Photoplay (Jan - Jun 1931)

Q t u d i oJBa m. h 1 e s IT appears that Nancy Carroll's art may not be so much histrionic as gastronomic. In the New York Paramount Studio lunchroom she ordered a glass of water. Nothing else. "Nancy can't eat today," someone at our table informed us. "She's full of bologny." "You're not only disrespectful, but extremely slangy, young man," mockingly chided an assistant to an assistant director. "Not at all," young man answered. "It's true. She's been eating it all morning." Then it was explained. Nancy's role in "Night Angel" (first titled "Between Two Worlds," then changed to "The Scarlet Hour," next to be called Heaven Knows What!) calls for a scene in which Nancy diligently chews on good, oldfashioned bologny sausage. They had been rehearsing all morning, and Director Edmund Goulding insisted that Nancy take rehearsals, and the bologny, seriously. It's a gag ! The "Rebound" company got a little tired of hard work and no play, so just for fun they got out the dictionaries, encyclopedias and telephone books in an effort to shed light on a momentous question — "Should 'Rebound' be emphasized on the first or last syllable, and why is the Fourth of July?" Director E. H. Griffith seems to have the right answer, while Ina Claire, Robert Ames, Myrna Loy, Leigh Allen, Robert Williams, and Hedda Hopper exclaim over his wisdom. Now, get out your dictionary, if you care THE scene, laid in "The Duck," a disreputable cafe in a foreign city, called for dozens of extra players who sat at the little tables drinking — what? Well, something that's brown and has lovely white foam on top. Realism or no realism, they had to be satisfied with one-half of one per cent. And even then, the extras drank so much that the property men had to pour it all out in a hurry, and let it stand until it was too warm and flat even for an extra man's thirst. Otherwise, there would have been no necessary ambei liquid in the huge glasses, no lovely white foam to make the picture look real. T> J? Kith Back on the set we look aroimd, rub ■*-* j L r U ft v C 3 1\ f J ff 152 our eyes and look again, relieved to find it's just doubles we're seeing, not double. In one corner May Slattery and Wesley Stark, stand-ins respectively for Nancy Carroll and Fredric March, chat quietly. May has Nancy's red hair and looks absurdly like her. Wesley is tall, slender and dark like Fred. On the other side of the set, Nancy and Fredric themselves are conversing, going over lines and business. The two couples stand in almost the same positions for a moment, and the effect is startling. WE'RE off to Hollywood, to the Radio Pictures lot, where Richard Dix is starring in "Young Donovan's Kid." The court is trying to take little brother Jackie Cooper from big brother Richard. (You remember Jackie as Skippy — who could forget him? You'll find a grand story about the making of that picture right in this issue.) The judge orders the officers to remove Jackie. He throws himself into Dix's arms, kicking and screaming. "Please don't let them take me," he wails. His tears flow freely. Sympathetic tears come to the eyes of the watchers. The scene is finished. " Now, Jackie, we're just going to walk through this one, for the camera. No action." It's Director Fred Niblo speaking. Jackie does it again — as unconcernedly as though he were reciting his alphabet. No tears, no emotion. "All right. Action this time," instructs Mr. Niblo. Jackie's tears pour out, trickle down Dix's coat as Jackie clings to him. He's a Director's Delight, that boy!