Silver Screen (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

Silver Screen for January 1937 65 Between pictures, the sea-going blood of Lewis Stone comes to the front, and with Mrs. Stone he sets sail. The Quest For A Lover [Continued from page 57] Robert Taylor or Henry Fonda or Charles Boyer or any of the great lovers playing an entire picture without a face. Can you? Also at Warner Brothers I found Ian Hunter who was brought to Hollywood by Warners to play the Duke of Athens in "Midsummer Night's Dream" and was so excellent that he was handed a contract, and has since given a fine account of himself in "I Found Stella Parrish" and "The White Angel." Then there are Frank McHugh, Allen Jenkins, Guy Kibbee, and, last but not least, Errol Flynn. And now we're really getting somewhere. I have my secret suspicions that no matter how much they deny it Warner Brothers are about to find in their midst a great lover. That Errol, he certainly has what it takes. I can go nuts over him at the mere drop of an eyelash. But, so far, Warners has rather kept him under wraps as it were. In "Captain Blood ' he ivas romantic and swashbuckling, but it was a spectacular picture which isn't a good test for a great lover. And in "The Charge of the Light Brigade" he is kept so busy dashing around on horseback working out a revenge on the Surat Khan that he has little time for romance, in fact his own brother walks off with his girl. A great lover would never allow that to happen to him. But rumors from the stage where Kay Francis and Errol are co-starring in "Another Dawn" rather lead me to believe roared for thirty minutes. Every attempt on the part of the performers to play a scene was broken up in the roars of laughter that saluted the effort. Every mention of the donkey in the dialogue that follo\ved sent the audience off into a fresh fit of merriment. Ruggles summed it up in one sentence when the cast sorrowfully gathered backstage: "The donkey made a jackass out of all of us." The torch singer in that show later became a Page 1 headliner, Libby Holman. I remember, best of all Eddie Cantor's that once this picture is released Errol will automatically become a great lover. Well, we can always use another one I always say, but here's hoping that Warners will give Flynn the same break they give their other actors and not stereotype him. I'd hate to see him go through life being Kay Francis' leading man. Now I am reminded of a story. It's quite apropos of what we've been talking about. Broadway Remembers [Continued from page 17] appearances, that in "Whoopee," when they're talking about operations, and he says: "Did you see my scar?"— and starts pulling his shirt out of his belt-line. Cantor always said that this was the funniest bit of material he ever had on the stage, and that it proved that humor, to be at its fimniest, must be down to earth and must concern itself with an everyday event. The majority of people have had operations, and the majority of people want to tell you about 'em. Cantor exploited the common weakness and, night after night, Two actors, real actors but unappreciated were standing in front of the Brown Derby when a super elegant roadster dripping chromium drew up and a Personality Boy ^vith his locks gleaming and his shirt open at the throat jumped out. "They say he's getting four thousand a week," said the first actor gloomily. "Oh, stop grouching, said the second actor, "What do yoti care? He can't act." in "Whoopee," was rewarded with belly laughs. Sez the editor: do you remember one thing else? Yes, I sez, I remember Claudette Colbert— no, no, sez the editor, do you re member that I told you only to write five pages? Yes, I sez, I do remember that. Then sez the editor, quit. You have ^\'ritten five pages. This is not the Congressional Rec ord, this is a discriminating family maga zine, and brevity— yes, sez I— brevity is still the soul of wit, sez he. In The Pmk of Condition John Boles brings his two daughters in to vie with him and you ought to hear them howl e\ery time he rolls a "poodle." (I.e., doesn't topple a single pin, but accidentally drizzles the ball down a side gutter.) Lee Tracy has a take-off like an airplane and Andy Devine seems to be having the most fun. Gary Cooper displays the most unsuspected sense of humor when he and Sandra are there. He isn't gushy, but-as the management contends— he's "a swell fellow." Ping-pong (midget tennis) is another sport "the stars have gone tor with a vengeance. If you don't mind attaching a miniature tennis net across your Queen Anne dining-room table— or is yours Renaissance?—you can play it without a special table. However, I think it's advisable to save the furniture. \ou must keep the hall from bouncing on the floor, naturally, and that's the excellent attriliutc of the sport. If you're a whiz you're on a continuous jump, and if you're rotten you're forever bending down to retrieve. Either way you're giving yourself a workout. Fay Wray [Continued from page 27] and Dick Powell are the village champions. Dick's new ping-pong table is so heavy that three men are required to move it. He has installed it in the patio adjoining his and Joan's playroom, and before you can sit down and gossip you have to take on your host and hostess. Dick's taking no more chances with his health. Those who are anxious to ac(iuire more grace are Hocking to fencing instructors. Here, according to Basil Rathhone who wouldn't dream of missing his daily lesson, is the ideal sport. You have to be precise, fast, and tlioughtful. In five minutes you're in a most decided perspiration. The foils are blunt and you always don a mask and chest protector, so (here really is no danger in\oIved. Errol Flynn, Frcdric March, and Gene RaMHond arc almost as adi'pl as Basil. Women are fcnchig now, loo. Aniia Louise, Oli\ia dc Havilland, and Josc|)iiine Hutchinson are the most cflicicnl lady fencers— and that alone indicates that it isn't a tough hobby. Josephine just relmned from New York, where slie went lo select a fencing outfit that would be more striking than anyone else's. Polo is attracting the riders who are tired of doing the bridle paths. It's a rous ing sport that's unequalled for thrills, and consequently the various polo fields near Hollywood are very much the vogue. Stars rarely have time to play baseball, but I'red MacMurray and George Raft ha\c started to play \vilh the studio teams whene\'er they ])ossibIy can. At the swank Hollywood Athletic Club, and the other private conditioning clubs, handball, squash, wrestling, and boxing are intriguing the stalwart. Joel McCrea and Gene Raymond and Tom Beck drop in to the Hollvwood A. C practically every day and so does Johnnv ^Vcissnulller when he's not in London with Lnpc. Harold l.lovd and Pat O'Brien have built super handball coints at their homes and invite their pals lo join ihem there. I'm going out to the bowling alley and practice. If it's what Ginger Rogers goes for, it's good enough for me. Mavbe I'll soon he belter than that Jimmy Stewart