Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

70 Hollywood High Lights thereby causing me great indigestion, so that we might he in time — she being the soul of punctuality — for a preview of Theda Bara's first comedy feature made by Hal Roach, which proved hilarious in mood. Miss Bara did indeed contribute to the interest and gayety of the film, but am of the opinion she would do better as a tragedienne. Wednesday — Up late, after being greatly irked at being found abed by all sorts of people and friends, my wife and I having formed the wretched habit of sitting up each night until the wee hours, much later in fact than is urgently necessary. To the office, where I did become further enraged over the news that that estimable gentleman, "Bull" Montana, was approached roughly by the officers of the law and, only by the grace of convincing speech from a few of his true-blue friends, was saved the disgrace of being incarcerated in the hoosgow for having some fine old Italian vino in his possession. It is a sad thing to consider that poor Bull and a few other stout hearts who so need their vino with spaghetti should live in constant peril of one day doing without it. Thursday — Up and in my new phaeton to the Pickford-Fairbanks workshop, which owing to Mary and Doug's preparation for their European trip has taken on the appearance of a happy playground, especially since the encouraging dispatches regarding the improved health of Mary's mother. I did note with satisfaction, as I oft have before, the tender, well-nigh pathetic devotion Mary holds for her mother. After bidding them Godspeed, and expressing my pleasure over the happy reports on "Sparrows," Mary's latest picture, which was formerly called "Scraps," did hurry on my way to Lasky's where I did hear that Madame Pola Negri hoped very soon to make a picture with Chaliapin, that magnificent Russian basso, in the role opposite her. Chaliapin being a great actor on the operatic stage, with a tremendous personality, we do believe that Pola would be fortunate to play with him. If ever a story can be found for their respective talents, it should be red-meat drama and strongly — very strongly — amorous. Home to sup where I was informed that on the 14th of February, Rudolph Valentino did send to La Negri a white Arabian steed with a red paper heart fluttering from his bridle on which was inscribed "To my Valentine," accompanied by a picture of Rudy in his well-known toreador's costume, such as he wore in "Blood and Sand," or such as may be seen in the second act of "Carmen," when the victor returns from the arena of the bull. Friday — Up betimes to find my wife greatly incensed over the announcement that "Beauty and the Beast" would be the title of the next picture chosen for Vilma Banky and Ronald Colman, which George Fitzmaurice is to make, she complaining unceasingly that Colman is no beast and never possibly could be. After a long draft of seltzer water, I was called to the phone and was obliged to listen to the wailing of a women's club anent the alleged cruelty to the horses during the filming of the chariot races in "Ben-Hur." Which did not greatly concern me, this form of conversational hub It's hard to picture the tragic Theda Bara in hilarious Hal Roach comedies, but those are what she is appearing in noiv. bub arising each time animals are used in pictures, to which I can reply that there is no more cruelty to horses in the making of spectacular scenes in films than there is in horse races, in feats at circuses, in polo matches, or at society horse shows. Saturday — Up very betimes, and enjoyed a pleasurable chat with my wife's trombone teacher, my wife being doubly fond of playing the drums and tympani. Did read in the morning gazette Mr. Will Hays' statement about the quality of pictures improving, and after making sure of the year, as printed on the date line of the paper, did forthwith resolve that Mr. Hays is indeed a man who may be depended upon for timeliness in his ideas, and above all one with a great vision of the future of pictures ! Sunday — To church early, and SO to Frances Marion's and Fred Thomson's castle in Beverly Hills, where I did wander over the beautiful grounds of their twenty-fiveacre estate, gather eggs from the hens' nests, drink quarts of rich, creamy, fattening milk from their own blue-ribbon cows, and later did try to ride Fred's famous mount, Silver King, but like Wales, was thrown. And so home, stiff and sore, and after an arnica rub, went finally to bed. A Hoodooed Title. The new picture, "Shipwrecked," which was filmed by Metropolitan, tried with might and main to live up to its name. And the players who were working on it began to think the title such a hoodoo that they were on the verge of petitioning to have it changed. The first sufferer from ill luck in this film was Seena Owen who plays the feminine lead. She only very narrowly escaped death. The scene in which this happened was filmed on board ship in Los Angeles harbor. Seena was standing in a perilous position at the edge of the ship, and when the vessel gave a sudden lurch, lost her balance and fell between the boat and the dock. Quick action on the part of one of the sailors was all that saved her life. As it was, she received a plentiful share of bruises as well as two fractured ribs. Subsequently, during some late-winter storms off the Coast, a vessel in which Joseph Schildkraut was working, was caught out at sea. Schildkraut plays opposite Miss Owen. The ship came within an ace of going on some rocks off one of the Coast highlands, but the mariners managed to summon help and have it towed into port. Schildkraut, like Barrymore and other actors who devote their time mostly to the stage, have found out since their more recent adventures that life in the movies is no joke, but nevertheless seem to relish their experiences and thrilling adventures. Anna Masquerades Again. Anna Q. Nilsson is going to bob her hair anew, and is celebrating joyously the fact that she is going to play a boy in the forthcoming production of "Shebo," to be called "Miss Nobody" on the screen. Anna has long wanted to do this story, because she felt that "Ponjola," the Cynthia Stockley book, had provided one of her very best pictures. "S'hebo" is a much more sympathetic study of a masquerade, and is