Photoplay (Jan 1921)

^$*ylr •■.r..'v^ ~;>--*v i .fgU WEST is EAST A Few Impressions By DELIGHT EVANS THERE was a Time. Not so Long Ago, When I was Thrilled To a Frazzle At the Mere Thought Of Going to Sit A Star. Why, I would Go To the Door of Imogene Awful's Apartment, and Knock in Fear and Trembling, and Actually be Grateful when A Scornful Maid Told Me to Wait. And then I'd Stumble over The Near-Persians into Imogene's Awful — I Mean Imogene Awful's Presence, and Stammer. "It was Nice of You To Let Me Come" and she Would Smile Graciously, and Say, "So Sorry I Couldn't Keep those Appointments Last Week but I was So Busy, so Terribly Busv, having Fits— At the Modiste's, of course — And Posing for Pictures and Attending Teas — thev Will Give Teas for Me—" By that Time I'd Taken in Her Apartment with Its Chinese Lamps and its Japanese Incense And its New Jersey Phonograph and Grand Rapids Antique Furniture and Its Portraits of Dear Imogene On the Piano and On the Mantelpiece and Framed for the Walls: Dear Imogene With her Dear Dolls, and Imogene with her Thoroughbred Pom — It Bore A Startling Rt-K-mblance To the Star Herself— And Imogene Frisking on the Lawn And Ever so Many Other Little Poses. And I Said I was So Sorry to Bother her and She Said, "Oh no My DearNo Bother at allOnly, I've had So Many Interviews, I never Know Just What to Say. Would You Like to See My New Furs? Mom," she Shrieked. "Bring in My Baby-Lamb." A Timid Woman Entered, Leading a Little Child By the Hand. Imogene Screamed. "Take him Away. Not Algernon. Me Coat. Mom!" "Pardon Me," I Said, "I did Not Know You were Married." "Ah yes," Sighed Imogene, Resigned'.' . "I Marrie. A Russian — no. A French Count — by the way, What is the Favorite Nationality Among Your Dear Readers This Year? Ah yes — he Travels for his Government, and Little Algernon Looks Just like him. Did you Ask Me My Hobbies? Words Fail to Express Mv Love for Literature. I Read The DollV House and All of Ibsen's Children's Stories To Algernon Every Evening. As for Shaw — well, I Think "The Restless Sex" Was the Best Picture of the Year. And Music — Mon Doo ! I Think Chopin's NewMusical Comedy is 4 The Sweetest Thing — Isn't it Nice that All the Violinists "I married a Russian, no. — a French count! Are Going in for Musical Comedy? And Sculpture — I Dearly LostPaul Swan. And Now — Speaking of Art — I Want to Show You My Latest Portraits Here's One I Rather Like — taken In My Little MotorCustom-built Body, Baby-blue, Containing Cellarette — that's Only for Iced Tea, Of Course — Makeup Box, Kitchenette, and Just Everything. And — By the way, I Forgot To Tell You the Most Important Thing Of All. I Am Going to Europe!'' "When." I asked Hopefully, "Do You Start?" Well, that's Just about the Way It was. A Personally Autographed Photograph of Imogene was Just as Good As a Court Decoration, Any Day. Now . How ' nerent ! I've :overed, and Passe' it on, that Stars are not Heavenly Bodies, after all, But Only Human. They Get Married, and Raise Families, just like All the Rest of the World, and Take Cold in their HeadsHere to Pay and Gone To Borrow, you Might Say. Films have Grown Too Big, for Stars to Shine So Brightly, Any More. No Longer is a Photoplay Merely a Series of Closeups Of Our Imogene. Audiences want Life, not Curly Locks: Stories, not Babv-Stare>. We're Tired Of Hearing Thi Stars Talk About Their Art: it's Old-fashioned. Of Course, we Wouldn't Want them to Twinkle Out Altogether— Thev're A Prettv Regular Bunch, After All.