The Picture Show Annual (1930)

Picture Show Annual 117 could call up on occasions, and now it was the stars turn. " Put some fire into it ! " he besought them frantically. " You're about as animated as a couple of dormice in the winter. Don't look as if you're used to having strange young men in velvet suits waking you with a kiss, Jean- nette. Remember you're a shy princess and you've been asleep for donkey's years. And you, Mr. Marlow, put some pep into it. You've done things to get here that would make a fine scenario for Douglas Fairbanks, and certainly would take more ardour than you're showing to do *em. " He strode across the polished floor to them, a huge man in his loose-fitting, large-patterned plus fours, his heavy shock of grey hair flapping up and down as he Wcilked. " And another thing, Jeannette. Try and waken as if you hadn't been shamming sleep—more drowsily. Have more of a ' where am I * than a * here I am ' look. Ye gods, woman, use your imagination ! What do you thmk you were made a star for ? Here, get off that thing for a moment—let me show you what I mean ! " He stretched his huge bulk of cmnamon tweed on the dull blue and gold brocade and proceeded to demonstrate the Sleeping Beauty's delicate method of awakening ; and the incongruity did not raise a smile from anyone. The company indeed were not particularly mterested. From the beginning the director had been none too pleased with the star, and as he had given a demonstration of practically every one of her scenes before he was satisfied, the novelty had worn off. Only Jeannette, looking down at him, had a mockmg smile on her lips. " You get what I want ? " As the director met Jean- nette's hostile eyes he suddenly had an absurd feeling that the mascaraed spikes of her eyeleishes were all tiny daggers, charged with poison from the wells of her eyes. " Gee, this has been getting on my nerves more than I thought, " he said to himself as he watched Jeannette arrange herself carefully on the couch again. Once more he settled himself to watch, his eyes weary, his temper growing worse and worse. Involuntarily Kay had risen too, and without realising it had walked to the director's side, standing beside him under the lights, her round face flushed, her eyes a strange mixture of scorn and desire. She was possessed by an impulse to push the tepid Jeannette off the couch and to show her how she should do the scene. If only she could lie there in that exquisite frock, weiiting to be awakened by Terry Marlow's kiss. Her eyes slid from Marlow to Jeannette as he bent his head and lightly touched the star's lips with his own. If only the creature would do something besides coyly blinking her eyes and getting up on one elbow. " No, it's no good ! " The great man rubbed his fist m his hair distractedly. " There's not enough life in it yet. The whole thing's too dead ; too matter of fact. Hasn't either of you got a spark of romance in you to make it appeal, or are you so utterly and completely blase and bored that you can't even use your imagination or your memory to recollect your own first kiss ? " He paused. A hand was laid gently on his arm, and he looked down scowling into the upturned face of the script girl. " Well ? " hte said gruffly. " Oh, sir, ' she said softly and quickly as if afraid she would be stopped. " The Sleeping Beauty should sieh— just the faintest sigh—as she was waking—^and then " " My soul ! " cried the director, turning from her and flinging his arms out. " Has everyone gone doddering to-day ? Does everyone on the set think they can direct this scene better than I can ? You're all having a shot at it. But no one's going to leave this studio to-night until it's done my way. And done well ! Miss Joyce, please try to understand what I want. We ll rehearse the action again—and, oh yes, a sigh after you first open your eyes would improve things, I fancy. Mr. Marlow, ready—go up to her, a little awed, but with the same spirit that brought you through all the difficulties in getting to her ; not so grim—this isn't another difficulty, it's a plea- sure " Kay watched breathlessly. He had used her idea, even if he had made it appear his own. And he knew where the sigh ought to come, too^—^after she liad seen the prince's face—a little sigh, half rapture, half regret since she would think she was still dreaming. Once more she watched Marlow approach the dais under a fire of caustic encouragement. Once more he bent over the Sleeping Beauty, and Kay closed her eyes. She could not bear to see even the professional kiss on the Sleeping Beauty's uninspired lips. Suddenly a terrific bellow from the director snapped her lids up. ' Can't you even do as you're told ? " he yelled at Jeannette. ' I said after you open your eyes, not before. It isn't your fault you can't act, but surely you can under- stand instructions and obey them ! " " Not when they're yours ! " snapped Jeannette. I've got a brain as well as you—probably a darn sight better, and not once have you let me use it ! You've let Terry steal all my scenes, you've given him the best close-ups. I'm not jealous, but it isn't faur." Her voice was pitched high, and suddenly she looked faded and worn and vindictive ; slight pouches under her eyes, a suggestion of sagging throat muscles and hollow neck. The director'« last shred of patience went. *' That's enough ! " he shouted. " You've been better photographed in this film than ever before and you know It. You've had marvellous opportunities and you'd have muffed them all if you'd been allowed to. And don't try and pull the brainy stuff here. It won't work. I know better. Your success depends on your pretty face and your figure, and when they're gone you'll have had your day. Now you'll either do this scene my way or get out. Why, even " he glanced round as if seeking inspiration and his glance stopped on Kay, " even Miss Bramley could do it better. Anyone with an ounce of common sense could. " Jeannette rose, her hps a straight line, her eyes glittering. " I'll get out, " she said. " I've done enough scenes your way. And let me tell you your brains are your sleeping beauty, and they'll never waken. Perhaps Miss Bramley vn\l undertake the scene since you feel she could do It better." She tore off the long braided fair wig, flung it on the floor and stamped on it furiously, then flounced away to her dressing-room, leaving a speechless company staring after her as she vanished amid the props and lights and derelict sets, her French maid at her heels. Then as the last flutter of her draperies faded from view, all eyes turned with one accord to the director.