The Photo-Play Journal (May 1916-Apr 1917)

PAGE 8. THE PHOTO-PLAY JOURNAL FOR JUNE, 1916 "I have never bothered you," she screamed at him, as the true meaning of all her troubles flooded her understanding. "Let me keep my man. Your girl can buy others — better than this of mine." "The woman is drunk," growled McManus. "Take her out until she can behave in court." About to permit the officers to quiet her, crushed by the evidence of her cruel fate, Berna was sinking to her seat when the sound of chiming bells from a nearby church was wafted through the courtroom. Her bells that had always symbolized "civilization" to her from childhood, the civilization which she now found so cruel ! Her reason fled for the moment and, like a wild animal, the child of "Civilization" flew at the putty-faced beast on the bench. Her hand went to her hat for the weapon of the woman of the streets. As she plunged it toward the Judge a bailiff intervened and received some five inches of hatpin in his side. That was all she knew, but through the blurred vision of frightened spectators, she heard last of all the sound of civilization's bells. Before another judge, later in the day, she was sentenced to six months in the county prison. Could she go home and get her things and her baby ? Certainly not, they told her. Modern civilization provided for such cases — The divorce was rushed through rapidly by McManus. The Juvenile Court turned the baby over to its father. Obviously a streetwalker and inmate of the county prison was no fit person to bring up a child ! Four months later Nicholas and Ellen were married. They sailed for Europe on their bridal tour. McManus turned the baby over to an institution with instructions to keep it out of his sight. Two months later, when Berna was released, she hastened to her old home. She was but the shadow of her former self, and with sombre hopelessness was not far from insanity. There was no baby, they told her there. They even were kind enough to show her the Sunday paper, with account in full of the wedding of Ellen McManus and Nicholas Turgenev, the famous violinist. Berna did not say she was his wife. They would have laughed, and she did not feel like laughter. Judge McManus was sitting alone in his library. He had slipped out of the ballroom where the reception in his honor was being held, for he wanted to be alone for a moment. A letter from his daughter received that day informed him that her husband was Nicholos and Ellen were married while Berna served her time in " civilization s " pet institution. likely to prove a bad bargain. He was drinking heavily, and had struck her. She blamed her father, which bothered him greatly. The door opened and closed softly, but McManus did not look up. Then a strangely calm voice broke the stillness with : "I have come to kill you." The man started to his feet and turned to face a haggard woman who pointed a gun at him with amazing steadiness. Her set face and burning eyes impressed him. smi wi. i h ' '" ■!■:.:, vi ■!;,:'■ rim,, mi in.1 i:rvnri.y ' mm ; vuvmsvi'iiiiviiiij' in MAE MARSH, of the Triangle films, is one of the favorite girl stars, and she is not a raving beauty. She is a finished artist, which helps much, but it is the real, human, likeable Mae Marsh who gets across to you in pictures and makes you want more of her. We watched the little star at work on her new play the other day. It is a highly interesting vehicle about which there is much secrecy. And one of the most interesting things about it is that Paul Powell is directing. This is the first creative association of the two. Powell is something of a poet, and very much of an artist. He is winning a reputation for getting under the skin of things. He is a master of pictorial detail, an expounder of significant human subtleties. That is why his association with Mae Marsh is so promising. They are working together enthusiastically, with a common aim. Witness the following colloquy between them just after the photographing of a brief scene in which the actress held the screen : Miss Marsh — "How did that look to you?" Mr. Powell — "All right. I don't see how it could be bettered. How did it feel?" MAE MARSH llll I Illllllll II II. I I I in ill i i ' II' in ' I I I mil Miss Marsh — "It wasn't what I had thought out — what I hoped it would be." Mr. Powell — "Try it again, the way you had in mind." Miss Marsh — "No, I tried it four times my way and I couldn't get it. Your way is probably the right one." Mr. Powell — "I've discovered that your ideas are often better than mine. Won't you see what you can do with this scene?" And so they went at it again, analyzing and discussing and experimenting in a true and prolific collaboration, till the thing had shaped itself anew. And all for a mere entrance — a scene that will not last ten seconds on the screen. That is the artistic conscience for you. "Miss Marsh is alive every second," said Mr. Powell. "She puts an extraordinary amount of intelligent thought into everything she does. She is constantly making of her part more and more a living creature ; and it is the same creature from first to last." A rare panegyric from a director ! And listen to Miss Marsh herself: "I have come to kill you," she repeated calmly, and with an almost friendly tone, so earnestly did she speak. McManus scrutinized her closely. He recognized her, but would have had no fear but for the strange eyes which were upon him. "She's bughouse," he muttered to himself, "and liable to make me, first shot." Still, he thought, the closer she got to him the less chance of her missing — and she was gliding closer every moment. Without taking his gaze from her, he sprang for the light switch, and as he clutched it with both hands, the room turned to darkness with the explosion of a gunshot. For a moment there was utter silence, The orchestra could be faintly heard from the ballroom, and as the door between opened to admit two of the guests, the room was flooded with light and music simultaneously. "I want Cassidy to see the chair we gave you," said one, stopping at the Judge's desk. A servant came hurriedly in and turned a switch near the door. A light, one hanging directly above the gift chair, shone forth in the gloom as the servant cautiously closed the door leading to the ballroom. Casting a deep white light down upon the ornate oak rocker still decorated with the committee's card, it revealed therein the crumpled body of McManus, an empty mockery of the honor bestowed upon him. One of the men made a queer noise in his throat, and in an embarrassed manner stepped close to the dead man, fumbling the ribboned card : "As a token of our esteem and appreciation of Judge McManus' services to humanity and the higher civilization." He read aloud, and as both moved toward the door the orchestra stopped playing and through the open windows came the sound of distant church bells. (From the Triangle-Kay-Bee drama by C. Gardner Sullivan, showing the effects of our "higher civilization" on a little "barbarian" so ignorant that she believed only in good and happiness.) i mi in i i mi ■ null iiiinii i iiniiiiiiiiii iiiiiii in "The most interesting sort of role to me is one that is out of the conventional; that isn't a type at all, but the exception, and that requires the expression of delicate moods and fixed emotions. That sort calls for every bit of brains one has ; it means devotion, patience and unbelievable effort, but one is always stimulated because of the unending difficulties. When you are really advancing even the seeming drudgery is never tiresome. "This new part is the most interesting I have had for ages for that very reason. It is a problem every minute, and Mr. Powell makes me feel that I am helping to solve it. Pie keeps me constantly planning and experimenting at high pitch, and that is what makes the life of a photoplayer worth while. "No, clothes count very little, and looks count less. Of course, no girl seriously objects to looking attractive on the screen, but that does not make success, and there is no real satisfaction in it. The one thing that really counts is the stimulus that comes from creative effort and the satisfaction of having made a vital character really live on the screen, so that it reaches out to folks and makes them feel."