Variety (Jan 1948)

•Haw Jeritza's Coif Saved IcttjrV • Hollywood. ' 'When I wBS a kid in show business, I used to hear the nld character people sit around and tell about when their Seer hung by a hair. Mine did, an^ it was saved by a hair —bair which wasn't even my own. '■ We were taking "Leaning. On Letty" to Australia for a flown Under tour and the week before we sailed was a bruiser—folding up the current run and getting set for the boat. I had never had a permanent wave and when I went to my hairdresser the morning my boat sailed, she said, •'Miss Greenwood; I wish you'd let me give you at permanent ybu'r6 going ;to need real American curls in your hair for 'the tour you've lined up." ' ■ That night, JiJartm Broones and 1 were in the stateroom getting ready^to go to. dinner. I unwound the bandana and tiiere was a mass of tight ringlets. I pulled au:omb thTOUgU it obd most of the saucy cuiis came out with the comb, Martin howled with laughter and I walked over ta the mirror. I screamed and guffawed. Each time I'd try to pat a remaining curl in place, "it joined its fellows on the ilodr. I was left with the merest fringe around my pate. I lo<4ced like a cross between a darning egg and a Franciscan friar, I spent the rest of the trip in the beauty salon with the doors barred while t had hot oil massages, but with little jeffeet. Just when we were ready to dock in Australia, 1 remembered. a blonde switch which Maria Jeritza had eiveh lire. I Wound it. around my head and walked down Sie plank. I played the season with the hairpiece. When we got back" to New York, I had short hair-^that'a •n understatement but at least it had grown in a little. I went to my hairdresser and she said, "Miss Greenwood, why did ym let th^m. Aussies cut your hair. They've cut off dl my nice pemanent." I told her what had happened and «htifell iti a dead faint at my feet. For the next two weeks, ■ She scitPamed whenever she saw a permanent wave machine, and had to be given sedatives. I had to make daily visits ,to the shop to console her. .1 saw her last time 1 was in New York and she told me that even today before she gives ' a permanent to a blonde she has to consult her psychiatrist for a buildup. I keep that braid ot.Jeritza's in a box lined with purttte velvet—a fitting spot for the literal symbol of a career tha^; was saved by a hair. —Charlotte Greenwood. Top Secret, tfmpressions a} a rehearsal hy a man who sits more than three rows backy Specific Cmticism of Each Film, Not Blanket Lambasting, Will Up Their QuaUty-Johnston The Public the World Over Looks at Films in a Mass Capacity Perspective Unlike a Newspaper, for Example, Which Is Treated Locally By H. L PHILLIPS - DIrector-'Now, then, I want you all to remember about your voices. Keep 'em low. You have all been chosen.for your «6ecial abilities in inhaling the spoken word. The idea is to keep the audience from getting too clear an idea what is going'On, : . ■ Leafllnc Wob»i»-"Ho«I' was I in my last play? ■ Director—Not so goodj A man in Row H heard you with- out an ear tlevice. You can destroy the sense of realism that way, my dear.' , . . ^ ^Leading Man—What you want is to have us talk just as ' {f *e were in a drawing room full of polite people ... Director—Polite and disinterested people in a very small drawing room. Try to think that just off the drawing room lit a very sick person who must not be disturbed. Author—IiAaybe I can make it clearer. Briefly, you musn't get into your heads any Idea that what I liave labored oh all these months is a great play. It is really an exercise ip pantomime. , An Ingenue—Oh, goody goody! I love pantomime. ■ Director—You don't have to tell us. We saw you in your four previous performances. AuthoT^Pantomimei you must realize, has come back to 'the American thea,tre. .■; Director—And how! ' Author—Audiences have become so used to it these days "that they feel uneasy in the presence of anything else. A i Hhrug of the shoulders, a movement of the lips, a lifting of the eyebrows ever so quietly, of course . . , these are the . things that bring to an audience the full import of the hook, ' . dcivmg home its iuU message. Leaditig Woman—I understand perfectly. But, oh, the years it takes in the theatre to grasp sjtch things! I remem- . .ber-when I was a young actress I frequently sPoke clearly. Director—Not really! . leading Woman (a little ashamed)—Yes, 1 made whole , leniences distinct and understandable. I remember a critic once quoting something I had said in a most important scene. The humiliation of it! ; liCkdittf