayer while filming this so-called Biblical epic, the pi-ayer was not answered at the box-office. Becoming less reverent he directed "Dynamite." Many writers in Hollywood have complained of the lack of gratitude displayed by film players to whom they have been kind. Knowing with the great French maker of maxims that gratitude is but the expectation of favors yet to be received, I have worried very little over such matters. Long known as "the most hated man in Hollywood" I can truthfully affirm that I have also been a source of strength to many players bitter and worn with the struggle. Until a year ago I had written about every person of importance in the film city. The interviews had appeared in a dozen national magazines. Five of the number sent letters of appreciation. They were Virginia Valli, Clara Bow, Louise Dresser, Cecil B. De Mille, and Irving Thalberg. All suspicious-looking packages were sent to the War Department. 120