Silver Screen (Nov 1939 - May 1940)

I grin as I realize he has simply been trying to get my goat. "I've a clipping for you at home. I know you don't read the papers so I cut it out." "What was it?" Lew asks suspiciously. "I don't remember, but I have it. I'll mail it to you." "Well, I'm sure it was a dirty crack or you wouldn't have bothered," he replies. And I'm supposed to be the one with the nasty disposition. * H= * ILEA'VE Mr. Ayres with his splenetic liver and proceed to the next set where Myrna Loy, whom I almost married last month {in a dream), and William Powell are working on "Another Thin Man." If Myrna remembers the white hot passion that seared us like a flame last month {in my dream) she gives no sign of it. To her I am just another — and not very famihar — writer. She extends a cool hand. "Hello," she smiles vaguely. "There ought to be a law," I begin hotly, "that when two people are involved in the same dream both of them should dream the same dream so — " "What are you talking about?" she asks a Httle uneasily, at the same tirne glancing toward the cop sulking in the background of every set. And then I realize she doesn't know a thing about my dream — unless she read last month's Silver Screen, because it was all recounted there, I not being a person to keep things to myself— least of all a near-marriage to Myrna Loy. "If you'll stop goggling at my star," Mr. Woody Van Dyke, the director, interrupts, "I'd hke her for a scene in this epochal picture I'm filming. And when you see it, don't say I didn't warn you." So Myrna leaves me with a sigh of rehef and takes her place with Mr. Powell. C. Aubrey Smith, who manages her vast estate, has received a threatening letter. He wants Powell to handle the case, but Powell wants no more detecting. Finally, Myrna persuades him to go down to the Smith estate on Long Island. But more indignities are in store for him. Mr. Smith has the hquor cabinet locked up without so much as offering The Thin Man a drink (/ know exactly how you feel, Bill). He wants Mr. P. sober when they talk. But Mr. P. is like me, he thinks better with a little stimulation. Seeing he is going to get no hquor, Mr. Powell refuses to think. He sulks. "What mould happen to Nora's estate if anything happened to me?" Smith puts it tip to Bill. "Nothing's going to happen to you," Myrna whispers soothingly, putting her arms around him {and me within easy reach!). "I promise you." She starts towards the dining room door with him. "You go on in. I'll attend to Nick." "Well, don't be long," Smith grunts, slightly relieved. He goes on out and she turns toward Bill, her hands behind her back. "What do you think you're doing?" Powell demands, watching her grimly. "Getting me another case?" she grins, but doesn't answer him and he rumbles on: "That old skinflint can afford the best detective in the business. He's just trying to get one for nothing. And you're abetting him." "I don't know what you're talking about," Myrna murmurs, all wide-eyed innocence. "No?" he barks, "then what was all that business at the door?" "I was just picking his pockets," she explains, bringing her hands out from behind her and dangling the keys to the liquor cabinet in frojit of him. "I haven't been married to you for nothing," she explains dryly. The scene finished, Myrna disappears into her dressing room and CLOSES THE DOOR without giving me a chance to remind her she had been married to me at all. * * * I WANDER disconsolately to the next set. My spirits lift a little as I find Ann Sothern sitting there and also Franchot Tone and John Miljan, who is seen all too seldom these days. "Have a drink?" Ann invites me. "Sure," I agree eagerly and her maid promptly hands me a coke. I glance at Ann murderously. Then I reflect, if it hadn't been for Myrna and her light fingers. Bill wouldn't even have got that much so I muster up what grace I can and say "thanks," but I don't mean it. Then the director calls her for a "take." The scene starts with a wrangle between Mary Beth Hughes and Allen Joslyn. She tells him off in no uncertain terms, leaves him and steps out on to the terrace as Franchot and Ann come up. Allen grins sheepishly. "The mighty Casey has struck out," Franchot jibes. "Shame on you, Ted Bentley," Ann chides in mock severity, "making eyes at that girl when your little Southern girl is pining for you." "He's a beast," Franchot proclaims cheerfully. "Not the faithful, home-loving type like me." "We'll discuss that later," Ann decides skeptically. I dilly-dally around awhile with Ann and Franchot and Mr. Miljan. Franchot is completely recovered from his illness and in fine fettle, but other studios are calling. One of them is — Universal IT'S always an event at this studio when Deanna Durbin starts a new picture so this is an event. She's working and the film is called "First Love." It's notable for something else, too. Leatrice Joy who used to be one of the glamour girls of the screen appears for the first time in years in this opus. She plays the part of Deanna's aunt and Helen Parrish's mother. Leatrice and Deanna have just been having a little set-to when Helen comes in in riding clothes. "Mother," Helen complains, "you're paying more attention to Connie's (Deanna's) nonsense than you are to my pla?is for the party." By this time Deanna is well on her way upstairs and Leatrice turns back to Helen. "I'm sorry. We were talking about your dress." Deanna pauses on the stairs and looks down at them as they walk towards the living room, arm in arm. "Remember the one Chris designed that you said was too old for me?" Helen begins. "Well, that's the one I want. Wilma goes in for sophisticated clothes and this time I want to go her one better." Deanna turns and goes on upstairs to her room. You want to get a load of Leatrice's costume in this scene. It's something. The fashion editor of Universal describes it this way: turquoise blue crepe pajamas and bodice with an overjacket that comes to the knees of blue and gold metal cloth. * Now we come to Basil Rathbone and Sigrid Gurie in "Rio." Mr. Rathbone is a gigantic swindler and Sigrid is his bride of two days. They are meeting Samuel S. Hinds, his banker {who has just found out all about it) at a restaurant. Hinds has told the pohce to come there and pick Basil up, but Basil doesn't know this. Victor McLaglen, who is sitting at another table, out of camera range, is Basil's secretary. Basil pours Hinds a glass of champagne. "You might as well pour yourself one, too, Reynard," Hinds says, a look of intense hatred in his eyes. "You understand," Basil reminds him, a look of triumph in his eyes, "that champagne is the wine of celebrationone offers it after a victory." "Or as consolation for defeat," Hinds counters, raising his glass. But Basil misunderstands him and thinks he is referring to his own defeat. "Then it's all settled?" he whispers, raising his glass. "Yes," Hinds answers. "It was not easy. You have one more chance." Basil moves his glass towards his lips, then pauses and looks off towards McLaglen and offers hint a toast, too, to let him know everything is all right. This is the most beautiful set of the month. It's the kind of night club you dream about, but never see. The tables are not jammed together, the atmosphere is one of elegance without being gaudy and in the centre of the dance floor is a huge fountain. Ferns, dripping with water and sparkling in the light, grow all about the pillar in the centre of it. Miss Curie's gown, too, I beg leave to inform you, is well worth a once-over. It is silver lame that fits like a sausage skin that reveals po-lenty of glamour and an unequalled expanse of epidermis. * * * THE last picture on this lot is "Call A Messenger." It's a mixture of the Little Tough Guys and The Dead End Kids with William Benedict {the Will Rogers discovery) and El Brendel thrown in for good measure. The scene they're shooting is not particularly important so there's no use going into details. We'll just go over to — Warner Brothers ASIDE from the pictures on this lot ' about which I've already told you — "20,000 Years in Sing Sing," with John Garfield and Pat O'Brien, and "The Roaring Twenties," with James Cagney, Hum 58 Silver S creen