Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1919 - Feb 1920)

Rehearsing the Rehearsal 69 may not know whether Henry has wronged his daughter or sent him a comic valentine. There are actually cases of that sort, where the actors don't even know what the story is about. This way we get well into the characters before we begin taking the scenes. And, after all, this is simply the way they rehearse on the stage, you know, though I suppose it does seem odd, since it's so seldom done in the studios." It did seem a bit odd, because, though, as a rule, the actors are informed as to what the story is about, it's quite true that they don't often rehearse the entire play beforehand. But I thought the idea sounded like a very sensible one, and I liked MacLean's enthusiasm. If you've seen MacLean and Doris May in "Twentythree and a Half Hours' Leave," you've encountered that enthusiasm ; for a man of Scotch descent he comes dangerously near being impetuous. And earnest — well, I don't wonder that when his Methodist minister father tried to argue him out of going on the stage the effort was unavailing "Father thought engineering was more in my line," MacLean explained to me, "so I went to Northwestern University and Lewis Institute, in Chicago. But billboards had it all over drawing boards so far as I was concerned, and when I was lucky enough to meet Daniel Frohman I told him that I was crazy to go on the stage, and he sent me to John Emerson, who was making a production right then. Emerson offered me a part in a road show, but I decided to go to a dramatic school instead. And after that Maude Adams engaged me to play in 'Peter Pan,' and I was well started on a Stage career — with father reconciled, but always hoping The whisk broom was a bit of Elizabethan scenery, that I'd give it up some day and go back to engineering. "There was no chance, though — I stuck to the stage, and finally began sandwiching motion pictures in with my other work — when Alice Brady made her first picture, for World, I made mine, too, as her leading man. Later I was in a lot of Famous Players-Lasky productions, and now I'm not doing anything but pictures." As he talked on I felt sorry for that father of his — for it's rarely, if ever, that a brown-eyed young man with as strong a chin as Douglas MacLean's gives up when he's once on the way to gratifying a cherished ambition. He's of Scotch descent, even though he was born in Philadelphia — even has a brother-in-law named "Willum" Ferguson, which certainly is Scotch enough for anybody, though such a relationship isn't exactly direct. And when you add the MacLean brand of earnestness and enthusiasm to Scotch determination you might as well argue with an army mule as with that combination. "Of course these comedies that Miss May and I are doing aren't exactly like work," commented MacLean. "Both 'Twenty-three and a Half Hours' Leave' and 'What's Your Husband Doing?' are delightful little stories, and we had a corking time doing them. And if I could go back over them and show you which parts came out in our first rehearsals, I'll bet you'd be interested in seeing how they worked out when the director got hold of them." And off he went to rehearse his rehearsal of the new picture once more, as intent on what he was doing as if the camera had been grinding right then. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm betting that if the rehearsal had been filmed instead of the real picture the result would get more laugh than even a MacLean-May comedy does — and some day perhaps a daring director will give me a chance to prove it.