Screenland (May-Oct 1942)

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Didn't the Sefior know that he had to be on that plane or miss his train, a matter of life and death? The Sefior was sorry. Very sorry. Am I dragging the story out? Did Glenn get on that plane? He did. But through bribery. What he did was to promise the manager of the Airways the snazziest picture of Linda Darnell (one of those 11 x 14 jobs) that he could lay hands on as soon as he got to Hollywood. That did the trick. Only don't ask me how. P.S. The man got his picture, although Glenn has never met Linda. P.P.S. Don't ask me how. As an actor he is no more of a stereotype than he is as an individual. His technique, for one thing, is all his own. It is hard to describe. In some ways it is like Paul Muni's and in other ways it isn't. He has the dramatic power of Muni without Muni's intenseness. Maybe what I mean is that Ford is a natural-born actor if there is such a thing. You are more aware of Ford as a personality rather than as an actor, which, come to think of it is true acting. I certainly don't mean to say that Ford is always Ford. Far from it. I met Glenn shortly after seeing him play the role of a strong, bitey, rather violent New York kid who was hell-bent on being happy. I got a feeling of great strength and restlessness. When I met him for the first time, I was surprised to find him softspoken, a little reserved, somewhat shy and quite calm, but sensitive. Before the camera his reserve, shyness, and quiet disposition -vanish, although if you look hard you can find, I think, that priceless quality in an actor of not being too sure of yourself. He always knows his lines; he has whispered them to himself over and over the night before. He wears no make-up whatsoever. He rarely gets flustered when he's under the gun. And he almost never argues with directors. He has two amusing fetishes the existence of which I have just discovered. He wears a particular weather-beaten necktie in every one of his pictures. (In "Texas" there was no opportunity to wear a modern necktie so he carried it around in his pocket. In "Martin Eden" he wears it all through the picture, although it is pretty frayed around the edges.) And he manages to carve, without detection, apparently, the initials O.P.C. on at. least one set in every picture he does. (In "Texas" it was on a covered wagon. In "Martin Eden" you will see the monogram right over his bunk.) I haven't discovered what this O.P.C. business is all about. Nor what Glenn Ford is all about, for that matter. But I'm having a good time trying. Cabin Looks at the Girls! Continued from page 51 personalities, these American women," he went on gaily. "Personality is an elusive something, difficult to capture with words, but to me it is the individuality of a woman, the very way she moves, and speaks, and holds her head; the way she makes up and dresses; her smile, the expression of her eyes, and her mouth — everything, in fact, that makes her different from anyone else." Gabin is not the sleek matinee type, not at all. He's lusty and rugged, a real heman, strictly a son of the soil. Despite his charming chivalry, you feel he could easily go primitive. Yet, in his middle thirties, he's still unbelievably shy, inclined to be serious, with brooding moods. His unruly hair, once ash blond, is now streaked with gray, the memento of experiences during the fall of his beloved France. In September, 1939, he was busy making a picture in a Paris studio when the war started with Germany, and he immediately rejoined his former regiment of marines, stationed aboard a minesweeper operating from Cherbourg. For many months he was on steady duty, then during a brief leave of absence on his estate at Dreux, some seventy miles west of Paris, the Germans broke through and he barely escaped with his life. Friends in Marseilles put him up as he was without money or luggage, all his possessions having been confiscated; and later, he went to Toulon, where he was formally demobilized. He was without a country; his France war-torn and shattered. For years Hollywood had been seeking Jean Gabin and now, in his emergency, came another offer which he gladly accepted, and eventually he landed in New York. He still bears the _ imprint of his experiences but he doesn't like to talk about them, and quickly brushes them aside. He wants to live in the present. With a grin, he confessed his regrets at not having studied English, for his vocabulary consisted of exactly four words — choice ones, at that, when he arrived at the Twentieth Century-Fox studio, where he is under contract. At once, he was given the best instructors and started an intensive study of English. Today, he has finished making his first American picture, "Moontide," a down-to-earth drama which gives him full play for his talents. This preparation cost the studio something like $85,000, but it was well worth it, for in a little more than six months Gabin has made amazing progress, speaking with scarcely no accent, and easily understood. "Thinking in another language is very difficult," he confided. "Yet you must understand what you are saying in order to give sincerity. An actor doesn't think about himself when acting, he's devoting his entire energy to feeling, feeling as the character he is portraying would feel, so as to bring him vividly to life before the audience. "I am strictly a man of the people. I know hardship, financial insecurity, and the sensitive viewpoint of those who have never had what they want. My understanding grew out of my own sufferings." Again, I turned the conversation for I wanted to learn more about how a Frenchman looks at women. He responded instantly, saying, "In any language, to be attractive a girl must be feminine. This means she must always be conscious that she is a woman. If only they could know what a tremendous power they wield over men by simply keeping this one fact uppermost in their minds, there would be more happiness in the world. When once they do realize their feminine power, every woman becomes alluring. "Such a woman is always brave, but never cruel. Her very femininity is built on sympathy, understanding, and kindness. I can't abide the girl who screams with glee at a boxing match or a prize fight, or who goes into raptures at the bull ring. To me she is without heart, and a heartless woman is never feminine. "Personally, I'm drawn to a girl who is fundamentally serious but who has her lighter moments, rather than to one who is forever gay. Gaiety is more appealing when it comes from one not essentially frivolous. 76 SCREENLAND