Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

98 Rebellion Sweeps Hollywood Continued from page 33 Lya de Putti wept bitter tears of thwarted ambition when, after many months in America, she discovered she was being relegated to satin, sequins, and ogling — the trade-mark of the conventional vamp. She, sought release from her contract, obtained it, and heart whole and fancy free set out for Hollywood, got a job with De Mille, came back to New York radiant, was summoned back to California by Universal, became more radiant, signed again with De Mille, with the proviso that she could choose her own roles, and settled down to a life of histrionic ease and contentment. Yet Lya de Putti says that her best friend in her fight against vamping and the inevitable ruination of her career, was Adolph Zukor, her boss. She wept on his shoulder in her native Hungarian, and he patted her on the back and said, "All right, little girl — go ahead and fight it out your own way. We won't stop you." And he kept his word. Likewise, Lois Wilson pays a tribute to Mr. Zukor for his sense of fair play when, in her struggle against stereotyped Westerns, she signed with Robert Kane and went into the business of wearing tights and dancing the Black Bottom. And now we come to Greta Garbo, whose subtle technique in the art of heartbreaking has captivated fans and critics alike. One fine day Greta Garbo stamped her Swedish foot on the studio floor and refused to work. Though threatened by an angry official with everything from a spanking to deportation, she still refused to work. The reputed cause of her revolt was money, but it went deeper than that. Receiving a salary of four hundred dollars a week, she justifiably demanded more wages, but when the weekly stipend was raised to twentyfive hundred dollars she still refused to punch the clock. And the bone of contention proved to be the old, old one — injudicious roles. Greta felt that she, too, was harming her reputation by continuing to play "the other woman," or the woman whose frequent emotional lapses place her beyond the pale of sympathy. Not that Miss Garbo refused to play wayward ladies now and then, but she objected to playing them all the time. She does not want to become a type, for a vamp's popularity is doomed to sudden death. The public soon ceases to regard her frequent shortcomings with any degree of interest, for it is the good, old-fashioned virtues which make for a lasting reputation with the fans. So Miss Garbo felt that she was only claiming her just dues. Dorothy Mackaill vies with Greta Garbo in issuing an ultimatum and not being swerved from it by argument, cajolery, nor loss of money. Miss Mackaill has been off First National's pay roll for months, although she is nominally under contract to the organization. Her grievance came to a head when she did not get the role opposite Richard Barthelmess in "The Patent Leather Kid" — which she vowed she was promised. So she refused to play the next best thing, and when she was disciplined by the forfeiture of her salary, she continued to decline the roles offered her. "I want to act, not pose," she said, "and if I can't get roles that are suited to me, I won't go back." Let Samuel Goldwyn tell his own story about the battle which occurred with Belle Bennett, when her indignation reached such a pitch that her hand slipped forth and rapped her employer in the eye. "Miss Bennett is a very charming woman and a very excellent actress, but her case is not unusual in the motion-picture profession. Her first contract with me, made only a little over two years ago, provided for a salary of two hundred dollars per week. She was very glad to make the contract at that salary and was glad, later, to get another contract at five hundred dollars per week and play the part which I assigned to her — that of the mother in 'Stella Dallas.' "Her salary was later increased to seven hundred and fifty dollars per week, and recently to one thousand dollars per week. Under the conditions of her contract she will receive still further increases. "The contract is wholly fair to Miss Bennett and has justified the satisfaction she felt when she signed it. One of the provisions of the contract is that when I am not making pictures I shall have the privilege of assigning Miss Bennett to some other producer, paying her, of course, the salary guaranteed under the contract. This is a usual provision. In fact, everything in connection with this situation is quite customary, including Miss Bennett's somewhat exaggerated opinion of her value. It is necessary, however, that a contract be maintained both for the benefit of the producer and for the benefit of the artist. Courts uphold them when they are just and set them aside only when they are unjust. I am perfectly willing to leave the justice of this contract to the courts and to the sense of fairness of the nublic." Among minor rebellions of recent date, the case of Rod La Rocque comes to mind. He threatened suit against the Cecil De Mille organization because his name did not appear in type larger than the titles of his pictures, and pointed to his contract which stipulated that this very condition should be carried out on each and every bit of advertising issued by the company. Rod's wrath was temporarily appeased when the proper assurance was given him that this detail would be strictly observed in future. Patsy Ruth Miller reached a decision, without any evidence of revolt. No public evidence. But it is certain that she revolted within herself when she decided it would be best for her to pick and choose her roles, instead of playing whatever her employers had open at the moment. So, when the time came for Warner Brothers to exercise their option on Pat's future services, she up and told them not to bother — that she would free lance. Like many others who have had a taste of the financial security of a long-term contract, she concluded that playing roles to which she could not give her heart and soul wasn't such a grand life after all, for a rising young actress. The major part of all this bickering could easily be avoided by a little forethought, both on the part of the producer as well as the player. Those familiar with studio conditions are all too well acquainted with the hurry-up, catch-as-catch-can tactics in the choice of production material. Ask any book publisher, and he will tell you that a group of madmen are rational compared to studio executives in quest of stories, in many instances only a week before camera work is expected to begin ; while the star, often as not, sits calmly by, wrings her hands, and bewails her lot, instead of parting with a few ducats weekly to those who, for a consideration, would make her interests and needs their own. If the company does not place at her disposal an intelligent man or woman whose duty it is to find suitable material solely for her, it would be a wise plan for her to open her pocketbook, use that delicate instrument known as her brain, and on her own initiative help to relieve the situation by doing a little of her own thinking and acting. It would be wisdom in the long run, by no means as costly as Jong waits and arguments. And there would then be fewer revolts, rebellions and the like — and far, far less discontent.