Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

18 Though not particularly handsome, Al Jolson possesses marked physical magnetism. AL JOLSON has happened to Hollywood in a large way. He is in it and already of it. He is part of the business. At Warner Brothers he is practically one of the brothers. Nor do I mean a stepbrother. His first picture, "The Jazz Singer," cleaned up. He is making a second. But there is more than just that to his adoption of the movies. It is not the usual case of a stage luminary lending his face to the camera, and then collecting his pay check. There is nothing of gracious condescension in Al Jolson's visit to Hollywood. His first film, a coup for the Warners, was, for him, an experiment, interesting mainly for its novelty. His second, and the four which will follow, are in dead earnest. Finding the business a profitable venture, he has concentrated on it with the vigor typical of him, until in a year's study he knows more of its intricacies than many veterans. Hollywood, itself a trifle lackadaisical under the California sun, has found him stimulating. His famous wit, his sophistication that is essentially of Broadway, and his driving energy, are refreshing. Inevitably, he has become the lion of the moment, the pet raconteur, the ace master of ceremonies. Natives steeped in political caution shiver delightedly when Jolson, presiding at an opening, kids his employers and aims pointed barbs at the industry in general, and individuals in particular. He is always so funny that he gets away with it. Even the victims rock with helpless laughter. There is a glamour about Jolson that is indefinable. It has something, of course, to do with his spectacular Mammy's Boy in Hollywood By Margaret success in the past, with his never-failing skill, even in the recounting of a joke. A further explanation of it would, I think, reveal a quality not to be expected of a blackface artist. For this not especially handsome young man possesses, to a marked degree, great physical magnetism. It is this, underlying his talent,' that makes his personality behind the footlights such an electric one. It is this, back of his ''blue" songs, that sets rapt audiences swaying with him — and stamping and yelling for encores. Whether or not this quality can be transferred to the screen is still open to question, "The Jazz Singer" being more or less experimental, and an inadequate criterion. ■ A raconteur and wit nonpareil, it would be expected that he provide generous, fast-moving copy for an interviewer. Yeh, that's what I thought. But a girl could make a mistake; couldn't she?' Not only could, but did. For Mister Jolson can go down on the list of players known among reporters as "tough babies," a term indicating the hopelessness of wresting a story from them. I have always been a particularly rabid devotee of the art of Al Jolson. On more than one occasion I have embarrassed escorts by my noisy enthusiasm for the Jolson capers, the faintly ribald stories, the broad comedy, the lachrymose ballads. "Mammy," moaned and shouted by Al, kneeling and swaying and tearing his collar off in the glare of the spotlight, still leaves me on the verge of collapse. I admire him — you get it? Several years of interviewing \ \ and reinterviewing cin \ ema celebs have worn my §^ interest to what I like to !!^v^> call ennui. But it must be admitted that the prospect of interviewing Al Jolson was fraught with unaccustomed palpitation. I found him on the set, the second day of production on "The Singing Fool." A dapper figure, slightly below average height. Black hair and black eyes — eyes famous for that knowing roll which punctuates his jokes. His smile is wide and infectious, his manner brusque but amiable. Chairs were brought and, back of the confusion and noise of the cabaret where the Singing Fowl, as a Josephine Dunn, as waiter, begins his she appears in Jol career, we tried to son's latest picture, talk. I mean I did. "The Singing Fool." Al didn't bother.