Screenland ((Jan–Jun 1947))

when you smoke PHILIP MORRIS/ CLEAN, FRESH, PURE... America's FINEST Cigarette! An important difference in complete enjoyment— clean, Philip Morris manufacture fresh, pure! lets the FULL FLAVOR of That's why Philip Morris the world's finest tobaccos taste better— smoke bettercome through for your all day long! CALL FOR iiuu^ii iuj. y \j w »* tit*j *l/v*<£ • PHILIP MORRIS ALWAYS BETTER . . . BETTER ALL WAYS single Albert Hall recital by Yehudi Menuhin, whom he considers the greatest violinist in the world. He describes it as "a tremendous honor" when he met Yehudi last summer, and is looking forward to renewing the meeting in California shortly. Despite his outstanding intellectual talents, Michael is still a vigorously active and athletic type of man. He's only sorry the Thames at Chiswick is too muddy for swimming for that's his pet sport, though he also plays tennis and squash-rackets. When he has some knotty problems to work out — just how to interpret his latest film character, perhaps — he likes to go off and tramp over the countryside for hours at a time, his red bull-terrier Bill tagging along at his heels. Michael is one of those fortunate folks who gets by on very little food and the minimum of sleep. He usually goes to bed at one o'clock and rises fresh as the morning before seven. Since he crushes so much into his life, that's probably just as well. He is keenly interested in politics and does a considerable amount of social welfare work, including teaching drama and literature to the boys at an East End dockside area church without any fees. He can jump to his feet and speak powerfully, brilliantly and with tremendous conviction. He made some notable speeches in support of the Government candidates at the last Parliamentary elections in Britain and during the war years, he gave countless lectures on British life to the U.S. Forces. He has kept up his corre spondence with many of these men and women and looks forward to meeting them again in America this year. ^ Because of his insistence that he won t get into a casting rut and because he fearlessly maintains he is not a type but an actor, Michael goes steadily on creating his vivid, compelling and always individual characters on the screen. He's appeared in thrillers and comedies and stark turgid dramas and semi-documentaries, everything except a musical in fact. Now he wants to do just that! Though he has never had his singing voice trained, it is a good light baritone and his present ambition is to find a producer who shares his own belief that a lavish Technicolor song-and-dance film can still provide a place for a strong dramatic actor too. He's already negotiating with one British studio to film that merry old English classic, "The Beggars Opera," with himself in the leading role. Not until 1948, though. This man of many parts will be far too occupied in the meantime. After "The Secret Behind the Door," he will make a second film in Hollywood and then return to London to play "Macbeth" on the stage in the summer. Rachael is to be in the company too, and fall will find them taking the production to New York. Then Hollywood once more, together this time. And it won't be talented young Vanessa's fault if Michael doesn't find himself playing still another new kind of role then, father of the latest juvenile actress who is rivalling Margaret O'Brien! Love Story Continued from page 29 • did the biggest double-take in the history of Hollywood. Jack is, in the first place, twenty-nine. He is about five-ten, has a tanned skin, very blond hair, very blue eyes, and the most sensational grin after Clark Gable's. He is the sort who wears tweed jackets and gabardine slacks without looking as if he were posing for a men's fashion magazine. He is wellgroomed, in other words, without being "pretty" about it. Furthermore, Jack is distinctly no dope. When we clutched his paw during the introduction, he had just finished four years in the Marines, fourteen months of which were spent in the South Pacific as a captain in charge of a headquarters squadron. And, lest you didn't, know, they don't give out Marine captaincies with boxes of "Wheaties." Previous to that, Jack had been a businessman— and what a businessman! His father, J. Devereaux Wrather, Sr. (the "J." doesn't stand for anything at all) had been quite a power in the Texas oil fields, so much so, in fact, that in 1935 some unpleasant characters tried to kidnap him. Though the attempt failed, Mr. Wrather was beaten so unmercifully before rescue came that he was an invalid for the rest of his life. Thus, when Jack graduated from the University of Texas, he found himself taking his father's place in the oil business immediately. He was SCREENLAND 73