The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Jun 1932)

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Carlyle Laboratories, Inc., 67 Fifth Avenue, New York City jphxirtloirt cRed LIPSTICK LI Eli/ T INVISIBLE roCf? •' STITCH Sewing "Thread Black, white and all seasonable colors For sewing all dainty fabrics, use the new fine finished —Looks like silk —Washes better than silk —Strong as silk —Won't cut fabric Dexter-Collingbourne, Dept. 4045B, Elgin, ill. PEXTBR. YAR NS-"BEST SINCI 1820' Introductory Offer now being featured by all popular priced stores Fleeting Glimpses of Flicker Figures (Continued from page 53) mask. He joins in the senseless chorus, but it's all a pose, thanks be. His comedy is low — as low as his origins— and that's the Charlie we love to laugh at. I grin at the Rabelaisian touch of coarseness in his art. He is the superb slapstick buffoon, and all the intellectuals, and arty-artists, and high-hat personages can't take that human something from him. Who cares whether or not he is knighted? Bosh! Let him get into his big shoes, and black derby, and baggy pants and do his stuff. Success and vast wealth have dimmed the real street gamin, and when the stray hobo goes for good Charlie will be done forever. Give me the Charlie who trips and slides drunkenly over polished floors, who hunts for cigar butts while driving a Rolls-Royce, who is always kicked out by "nice people," who shies at cops, who survives by his wits, and who never makes the girl of his dreams. To Hell with Hamlet and Napoleon! EVERY man who has seen the one and only Garbo has pictured himself in central character in a strictly private, flaming drama, with Greta limp in his arms. She has moved millions to dreams of conquest. She has in her long bones the furtive stealth of the leopard. She has qualified as the world's perfect instrument of love and intrigue. That is her appeal, and it is deathless. Garbo is too beautiful to be "good." Being that way, the world prefers her to be "bad." Sex will always be in style, even though reformers man the ramparts, and Garbo, the feline personification of the tender emotions, will continue to kindle lazy imaginations and stir quiet pulses, even though her legs look like large baseball bats. Garbo is ruler of passion in her own right. La Garbo can do no wrong. She is the world's mistress. No fan ever dreams of marrying Garbo. No, it is always an affair, nothing less. Long live the queen! I FIRST surrendered to Marlene because she reminded me so vividly and poignantly of the admirable, unmatchable Jeanne Eagels. I, like so many others, was still in mourning over the loss of that volcanic, dynamic cross between a cyclone and a clap of thunder. I'll never forget her. Marlene's face won me, that broad, clear, magnificent head and face that sent myblood surging. When I was told to admire her legs instead, I was puzzled. They hadn't impressed me. I still don't think they are so very beautiful. But in this I take a broad, generous position. Even ordinary legs have their appeal for my taste. There is a crystal coldness in her that frightens one, and yet it seems to be a mask over a warm, passionate woman who has lived, and felt, and groped, and perhaps suffered. She is yet to prove her art, because Hollywood is reluctant about giving her a story that might bring out her powers. We know it is there, and we tireless moviegoers have learned to be patient. But there is a limit to patience. Marlene and Greta have done one splendid thing for the movies — they have driven out the simpering, doll-like, pretty-pretty girlies. CONSTANCE BENNETT always impresses me with her brittle, surface cleverness. Shrewdness is written all over her. Knowing the language of the box-office, she is out for her killing, and already the game is in her bag. Each film is a rewrite of the one that went before — always the woman who went "wrong," who made the "fatal misstep," the "bad one" who meant to "go straight." It's smeared on thick, and the women bolt it down and yowl for more. Every half-way attractive woman who has had her affair, or hopes to have it, looks to her for justification and verification. As an actress she always gets over, and she is by no means without ability. She does her job in a simple, direct way that hints at something akin to a full set of brains. In addition, her tussle with Gloria Swanson, and the subsequent kidnaping of the Marquis, haven't hurt her with the vast body of moviegoers. There having been no "mess," the affair was taken quite approvingly. Which ought to mean something to a student of mob psychology. I always like to see her; I don't care for what she appears in; I'm never enthusiastic, and yet, there she stands and you can't budge her. It's nice to have such a person around. VOLTAIRE fought his enemies with a smile. Chevalier, perhaps the better-known Frenchman of the two, also smiles, but only in the sacred cause of love. Voltaire smiled as he thought — and he surely knew how to think hard. Chevalier has never been known to furrow his handsome brow in the attempt to think. Other Frenchmen might conquer with a sword or a philosophy, but Chevalier set himself to capture women's hearts, and he knew a smile would go farther than the Encyclopedia of a Diderot, the artistry of a De Maupassant, or the human wisdom of a Montaigne. Chevalier won. And in doing this he brought American men a lesson. Until the advent of Chevalierism, American men approached sex with a grin or a hypocritical frown. Traveling men grinned. Puritans frowned. But sex went on just the same. Then came Chevalier's smile, and all was illumined for millions who don't agree with the Puritans who consider sex "nasty" or with the gutter rowdies who look on it with a smirk and consider it a subject for smutty jokes. Chevalier's smile did this. Yes, the smile is mightier than both the pen and the sword. This charming Frenchman has brought to love qualities of laughter, ease, poise and — a smile! Ted Cook, Hollywood's most famous humorist, is now a regular contributor to New Movie Magazine. Don't fail to make the rounds of the studios with Mr. Cook every month. 102 The New Movie Magazine, January, 1932