Screenland (Nov 1935-Apr 1936)

98 SCREENLAND Wide World Companions at the play! A new combination, John Gilbert and Marlene Dietrich, as they attended a first night in Hollywood. more speed!). At 12:30 a.m., we sighted land and the huge camp, "City of Men," wherein w.ere parked the hardy crew of actors and technicians, et al, for M-G-M's "Mutiny on the Bounty." There was a cottage reserved for me, and I fell instantly into its waiting bed. At 5 :30 the next morning — it seemed middle of the night — a siren blew. Well, old fire-horse Babcock leaped from bed to go to the fire. But no, it was just the first call for breakfast. Another siren blew at six; and at 6:30, I found myself at breakfast in the camp's main dining-hall with an extremely sleepy-eyed Clark Gable, a silent Charles Laughton, and a very charmingly pleasant Director Frank Lloyd. (You know, of course, that most men are really not fit to speak to in the morning until they've had their coffee, and I would say that Mr. Laughton and Mr. Gable, charming as their manners were later in the day, would be no exception to this rule. Mr. Lloyd, by the time I arrived at the table, had had his coffee!). Incidentally, forgetting the rule, I remarked brightly to Mr. Gable that it looked like a fine day, and after a terrific effort, he brought forth a smile and a mumble : Y,es, it might be, but he hoped it wasn't windy. Mr. Laughton merely remarked bitterly that if he got any more sunburned, he couldn't work any more. After the first few sips of coffee, they looked much brighter, and by the time we fell into another water-taxi — it was the same I had ridden the evening previous, only now it was headed for sea — the conversation was a little more stimulating, although far from brilliant. Incidentally, would you like to know what they ate for breakfast, these film idols? Well, Mr. Gable, I must report, is a sissy eater. He had a glass of lime juice an I two cups of coffee. No scrambled eggs or sausages for him. Not even a bit of dry toast. I thought he looked longingly at Charlie Laughton's well-filled plate, but I couldn't be sure until he told me later — goodness, not then; he hardly mumbled a word then — that he had to watch his diet. Clark Gable watching his diet ! "I haven't eaten a boiled potato for years," he told me. 'And I love 'em. I come from a family of big men. Fatness is a family trait. I had a grand old uncle with a stomach like John L. Sullivan's and six double chins. Well, I resemble him in features, but I don't try the , double chins. So it's no beans or potatoes or any of the hearty foods I like, for Gable." The Bounty, anchored off the Isthmus every night, had already started out to sea under power of its auxiliary motor, and we caught up with it some three miles distant and clambered up its side. The deck of the Bounty, as I viewed it for the first time, was a sight never to be forgotten. As you know, the ship is a replica of the famous old vessel which sailed from England to Tahiti back in 1700. It is ninety feet long, has a twenty-four foot beam, and carried three masts, the mizzen, fore mast, and main mast. It is what is known technically as a square-rigger, and in the early morning calm, its sails were still to be furled. Sprawling on the deck, standing, sitting, or lounging against boxes, was the allmale cast, a picturesque sight in stripped sailor pants, bare feet, and colored 'kerchiefs around their heads. The real crew, regular San Pedro seamen, were, much to their disgust, in the same garb as the cast. They had to be so costumed for atmosphere ; but later in the day when close-ups for1 principals were in order, they made a quick change to their grease-smudged blue jeans and flannel shirts and square-toed shoes. The first scene on tap was that in the story where the sailors, after being becalmed for days, catch a whiff of wind. Clark, as Fletcher Christian, excitedly runs the length of the deck, and Mr. Laughton, as Captain Bligh, follows him. The first I knew work was under way came with a sharp call from Director Lloyd: "Have we a captain on board? Get your hat off, Mr. Laughton, and let's get going !" For Mr. Laughton, still wary of the beating rays of the sun, was lolling in what shadow he could find, a lovely white 1935 duck hat pulled securely over his face. Over and over, they took that scene. And then close-ups. And then some shots of Donald Crisp as Seaman Burkett, fighting with hungry, snarling shipmates over the catch of a shark. It was, surprisingly, much as if you were watching movies made within the. four walls of a