Now Voyager(Warner Bros.) (1942)

SPIT Br LIT Seon TT Bette Davis Plays Best Role of Her Screen Career The “new” Bette Davis positively will not lose her eyesight, chop off her lover’s head, be tortured, take a beating, go to jail, betray her husband, be tried for murder, or even sit on a cactus in her forthcoming Warner Bros. picture, “Now, Voyager.” On the contrary. Miss Davis revels in a role any dramatic actress would give a new set of tires or sugar rationing card to possess. She has three lovers (3), count ’em. She has 30 costumes by Orry-Kelly. She plays herself as a 20-yearold Miss, as a 28-year-old bachelor girl, and as a smartly dressed, snick-snack young woman of the world in an up-swept hair-do. A brisk glance at the record shows that affairs have not always been so with Miss Davis. She began pleasantly enough in the part of a sweet young girl with George Arliss in “The Man Who Played God.” In this picture, Mr. Arliss went deaf, not Miss Davis. In “Three on a Match” she was a stenographer and sat on the boss’s lap—there was a short era in the Davis saga in which she wore pink frocks and large floppy hats— a mistake, as Hollywood soon learned. Bette Davis was an actress born to suffer. In “Dark Horse,” her third picture, she was a_ secretary again, but the cycle had begun. She was arrested. In “The Rich Are Always with Us,” she was a dreadful little rich girl, playing the first of her petulent, let-’em-eat-cake ladies. With few exceptions from then on, and for 386 more pictures, Bette Davis was a mean woman. True, retribution usually caught up with her in the eighth reel, but she built a reputation for playing what Hollywood calls “the gutty gals.” Recent releases seemed to indicate that Miss Davis was reaching for new heights of insolence and _ selfishness in the kind of characters she chose to portray. Her “Little Foxes” part saw her as an archetype of the grasping woman, perhaps highlighted by the fact that the locale was in the South, where women ordinarily are softspcken. “In This Our Life” saw her mistreating pretty Olivia de Havilland and stealing her man. The change of character in “Now, Voyager” is sudden, complete and probably healthy. Anyway, as aforesaid, it’s a holiday for Bette Davis. Her lovers: Paul Henreid, the leading man with the Viennese manner; Charles Drake, very handsome, and John Loder, who has kissed most of the leading ladies of his day. Her costumes: modern, sleek and Park Avenue in the manner of Orry Kelly. Her character: a complex thing, with neurosis, mother-hatred, love on mountain tops, and all the overtones of despair and joy that are apple pie for actresses like Bette Davis. For the first time in many pictures, Bette gets all the sympathy. There are few women who don’t enjoy that. Miss Davis is very happy about everything, especially her newest role. Gladys Cooper Cast As Tyrannical Mother In London, she is known as the most beautiful woman on the British stage. Hollywood cast her as an old lady. In milder times, this might be enough to create an international incident involving the White House and No. 10 Downing Street, for Gladys Cooper is (1) an authentic beauty, and (2) the darling of the English stage. The fact is that she likes being an authentic beauty, and (2) the darling of the English stage. ihe twaet that she likes being an old lady in Warner Bros.’ “Now, Voyx bs # 6ager,’”’ asked Mat 101—15¢_ for the part, GLADYS COOPER and turns in a unique performance may or may not mitigate British shock. Englishmen think of Miss Cooper as the girl with the pretty garters and the bright blue eyes, as a musical comedy ME OOOO star at the Gaiety. In ‘Now, Voyager,” she is old, very old, with white hair and deep wrinkles. She carries a little silver cane, and she persecutes Bette Davis. This is a trick that requires vast authority. It is difficult to stand up to, let alone persecute Bette Davis. “A brand new kind of authority for old women,” said Irving Rapper of her portrayal of the dowager Mrs. Vale of Boston, who spoke only to Cabots (who spoke only to God), and even then with her nose in the air. But Miss Cooper likes her part and hopes to get more old ladies to do. She doesn’t even mind the makeup, which takes two hours to install. Gladys Cooper, to be brief about it, made a hit on the British stage when she was 14, dancing and singing in musical comedies. Later she went to the drama. She was Peter Pan— swinging across the stage on wires, and all—and she both produced and starred in the criginal presentation of “The Letter,” which Bette Davis years later made into a movie. BETTE DAVIS, ILKA CHASE AND JOHN LODER (Still NV 69; Mat 202—30c) (Still NV 28; Mat 204—30c) BETTE DAVIS AND PAUL HENREID CO-STAR AT STRAND HANDSOME, ROMANTIC PAUL HENREID CO-STARRED IN WARNERS’ ‘NOW, VOYAGER’ Bette Davis’ new leading man is the tallest, the most romantic —straight out of Vienna, with a title to boot—and probably the handsomest fellow who ever threw an arm around her. This is as it should be. The plot of her new Warner Bros. picture, “Now, Voyager,” calls for the most interesting love scenes Bette has ever played. His name is Paul Henreid. His full name, which he has shortened because he is on his way to becoming an American citizen, is Paul Henreid, Baron von Wasel-Waldingau. That is the title the late Emperor Franz Josef bestowed on Paul’s father, a Swede, who showed the old Emperor how to make a lot of money. Bette, who comes from New England and therefore knows what an inhibition is, and Paul, who comes from Vienna and never heard of a complex, explore the love-life of a pretty girl whose mother didn’t think kissing was nice. Bette plays herself as a girl of 20, herself as a fat and suppressed young woman with an inferiority phobia, and herself as a beautiful woman who “sails forth to seek and find.” Paul Henreid has appeared in “Flight to the West,” “Night Train,” and “Joan of Paris” to such good effect that Hollywood, quick to recognize such things, is already wig-wagging friendly warnings to such he-charmers as Clark Gable, Charles Boyer, and Errol Flynn. Henreid was born in 1910. He lived in a Vienna that was a SIGNIFICANT SET Exact replica of Boston’s Back Bay Railroad Station in Warner Bros.’ “Now, Voyager” has special significance to the picture’s star, Bette Davis. A large group of skeptical wellwishers saw her off from this station on her original trip to Hollywood in quest of a movie career. IT'S THE WAR Warner Bros. has changed a scene in “Now, Voyager’ in order to conserve tires and to avoid wrecking an automobile. Seript called for car in which Bette Davis and Paul Henreid ride to plunge over a cliff. Minor accident, which can be filmed on a sound stage, has been substituted to prevent car damage. pleasant adventure in threequarter time, and quit it to attack Hitler. He did that before the Anschluss, going to England in 1935 to work in plays and pictures that cracked at the Nazis. For a year and a half in London he played Albert in “Victoria Regina,” then came to New York, broke, and started all over again. He lost his $100,000 estate when he quit Vienna. Mostly, he has played villains, the suave, soft-spoken kind, with a dagger in the glove. He is the only von Henried (note that he changed the spelling, seeking to be more American) who ever acted on the stage. He resembles Jean Gabin, if he resembles anybody, but is bigger, wider, taller and younger. As a matter of fact, he’s sixfeet-three, which, with that Continental charm of his, ought to be enough to sweep Bette off her feet. Anyway, that’s what he has to do according to the plot of “Now, Voyager.” John Loder Left Out In Cold Again The “other woman” has long played a prominent part in motion pictures—and sometimes in life. Now it is the “other man” and, just lately, the chances are about six-two and even that John Loder is it. Mr. Loder is probably one of the three or four handsomest men in motion pictures. Yet he loses Bette Davis to the memory of Paul Henreid in her newest Warner Bros. picture, “Now, Voyager,” and he is soon to lose Alexis Smith to Errol Flynn in “Gentleman Jim.” John Loder would not be so content to be continually thwarted in his wishes and hopes in real life, no doubt, but it pays him quite handsomely to accept the fate of an “also ran’—romantically speaking—in screen roles. He is, perhaps, almost too good-looking to be a heart throb in the public’s breast. Nearly everybody likes Loder on the screen but few tears are shed when he does not win the lady. The actor, who is English in fact, plays a Back Bay Bostonian in “Now, Voyager” and plays it in such a successful “stuffed shirt” manner that he admits he can understand perfectly why Miss Davis prefers the memory of a more exciting man—as portrayed by Paul Henreid. Saucy llka Chase Tames Down for ‘Now, Voyager’ Role To the vast disappointment of specialists in the juicy morsel and the gossipy tid-bit, Broadway’s most celebrated vixen, Miss Ilka Chase, and Hollywood’s most acid screen personality, Miss Bette Davis, appear in the same motion picture and get along as nicely as coffee and cream. The screen play is “Now Voyager,” a Warner Bros. picture now showing locally at the Strand Theatre. Miss Chase came to Hollywood with more than the usual blast of publicity that accompanies a New York stage actress motionpicture-bound. Miss C. had not only starred in “The Women,” Clare Booth’s pungent critique on females, but had just authored a book, ‘‘Past Imperfect,” in which she stuck out her tongue at Hollywood. “T had a crack I was going to say to her,’ Miss Davis reported. “But I thought it might not sound good. I was going to say, ‘Well, Ilka, slumming?’ ” Instead, the formidable ladies sat down and had an amiable cup of tea together and discussed the plight of the New York stage. Miss Chase said the stage was in a bad way. Miss Davis said she was sorry. They both agreed that being in motion pictures was hard work. The trouble is, of couse, that it’s difficult to distinguish between the roles an actress plays and the actress herself. Bette Davis, on her screen record, would be a neurotic, hyperthyroid young woman with a tragic outlook on life. Obviously, a lady whose chief enthusiasms are her New England farm, her horses, and practical jokes (the cornier the better) isn’t that kind of person. Ilka Chase, on her stage record, would be a feline-tongued casual eternally on the prowl for a victim to sink her claws into. But this is what she says: “If you play that kind of part, you can’t be that kind of person. I mean, in order to play the part even reasonably well, you have to be able to stand back and see it objectively. You have to know when and where to exaggerate certain gestures. “Well, if you’re a — let’s see, let’s call it ‘cat’—yourself, why, you can’t stand back and see the ‘cat.’ Anyway, that’s how I explain that I’m really a nice person at heart.” Miss Davis’ explanation of her roles could be more complex, probably, but she explains it simply. “They’re interesting persons, she says. “Give you more scope to develop a character. I love tragedy anyway. It’s more fun for me to play.” Nine-tenths of the correspondents in Hollywood have asked: “Well, now, and how did Miss Davis and Miss Chase get along? Any fights?” No fights, fellers. ”? RESEARCH! Warner Bros.’ prop department is indebted to Bette Davis for perfect authenticity of a “Now, Voyager” set which represents a New England country pharmacy. Miss Davis chats with neighbors in a similar old-fashioned drug-store located half a mile from her New Hampshire home, where she spends most of her free time between pictures. When she spotted inaccurate props on the set, the actress visited the prop department and selected the exact type of syrup jars, straw containers, and medicine dispensing bottles used in these country drugstores.