Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

The Stroller 33 Hughes, mollified, departed and Milestone finished his picture the way it should have been finished. Whether this tale is accurate I know not. Anyway, it proves what I have always contended about supervisors. Whatever the motives of Leatrice Joy may have been for appearing on the stage opposite Edward Everett Horton in "Clarence" — I understand it is her first time on the stage — she proved herself a very able performer. Perhaps she may have taken this effective means of proving to producers that she has a splendid voice, with an eye on our old friend, the talking pictures, or she may have done it just for fun. In any event it seems quite the style now for successful screen players to give the stage a whirl in Hollywood. Lois Wilson was Horton's leading woman in several plays ; Mae Busch starred in a play bearing the flamboyant title of "From Hell Came a Lady" ; Helen Ferguson has been in several stagelproductions ; Dorothy Dwan is in "Lombardi, Ltd.," with Leo Carillo ; Harrison Ford is leading man in "The Baby Cyclone," at a downtown theater ; Henry B. Walthall recently starred in a production of "Speakeasy." All of which is probably a bit distressing to legitimate stage performers, who are trying to make a living in Los Angeles. The second annual "Rumpus Frolic" — that couldn't possibly have been suggested by the Wampas Frolic, could it? — is about to take place, so the morning paper informs me. The Rumpus Frolic is staged by the Strugglers' Club, an organization of extras, bit players, and other obscure and ambitious folk in the picture business. Last year the first one was held on a stage in one of the studios in Poverty Row and took place, I believe, on the same night that the Wampas affair was holding forth in the Ambassador auditorium. This year it has moved up both as to date and location, being held in one of Hollywood's largest ballrooms. The Rumpus is given to assist in raising funds for a $100,000 club house in the movie center. This same morning paper, incidentally, shows a surprising lack of originality on the part of the men who design the advertisements for the motion-picture theaters. On one page I find drawings illustrating current pictures in which Gary Cooper is embracing Colleen Moore, Mary Philbin is clutching Conrad Veicit, Clive Brook is hugging Olga Baclanova with one hand and firing a revolver at some unseen enemy with the other; Janet Gaynor tenderly entwining her old running mate, Charles Farrell. Next thing you know, some inspired young man will think of putting a girl's head on a "Greater Movie Season" is upon us again, or it was when I wrote this. Dear, dear, how time does fly. It seems only yesterday that all the world was happy, because it was Greater Movie Season in 1927, and here it is back again. What the inventor of have done with There are now more voice-teachers in Hollywood than there are voices. Whatever happens in Greater Movie Season, except for a few flags strung across downtown streets and signs in theater lobbies, I have never been able to discover, despite a fairly intimate association with the film industry over a period of years. The only noticeable effect in the theaters is more lavish stage and musical presentations, to bolster up the pictures during this period dedicated to the triumph of the silent art. There used to be a parade, too, but this seems to have been abandoned, as far as Los Angeles is concerned. There has been an astounding lack of disorder because of this oversight. James Gruen, scenario writer, cynic and wit, possesses a word in his vocabulary, the uses of which are multitudinous. He modestly avers that he did not invent it, giving due credit to an unnamed friend. The word is "futhum," and its wide variety of uses lies in the fact that it doesn't mean anything. Consequently, James uses it to fill a certain definite spot. It was first developed, so he says, by his friend who, an artist by trade, was attending an exhibition of modernistic paintings, which somewhat annoyed him. He was approached by a giddy woman, an avid follower of such junk, who pointed to a particularly meaningless painting, and wanted to know if the painter didn't think it was "gorgeous." "Yes," said the painter, eying it morosely, "but I don't think it has quite enough futhum." "Futhum" was coined on inspiration of the moment. The woman didn't ask what it meant. Instead, she looked nonplused for a moment and said meekly, "Oh." Flushed with success, the artist pointed to another one. "Now that," he declaimed oracularly, "is practically all futhum. And that one over them seems to have no futhum whatsoever." The lady agreed, and departed in some confusion to try the word on some friends. This has nothing in particular to do with the flickering films, except that James finds frequent use for the word when discoursing with those given to speaking of the movies in highflown language. [Cont'd on page 110] synchronization should his invention.