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larity poll, he topped the list by a huge majority. His fan mail increases steadily every day, swollen by hundreds of letters from America now that his films are being shown over here. Women in Canada and Australia and South Africa send him gifts and plead for photographs and whenever he leaves his home, he finds his admirers waiting at the gate to see him in the flesh and get his autograph.
Even his earlier films are being reissued in response to the demand for still more of this irresistible man. He is once again turning his dark passionate eyes towards Carla Lehmann in "Candlelight in Algeria," the spy melodrama inspired by General Mark Clark's landing in Africa and certainly not the best of all the Mason epics. But what does a four-year-old story matter if you can watch this imperious fascinating individual, so utterly ruthless yet so heartstirring as his bold face suddenly softens to inexpressible gentleness and his voice begins to speak in that tone no woman can withstand?
Two of the British pictures James made in 1945 are lined up too, a period story, ' The Wicked Lady," in which he plays the highwayman lover of Margaret Lockwood, and a modern drama, "They Were Sisters," which gives him a magnificent part as a lustful hard-drinking
Ever since movie audiences met him in "The Seventh Veil" with Ann Todd (left above) Mason has been in demand. At right above, in his forthcoming film.
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husband along with Phyllis Calvert and Dulcie Gray. Then there will soon be the film he has just completed in London, now called "Odd Man Out." Here he is teamed again with beautiful blonde Ann Todd of "The Seventh Veil," the man who escapes from jail a few hours before he is due to be executed and begins a vengeful quest through the sordid East End slums and the fashionable nighthaunts of May fair.
The scenes of the jail escape were made on the authentic spot, under the grim walls of old Pentonville Prison where British criminals lie before they are hung. They were shot at midnight, an hour when the director fondly imagined the streets would be deserted and silent since the fuel shortage now causes London to turn out the lamps at eleven.
But when the film crew arrived they found hundreds of teen-agers and scores of older women too lining the sidewalks and jostling with the policemen trying to keep them in order. They had waited there for hours to catch a glimpse of the star and didn't seem disappointed when he appeared in his dusty mud-stained escape clothes, his black hair mussed and his handsome face smothered in dirt.
Then one observant woman shrieked, "Oh, look! He's hurt!" and there was nearly a riot. Hastily the makeup man had to demonstrate that the blood which had begun to trickle down James's cheek was only the thick red paint he had just put on. And by the time that James had satisfactorily accomplished his escape before the cameras, he had to start to escape all over (Please turn to page 74)
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