Screenland (May-Oct 1931)

106 SCREENL AND Thoughts While Being Interviewed Continued from page 23 FASHION AUTHORITIES VOGUE says: "All Paris is creating more natural appearing make-up. A vivid slash of red lips has no place in today's very feminine, individual mode. Avoid lipsticks that do not match your natural coloring.'' HARPER'S BAZAAR says: "The rouge and lipstick which blend into the natural flesh tones, fit most perfectly into the fashion picture of 1931. This is precisely what the Tangee preparations do. They accentuate the actual skin tones, and are becoming alike to the blonde, brunette or Titian." Tangee, the world's most famous Lipstick, SI. Non-Greasy! Natural! Permanent! New! Tangee Theatrical, a special dark shade of Tangee Lipstick for professional and evening use. SEND 20c FOR TANGEE BEAUTY SET I Containing miniature Lipstick, two Rouges, I Powder, two Creams and "The Art of Make up" The George W. Luft Co.. Dept. S4 I I 417 Fifth Avenue New York j I Name J ! Address — I i — — — — — — — — — — — — — — . sits up like a blue-nosed deacon in a Sunday school and dares you to be funny — to make him laugh. I hate that kind of writer. I can never be myself with them. Thank goodness there aren't many of that kind. But maybe, through' some freak of fortune, he'll turn out to be regular. Almost too much to hope for, though. One o'clock arrives and I am in the middle of "Henry VIII." {Actors arc always in the middle of something when interviewers 'arrive. I even caught one in the middle of a bath once.) The bell rings and here's a man I've never laid eyes on before to whom I must appear charming, hospitable, amusing, intellectual : in other words, reveal my inner thoughts. Applesauce ! "How do you do, Mr. Kent? Come in and sit down. Have you had lunch? No?" (They never have.) "Then sit right down and join me. The cook was not expecting guests but there will be endugh." Funny-looking guy, isn't he? Wonder if he would look better with a mustache. Suit fits him well. Wonder where he got it Has on the wrong tie, however. (You ■are at perfect liberty to send me the right one.) Wonder if he is married (No! ! !) and is supporting a large family. Woolen socks at this time of the year. My, my. (Slander! I never wear woolen socks. I haven't got any. But Neil says if I don't. I'm the type that would.) "Oh, that's all right — don't mention it." (He just spilled his coffee over Mrs. Hamilton's new tablecloth.) "Accidents are bound to happen, you know." (What a whopper! They use lace doilies most of the time that permit the 'gleaming mahogany' to shine through. If you make a pass at the squab from the wrong angle, the whole thing goes skitering over the table like a rug on a slippery floor. Neil insists, however, that if they did use a tablecloth I would undoubtedly spill coffee on it.) Lunch is finished — (entirely too soon for my taste) — and, as he will doubtless say in his article, -it is a glorious afternoon in June. The sun is shining brightly overhead; the air is soft and balmy — but for me a perfectly good afternoon at the beach has been ruined. We go into the living room. "Would you like a highball?" Thank heavens he says yes. That eases the situation. Curious name — Kent. Never remember hearing it before. I'll fool him and have him talk to me about himself, instead of the other way around. "Have an Old Gold?" Oh, ho! He prefers Luckies. He wants an unusual angle. I knew it. They always do. But nothing unusual happens to me. I am a young man who is in love with his wife: lead a fairly respectable sort of existence ; am kind to dumb animals, babies and my parents. Like to see the lawn looking nice and don't pull the wings off of flies. I save my money and have never run for President of these United States. He talks well. Tells me he was an aviator during the war. Even so, he will never get me up in a ship with him. I shudder inwardly. After all, the old story of from rags to riches will have to be rehashed in order that the great American Public may be satisfied. We talk and talk and talk some more. He gets me started on a couple of subjects on which I like to theorize — in spite of myself — and the first thing I know, I become so confused in my thoughts I spend half the time analyzing thy own answers. He is nervous. (Is that so?) Shouldn't be. He makes no notes. I wonder how he will ever be able to remember and put on paper these gems of wisdom I am giving him. I wonder if he gets much money. Must get awfully fed up listening to actors talking about themselves. Anyway, he laughs at my jokes (No one can say I'm not a good interviewer — or at least a polite one) and I like him. ( Well, \reil, really, i Casually mentions he plays bridge. So do I. It would be fun to have him over some night and give him a good trimming. (It didn't turn out that way, though. He got the trimming.) I wonder why he wears his trousers so long. Has no idea of economy or he'd realize the back of cuffs will wear out quickly. Saw me in a play in Washington eight years ago. My public. I finish talking. Can't think of anything else to elucidate for him. Says he has had a most pleasant afternoon. Wonder what he can possibly go home and write about now. Suppose he pans me. Gosh ! Why do they have to do that ? I know some of the boys and girls who have been roasted to a turn are darn nice kids and didn't" deserve it a bit. I guess maybe the cream in the writer's coffee was sour that morning or he got out of the wrong side of the bed or something and took it out on the actor because the player wasn't the expected oracle — the font of wisdom from whom all blessings flow. Why can't they realize that our job is acting and not orating? I haven't created any intellectual upheaval so far but then, on the other hand. I've never had to be ashamed of anything that's been written about me. Well, if he pans me, I'll just have to grin and bear it. There has to be a first time for everything. I discover he is a neighbor of mine. . Good to remember when a fourth hand is needed. Mrs. Hamilton returns from her shopping. "This is Mr. Kent, dear," "How do you do?" "How do you do?" He remarks when she goes upstairs: "Charming girl — rare judgment." Four o'clock. He leaves — but too late for me to go to the beach. (You couldn't have gone, anyhow. And I could have gone to the beach, too, you know, if I hadn't had to interview you.) Too early to go to the movies. I pick up "Henry VTIL" Wonder what Henry would have told him had this chap Kent come to interview him concerning his ideas of a tieup between the cloth of gold and rayon people? Henry had the best of me, though. He could have sentenced him to the tower of London. (Oh, yeah?) Weeks pass. Suddenly someone hands me a magazine containing an interview by Peter Kent. I read in petrified astonishment. Is that what I said that afternoon? (What do you think?) Well, anyway, it sounds good. (Then it must be what you said.) Think I'll call him up sometime — not to thank him though. (Heavens no! That just isn't being done.) He'd think I was seeking favors, but maj'be I will be able to find out a little more about him. And so, dear little boys and girls of the great Out There, thus comes to an end, as all good things must, a somewhat haphazard chronicle of a player's thoughts while being interviewed.