Silver Screen (Jun-Oct 1940)

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Pictures on the Fire [Continued from page 69] "You'll never do it that way, Frecklenose," he admonishes her. "She'll just slip back in." ' "I know what I'm doing, thank you," she barks. "I've been stuck before." "Look," says John good humoredly, "suppose you climb in the car and let me do this my way. Or— if you like it better here — " She gets in the car without a word. John pretends it's a difficult job, but he finally gets it out. "Lucky for you I came along. I don't tisually go to so much trouble for people." "Pretty smart, aren't you?" comments Miss Fanner as only Miss Farmer can. "Just like a dame," John grins. "Do a favor and get bawled out." "Oh, I'll pay you," she begins. "Who says anything about pay?" he cuts her short. "But if you're going to the oil fields you can give me a lift." And from such simple beginnings a great love is born. This is John's first picture since his recent ill-fated stage venture. "Yah," I jeer. "The great thespian." "Listen, wise guy," John cracks. "Button up your lip. I knew the play wouldn't be any good, but it served its purpose. At least, people know now I wasn't kidding when I said I'd take advantage of that clause in my contract that permits me to go back to the stage. It was the best play I could find and I enjoyed doing it. Now, do you want to make something of it?" "Hi, Pat," I say weakly to Mr. O'Brien. "Hi, Dick," says the genial Pat. "Come down to the beach whenever you have a chance. I'll always be there now. Warner Brothers and I have kissed each other goodbye. "Goodbye?" I echo. "Why, Warner Brothers won't be Warner Brothers without you." "I'm not talkin'," says Pat sagely. "Just come down to the beach when you have a day off." You can't argue with a man who won't talk and, I reflect, if I don't hurry on to another studio I'll never have a day off. So I set sail for — Columbia ONLY one picture going over here ("Before I Die"), but what a picture! Ben Hecht wrote it and he's also producing and directing it. The cast includes Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Thomas Mitchell, Rita Hayworth and John Qualen. Qualen is a weak, wispy little clerk who steals $3,000 to give his faithless wife. His boss discovers it and threatens to jail him unless it is returned by the next morning. He goes out into the night to commit suicide, but when he sees a policeman watching him he goes into a night club instead. There, unfeeling and unthinking, he tosses money around in such a way he attracts the wolfish eye of Doug, Jr. (an adventurer and chiseler), who enlists the half-hearted aid of Rita in an attempt to fleece him. Mitchell is a once spectacularly successful playwright who has gone stale. As Mitchell prepares to leave the night club he gets Qualen's overcoat by mistake and finds a "suicide note" in the pocket. He goes back inside, finds Qualen, learns his story and persuades Rita and the unwilling Fairbanks to help him raise the money to save Qualen. Every scene is so gripping that instead of giving you all of one scene I'm going to give you extracts from several scenes I stayed to watch. There is one scene where Mitchell is attempting to show Qualen he isn't the only one with problems to be faced in the morning and a long night to be lived through. "The bleak day," he whispers, "the cry in the dark. The night sharpens its claws on my heart." And there's another scene between the two. "Allow me to explain the secret of life," Mitchell offers. "Today's pain is tomorrow's joke. You will always end up laughing, my boy, if you can manage not to cut your throat first." "You think this feeling will go away?" Qualen asks. "Everything goes away," Mitchell assures him. "It all vanishes. We are made of sand — and time is a wind — blowing." And another scene between Rita and Doug when she is trying to enlist Doug's help. "That poor man" she cries. "I never knew anybody before who wanted to die — except myself. I guess lots of people are like that — with a pain inside them they can't stand." And yet one more scene when she tells Doug how easy it will be — that even in books gamblers always let a sucker win at first as a come-on. "Life is different from books, baby," Doug assures her. "In life, the wrong guy always wins." Everyone in this picture is giving a bang-up performance. Mitchell's last scene in the picture is one that will raise you right out of your chair. It is one of the most emotionally upsetting scenes I have ever watched. They start to rehearse it, but how he manages to get any feeling into it I don't know for grips are barking at each other, electricians are snapping their fingers at each other and rattling lights around, the camera man keeps interrupting to tell him he's out of focus and there are a dozen other distractions. Finally Mitchell says, "I'll just run through the lines without feeling until you fellows get settled and then I'd like to do it once for me, before we 'take it.' " "Where's Hecht?" I ask Maggie Mascal, who is showing me around. "I guess he's gone home," she laughs. "He often gets tired and says, 'I'm going home. You folks finish today's work by yourselves!' — But even so, they're nine days ahead of schedule." I'd like to stay here all day, but just down the street there's — RKO THERE are really a flock of pictures shooting here. The Ginger RogersRonald Colman set is closed and the picture is just finishing up so you'll see it before you read this. Then, there's "Dance, Girl, Dance," in which Lucille Ball finally gets a part in an "A" picture. Lucille and Maureen O'Hara are chorus girls in a dance act in upstate New York. The police raid the club and they're out of jobs. They finally work their way back to New York. Maureen's whole life is dancing and she has ballet aspirations. Then Lucille comes home and tells her she (Lucille) has a job and can get her (Maureen) one, too. Of course, Maureen jumps at it, but when she gets to the theatre she finds it's a burlesque house and that her act is just a build-up for Lucille's strip-tease. But she takes the job because the money will pay for dancing lessons — to say nothing of groceries. She is very interested in Louis Hayward, who has just been divorced, and he in her. Then, one night Lucille gets to the theatre late, after having cut the matinee entirely. The proprietors are on tenterhooks and follow her to her dressing room, expostulating volubly. "Scram!" says Lucille inelegantly, shutting the door in their face. "Let a lady dress." "Anything wrong?" inquires Maureen, not really interested. "Not a tiling, dearie," Lucy assures her, retiring behind a screen to undress. "This is my last performance." Maureen says nothing. "I said, this is my last performance," Lucille repeats. "I'm sorry," Maureen rejoins politely. "Did you get a better offer?" .."Yes," Miss Ball gloats. "I accepted it, too." With that site crosses to Maureen a?id shows her a wedding ring. "I got married this afternoon. As a matter of fact, I married a friend of yours — a big rubber man from Akron — a Mr. James Harris, Junior." Let me tell you, my friends, the fat is really in the fire now and almost before you can say "Scat!" the girls are going at it hammer and tongs. It's one of the loveliest fights I've ever seen and they end up in a night court. Dorothy Arzner, who did such a swell job directing "Craig's Wife," is handling this one. Usually, she shoots pretty fast, but the delays today are enough to drive an onlooker screwy. They rehearse the scene over and over and over — and then they rehearse it some more. Not the fight (which would be swell), but Lucille's entrance, and the action in the dressing room. Lucille has on hat, furs, coat, gloves, ear-rings, bracelet and Lord only knows what all else and all of the accessories have to come off as she talks and they have to come off fast so that by the time she finishes her first few lines she can be behind the screen. They rehearse so long there's no chance to chat with Lucille, which is a shame because there is a girl with a sense of humor. However, she finds time to tell me that from now on she's to appear only in "A" pictures, which is certainly a relief. It's a shame to waste talent 72 Silver Screen