Screenland (May-Oct 1934)

72 SCREENLAND "I Don't Think I'm Funny' Continued from page 19 1 x.. fx ^ V :; 1 1 v p Lilian Ellis, Viennese musical comedy star, now devoting her talents to film comedies. to Hollywood. The wistful grace of her every gesture, the plaintiveness of her voice seemed to everyone to be those qualities which heralded a great dramatic actress. Her career proves them to be both right and wrong. The dramatic roles in which she first won praise have not been forgotten. The dank, dour tragedies directed by Eric von Stroheim established her as a great dramatic actress, but it is as a comedienne that she has come to be one of America's favorites. But by this time Fields had succeeded in breaking the second set of crockery, much to the enjoyment of everyone on the set. Zasu and I were at liberty to continue our conversation without the benefit 'of any directorial scowls. She looked at me with a slow smile. "I don't know why you want to interview me — why don't you pick on someone who is really glamorous? Dietrich or Lombard, for instance. People want to read about them — not about me. There is nothing really interesting to say about me. But there is something interesting to say about this charming and much-too-modest actress ! When Zasu stepped from the train in Los Angeles her ears still tingled with the prophetic praise of her home-folks. She was going to have a career ; she was sure of it. Her first experiences, however, were discouraging. The best she could get were some parts in two-reel comedies. _ To her they were experience, merely sign-posts along the road to recognition. To the producers these parts were not comedy. If anything or anyone in a slap-stick comedy can be serious the small parts played by Zasu were just that. Here was no one who, in herself, could produce a laugh ; she was merely the serious character on whom all the silly pranks of comedy could be sprung. From these insignificant particles of serious characterization Zasu graduated to a role in Mary Pickford's picture, "The Little Princess." Incidentally, this role grew to such menacing proportions under the skillful, intuitive dramatic technique of Zasu Pitts that most of it had to be cut to save the position of America's curlyheaded darling. For Zasu took the part of a "slavey," a pathetic, down-trodden, bewildered maid-of-all-work and made a major characterization of it. She made the part so wistfully appealing, in fact, that it endangered the importance of the star. Therefore it was reduced to appropriate and discreet proportions. Despite the fact that Mary Pickford thus saved her own role in the picture, she recognized the real ability of this little girl from the country and sent her to Mack Sennett with a letter of highest recommendation. And now in speaking of Mary Pickford Zasu says : "No one has ever succeeded in taking her place. There has never been a screen personality who represented quite the same thing to the picture public. She was more than a favorite star, she was practically an ideal. Perhaps if there were more pictures of the type she used to make there would not be all this howl about censorship right now." But let us return to our story. Zasu first went to see Sennett at the time when, under Sennett's banner, Charlie Chaplin was rising to the dizziest heights of stardom. His superb skill in combining the ridiculous comedy of his make-up and antics with a hint of tragedy made him universally appealing. These were just the qualities that Mary Pickford saw in Zasu Pitts. But Sennett missed badly. He looked at Zasu, shook his head and said, "You don't look funny to me !" This comedy producer was not the only one to miss Zasu's possibilities. Despite the fact that she got many small parts, no one could visualize her as a comedienne or, for that matter, as a dramatic actress. There was, however, one person who had become not only a great friend of Zasu's but a great believer in her ability. This was Frances Marion, then a writer at Famous Players, now the Paramount lot. Barrie's play, "What Every Woman Knows," was about to be produced and she recognized at once that Zasu Pitts was the one person best suited to handle the whimsical, tragi-comedy required of the lead in this famous play. She went to William de Mille, who was to direct the picture, to plead with him to give Zasu the part. Finally he was persuaded to grant this actress an interview. Zasu was sent for. When she arrived in de Milk's office he treated her to a devastating barrage of silence. Then, seeing that she was suitably impressed by these tactics, he suddenly bent forward and looking at her long hair asked earnestly and firmly, "Have you any sex appeal?" When she finally mustered enough courage to speak, the best she could manage was, "Well, I've just been married !" She did not get the part — it was given to Lois Wilson. Now she laughs about this encounter and says, "So I just slunk away feeling sad and not so very sexy!" Just after this strange interview Zasu was discovered by Eric von Stroheim. He demanded that she be given an important role in the picture which he was about to do. The picture was "Greed" and the part was far removed from comedy. It was tragic and realistic in the extreme. Her experiences in working under this director, who was soon to be hailed as a genius, were so grim and so unrelieved by any vestige of humor that they hurried the turning point in her career. For she had experienced enough of the tragic side of life. Melancholy by nature, the circumstances surrounding her youth had been none too cheerful. She had been lonely. Now her work was throwing her with a group of people to whom humor and cheerfulness were unknown quantities. Von Stroheim had through his own experiences come to recognize only the grim realities of existence. His humor, if it can be called that, is of the same nature expressed by a cat when it toys with a stricken mouse. Her friendship with Barbara La Marr brought her into closer contact with tragedy, for it was at this period that this beautiful actress was going through the illness that resulted in her death. And after Barbara's death Zasu adopted her child, whom she is bringing up with her own. Marriage difficulties arose to give Zasu an added taste of woe. On top of this she was assigned another part under von Stroheim, that of the clubfooted princess in "The Wedding March." This pathetic characterization, which she did so excellently, was really the turning point for Zasu. Tragedy had become so much a part of her nature, so intimately a part of all her surroundings, her acquaintances, that either consciously or unconsciously she began to over-emphasize its effects. In order to "take the bumps" she had to develop a sense of humor. Its expression was through an over-emphasis of her very real bewilderment at the harshness of life. In mock despair she wrings her hands, is helplessly, hopelessly inadequate at coping with the morbid drama which the scene of life itself presents. So woeful is she that merely through over-expression of her own and her friend's deep-rooted tragedy, it becomes comedy — not for herself but those who see her. Suddenly she represents no longer the serious side of life to those who watch her on the screen. Her difficulties, expressed in her own inimitabk manner, are the source of laughter to the picture public. Because people cannot laugh at their own troubles, they must laugh at hers. Thus it is that Zasu. in all her presentday screen characterizations, represents, not necessarily a comic figure, but one who tries quite ineffectually to cope with the difficulties presented in a certain unfortunate situation. In the early tragic roles which she handled so expertly the public did not laugh — the public cried. But through stressing over-much this same plaintive, woeful quality of acting they now laugh. So the next time you see Zasu just remember that you are not necessarily laughing at comedy — you're really laughing at "ole man trouble" herself ! In Hollywood Zasu has a reputation for cheerfulness and light-spirited gaiety When she drives through the studio gates in the morning on her way to work a general lift in morale is noticeable from the gate-man right on through the company with which she is working. Only her real, her close friends know that she may have spent the night in tears because of the many difficulties which beset her. Now, however, a new day has dawned for this justly famous comedienne. Her marriage to Eddie Woodhall, one-time tennis star, has brought her long delayed happiness. Her new part, that of Miss Hazy in "Mrs. Wiggs of The Cabbage Patch" offers her one of the best opportunities she has had recently to play a really sincere role. She hopes for more parts of the same kind when she finishes this one. She says : "I'm happy and I hope I stay that way!"