Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

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DeolLS3 Have You Ever Read Sea Stories? Good and Exciting BLONDES — heed this warning! BLONDE HAIR quickly darkens and fades unless given special care. That's why nearly a million blondes now use Blondex, the new special shampoo for light hair only. Keeps blonde hair from failing or streaking — brings back true golden beauty to even dullest hair. No dyes. No harmful chemicals. Fine for scalp. Leaves hair soft and silky. FREE For generous free trial pn age of Blondex simply mail coupon below to Swedish Sh;nnpno Laboratories, Dent. 10G, 303 Fourth Avenue, New York City. . Swedish Shampoo Laboratories, Dept. 106, 303 Fourth Avenue, New York City. I would like to try Blondex, the special new shampoo for Blondes. Please send me a Free Trial Package. Address City State Blanche Sweet Faces Facts Continued from page 34 certainly did like them. If you have a good situation Mr. Neilan feels that the thing to do is just to skim the rich interest of it and hand it to the public without its being 'watered' a bit. When you make a picture you want to stamp an impression, not draw a map, Mr. Neilan says." Unlike myself, for whom the golden age of motion pictures lies ten years or so back, she thinks they are improving. "How can they help it, when the mechanical conditions are getting better all the time? The lighting, of course. And then this new film, that they've only just found out how to make. It's so fine grained it gives a surface smoother than milk. Once that gets in general use how do you think this rough old photography will " I forget myself and cry out, exclaiming that the photography of "The Love Light," for instance, and of "The Unpardonable Sin," was better than anything I see now. "You weren't used to good photography then, that's all. Now you take it for granted." This brings us naturally to the subject of reissues. She is against them, heart and soul. "And it isn't only the technical stuff. Come, look at the stage. See how acting changes, even in ten years. Do you suppose that if the acting of the generation before us could be 'reissued,' it would make as good an effect as it did then?" "But, Miss Sweet, take 'Judith of Bethulia' " "Oh, do not speak to me of Judith!" It is a triumph, in its way, to have wrung from her so sharp a cry. "Leave me that one illusion ! Let me think that there at least I did something good ! I have seen too many reissues. I have had old pictures of my own run off to see what I had really done. And it was never any good." Her voice remains cool as water even when she continues, "Oh, don't you see? It's not only because of the changes in making pictures. We change, ourselves. A picture that meant a lot to us at one time — how can we go back to what that time had for us? It was real, then, in that moment. But it's like going back to somebody you once loved, whom you haven't seen since each of you became another person, and expecting that you'll seem the same "to each other. Oh, no, it can't be !" There is no shadow of anything overbearing in this definiteness of hers. She likes to state her case, but that once done she wants to get on to something else. "Miss Sweet," I fling out my crucial question, "are there no special parts you would like to do?" She shakes her head. "None at all ? Think — if you didn't have to consider circumstances, conditions " She is flooded with rosy color and with brightness. "Oh, well, then " she says. and remains silent. She speaks with complete quietude again, when at last she is teased into speaking at all. "But how can I tell you? For they're not part?, exactly. I never wanted to do Juliet nor Camille in my life. Nor to have any famous novel dramatized. But. yes; it's true there are things I want to do. Quite obscure little stories that I've come on accidentally. Or scarcely stories, even, but " "Moods?" "Moods, yes. And things I've felt and known. But I can't tell about them. No, I won't. I couldn't if I wanted to. Ah ! if I do them, you'll see what I mean — what I want to do ! "But you tell her!" she exclaims to her hostess, who is standing beside her. "I must go." All that startled bloom has flared over her again, in a clearness, a glow, of happy longing. She springs up like a slim little pillar of fire, at once revealed and veiled in rosy light; she slings her dark cloak over one shoulder rather than wait to put it on. Poised for flight she urges, "You know how I don't care to do them, ever, unless he does them with me. Because they would never be right. Tell her how we work things out together. And how they'd be nothing without him. Nothing!" She gives a brisk nod of farewell. And I remember, as if they stood there, lovely Lady Gwendolyns, all velvet grace, that she has played, and fresh-browed modern girls in tennis linens ; near them the worn and bitter wisdom of Anna Christie's face, with that hard questioning in it ; Dimny Parcot, delicate and invincible, beside Alice's wan softness: and, somehow, so tall, so steeled and terrible, the sumptuous Judith, dark and proud. All these but facets of that shaggy, blond urchin, standing straight and slight in the rough, gray-blue wool and Robin Hood's hat! I have a sense of the strength and richness of heart out of which characterization must be born — an instant's vision of what acting is. Then she is gone.