Mm—I, too, had to go thrQUgh the hard school before I mastered my art and learned how to mumble my words, s^ieak with my back to the cash customers and kill Whole scenes by the perfected whisper. . Author—Well, none of that from now on, I had two plays feil last.year:becSkuse the audience could follow them. ' J^lrector'-i-I remember those plays. On the -tryouts the cast never said a word that could be heard beyond the orches- tra pit.. It was terrific. But on the first night everybody g9t nervous and enunciated! Author—I want you, one and all, to realize that the pur- Mse of my play is to keep the audience guessing* I want n leaning forward, its ears cupped, striving intently to hear, hut finally muttering, "Aw, what the hell's the use! This is Ml confidential." " , Ingenue (Moving her lips but not saying a word for three ' minutes)—Like this? Author'—Exactly, although a good lipreader might have followed you. We must avoid that, too, in the modern theatre. tcadine Woman—Look! (She Stands rigid, not a sound coming from her and with merely a slight movement in tfte^^ileft hand corner of the lower lip) Bircctor—That's it!" Precisely! Author — Wonderful. I wrote those. lines and even I cant tell you what they were. It's sheer genius, sweetheart. Director (turning to the leading man and ingenue sud- aeniy). What were you two. just saying? Bothi Nothing! ,„JJ'"«'»r »nd Author'(in rapture)-*- Marvelous! That's we'r '"oo'i and note we want to hit and sustain! Now IT ^^t'* proceed . . . anJ remember, keep IT TOP SECRET THROUGHOUT! Eric Johnston Washington. After more than two years in the motion picture industry, I've become aucustomed to the fact that practically every- one thinks he could make a better-photoplay, run a better newspaper, operate a l>etter fadio station—and be a better Congressman. ' : ^ There are times^ though, when I feel like asking: ; "Doesn't anything good ever happen on this job?" I drag in Congress because there are times, too, when this" question pops into the heads of many members up on The Hill, despite the fact that ithey're ex- perts at dishing it out as well. None of us concerned with the in- struments of communication and ex- pression in this country should be com- placent about criticisms^—any more than members of Congress should be com- pjacent when they hear from the follcs back home. ' If we are performing our functions properly in a democ- racy j- we are all reflectors of public opinion—of the hopes atfd aspirations of people for better lives, for greater oppor- tunities, for constantly increasing advantages, materially and spiritually^ More than ever in these nervous times of tension through- out the world, we have the responsibility, as reflectors of pfiblic opiAion, to give voice and substance to the wills and desires of the people. It is not a light obligation that can be met with tte lip service-of high-sounding , words and pretty ■promises'. I think, most of MS agree on these basic points, even though we appear at times to * be riding off furiously in different directions in trying to attain them. The press, radio and screen have common rights; and, working together as a team, they should have common ob- jectives. ■ : : , ■ . ■' . >■■.■:- Surely no one in this day doubts that the P|rst Amendment covers all three, although the motion picture came along! only half a century ago, and the .radio. many years later. Yet, in this respect, tjie press has won its fight for freedom while the screen and the radio—late comers on the field- still have battles ahead.. 1 Say the press has won its figlit, but it always has the problem of keeping it won. That' requires eternal vigilance. And I think that responsible leaders of the press recognize that vigilance should also extend-beyond its own institution to all the other agencies which disseminate ideas, in particu- lar the radio and the screen. This is a task not for any one of us alone, but for all ot us together. , ■When a censor )joard can ban a motion picture because tWo -bf the characters .are Negro children, the action arouses our righteous indignation, but there's far more to it than this. If that prohibition can stick—and we are challenging it in the courts—then the press and the radio have suffered a defeat, too, and so has the First Amendment. When a Governmental agency can impair and hedge about the rights of radio to spealc, then the rest-of us have been injured, tooi and it becomes our concern as well. I , Freedoms Are Interlinked | Freedoms are interlinked, held together toy the cement of the