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The Third Lois
First she was the prim and proper Lois Wilson, then she sought escape by wearing scarlet and feigning sophistication, until finally the talkies proved the means o£ unveiling her real self, which is now in the ascendant.
By Myrtle Gebhart
MUCH fault may be found with the articulate films. But one glorious, white mark must be chalked to their credit. They have brought to Lois Wilson her merited recognition. They have given us a new and vibrant and thoroughly interesting Lois, sensibly balanced, to replace the imitation sophisticate who succeeded the homespun Lois.
It has been my pleasant duty to chronicle the main changes in her life — doubly dramatic because of their suddenness and unexpectedness. I have watched her fumblings and her slow growth, with sympathy and admiration.
Radiant and breathless, she greeted me. "I'm so happy, enjoying every minute of it all. Besides, I'm my own boss."
"With Eddie, and all those Warner Broth
ers .
Miss Wilson's fling at sophistication cost her a long absence from the screen.
In her struggle to realize herself, Lois Wilson caused a mild sensation by refusing to play goody-goody roles any longer.
"Personally, I mean." Her head was thrown back. As one draws in lungs full of air, so she seemed to take deep draughts of that magic tonic which a busy and keenly pleasurable life distills. 'T'm doing the things I've always wanted to do. I'm enthusiastic, I have proved myself to myself, and I'm not in love!"
Love — not the stimulating, romantic sort, but that calm kind, with a lethal quality — used always to envelope Lois. It smothered her. It was too vague and idealistic. She spoke always of companionship — of home and children — and sighed of woman's domestic place.
Her gay laugh hooted my reminder. "Love is too enervating. True, no woman's life is really complete until she is married. But I shan't, for ever so long. I've found I have a spirit of my own, and getting acquainted with it is interesting. Besides, I can't respect a man unless he dominates me." Precious few could, now !
Did you know the serene-browed Lois, who looked a bit older than her years, whose gentle practicality was a vague background for others' activities? The crinoline Lois, almost Victorian of manner ?
Did you vote for the meteoric Lois who emerged, garmented in red, with "freedom" her watchword? The Lois who shattered her aura of sweetness by "sassing" Paramount, and breaking the contract which tied her to gingham roles? Lois, who had always been so inconspicuously garbed in dull browns and serviceable serge, whose sensational appearance in" scarlet created a furor?
Whichever your choice, the third Lois will please you. She is the wholesome. Lois, awakened to vitality, but marked with a buoyant self-respect. Sophistication has become knowledge; an assured position renders bluff unnecessary. Now she is the