Picture Play Magazine (Jul - Dec 1929)

10 Continued from page 8 thanks, Mr. Lusk, for that wholly competent and charming review of Novarro's "The Pagan"! Richard E. Passmore. Media, Pennsylvania. Miss Compson's Loss. A certain star has got my Irish up, and I'm telling the world I don't like Betty Compson. She was one of my favorites. But after reading her life story, I think she is the most conceited, selfish person I ever heard of. She says her father was dying with tuberculosis, but she wouldn't go near him because she was afraid of contracting it! Afraid of marring her perfect beauty! She says she has always known she was beautiful. She was ashamed of her parents, because they ran a grocery store and later a boarding house, although they were, she admits, doing it for the money to educate her in music. She can't stand children. When her father died she was glad, because then she was no longer a grocer's daughter. There won't be any more of my quarters buying tickets to see her. Some of the fans will probably say "Her private life is her own affair." That's true. Why doesn't she keep it out of print, then? Every magazine you pick up has something about the lovely Betty Compson, but I don't believe she'll be popular long. I don't suppose Miss Compson cares about my opinion, or that of any of her fans, but I know many people with the same opinion. Unless she wants to lose more admirers, I advise her to stop making her real self known to the public. Mrs. C. B. Matlock. Waco, Texas. Mercy! Buddy Conceited? Until I read that most egotistical interview that appeared in August Picture Play, I had always liked Buddy Rogers, but he will never get any place tooting his own horn, so to speak. Yes, of course we are interested in his love affairs, musical aspirations, et cetera. However, was it necessary for Buddy to say, "Valentino only got 16,000 letters a month, while / get 2.3,000"? Another objection. Buddy says he won't get married, because his fans won't let him. Why, my dear child, no one cares what you do in private life, for we don't know that side of you anyway. All we are interested in is the pictures you make, so go ahead and get married and don't worry about your fans 'becoming peeved, because we. all know we haven't any chance in capturing you, anyway. However, I don't wish to throw too many bricks, as I admire Buddy's acting very much and, after all, that's all that counts. For Heaven's sake, Buddy, don't get any more conceited, or I know one less fan for you. Lucy B. Lansing, Michigan. Miss Pickford's Accent False? Personally, I like the fans who knock the movies. That sounds pretty bad, but you do get so much help out of seeing others find fault with the stars. And now /'// do some knocking. How on earth could any one pick Mary Pickford for Southern dialogue? If that once adored favorite had any touch of the famous Southern drawl in her voice — then I'm from Mars. When the lamb was shorn then — well, in plain English, Mary Pickford is all up withJme. I'm looking right now at a picture of her and her wonderful curls. Wkat tke Fans Tkink How could she part with them? Having lived in Georgia all my life and only recently come to North Carolina, I know all about the way real, honest-to-goodness Southern people talk. There are many who will agree with me. I heard some one rightly say that the cast in "Coquette" sounded, when they spoke, like a crowd of old-time negroes, or a band of backwoodsmen. If refined Southern people ever spoke like that, or ever will, let me be dead when they do. They say Mary Pickford is all worked up over her triumphant success in "Coquette." Jove! people are peculiar. If she only knew the feeling, the thought, of the people who live in the setting of her "successful" film! Nan Chauncey. Greensboro, North Carolina. Buddy Topples — Billy Rises. Until now Buddy Rogers has been my ideal. Before reading the interview with Buddy in August Picture Play, I had always thought him a sweet, unassuming youth, and surely not one to toot his own horn. Imagine my amazement, then, on discovering the erstwhile modest Buddy to be somewhat of an egoist. In the first place, he made a catty remark about Charlie Farrell. Indeed, I have seen none of Buddy's pictures winning the gold medal as Farrell, a comparative newcomer, aided in doing for "Seventh Heaven." And then again, Buddy compares his fan mail to that of Valentino. He should remember that Rudy had only the silent screen as his medium, while Buddy has the advantage of winning many admirers by virtue of his full, rich voice. Perhaps I have misconstrued Buddy's statements. I rather hope I have. I realize that Buddy has much to be proud