same principles. Those who attack freedoms in this country rarely do so by frontal assault* They wouldn't-get anywhere and they know it—all do except the crackpots and the outright totalitarians of all shades from black and brown to red. Their strategy is^ to engage in flanking skirmishes, chipping at the edges. But if press, radio and motion picture have common rights and objectives, there are also differences that need to be pointed out. The diflferences, I think, lie in the varying public attitudes toward the three media. When a man says: "You can't believe what you read in the newspapers,'' he usually means, if you pin him down, that he doesn't have faith in one particular paper or in a fCw certain papers in his own community which somehow Oif0nd him. But in criticizhig one paper, or a few papers, he isn't condemning the press as a whole. He thinks well of the press itt general terms but ill of it perhaps in specific cases. But he wouldn't* want to do anything by law to bridle the newspapers. There is this important point here; We have no national newspapers, in the sense that a particular paper is read regularl^r by persons from Maine to California. That may come With technological developments, but it isn't here yet. The paper circulates in a restricted area, contiguous to its point of publication.' In these circumstances, the editor pretty well knows the feelings and attitudes of his readers, . and he is able in a very large degree to reflect public senti- ment—to give it. voice and substance and expression.. Despite national programs, this is true tn substantial measure as well of radio stations. They.,operate in a com- munity or a region and gear their broadcasts to meet these {)2ix!t'icul£i]r 'intsrosts. The econotnic survival of the local newspaper and local radio station thus depends primarily on serving adequately the needs of the public in a given area. This doesn't mean that the press and radio can't serve a larger public and do it superbly. They can and they will, I'm sure, but I am em- phasizing the fact of the more or less localized appeal of press and radio today to underscore a point that needs to be understood in considering public attitudes toward the screen. The Hollywood fihn is made for all America and for all the world. Therein lies its great strength and, I confess, also its weakness. Therein, too, lies the principal cause of the criticism of the screen, some valid, a good deal invalid and unwarranted. A reader in Chicago, for example, may not like a par- ticular newspaper but that doesn't lead him to say: "All the American press is bad." He distinguishes. He is discrimi- nating and selective. He is specific. Judged by some of the criticisms which I've seen, the public appears to drop this discriminating, selective habit at times when it looks upon the film. When a critic 1am- basts « picture 1-p may have a particular photoplay in-mine By ERIC JOHNSTON (President, Motion Picture Association) but often he tosses blanlcet accusations at "the movies" as a whole. "This film is not to my liking," hp seems to say, "and," therefore, all movies are bad." If you stop to analyze some of the criticisms that's the only logical conclusion you can reach. : .■ Let me point to an example which illustrates what jl have in mind. - There are certain motion picture critics jft- thiS' country iyho have become idolaters of every forfiigarffi^^ film, They go into raptures of ecstasy ovf^' eivity 'pi^vr^ that reaoh!es*our shores from overseas. That's all li^hti Many of these pictures are outstanding and we can learh a lot from them. We like to see them. But they aren't that good. Every one is not a masterpiece. .Surely they must have an occasional flaw, an imperfection, b"* two. Yet, when these critics compare the forei;gn iinportations with Hollywood's products, Hollywoed lavariably suffers in the process until one must obtain the' Ihi^ressteh that «<» film higher than P in the alphabet -ever was produced 6n the West Coast. That, of course, is nonsense. . There is a reverse side of this coin. The thing-tliatvKas struck me so often on my trips abroad has been tlie gireat' and enthusiastic liking for Hollywood motion pibtures. That'll a warming experience. I am speaking of the attitude-of th*i people, not o£ all motion picture critics abroad. Sdihe ot, them don't like our films, either, just ^s sbme gbyernmeht officials don't like them—even hate and^ fear theHB*' ?EhJ«- has gone to the point in a few countries Where it seetttis i^^ everyone dislikes American pictures--«very<)tte( :tte except the public. ' * I said earlier that we should never be C0m|ilaceat aijo'ut criticism. We mustn't, but I think we have a right to ask this .of our critics: "Be specific!" ; ■y-:^/;..