Picture-Play Magazine (1933)

■ inued From paj 5. Those he does have are wholly unconscious with him; products of ]>irit of the moment. There is a cultured, well-mannered ibout him. lie is always punctual for appointments because he dislikes be kept waiting himself. 1 fe has the surface joviality of a hail-fellowwell-met which some people mistake for insincerity. Intolerance and rejudice arouse his combative ints, but he seldom has the rash courage to denounce another person. In occupational or emotional predicaments he is nonplused. His innate simplicity, enthusiasm, and sincerity, though, inevitably see him through, llis characteristic response to am and all situations is a slow, wiry grin. He harbors no illusions about himself or his future and is always willing to-intercede for a friend. Born in Beacon, New York, his father was vice president of a rubber company, lie was educated at Pawling School in the same State and by extensive travel in Europe. Boh was sixteen when his father died and the responsibility of a breadwinner was forthwith his. He took a job as secretary to a publisher. Three months later he was a mechanic's helper and the following month a deck hand on an oil tanker. His first stage experience was gained in a William Faversham play in which he enacted seven roles. "Inspiration" he considers his worst picture. Xot because he was ill at ease with the great Garbo, hut because the Gosh-darn Human scenario was "written on the cuff" and he had no opportunity to develop his characterization. He likes to munch cheese and cracker and once, believe it or not. In shared an apple with Garbo. He is absolutely lacking in business acumen, so turns his weekly pay check over to his manager. His exercise centers around a punching bag and a rowing machine. Usually, though, he sleeps loo late to use them. Before the camera he has a tendency to lie stoop-shouldered. Directors must constantly remind him to straighten up. But the habit is too long existent to be eradicated. He writes prolifically and destroys what he writes. Has visions of being a playwright, but can't confine bis inspirational Hashes to paper. He is a charming host, plays the piano beautifully and sings tenor at the slightest provocation. Favorite composers are Ravel and Irving Berlin. Roy Wallace, his colored valet, knows him better than any one else. He admits to no taste in clothes, always relying upon Roy's judgment. Seldom wears a hat and has absolutely no preference when it comes to screen roles. All that he asks is that the role, good or bad, be human. He is an exceptional automobile driver but has conniption fits when be rides with any one else. His pet extravagances are mufflers and white shirts. Has dozens of colored shirts, the accumulation of many Christmases. which he has never worn. His sense of humor is equal to any situation and keeps his fellow plavers in a constant turmoil of hysteria. Unable to interest himself in such a .sedentary pastime as bridge, he can forget his troubles and relax completely in a book or magazine. He listened enraptured at Lily Pons's concerts in Los Angeles, but couldn't get up courage to go backstage and meet her. He declares he pays scant attention to women's clothes unless they are in conspicuously had taste, lie achieves an effect of nonchalance and boyishness in his own dress without looking sloppy or unkempt. His best friends are Elliot Nugent and Chester Morris. The three of them spend hours discoursing on the theater, music, and hooks. He attends most of the parties to which he is invited, but always leaves early. He spends his vacations at Malibu or at Reginald Denny's mountain cabin. His favorite leading lady is Madge Evans. He has moments of princely generosity when he buys presents for every one in the studio. He and his wife lead a quiet, suburban life, drive nothing more ostentatious than an American car and patronize Charlie Bickford's garage across from the M.-G.-M. studio. The Montgomery personality is difficult to define. It will not be placed in any one category. That is because he is so gosh-darn human. Continued from page 57 surgeon tells her will be easy to get. However, everything turns out all right, a little thing like the death of her baby being arranged to prevent embarrassment while waiting for her husband-elect to gain his freedom. I. vie Talbot's good voice helps to make the surgeon's emotions sympathetic, but his choice of clothes are those of a ! follywood actor and would cause the more skeptical of us to question his skill with the knife. Glenda Farrell is likable and pungent as Miss Francis's wisecracking friend. "Turn Back the Clock." I" Tracy, Mac Clarke, Otto Kruger, Shannon, ( . Henrj Gordon. Director: Edgar Selwyn. The pains apparently taken to contuse and obscure issiu-s make this about the most unsatisfactory and disappointing picture of the month. Not excellent performances suco i d in dissolving the cloud of boredom that overcasts it. Yet. as often happens in a poor film, there is a good The Screen in Review Lee Tracy, small-time proprietor come rich while his friend occupied of a tobacco shop, is invited with his his humble position with Mr. Tracy's wife to dine with an old-time friend who has become rich and who offers to invest the savings of the couple. Drunkenlv wrangling with his wife for her consent, Mr. Tracy is knocked down by an automobile and as the ether cone is administered in a hospital his mind goes hack to the past. The picture attempts to show what Mr. Tracy's life would have been had he married his friend's wife and be wife. It is worked out with singular futility. "No Marriage Ties." Richard Dix. Elizabeth Allan. David Landau. Alan Dinehart, Doris Kenyon, Hobart Cavanaugh, Hilda Vaughan. Director: J. Walter Ruben. Only fairly satisfactory is Richard Dix's latest, even with the charming Elizabeth Allan as chief aid. It begins briskly but becomes silly as Mr. Dix is asked more and more insistently by the scenario writer to be devastating! v madcap. This is unfair to any man. Mr. Dix begins as an alcoholic reporter who. when fired by bis editor, attracts the attention of an advertising mogul by the ease with which he spouts slogans in a speakeasy. Whereupon Mr. Dix shows what he can do with the advertising business by means of brass and glihness. Two women visibly succumb to i i mtinued on page (A