Screenland (May-Oct 1931)

for June 19 3 1 Marie Dressler's Own Story Continued from page 55 117 chines must be adjusted and synchronized. After it has taken two hours or more to get ready to shoot a scene and one is feeling more shot against than shooting, the director says, "Everybody ready ! I will take the scene !" Jaded from the preliminaries, but still anxious to do a good job, the actors get set. It's like a race. We get all our sinews and all our biceps ready. We spurt and put all we have in the run and just as we are congratulating ourselves on how truly magnificent we are and this picture is going to knock 'em cold, the camera man says, "Sorry, but I was out of focus on that." We go through the focusing again and the "cuss" in focus is accented this time. By now I'm so tired that I think of myself as "The Two Orphans." You can't get through it again. You won't. This is intolerable. You look around. Everybody is taking a long breath and moving into position, so you think of the bread-line and gird up whatever one girds up. You crawl on the floor or up the ladder or put on the fur coat or do whatever you have to do that you'd rather not, and everybody starts again from the judge's stand. We are even more determined. "We'll do it this time, by George !" Our enthusiasm by now is somewhat forced, but still, second wind, like second thoughts, may be best. When we are well on our way toward the home stretch, the light man electrocutes us by saying, "Sorry, there are shadows in that. We'll have to try again." Hell's bells and Christmas trinkets ! You can see that the goings-on at Culver City make it no place for the fellow who boasts he'll "try anything once." If one wants to be Alice-in-Movieland, one will do it "again and again." More focusing. The camera men welcome the interruption to do a little more experimenting. Finally we are off on a new gallop when the sound man stops us. "Sorry, I didn't get that last." In the pause the director achieves an inspiration. There is a general conference. When we finally begin the scene again for recording, the actors have said their lines so many times and gone back and jumped and received so many instructions, that they can't remember their lines. This time we are allowed full authorship for the fault. It is brought home to us that the delay is all ours. We old-timers take it with an alleged grin — the young ones with not so good a grace. By this time nobody feels as if he had a feather left to fly with. The only consolation is that it happens to everybody, novices and veterans alike, but it hurts just the same when it happens to you. In "Caught Short" I sang I'm Going Spanish Now. My goodness, by the time I got that one off my chest, I could have gone any nationality and been buried as the unknown soldier ! You see I had to go back for one thing or another so many times that when the music finally started, I couldn't remember I'm looking for a toreador. I was looking for any old door, the wider the better. When I could work, old man Mike couldn't. By the time he was on the job, again, my mind was a cipher with the rim left off. Then I just slunk right out in the alley with tears of rage and humiliation in my eyes. If I had let loose the volcano inside it would have blown up Culver City. As I paced up and down calling myself everything from a jellyfish to the best words found in a pirate's vocabulary with a few doughboy terms thrown in, I asked myself, "What made you think you could play in the pictures ? Why didn't you bake buns for a living?" Tum-tidi-tum-tum — Looking at the pedigree of my famous family tree — suddenly the words came back to me. I rushed back and announced that I was ready if the mike was, and it was. We snapped into it and I had as much fun as you thought I was having if you saw "Caught Short." The mike and I get along very well these days because it is now so arranged that the actor is less hampered by the little sound-demon. Nobody knows what a strain it used to be to try to look and act natural, realizing that it was possible to move only in a limited space and hold one's head at a certain angle in order that the sound could be properly reproduced. In "Anna Christie" I told the director that the mike would have to follow me instead of my following the mike. . As a result a man shadowed me wherever I went and carried that little instrument which recorded Marthie's words to film lovers throughout the country. The result was good because I was not worrying about mechanical conditions and trying to pull my stuff at the same time. After a hard day on the lot, I don't dress up in my best clothes and parade Hollywood Boulevard or go to an allnight party as many suppose. Instead, I am put to bed at nine o'clock, my windows opened so that I get the fresh fragrance of my garden and the sound of the sea, and I am asleep. I don't even need nightingale songs and scented breezes to induce sleep. Yes, I have that kind of a conscience. I have learned that the only thing to do when there has been a hard day behind and a bad one ahead is to put water on the slate and sponge out all mistakes and worries. After all, we never do say any of those scathing things to the other fellow that we so carefully plan during a pillow conference with ourselves. I do not alternate work and play. When I work, I work; and when I play, I play. In the days when I made "Tillie's Punctured Romance," we took our picnic pails along, had a lark of a time, and spent some fourteen weeks producing the picture. Today some of our biggest and most expensive films are started and completed within four weeks. While we are working, I give all that I have to the job. If it's necessary to stay over time at night, I never whimper. I'm on the job promptly in the morning because punctuality is my greatest virtue or sin, whichever you consider it. I never have been able to understand or forgive the many people who are so inconsiderate of the time and pocket books of others as to appear for appointments with lame excuses of slow clocks or unexpected callers. I am sure that I have just as many interruptions and know just as many people, if not more, than the average person, but if I can say to a dear friend, who has just come to see me on her return to the city, "I'm terribly sorry, but I have an engagement in ten minutes," I do not see why others can't pursue the same tactics. As it is I give up something that means a good deal to me to keep my appointment only to find that the other person keeps me waiting half an hour. We ought to get together on this and change things for the better ! Time in George Washing Let me tell you of this better way to remove hair by Removing ugly superfluous hair — swiftly — easily — from the under-arms*, fore-arms and legs is a problem many women find hard to solve . . . I, myself, had just about given up hope when I discovered DEL-A-TONE Cream. You can imagine my delight in finding, at last, a cream that removes hair more quickly and more thoroughly than anything I had ever used. Creamy white — DEL-A-TONE removes hair in 3 minutes or less. Faintly fragrant — it is just as easy to use as cold cream and leaves your skin clean, smooth and white. Soon as you try DEL-A-TONE you'll understand why, after using, women say, "Now ... I can stand the public gaze." *Reinoval of underarm hair lessens perspiration odor. DEI-ATONE The White Cream Hair-remover — now comes in two sizes 50c New Larger §1 MONEY BACK GUARANTEE Del-a-tone has attained wide popularity on real merit alone. No extravagant, exaggerated advertising claims have ever been made. Superior quality is the reason for asking you to try it and to guarantee that your money will be cheerfully refunded if you are not satisfied. Del-a-tone Cream, 50c and SI (also Del-a-tone Powder, SI size only) at drug and department stores. Or sent prepaid in U. S. in plain wrapper. Money back if desired. (Trial tube, 10c: — use coupon below.) Write Miss Mildred Hadley, The Delatone Co.. (Est. 1908) The Delatone BIdg., Dept. 146, 233 East Ontario Street, Chicago, Illinois. iss Mildred Hadley, The Delatone Company Dept. 146. Delatone BIdg., 233 E. Ontario St.. Chicago. 111. Please send me in plain wrapper prepaid. Kcnerous tube of Del-a-tone Cream for which I enclose 10c. When you write to advertisers please mention SCREENLAND.