Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1925 - Feb 1926)

A Nordic Eye Opener Although no camera does her justice, Greta Nissen is undoubtedly one of the six beauties of the screen. By Malcolm H. Oettinger FOR most people February 12, 1924, was simply Lincoln's Birthday, but to the thousand or more souls who attended the premiere of "Beggar on Horseback," at the Broadhurst Theater, it marked the dawn of a new blond era named Grethe Ruszt-Nissen. That was a memorable first night. The four hundred and the fourth estate were both notably represented. Diamonds and wit sparkled brilliantly. During intermission the lobby buzzed with praises of the Messrs. Kaufman and Connelly : they had concocted a great satiric burlesque, a triumphant fantasy of the American scene. Then came the second act with its superb pantomime, in the midst of which glowed a bewitching, delectable blonde, so exquisite, so piquant and beguiling, as to make the Princess of the interpolated masque a dominant figure. And as the curtain fell, the lobby once more rang with enthusiasm, but now the subject had changed. Kaufman and Connelly were abruptly forgotten. Grethe Ruszt-Nissen was the name on every one's lips. ,"Where*did they find her?" "What has she been in before?" "How did Ziggv miss anything that beautiful?" "Who is she?" "How will she 'photograph ?" "She must be foreign: where from?" The play became secondary for the moment : the Norse star was in the ascendancy. Rumors that were soon verified had it that she was a Norwegian ballet dancer imported to play in the pantomime. Thus it was that Norway involved us in debt. For Grethe Ruzst-Nissen won Philadelphia and Chicago and Boston as she had captured New York. Before she had been in "Beggar on Horseback" a month, she was signed for the movies. Then, with the conclusion of the play's run, she departed for Hollywood to fulfill her new contract. The first thing they did at Paramount was to simplify her name to Greta Nissen. And the first thing Hollywood did was to acclaim her as the latest optical knock-out. She became what is known as the cynosure of all eyes at the Western firstnights, at the Hollywood parties, christenings, clam bakes, and other social events. Where celebrities of all sorts gathered, she rapidly became known as the newest beauty. In less than six months she was ranked with the reigning quartette — Claire Windsor, Corinne Griffith, Florence Vidor, and Norma Shearer — making it, in fact, a quintette to stagger all comers. Of all the blondes currently facing the camera, four stand out in my mind. There is Claire Windsor, typical of the American beauty. There is the spirituelle Lillian Gish. There is the alluring Helen Lee Worthing, in the Manhattan manner at its highest degree of charm. And now, there is Nissen, a fitting fourth, a dazzling beauty suggesting the Continent in all its sophistication, subtlety, and verve. No camera will ever do justice to this sweet sister of the vikings. On the screen much is lost. Her coloring fades, and her perfect complexion is lost on the cold silver sheet. Hers is a profile bespeaking defiance : the chin determined, the nose definite in its contour. But facing her, you are struck with her eyes, gray, saucy, daring eyes, capriciously screened behind exaggeratedly long lashes. Dark eyebrows contrast effectively with the sunlight of her hair. , She is provocative and beguiling and distinctly Lorelei in her appeal. There is nothing one-hundred-per-cent American in her beauty: she is not "wholesome," in the Pickford fashion. She is obviously Continental, to be associated with Schnitzler rather than Sinclair Lewis, Molnar rather than Channing Pollock. Men will cheer her and women will wonder what cold cream she favors. She belongs, in short, in the category labeled "dangerous, not ingenuous." Although, to be sure, there is much that is naive in her outlook. "This is so much better than Hollywood," she asserted. "New York is beeg, and gay. Out there was no life. It was nothing to do — so " "Provincial," I suggested. "I thank," she smiled. "Pro-vincial. That is so. Hollywood is not aware of anything but itself. You know? Everything there is limited and close. Small. So." Her hand daintily described a tiny circle. "They wait but for some one to talk about. Terrible !" Her eyebrows arched in distress. It is not a simple thing to quote Greta. For you watch her, and you think of Dresden china and Delia Robbia and spun glass and very rare porcelain, and you forget that she speaks. She is a figurante from a fairy tale, come to life. She is the princess of every legend brought to Broadway. She is the eternal heroine, worthy of any hero. "I was a danseuse in Christiana," she said. "For many years I train and learn. Very hard. Then I am to dance in the opera, but my teacher wishes that I come to America to dance in New York. I do as he ask. 'Beggar on Horseback' was my first debut here." She speaks timidly, skipping lightly among the words, making quaint little additions and subtractions to the king's English. Her voice is well modulated, low in pitch, and possessed of a sympathetic quality that would probably register on the spoken stage. When she talks, she chooses her subjects carefully, as well as her words. Some one has coached her in the ways of the press, and her native tact has furnished further guidance. Regarding her work, she was enthusiastic. It was all very wonderful. Yes ; she had enjoyed "Lost — a Wife." Yes, "In the Name of Love" had been very interesting. Mr. Higgin was a kind director. She liked the foreign atmosphere. That had led naturally to her work in "The Wanderer," in which she donned a brunet wig, doffed practically even-thing else, and essayed the role of Tisha, a high-powered B. C. home wrecker. Her eyes sparkled as she told me of the glories of that part, the splendors of that picture. "Bad women," she vouchsafed, "are so much more interesting to me than good. You know good women are so " "Llard to find." I ventured. But this was lost. "Commonplace," I substituted. "Yes," said Greta. "Yes, commonplace. It is so. There is about the good woman not enough of the color. You know? And the stage, if it is ballet or operS. or picture, the stage needs very much color. Is it not? I think." Continued on page 96