Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

116 Advertising Section 1 A Volume of a Thousand Wonders The Marvel Book iy Georgette MacMlao There is a recipe to suit every one for every occasion in this remarkable book. The favorite recipes of the leading stars of the stage and screen are included. There are 28 recipes for beverages 57 breads 71 ft tt cakes and cookies 31 tt a candy 57 a n canning and preserving 11 M t cereals 10 tt < chafing dishes 76 tt i desserts 31 it t eggs and omelettes 20 tt t famous people's dishes 17 cooking fowl 26 ti 1 ' frozen desserts 9 tt t fruits 19 tt 1 t ' icings and fillings 10 CI i ' invalid cookery 39 tt t ' meats 12 a < ' one-dish dinners 18 tt i ' oysters 41 ft i ' salads 10 a ' salad dressings 28 tt ' sandwiches 28 a ' sea foods. 32 a ' soups 79 a ' vegetables 9 a ' vegetarian dishes AND MANY OTHERS Too Good to Be Romantic This Volume Should be in Every Home Price, $1.00 CHELSEA HOUSE Publishers 79 Seventh Ave. New York Continued from page 43 Somehow the notion has got about that I'm a sort of goody-goody, so that apparently I'm only looked at as an actor in that light. No one ever stops to think of the varied roles I've played. Yet, on the screen, and on the stage as well, I've been all kinds of bums. "One of the first things I ever did, on the stage, was 'The Man Who Came Back.' In that, I was probably the worst bum that ever lived. Drink, dope, seduction — I went in for every vice there is. "In my earliest pictures, it was the same. In 'The Fighting Chance' I was a drunkard. The whole film was a story of my regeneration. "In 'What Every Woman Knows' I, as a married man, fell in love with another woman, which isn't considered a very moral thing to do." He went on, considering the various and varied roles he had played in the past. In "Sacred and Profane Love" he was an absinthe addict, who seduced the heroine. In "Saturday Night" he and his wife were divorced so that each could marry some one else. He played Paul, in "Three Weeks," one of the most luridly romantic characters in what might be called literature. Again he played an Elinor Glyn hero in "The Only Thing"; Madame Glyn, an authority, must have thought that he had It. Yet, despite his hectic screen past, Metro-Goldwyn was inclined to cast him in rather sugary roles. A district attorney in "The Waning Sex," a nice young business man in "Heaven on Earth," and a young gentleman in "London After Midnight." Then along came the vogue for underworld pictures, and Warner Brothers, who took over part of Mr. Nagel's contract, began casting him as a gangster in, for example, "The Girl From Chicago," and "Tenderloin." The cycle of types was completed again for Conrad in "Glorious Betsy," with the rediscovery that Conrad can be as heavily romantic as any one on the screen. Well, as the Pollyannas are constantly telling us, there's always a good break around the corner. Conrad's good break has arrived. Just at the time when he is coming into his own again as a romantic lover, the talking movie has come along and given him another boost. Conrad is in luck. Lionel Barrymore, who has also been buried more than his talents warranted, is also in luck. All the players who have had stage training are in luck. One of Mr. Nagel's greatest charms lies in his voice. Full, resonant, trained to carry on the stage, it is ideal for a talking picture. In a Vitaphone film his voice puts to shame the feeble sounds brought forth by mere movie players. As a result, he is much in demand for talking pictures. Warner Brothers have arranged a split contract with Metro-Goldwyn, whereby Conrad Nagel is to work half the time for each of them. Yes, now that talking movies have arrived, Conrad is sitting pretty. That is no mean feat, when one considers the consternation thrown into the motion-picture ranks with the advent of speaking pictures. The brows of beauty-contest winners are furrowed with worry. There is a sudden rush, in California, to elocution and voice placement teachers. Distinguished services are offered for vaudeville, usually the last resort after a player is "through," even on Poverty Row. For now the briefest vaudeville engagement enables a film player to lay claim to stage experience. "So far," said Mr. Nagel, "talking pictures have gone over because of their novelty, but they won't be a novelty much longer. Producers will have to realize that, and arrange for more skillful dialogue." The occasion for this was my comment on the Broadway fate of "Tenderloin," in which the spoken passages seemed like excerpts from a ten-twenty-thirty melodrama of twenty years ago. It was, indeed, so crude that it was laughed off the Broadway stage, and much of it was deleted. "Up to now," continued Mr. Nagel, "the dialogue was written — thrown in, you might say — by subtitle writers. In the future, talking pictures will have to follow the stage technique for spoken lines. They will require the services of skilled playwrights to put them over, with lines that are amusing and carry along the story." For when stage presence, poise, experience and trained speaking voices are part of the requisites for a screen career, then untried youth had better watch out, or where will our new faces be then, poor things? Yes, Conrad Nagel is coming back into his own !