The self-enchanted : Mae Murray : image of an era (1959)

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tion was going up, star salaries were rising, the rental fees on pictures had quadrupled in five years. It was a hectic business, and to this ingenue, it had no appeal at all. At night, wandering up into the sleeping hills above Hollywood, she'd occasionally meet an old hermit with long hair and a beard, the only human being she ever saw alive in the night; he'd pass her striding downhill, prodding the earth with his staff. He would smile and give her a benediction, she was sure of it. He was the one kindred soul. She'd walk along the firebreaks in the hills, watching the lights flung out over the city's length, no flash and flare like the fireworks of Broadway. She'd wander alone half the night and wake up tired the next day. She hated the break-of-dawn work schedule they kept. No one had bothered to tell her what time to report, so the first week she was late every day. This would have been enough to antagonize everyone on the set from the prop men to Wally Reid. There was a great deal that she didn't know. A make-up man wanted to put heavy dark powder all over her face, dark red over her eyes and plenty of black pencil around them. When she insisted on doing her own make-up, just as she had in the theatre, he'd have nothing more to do with her. He wouldn't even say "Good morning." She'd run into her dressing room every day, put on her costume, do her own make-up, then jump onto a scenery truck and ride over to the set. Once she talked to the man who cranked the camera. His name was Charlie Rosher and she'd noticed that from time to time he'd move a chair or shift a table and move reflectors so that the scene wasn't lighted evenly all over but that some light shone directly on her, more in a happy scene than in a sad scene. He wasn't just a stooge of the director, he was doing something on his own. He tried a mercury-vapor lamp which threw a cold light; he'd look through the camera and then call out to the electricians to change the reflectors, then he'd look again. "Charlie," she said, "the make-up man is mad at me. How do I look in the camera?" 59