Silver Screen (Nov 1938-Apr 1939)

sists with that devastating look of his. "Terry McKay," she insists, "and I'm traveling alone. Was that, by any chance what was troubling you?" "Yes!" he shouts. "All my life I've been looking for a good woman." "Oh!" she breathes, "then you really are in trouble." He nods. "You've known quite a few women, too—" He nods again. "And, after all your experience, you haven't much respect for them?" He shakes his head. "Have you ever given a woman a fair chance?" "I have been more than fair," he protests. "That's my trouble. Every woman. Billy Halop and Joe Sawyer in "Crime Is A Racket." I've put her up there!" holding his right hand high. "But the longer I know her (his hand begins to drop)— the better I know her (the hand drops lower). And the better I know her (the hand drops to his side but the left hand is held up high). "What's up there?" Irene queries, "the Lady of the Lake?" "No!" he whispers, "that's YOU!' Now wasn't that touching? But somehow it all seems very unimportant. Tomorrow I'm going to Memphis. Memphis is the home of Southwestern College. Southwestern has a football player named Gaylon Smith. Mr. Smith is in there pitching (forward passing to you) and kicking every minute of every game. He doesn't bother about smart cracks and he doesn't bother about make-up. He bothers about getting that ball across the goal line. And, somehow, at the moment, Mr. Smith's activities seem to me to be much more important— much more real— than do those of Miss Dunne and Mr. Boyer— even though this gives promise of being a very swell picture. The shortest line between two given points— ha! 'twould seem I'm back in College with Mr. SmithWell, anyhow, the shortest line from RKO is to— Columbia TJERE again we have only one picture O shooting. It's called "There's That Woman Again" and it's a sequel to "There's Always A Woman." Joan Blondell not being quite free of her Warner Brothers contract, and, consequently, unable to return to Columbia for the sequel, her part is being taken by Virginia Bruce. Now, mind you, Virginia has no stauncher rooter than I. I was plugging for Virginia in the days when she was a Paramount stock player— before she had ever gone to New York— before she had ever been in the Ziegfeld Follies. BUT! Virginia and Joan are not the same type. (Somehow although I have little reporting to do this month, everything seems to be going wrong— everything seems to be amiss). Well, anyhow, there's nothing I can do about it except call attention to the fact when it's too late. This is the very first scene in the picture. Ginnie and Mr. Melvyn Douglas (that Man's here again, too!) are asleep— in twin beds, if you're interested. Mr. D. had evidently shed his clothes the minute he came in the bedroom door because they are scattered all over the floor. However well they get along in front of the camera, I'm sure in their private lives, when the camera and microphone aren't focused on them, they William Henry and Gladys Swarthout in "Ambush." (The title may be changed.) must get along like a couple of strange bulldogs because Virginia is the soul of neatness and I know she wouldn't stand for that sort of thing. Be that as it may, here is the bright sunlight streaming through the window to tell us it's morning. As if that isn't enough, an alarm clock goes off and its hands show 8:30. Virginia wakens, yawns and shuts off the alarm. Then she sits up in bed and contemplates her finger. A ribbon tied in a bow causes her to scowl a moment in thought. She shakes her head negatively. She has forgotten what it is supposed to make her remember. So she reaches over and nudges Mr. D. "Hey, Bill, do you know what I was supposed to remember?" Her only answer is a gurgling snore. She nudges him again. "How about telling your trusting little wife where you were until three o'clock in the morning?" There! I knew it. Down in my heart I knew women were all alike but, somehow, I thought— I hoped, I mean— that Virginia was different. But, no. She nudges Melvyn again and this time he mumbles a little incoherently: "Waiter! The check!" That gets her. "What check? Whose check? Where were you?" she screams. So Mel half opens one eye, closes it, grunts and is asleep again. But Virginia is not to be denied. "Answer me, Bill Reardon!" she insists. "Where were you until three o'clock?" But, as Mel's only answer is another snore she has to start surmising. "You were out with a woman!" "Uh-huh," he admits sleepily. "You took her to a night club," Virginia accuses. "Uh-huh." "You danced with her!" "Uh-huh." "You jitterbug!" Virginia yells contemptuously. Then her lip trembles a little. "You made love to her?" This time Mel just nods. "Then you— you took her home?" He gives a half nod. This time Virginia is almost afraid to ask but no one can ever accuse her of shirking a wife's duties— and prerogatives. She goes through with it. "And— then— what happened?" "I married her and we lived happily ever for January 1939 49