Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Jul 1929)

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34 R ona He Ii Careful consideration of Mr. Colman's likes and dislikes reveals a character unique in Hollywood. By Margaret Reid TO get a story about Ronald Colman, a reporter should formerly have been a detective, a medium, and a psychoanalyst. In the midst of the candor of Hollywood, Mr. Colman is a handsome, charming, English clam. After a few years of listening to eager confidences you can fully appreciate the charm of an actor who never mentions his salary, his public, or his love life. Mr. Colman's desire for privacy is just the understandable one of any person of taste, but against the bold intrusions of his profession, he has had to erect a strong barrier to protect himself. Being a star is not conducive to privacy, but this particular star has managed to retain his career quite independent of still-camera men at his bedside, his breakfast table, or his bookcase. He does not make personal appearances, or give illuminating "confessions" to the press. A good business man, he does not underestimate the value of publicity. But he refuses to be implicated in anything sensational. He is, in fact, incapable of any vagaries that might be headline material. Reportorially he is difficult, yet the press does not harbor against him th'e grudge usually accorded insistent reticence, probably because he is neither cagy nor mysterious, but convinces you that he is just ail ordinary person, with no secrets in which you :could possibly be interested. Eventhe boldest of interviewers would not be so -, rude as ; to probe such a pleasant young man against his wishes. If there should be a studio revival of that archaic thing called courtesy,-it will be due to Mr. Colman, and the few who are like him. At the studio Colman is genuinely liked by all hands, from Samuel Goldwyn to the gateman. He stimulates no abject awe, such as is given more startling players. Nor, on the other hand, does he invite all and sundry to slap him on the back, and call him by his first name. Only to a few intimates is he known as "Ronnie." On the set it is proved that even the most professional democrats like dignity, for here he is always "Mr. Colman," and any prop or electrician would cheerfully jump into the studio tank if it would be a favor to him. This is also because, without making a fuss about it, he is unremittingly considerate of every one in the troupe. Unique among actors, he never bothers to look at his daily rushes. And very nearly unique among stars, he never attempts to supervise any detail of production. He takes no hand in the selection of stories, directors, or cast. Now and then, if a story is chosen which he feels is totally unsuitable, he objects. Beyond that, he confines Photo by Baiter Tennis occupies hour of Ronald himself to acting. Feeling himself in the hands of an organization which knows its business, he, likewise, attends to his own with equal concentration. He considers that acting is his sole business and that, were he to combine it with the bit of directorial supervision so dear to most stars' hearts, he would do both very badly. His gratification in his career is sane and proportionate. He entertains no illusions about the superiority of the movies as an art. He admits that his field is not the one dignified by Booth and Mansfield, but nevertheless he has a healthy satisfaction in having accomplished the job he set out to do. He readily confesses that this satisfaction is rather secondary to the financial element. He frankly enjoys the fact that he is secure against the discomforts of the world, and that he can take ample care of his family obligations. He thinks it is only the genius who works for work's sake, and that lesser mortals who make the claim are essentially poseurs. Recently elevated to stardom, his first vehicle was Conrad's "The Rescue." One of the few men who will admit they find Conrad difficult, Colman had heretofore enjoyed him with reservations. In preparation for "The Rescue," he delved deeper into the Conrad psychology, and is now a rabid enthusiast. He dislikes the ultramodern school of literature, preferring the older works that have been tried and proved by time. He has, in addition to a library of carefully chosen fiction and biography, a comprehensive collection of good plays. He misses the New York and London theater and, rather than attend the mediocre Los Angeles substitute, gets the better plays in book form as they come out. He lives on a secluded Hollywood hill. His home is invisible from the street, set far back among gardens and trees. Inside it is completely masculine, its massive furniture designed for a man's comfort. In one wing of the house lives Charles Lane, the English actor, Colman's friend ever since they met during the making of "The Dark Angel." No crested automobile transports Mr. Goldwyn's star along the Boulevard. He has a roadster, which he drives himself. When he has errands in Los Angeles, his man drives him in the other car, a Ford coupe. ' On those rare occasions when he escorts a lady to dinner or a theater, he calls a cab. He never attends premieres, waiting until the second or third night to see the new pictures. Habitues of the Continued on page 110 almost every 's free days.