Screenland (Feb-Oct 1949)

Leading Ladies I've Known Continued from page 29 many of them, but there wasn't one who didn't consider herself secondary to the film as a whole. In that particular department, perhaps the most outstanding example is a gal from Sweden of whom you may have heard; a gal named Bergman. Our first picture together was "For Whom The Bell Tolls." It was, as you may remember, a rugged sort of film, shot under rugged conditions. Ingrid came through beautifully, as we had known she would. I had met her at a dinner party several years before we worked together She had not been in this country long then, and impressed me at once by being one of the most truly shy women I had ever encountered. Hollywood seemed to overwhelm her. And her clean, healthy good looks stood out from the crowd around that table like a beacon. She, if the truth be known, overwhelmed us movieites as much as we did her. When we heard at last that she was going to play Maria in "Bell," we were all delighted. Hemingway himself had said she was the girl he had in mind when he wrote the book, you see. And Sam Wood and I felt she was eminently right for the part, above all other actresses in Hollywood. So we waited for her in our mountain location impatiently. She arrived with her hair as short as any beaver that ever lived. The characterization called for that bob, of course, but we were still surprised. We had thought that any women, no matter who, would — well, would chisel a little, not go as far as Hemingway's description of Maria's looks. But Bergman had done it. She was Maria. She was almost humble about the role She was more eyes and ears than anything else. She had great enthusiasm for the part and the story, but she put herself in a subsidiary position to it. She always does that, no matter what the part. The -production is more important than she is. And, in some uncanny way, despite her hair and her mannish costume of pants and an old shirt, she managed to look feminine, both on and off the screen With no makeup and roughing it in the mountains, she was as much a lady as she would have been in her own living room Playing scenes with Bergman is a joy For she is never mechanical. She thinks as she acts. She meets you halfway, makes you feel that you are actually living the scene, that it is something which is actually happening. That's rare. Few actresses can do it. I think of two others who can, Helen Hayes, with whom I made "A Farewell To Arms," and Patricia Neal, who recently finished "The Fountainhead" with me. Patricia is like Bergman in many ways, yet also entirely individual. Like Ingrid, she is tall, intensely serious about her work, wholly sincere. But she has other Cyd Charisse with her husband, Tony Martin, during recent visit to Gotham. qualities exquisitely her own. I don't think that any other actress in the world could have done as great a job in "Fountainhead" as she did. That's a broad statement, I know, but it happens to be true. The role, you know, is not the kind that comes up every day or even every year. It is a role which borders on the neurotic, which has scenes of great passion in it, great violence. It could easily be made ridiculous. It wasn't — in Patricia's hands. Instead, she made it superb and believable. It was the second role she had had in pictures and, frankly, the studio was a bit dubious about entrusting her with it. She had had a fine stage background, of course, but she was very young, too. The bosses were doubtful whether or not she had the technical skill to carry it off. I had never seen her on the screen until they ran one of her tests for me at Warners. Part of the footage, to be honest about it, was no good at all But there was one scene in which she was terrific, in which she showed definitely what she was capable of doing. She won the role on that one scene. She was scared of the part, naturally. You get scared of any role that's good. I do, anyway. I feel all my inadequacies staring me in the face and begin to wonder. But, after only a few days' work, Patricia was hitting her scenes dead center. She was showing us all that she both knew the character and understood her thoroughly. And she was thinking, thinking hard, in every sequence she played The result, as I think you will agree, is magnificent. And Patricia Neal is a new star with whom to reckon. We had fun on that set, of course, as we do on most sets. It was such an emotional story, you see, that if we hadn't relaxed between shots we would have gone crazy. I'm not exactly against kidding in any form, I might add, and when a gal who's in a picture with me has a sense of humor it charms me right down to the ground Two girls immediately come to mind in this category, Annie Sheridan, whose dialogue is bawdily wonderful, and the late Carole Lombard. Lombard was more laughs than anyone I've ever met. That's been said before, I know. When we made "The Man From Wyoming" together, I found it was true. She was utterly lovely, of course. Somehow, her face was almost unbelievable. And the first time I saw her cut loose she surprised me so that I nearly fell over. We were on location out in the Valley. The shooting had been rather uneventful. It remained so until Carole blew a line. She stopped cold. She took a deep breath. She jumped what looked like ten feet into the air. And as she jumped she veiled in a voice you could have heard for a block, "Oh, HELL!" Eight electricians and I rolled on the ground. In direct contrast to Carole was Shirley Temple. She was exactly seven when we made "Now And Forever" together at Paramount. It was her second film. I hope all the other child stars will forgive me when I say that I don't believe any other widget has ever had the talent Shirley had as a kid. From my standpoint, she was incredible. My point of view went farther than the mere fact that she was cute, you see. I had to work with her. And I must confess that originally the prospect did not make me exactly blissful. But Shirley, even then, had dignity. She, too, was "show business," though in her case the quality had not come from experience. She had been born that way. Even then, she picked up her cues like a veteran. She took direction the first time it was given. She "got" the scene as fast as any adult. And / got the education of my life! Laraine Day is like that, too. We made "The Story Of Dr. Wassell" together for Mr. DeMille, as you may remember. And I found her to be completely swell. She had a challenge in that picture: She was to play a nurse, a creature of great efficiency, yet, at the same time, she was also to be a woman, a warm and appealing personality. That's tough to do, for if you go too far in one direction you make the other side unbelievable, and vice versa. Laraine steered through the middle, perfectly. I have a story I want to tell her the next time I see her. One day when we were between shots , on "Dr. Wassell," I asked Laraine where she came from. I knew it was somewhere in Utah, but I didn't know the exact spot. "Roosevelt,' she answered. "Don't worry, you'll never go there. It's the smallest town in the state!" Well, a year ago, I was on my way by car from Sun Valley to Aspen, where I own some ranch land. And, suddenly, I saw a sign in the middle of nowhere. There before me stood a little dust-blown town — named "Roosevelt." I stopped at a gas station. "Isn't this where Laraine Day comes from?" I asked. 60 SCREENLAND 2