Screenland (Jun-Oct 1935)

68 B SCR EENLAND H 1 v ; MMBBB So — you know some one who's planning a trip to the altar! Let's do a little missionary work for her — -right away! Imagine what a fiery blush, or turning deathly pale, does to the most-carefully-made-up face! A bride simply must depend mostly upon her eyes alone for beauty. They'll be sparkling anyway — but no matter how busy she is, see that she takes the time to slip her lashes into Kurlash (just as you do!) so that they may curve back into the most enchanting frames that deepen and enhance her eyes. Kurlash costs only $1 at almost any store, so perhaps you'd better take her one. Sormetlwnxj fllue Then — blue eyeshadow — because it's so lovely beneath white filmy veiling. Shadette, the eyeshadow in compact form, comes in a heavenly cerulean blue (as well as in violet, brown or green), $1. Pass it among the attendants, too, for a lovely ensemble effect. A wedding is a dramatic event — so use blue mascara, also. Lashtint Compact may be carried right into the vestry, for it carries a little sponge to insure even application. Take it along in black, too, to touch the very tips of the bridesmaids' lashes after the blue. (It's a final, theatrical note of beauty.) Also in chestnut brown, at $1. Jane Heath wtll gladly gwe you personal advtce on eye beauty ij you write her a note care oj Department C-6, The Kurlash Company, Rochester, N. Y. The Kurlash Company oj Canada, at Toronto, 3. Copr. The Kurlash Co. Inc. 1935 Wallace Beery's Cinematic History Continued from page 53 and (unforgettable, his villainy in this next one) "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse." It was during the early part of this picture that Beery unselfishly said to Rex Ingram, the director : "Don't waste time on me ; I can take care of myself. Give that dark-eyed Latin actor all the help you can, because that guy can be a big star if he gets the opportunity." The "dark-eyed Latin actor" was Rudolph Valentino ! By this time, Beery was in the "big money." Furthermore, he saved a large part of his earnings. During the lean days, he had learned the tragedy of being constantly broke, and he determined never to be without money again. That was really the foundation of the Beery fortune, which today is one of the biggest in Hollywood, although he will not admit it. What might be termed the real turning point of Wally's career occurred in 1921, when Douglas Fairbanks cast him as King Richard in "Robin Hood." In the guise of the rough-shod, ill-mannered, good-guzzling monarch, Beery stood out so brilliantly that he succeeded in stealing the picture from Fairbanks, a mighty feat in those days. Of course, Wally was an immediate sensation, and in the bidding for his services that followed, his salary jumped to dazzling figures. He signed with Paramount, where he and Raymond Hatton were costarred in a series of so-called (the term is Beery's) feature comedies. The first one or two were successes but the studio ran a good thing into the ground, and the succeeding Beery-Hatton comedies were as sour as lime juice. Raymond Hatton tells an amusing prank of which he was the goat, and Beery the perpetrator. There was a scene in "Behind the Front" that called for Beery to give Hatton a hair-cut — (they were supposed to be in the army). This scene was saved until the very last, and when it came, Beery and Hatton acted until the director shouted the order, "Cut !" Whereupon Beery, weighing 230 pounds, sat on poor Hatton, who weighed only 130 pounds, and held him helpless while the director ran the clippers straight across the top of Raymond's head, leaving a wide swath of bare skin from ear to ear. Beery was constantly full of such trickery. During the filming of "We're in the Navy" — (next picture after "Behind the Front") — he purchased a rubber chair, painted to look like a duplicate of other chairs on the set. Wally and Ray would patiently await the arrival of visitors on the set ; the more pompous the visitor, the happier Beery and Hatton. They would engage the guest in conversation, which invariably led to a suggestion that they sit down. Always, the visitor got the rubber chair, to the utter joy of Beery and the working crew. "Now We're In the Air" was the next picture in the cinematic life history of Beery. Just as this picture got under way, Wally purchased a dog. He brought his new canine pet to the studio one day, because, he said, "he wanted it to have as much to talk about as other dogs." He led the canine into the front offices, and right into the sanctum of the studio executives, who were in heavy conference. Waliy paraded the dog around the room without a word, until they reached the door by which they entered. Through that door they departed, but not until Beery had said to his pet, "Now you know what a conference is. I knew you wouldn't like it." Wally is the probable inventor of the "hot seat," a chair with an electrical appliance which gives a seated person a distinct shock. Richard Arlen looms in film history as the first victim of a "hot seat." It happened during the filming of Beery's next picture, "Fireman Save My Child" — (a silly title; the firemen really should have tried to save the picture). Arlen visited the set, settled down in the unlucky chair, and received the fullest shock of the electric battery. He jumped, from a sitting position, a full three feet in the air and ten feet away. Beery laughed over that for days, and advised Arlen to go to the Olympic games as the "sitting jump" contender. In 1928, Arlen and Beery played in their only picture together. The production was "Beggars of Life," and one of the scenes found Beery and Arlen running alongside a freight car on a treadmill, then hopping into the car. The treadmill, of course, provided the car with illusion of motion. Beery and Arlen jumped into the car all right, but once inside they began to fight for the best camera angle. First Beery would back up. That would throw his face more to the camera, and would exhibit a little more of the back of Arlen's neck and head. Then Arlen would back up, reversing conditions. Finally they both walked backward at the same minute — and stepped clear out of the box car and onto the still running treadmill, which quickly carried them out of sight. When the director got through laughing at the sight of Arlen and Beery, lying on their backs with their feet in the air, he threatened to put an iron bar across the freight-car door to keep his two actors within camera range. It was during the filming of this picture that Mary Brian fell victim to one of Beery's practical jokes. Mary visited his set one day, dressed "fit to kill" and en route to an afternoon tea. Wally persuaded her to sit down, and before she realized what was happening, he handcuffed her to the chair. There she sat, securely chained to the chair, for the entire afternoon. The social tea was held without Mary's presence. The failure of the later Beery-Hatton comedies to click at theatre box-offices spelled doom to Wally's contract, and almost the same for his career. After he was released, he fell into another "personal depression," during which time he couldn't get work for love or money. That period ended when he was placed under contract by the Metro-GoldwynMayer Studios. This happy event took place in the year 1929. Even though he had signed a contract, he was not yet to go to work; for six months he never turned a working finger. Most of that period he spent in the California mountains, fishing, hunting, and camping. It was about this time that he became interested in aviation. Today he is one of the country's most ardent and capable flyers. "The Big House" finally ended his long idle spell. Of this picture, which proved another turning point in his screen-life, Beery says : "My part — ■Butch, the convict— was a character that I could really understand. Brutal and uncouth as Butch looked and acted, he was a human being, a muddy mixture of virtue and vice." It was during the filming of this picture that Wally and Robert Montgomery met and became good friends. Fans who saw that production will recall that Bob's role was a thankless one ; he portrayed the