of — youth, looks, and success. But he might be a -little more subtle when he compares himself with others. Right now William Haines replaces Buddy Rogers on my favorite's throne. Dolores Vasholz. Kansas City, Missouri. Won't Some One Defend Alice? It was unnecessary for me to sit through any picture twice to discover that Alice White cannot act. I saw her just once, and such agony I never want to suffer again. It doesn't speak much for the intelligence of the fans if there is any demand for her picture. I can't understand her popularity at all, although there may be a certain class of people who enjoy seeing her. Is it any wonder that girls come to Hollywood? It isn't hard to convince oneself that one could do as well and better than Miss White. Off the screen — if any one cares to know — she is notoriously dumb. I could say a lot more. Dolores del Rio is fundamentally one of the greatest actresses on the screen. But that doesn't mean she can make any kind of face and get away with it. It is true that her one great performance was in "Resurrection." With the opportunities she has had, no one but she can be blamed for her mistakes. I have seen almost every picture she has ever made, in search of a glimmer of the divine spark which gave such poignant and tragic beauty to Katusha Maslova, but have only become thoroughly disgusted instead. Dolores had better leave the cute capers for a while and go back to real acting. Crocella Mullen Hollywood, California. Too Busy for Clubs. In the article entitled "Are These Your Stars?" was mentioned the fact that the stage recruits seem to have caused little or no ripples, because no clubs had been formed in their honor. Another quote from the article is "After all, who are Jeanne Eagles, Herbert Marshall, et cetera when Charles Rogers and Nancy Carroll are playing across the street?" The entire article seems biased. It seems that Radie Harris tried to arouse prejudice against the stage stars who have come to the screen. As far as clubs in their honor are concerned, I don't suppose there will be any, for the simple reason that these stars appeal to the class of people whose lives are too busy to form clubs. These stars have supporters in the mature classes. Let us take Ruth Chatterton for an example. What an actress ! I saw her in "Charming Sinners." How I enjoyed the character which she so gracefully made live ! How her voice carried ! The house was packed and every one seemed to enjoy her equally as well as I, for I could hear whispers, "Isn't she marvelous?" "Isn't she clever?" Although we recognize and enjoy the work of an artist, have we time to foster a club in her honor, or write fan mail? No, because we are entirely too busy. But when another Chatterton picture comes, we'll be on hand to see it. Mae Harris. 90 Edgecombe Avenue, New York, N. Y. No Longer Unhonored, Unsung. We've all been praising and damning — and not faintly, either — these creatures called stars. Even those hard-working people, the magazine writers, have been spoken about now and then. But never do I hear any one commenting, favorably or adversely, about those poor, long-suffering individuals, the film reviewers. They exist in silent anguish through miles of film, often atrocious, in order that they may help guide us in our choice. So, I select for this month's list of adjectives, Norbert Lusk. Mr. Lusk is, to me, the most intelligent reviewer on any magazine. He does not pass off a lot of smart cracks and slipshod piffle as criticism. He adopts a workmanlike attitude toward his reviewing. You feel that he knows his business. Frankly, keenly, with fine impartiality and fairness, he analyzes pictures. Occasionally he brings in a bit of grand humor. Have you ever noticed how much he knows about drama — tiny, fine points ? Sometimes, when he allows himself to digress, he gives really brilliant dissertations on phases of drama. Note his analysis of so-called natural speech on the stage, and the question of accent. Of course, my frequently agreeing with him may have a little to do with my admiration. It has come to be a game with me to see all the films possible before Mr. Lusk does, and then compare my reactions with his. And how we do agree! If I miss a. picture he praises I am sorry, because I know that I would have liked it. Ever since Mr. Lusk wrote long ago a series of articles dealing with Mabel Normand, Geraldine Farrar, and all the fascinating people of early film life, his work has interested me. And I'm glad that he has not let me down in this new work. Although it can't be new — he knows too much about it. Alice Clifton. 225 East River Street, •Peru, Indiana. Continued on page 12