Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1926 - Feb 1927)

43 A Couple of Vive Las! Gay, impetuous and irresponsible, Renee Adoree's shimmering moods only thinly veneer her strong emotions, and the heroine of "The Big Parade" has what is called the heart of a child. By Malcolm H. Oettinger RENEE ADOREE was impersonating Elsie Ferguson while in New York. No one, it seemed, could see her. At her hotel she was incommunicado ; the set on which she worked was inaccessible to alien spirits ; Renee was what the publicity department euphemistically called "difficult." She was immersed in her work, it was said — wrapped up in her Art. An interview was, unfortunately, out of the question. Then we chanced to meet at Aileen Pringle's. And the elusive Adoree proved to be not a temperamental prima donna but a fascinating soubrette loath to tie herself down to more or less formal rendezvous with the press. "I do not like the appointments," she explained volubly. "It is always the questions: Are you in love? Are you married? Will you leave your present home? Who is the fiance? Is there a wedding to be?" She shrugged her shoulders and smiled childishly, appealingly. "Who would like to have such questions?" she asked. "Not I, you may believe me." A romantic figure, she has been subjected to the usual rumors of betrothal to one man and another ever since her divorce from Tom Moore. Direct information from the lady herself on this impertinent subject was this: "Engaged? Married? But why? I am in love with life!" Her poignant performance in "The Big Parade" was probably the outstanding sensation of the past season. Here was characterization that was brilliant, human, sure, penetrating the heart of the spectator as deftly as the etcher's fine point bites the steel. Here was a cinema creation who lived and loved and laughed so realistically as to confound criticism. And more than one hitherto skeptical observer left the theater seeking the identity of this French girl, whence she had come, why she had lingered. Adoree had been making pictures for five years — program pictures, just as "The Big Parade" was designed to be until its magnitude impressed the official eye. No one had noticed her particularly. Comedy she had played, with Creighton Hale, Glyn flapdoodle with Lew Cody, idyllic romance with Conrad Nagel — unheralded and, as the saying goes, unsung. In other words she had trouped jauntily enough, but not with compelling success. Then the big picture came, and the big part met the right actress. As the adorable heroine of "The Big Parade," Renee marched to triumph overnight. Two other actresses have shared the same plight up to the past season, Louise Dresser and Belle Bennett both having plodded steadily along for years until their chances came in "The Goose Woman" and "Stella Dallas," just as Renee's opportunity arrived with the war story. (It is interesting to note, in passing, that the studio executives all expected the picture to be a singular success for John Gilbert. It was considered the man's picture. The advance predictions were partly right: it did make Gilbert. But it also established Adoree !) Meeting Adoree, you tell yourself that, after all, once in a while it happens. Memories of million-dollar ingenues with thirty-cent ideas, and imperial importations with bourgeois intellects, starched gentlemen and half baked Stellas, imitation people, all fade as you find yourself facing a real person with a genuine personality. Renee Adoree (a stage name, should any one harbor doubt on that score) is not beautiful, but she is a rare, individual type not soon forgotten.. You remember her sparkling eyes, her curiously high cheekbones, her hungry mouth. She is the French girl of fiction humanized and made natural beyond recognition. She is a Maupassant coquette making eyes at Thomas Edison : a Gallic version of Zimbute O' Grady playing Bernhardt: "La Boheme" with Gershwin interpolations : a wildflower in Thorley's window. What Adoree lacks in beauty she makes up for in magnetism. She is what a more Freudian analyst might term sex incarnate. Being pointed out as that girl who was so wonderful in "The Big Parade" worries her. She has a dread of becoming self-conscious. When she came to the refuge of the delightful Pringle apartment she was disguised, as usual, swathed in a shapeless cape. A funny hat concealed her attractively bobbed hair ; dark glasses covered half her face. She could have been Marie Dressier or Mae Murray or Sis Hopkins. Then the cape was tossed into a corner, the hat alighted on a convenient chandelier, and after much coaxing, Adoree removed the glasses. She is a gay, mad creature, impetuous, pagan, irrepressible, irresponsible. Engagements are often forgotten, appointments occasionally overlooked. Acting is second nature. Life? Whatever comes along is life. A young actor was introduced to Adoree shortly after her arrival in New York last spring. He was delighted to meet her, formally enough, then in precipitate fashion asked, "May I take you to dinner some evening?" and Adoree simply asked, "Why?" It was primitive in its naivete, but quite characteristic. For although Renee has portrayed sophisticated ladies on the screen times without number, she is not truly a sophisticate. It is difficult to talk seriously to her. Her mercurial temperament precludes deliberation. Born of French-Spanish parents, Adoree was reared in the bohemian atmosphere of the circus. As a child she rode bareback. Later, she roved about with a road troupe, and eventually her path led to America. There was the stage, then pictures ; marriage to Tom Moore, and divorce. Then, after so many years, recognition. "If people only should know of the work in each picture — in every scene," said Renee. "If they should hear of the retakes at two o'clock in the morning, the cutting that kills so much, the terrible disappointment so often after all is done. But they do not know of these things. These are not what they call good publicity !" Renee should know something about disappointment. Those in the know tell me that her work in "La Boheme" was the high light of the entire picture, magnificent in conception, eloquent in detail. Most of it now graces the cutting-room floor. For "La Boheme" was a starring vehicle, remember, and Adoree was not the star. To spend time asking her about her acting would be fruitless and a trifle ridiculous. If there is such a thing as a born actress, she is it. Living in California for years has not served to Anglicize her Gallic charm. She Continued on page 109