^:,/:':.''- If you back a critic into a corner for a hiee Ibng Chiat,: ydtl^^:: frequently have to listen to tirades agaiiisi: movies iir^eil- ; eral.but after a while, if you're patient and ask questK^,, you: discover that he is far less vocal and critical wh^S'^jS . gets down to specific instances. He'll even concede tbal some Hollywood pictures are excellent^—a few superbr-aiMl. that Hollywood has performed notably good. Worlte iW::a^-": vaneing the art of the cinema. Those of us associated with the. industry .-^ow. thtti^^^^^ American screen is nof perfect. It has faitrlts, soMk '0%, : serious. But it is not nearly- as bad as a few of onr critics paint it* And it will become better—through ijie. inij^la^Vii of the men*, and women who hiake the pictures ai)d throuiih' the help of the self-same critics, if they waet to .heift toy dealing specifically with specific things that require'in|>rpye<>' ment* It doesn't.lielp just to say: "Americwi jiniQvfes, are MO good." It doesn't help because the pegj^le. Who. But ; their money through boxoffice windows don't agrees iand/th% H^^e] of the audience rings loud, as it should. ln 3HblJ;^WO0d's 'ears#' In viewing the press, the radio, books, magazines, the BUb» lie generally adopts a discriminating, selectiA#, construpfive attitude. That's the attitude- which I hope our critics Will adopt when they look upon the films. So, Mr. and Mrs. Critic,, criticize if you, want-rthat's yOur. unchallengabler right and -privilege-^but be specific, and you'll flBd thai it pays oil, for I knoy no surer way than tliis attitude to hel^ bring about a steady'improvement in the .:^i][S^Ui^ 6f- ixtotioa- pictures.. ^.■,.,v "^Heller Halliday's Backbone Chicago, ' ' My daughter, Heller HalUday, who was six on Nov. ^, made her stag? debut in "Annje Get Your Gun" on Oct. 3 as you know. It has-been fun and interesting.tw have her with us; she has been quick to learn how to be a trouper—it has been easy apparently- for her to learn one ^hing after another^everytlilng except' what it means to have a bockbo«e. What is a backbone? What does that mean?' . - The assistant stage manager had to scold her one night for making a backstage Cross at the wrong time* HeUer started to say that Charles, one of the other children in the company had done the same thing, but the assistant stage manager stopped her with; "I don't want to hear anything about Charles, or anyone else. I'm talking^ about you. You should be ashamed to tell on anyone else. If you had any backbone you wouldn't. But I-guess you haven't any backbone--''',, Oh, what IS a backbone? For two days that -was the biggest problem in all this world. And none, of us, nO matter what .we said, seemed to be able tg convey the idea to Heller. Somehow there was a wall as thick as.any backbone between all of us and her. Then, two nights later, as Heller was. sitting up on a platform, one of her cues came to go onstage. She jumped to the floor, but as she jumped the thigh of her right leg'' caught on two nails that tore deeply into the skj^n and she was bleeding' quite badly. Several people sa'w her, rushed to her and she started to cry. But just as. quickly she stopped; As I was standing in the wings ready to - make the entrance (Heller to follow right behind me) I saw her brush the tears away and heard her tell the others, "Please don't touch me. Please don't anyone say anything. Let's forget it." And she came over, took her place, made the entrance. Later, of course, the cuts had to be washed and fixed, but .Heller |cept saying, "Let's not talk about 'em. Would just makfi me cry," ruin my makeup, ruin the show, just ruin everything!" Later, that night, back at the hotel, while we were getting ready for bed I suddenly heard Heller say, "Hey, Maw! I think t ■ know what backbone means." I'm prejudiced mind you—I am the chUd's mother-^but I sure do think she knows too! , My other Favorite Story is about the same daughter. We played seven days a week for two weeks when we opened in Dallas, Texas—Heller's first perfortnances in the theatr*. Then-we took a train for Kansas City* and as -we rode along Heller asked, "What, do you mean they aren't goinij to let me give even ONE performance all day?" And then later, as the train still rolled along, ''po you fctaow ' that this is the first dull day of my lifer—not even performance." '^Murif Slttt¥lHi