Picture-Play Magazine (1932)

10 Continued from page 6 Mae Marsh's Triumph. MAE MARSH'S triumphant return to the screen in "Over the Hill" is a remarkable testimonial to her early training. After ten years' absence, and with no training in the use of her voice, she has given a characterization which is overwhelming in its pathetic power, and which surpasses even the redoubable Helen Hayes's portrayal in "The Sin of Madelon Claudet." This is about as high praise as could be given, since Miss Hayes's performance is the most notable exposition of mother love we have had for some time, and also because she is rated as one of the foremost stars of the stage. ARss Marsh's acting might easily have been old-fashioned, but there was nothing in it that was not intelligent, and the one trait which has survived from her early days in pictures is the trait which made her performance superior to that of Miss Hayes. This is the power to convey emotion, emphasize mannerism, and give a complete picture of the pathos of old age by tiny movements of the lips and eyes, by expressions so nearly imperceptible that only the camera can catch them. It is because Miss Marsh, in those early days when the camera meant everything, learned to act with her under lip and her eyelashes that she has triumphed so imposingly in what would seem at first an unfamiliar medium. As long as a simple gesture remains more expressive than a thousand words, her talent will remain preeminent. I hope she will receive roles more worthy of it, in future, than the too-sentimental one she was given in "Over the Hill." And if she is well managed by her nroducers, I venture to predict that she will take us back to the days when Lillian Gish, Norma Talmadge, and Richard Barthelmess made pathos on the screen sublime instead of sentimentally ridiculous. R. E. Griffith. 15, Founders' Hall, Haverford College, Haverford, Pennsylvania. Three Cheers for Karen. 1HAVE seen "The Cuban Love Song" and I would be willing to bet that not one out of ten persons could guess what appealed to me most. Stop guessing. It was Karen Morley, the girl I predict will be a star before another year passes. There is no doubt that this charming young lady has the most appealing voice of the movies. Her voice is not her only asset, for her figure is beautifully slim and she knows how to carry it in a way which is unique. Originality is her motto, for she does not try to imitate Greta Garbo or Marlene Dietrich — she is her own sweet self, a new screen personality who should be pushed upward to stardom. The directors know this better than I do, and they will take advantage of this glamorous personality by placing her in better and bigger roles. Three cheers for Karen Morley ! Rodolfo Ortiz. Jackson Heights, Long Island, New York. The Harlow Display. WHY isn't there a law against Jean Harlow ? She has spoiled many pictures for me by her cheap display of feminine wiles that passes for acting. Her What the Fans Think brilliantly white hair is artificial, her dresses, what there are of them, atrocious, her hips too large and her acting — but she can't act ! I say down with her sort of brazen display, and more glory to the less flaming ladies who have real talent. Why isn't Joan Crawford given a real break? Instead of realizing that they have a real dramatic star in their keeping, M.-G.-M. puts her into one cheap sexy yarn after another. I claim that she is a potential Garbo, and if given a break — oh, why are producers so stupid? Maybe it's box office, but don't tell me the public wouldn't flock to see her in an honest-togoodness story, and sans the brute heroes now considered so necessary. Harold V. Harding. 12 Burtis Avenue, Highwood, Illinois. Imagine Our Consternation! HERE are two fans who do not know what to think. A girl friend and I recently saw "Delicious," starring Janet Gaynor and Charles Farrell. We enjoyed the picture very much and the music was wonderful. Imagine, if you can, our consternation upon hearing one of our favorite actors, Charles Farrell, remark in a nonchalant tone, "I don't even remember what chord it is in." He was speaking of the "Star Spangled Banner." He pronounced "chord" as if it were "charred," instead of "kord," as per Webster. Besides, one does not speak of the "chord" in which a piece of music may be written, but in what "key." Not only that, but he leaves the preposition "in" dangling at the end of the sentence! Just then, his valet brought him a message. He had lost the radiogram itself, but gave the message verbally. The beautiful