Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1930)

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124 Photoplay Magazine for April, 1930 What Do You Want To Know About The Pictures? Is it a good picture! Is it an All-Talkie, Part-Talkie — Silent or Sound? Is it the kind of picture I would like? Which one shall we see tonight? Shall we take the children? PHOTOPLAY will solve these problems for you — save your picture time and money. PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE is truly the outstanding publication in the great field of motion pictures. Its stories, its special articles, its exclusive features and departments are absolutely different from anything to be found anywhere else. Photoplay gives you: Photoplay's "Shadow Stage" is nationally famous. Here are reviews of all the new pictures, with the casts of all the players. PHOTOPLAY also prints monthly a complete summary of every picture reviewed in its pages for the previous six months. These are but a few of a dozen great departments in which PHOTOPLAY is as up-tothe-minute as your daily newspaper. You cannot really know the fascinating world of the screen unless you are a regular reader of PHOTOPLAY A wealth of intimate details of the daily lives of the screen stars on the lots and in their homes. Striking editorials that cut, with' out fear or favor, into the very heart of the motion picture industry. Authorised interviews with your favorite actors and actresses who speak frankly because Photoplay enjoys their full confidence. Articles about every phase of the screen by such authorities as Marquis Busby, Leonard Hall and Katherine Albert. SUPERB FICTION by the Foremost Writers PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE 750 No. Michigan Ave., CHICAGO Gentlemen: I enclose herewith S2.50 (Canada $3.00. Foreign S3. 50) for which you will kindly enter my subscription for Photoplat Magazine, for one year, effective with the next issue. Sent! to . Street Address City. .Slate. backward, "and in quite a few scenes I'll need some horrible offstage groans and moans. There's your chance, baby, to be a soul in torment." ~KA ISS GALE proved herself an actress by ■^''■'•controlling her temper. "I'll roar like a sea lion if it will make a director look my way," she asserted. "But what do you mean when you say I'm not intriguing?" "You're just a pretty little girl of the type that everyone knows," advised Mr. Baker. "You have to be exotic to get a tumble from the big boys nowadays." "You ought to know," breathed the girl, secretly admiring his wavy black hair and keen features. "None better," bluffed Pete, feeling the ice grow thinner. He watched the girl more closely. Her trim aloofness reminded him of his own loneliness, for he had detoured around love until success should come. And now, here it was ! "Listen, ba — -, Miss Gale, could I see you home? My — my car is being repaired, but we could grab a taxi." "Sorry," said that lady, shaking her burnished head. "I've heard all you famous Hollywood men are — " "But I'm not — I mean — well, see you out at Culver City tomorrow. Ask for me on Stage F." "Thank you," smiled Miss Gale. "Perhaps after I know you better, you'll come to my apartment and have supper with me and — " "Try and stop me, that's all." "And my mother and father and sister," ended Miss Gale. "Believe me, I'm grateful for your kindness, Mr. — " Mr. Baker's brain spun like a concrete mixer. Months before he had resolved to translate his name into French whenever the lightning should strike, and now he trembled with anticipation. "Pierre Boulanger," he said elegantly, in accents that would have turned a Parisian green. "You don't act foreign," cooed the damsel, slowly rising, "but I like it awfully. Well, good night." The filming of "The Curse of Calcutta" steamed ahead with no more than the customary amount of recrimination and rancor, and with only a few days to go it was apparent that the weird settings would receive more publicity than the somewhat banal plot. The transformation of Pete Baker into a monsieur caused scarcely a ripple, for too many of Hollywood's elite had sawed themselves loose from some old and unprintable family tree, and an extra oo-la-la or so made little difference. HIS antics around Stage F, however, were not to be borne so easily. Backed up by the main office, he inserted his rapier-like nose into every argument, acquired the habit of bellowing, and began tossing such artistic jargon as "block composition," "soul revearment" and "the idea behind the idea" — all very disgusting to a realist such as Director Adams. Thrilled by her proximity to greatness, Carolyn Gale alternately moaned and yelped her way through the picture — merely an Unknown Voice. Nobody but M. Boulanger gave her a second look. "I won't be satisfied until I get a test," she pouted one evening as he drove her home from a premiere. "You can't tell me these stars are so wonderful." "Mon Doo!" shrieked Pete, giving it the tourist inflection. "Haven't I told you a million times that beauty has almost nothing to do with it? You're an ash blonde, honey, and you'll screen as pale as a glass of milk. Your features fit too well; those grey eyes will vanish into all that ivory loveliness, and there's nothing for people to remember." "I want a test," repeated the stubborn Carolyn. Every advertisement in PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE Is guaranteed.