Silver Screen (May-Oct 1939)

Record Details:

Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

S. R. Mook in a scene from "The Old Maid." WHILE spring rs in the air and the odor of honeysuckle fills every gulch for miles around, I think: "The studios will be in the throes of spring fever and I'll have an easy time of it this month." But when I get to — Warner Brothers DISMAY grips me. They're going right along making pictures as though they had never heard of Recession, Income Tax, Surtax or Ennui. Right on the first stage is a problem play called "The Old Maid" and starring Bette Davis, Miriam Hopkins and George Brent. "It's almost the first day of shooting," Bette explains when I bust in. "Miriam and I have been getting married for the past few days and it's so exciting. This is the first time on or off screen I've ever worn a real wedding dress. Believe me, it's a thrill. Doesn't Miriam look beautiful?" she adds irrelevantly. Then the director calls them for a scene. They apparently made the wedding scene first and now they're making the scene that precedes it. Miriam has just got a telegram from her old sweetheart (George Brent) announcing his arrival and the wire has sort of taken the starch out of her. "Clem!" she wails to Bette, showing her the wire, "and he doesn't know!" "No," Bette agrees. "How could he know?" . "What is the time now?" Miriam hurries on. "I couldn't see him — I can't!" "Someone must see him," Bette mutters, as if to herself. "Poor Clem." "How can you say 'poor Clem' like that?" Miriam bridles. "I waited two years — " "There's no time to lose," Bette interrupts. "We'll send a messenger to meet the train," Miriam begins. "We'll send a note." She rises, crosses to the desk, and then turns to Bette. "My hands are too shaky to write it. You write it." "No," says Bette. "I won't write it. I'll go!" I have a hunch that Bette is secretly in love with George — again. And I also have a hunch that George may have had something to do with a not very legitimate child that Bette has acquired before the picture starts. "Complimenting you on your performances is beginning to sound like a worn-out record that I keep playing over and over," I tell her when the scene is finished, "but I saw 'Dark Victory' the other night and sensational is the only word that describes you." "Thanks, Dick," she replies simply and The gentleman with the hat is David Niven and the lady at the door, Ginger Rogers. It's a scene from "Little' Mother." 52 Silver Screen