studio stage, save for the background of the tall masts of the old square-rigger with its flopping sails and the blue Pacific. My attention concentrated on Clark— (what female's wouldn't?). I found him putting extraordinary vigor and power into his scenes ; and then between shots, he was like a great big kid. For the most part, he acted more like an ingratiating, irresponsible small boy than a great big heman. Always between scenes he was forever playing, and more excited about the possible chance of potting a live shark with his revolver, which he had brought along, than the scene to be shot. Once I thought Director Lloyd was going to have to reprimand him seriously for his romping. Someone had yelled, "There's your shark, Clark," and forgetting his scene, he had grabbed his gun and rushed to take aim. The cameras were set, the lighting was right, and Lloyd wanted action. He yelled, "Take your places !" Everyone but Clark was ready. Lloyd yelled again, "Come on, Clark, let the shark go." Looking very much like a disappointed small boy called to supper from playing pirates, Clark came back to work. Laughton was a great surprise to me. I thought, why, I don't know, that he would be extremely British and stand-offish and very dignified. He was completely the opposite. Much more adult in his actions than Clark, he too relaxed between scenes, but by sitting and chatting of everything with prop boy or actor or — yours truly. I was fascinated to watch him go into a scene. In a second, with a twist of the shoulder, a flicker of an eyelid, he goes into character, is completely the sinister, stern English sea captain. His stride down the deck carried more power and more authority than I thought possible in a little man. The way he planted his feet on the deck, the way he carried his shoulders, changed him instantly from a pleasant person into that ominous captain whose every move exuded cruel power. Franchot Tone is invariably bored. He had no scenes on board ship that day, but I saw him in the evening on land nonchalantly putting nickels in the marble machine. He looked surprised at my appearance and inquired, "What, for heaven's sakes, are you doing here?" And when I told him, he said, "My, it doesn't seem possible anyone would deliberately choose such an assignment !" And when the rest of the gang left for an evening's frolic at Avalon, and Gable, resplendent in white flannels ; tried to persuade Franchot to go along in Clark's specially chartered speed boat, Franchot wouldn't be bothered. Well, the day went on and the day's shooting. A wind came up right after lunch, (served below deck), and the sails of the Bounty were unfurled to the breeze — I hope that's the right nautical term ! Anyway, full sail we went with the wind. I have never seen a lovelier sight than the Bounty in full sail. The breeze became stiffer and stiffer, and coats and sweaters were donned ; but still the cameras ground until nearly six, when fog rolled in. When there's fog on the Pacific, and you have a motion picture to make, you just — like Greta Garbo — go home, call it a day, and put on the sunburn ointment. At least, that's what happened to us of the Bounty. After dinner with only roast beef, roast veal, fried potatoes, two kinds of vegetables, soup, salad, apple pie, ice cream, and coffee — you have no appetite at all oft the sea ! — everybody boarded water-taxis once more and went off to Avalon where there is a real motion picture theatre, to see the rushes run. And if I still entertained any notions about Mr. Charles Laughton being sedate and prim, I lost them then. There was a little delay getting the theatre lights turned on and out of 4-u° darkness from the stage came the sound4 A :-. tap dance. As the lights blazed, the Ldv. i , enjoying himself hugely -a. he executed a soft-shoe number all by himself. When the gang yelled theii approval, he bowed aud recited the' Gettysburg address. The next day, "The City of Men" on the Isthmus lost its official classified Vm. The Joan Crawford company, making "I Ln My Life," moved in • camp for scenes on some old Greek ruina hill overlooking the baj in numbers, and I los only female." And s ! En route to the ma we struck fog, lost ou hit an enormous freig foghorn squawking, ox Somehow, that old s; "A woman aboard shi know, kept coming into ever looked so good to mainland. But I won't hurry ! ^structed high on Women arrived ranking as "the went home. . nd in water-taxi, :mrse, and almost r. which loomed, \)f the darknes1" "'s supersit'*' ■ odes . . a <d, ar ' ic be.'wi. • (at o) .ret Gable to