companion of Charles Farrell turned to him, and commented upon the action of the "va\ct !" We are very sorry, but we thought the word was pronounced "vah." This is just friendly criticism, but when we know the wonderful opportunity the screen has for improving the speech of young Americans, and see that the opportunity is neglected, we want to do something about it, if it is nothing but to attempt to warn the directors or the scenario writers to be more careful. Gussie Insall. De Leon, Texas. Stick to Comedy, Norma. \1 THEN will Norma Shearer get wise VV to her limitations? First we read she is to make "Smiling Thru," then "Grand Hotel," and — ye gods! — "Strange Interlude." Evidently Miss Shearer thinks she is a combination of Janet Gaynor, Ruth Chatterton, Marlene Dietrich, andGreta Garbo. It seems as if Mrs. Thalberg takes her pick of the best stories M.-G.-M. gets. Norma is an excellent technician, but she has neither the depth nor ability to attempt such widely divergent roles. Her fcrte is light comedy — "Private Lives" — and she should stick to it. If Constance Bennett is as clever as the magazines say she is, why doesn't she devote some of her time to learning how to act? She just saunters through her parts, modeling gowns, and looking extremely bored. It takes a great deal more than wealth and finishing-school deportment to make an actress. Constance could learn plenty from. Joan Crawford, whose sincerity and vibrant earnestness, no matter what part she plays, reach right out from the screen and command attention and admiration. It is surprising, too, that a number of prominent feminine players think that sex appeal consists of obvious situations, trick hair dyes and seminudity. This applies to the Misses Shearer, Bennett, Harlow, Swanson, and of late, Billie Dove; the last three approaching vulgarity. Successful sex angles need a great deal of subtlety, a quality these ladies do not possess. Why are most screen stories so poor? Good stars are spoiled by inferior material. It is a pity when, after working hard for years and reaching the top, they get such poor material. Marie Brown. 7 Tara Hall Avenue, Montreal, Canada. Mighty Lak a Tide. I HAVE read many criticisms on the acting ability of Ramon Novarro,. seventyfive per cent of which are in his favor, and the other twenty-five per cent would like to be. May I say this for the greatest and noblest portrayer of human emotions that ever graced screenland? He has the most magnetic personality of any film actor — a something indefinable wrapped around his whole being that forever draws smiles, sighs, tears, and laughter from his spellbound audience. He possesses just that perfect touch of boyishness that endears him to fans all over the world. His eyes — well, surely they are mirrors of a beautiful soul, an understanding heart, and a gentle manner. A voice as charming and expressive as any voice could be, the voice of a lover of music and beauty. A regal carriage at all times, combined with such grace of movement that only Ramon can exercise. Often has he been described as the "perfect lover." That seems a poor description for one so great. Do we hear of the rise and fall of his fame, the sort of thing that happens to all other stars? No! Ramon is Ramon always and as continuous as the tide of the ocean. He has my greatest and sincerest respect, for often in daily life the trivial and irritating happenings that occur almost every day have been turned to pleasure by the vision of Ramon, which I always call upon to help me over disagreeable hours. "A London Girl." North London, England. Passion and Splendor. HURRAH! The queen of them all is back and more gorgeously beautiful, more glamorous, than ever. Whom do I mean? Who else but Pola Negri? Her vivid brunetteness is a welcome relief from the recent tidal wave of blondes, and her passion and fire are more than welcome after all this restrained, lackadaisical acting of the cigarette-flicking epigram school. Compared with Negri, Connie Bennett is just a tired, anaemic blonde, Garbo an automaton with rather bad teeth, Dietrich a Garbo copy in slow motion, and Shearer just a smarty girl. But Pola is flame and passion and splendor — all that a woman should be. She doesn't need to pose — her real self is so interesting and vital that it shows on the screen, and you know when you are watching her that you are seeing a woman of a really dramatic personality and deep feeling. And watch out for that voice of hers. It thrills one through and through to hear it, and it completely suits Pola. It's the