Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1936)

We Cover the Studios Interesting from a camera angle, and equally interesting to bystanders, who wish to know how Bill Powell and Carole Lombard, once happily married, will act together in "My Man Godfrey" WE can't understand how anyone could ever become bored in Hollywood. This month, wandering from studio to studio without plan or design, we came upon so much color, humor and excitement, talked with such varied personalities, that our head was kept in a constant buzz. It may be smart to be blase, but the unexpected dramas and comedies that pop up back stage and the personalities that flare under production pressure, give this life a quickness seldom found elsewhere. In our rounds, we came upon death when a derrick, outside the "Yours for the Asking" set, contacted high-voltage wires. Two workers were electrocuted. Bing Crosby, Dolores Costello and George Raft, rushing too late to their aid, enacted bits of tragedy more potent than any contrived in scripts. We had lunch with that lovely Olivia de Havilland; talked tennis with Errol Flynn; discussed comedy timing with Stan Laurel (a serious and astute student of cinema technique); saw a tiger very nearly break loose and chew up a prop boy on the "Bengal Killer" set; saw how ex-married folk (Carole Lombard andWilliam Powell) behave when acting together; got a lesson in camera angles from Michael Curtiz, the director of "Captain Blood;" and had, in general, the time of our life. The first stop in our tour was at M G M . where Sidney Franklin is directing "The Good Earth," Pearl Buck's epic of Chinese farmers. Paul Muni, who's being borrowed from Warner's, and the sloe eyed Luise Rainer are the star-. We were lucky in that we got to watch one of the most touching sequences in this poignant story. The set includes the courtyard and rooms of the home of these impoverished coolies. Beautiful in a perverse fashion, the stage is spotted with thati h moled huts and in the yard 46 there are many solemn-faced little Chinese kids quietly awaiting the whistle for the take. While the assistant director instructs the children, and Mr. Franklin consults the cameraman, Luise Rainer tells us — in her delightfully quaint manner — about the scene. "Ziss is ze saddest part of story," she says. " We are verree poor. We are starving. Xow I am going to kill our ox with a messer so we can eat." She laughs apologetically. "A > That's German for a knife. I forget sometimes." For her role, Miss Rainer wears padded pajamas of a faded blue. Her thin, sensitive face, dominated by those amazingly expressive eyes, is wan and tired. She seems affected by her tragic role, but the really depressing thing. I learn, is that -he has been brooding about the ox. An intuitive act re— . she cannot separate the scene from reality. Brooding about this animal, she had been crying in her dressing room most of the morning. Now, as she leaves us, her face is heavy with a sort of worldweariness. The scene is done without dialogue. The camera. shooting through a lattice door, watches Mis Rainer (O-Lan) as -In battles with her conscience. Then -he pushes open the door, walks slowly to the courtyard and gazes sadly at the ox before holding the knife above it bowed head. There is a simple power in the scene, even though -since it is a close-up the ox is not in the take. I'hi ox, actually a water buffalo, will not really be killed. We saw it outside the set, lazily chewing up a rich expanse of M G M lawn, and not even bothering to lift its head as liable and Joan Crawford passed by. ( )n the stage next to "The Good Earth" set is a simple. ordinarv little dining room. Vet this i one of the backgrounds