World Film and Television Progress (1937-1938)

LORUM Rodney Hobson DANGEROUS CURVES AHEAD The news that Beauty Queens are to be plumper in future will come as welcome tidings to us old bucks who like our women to look like women and pass the port blast you. In certain circles, however, the news is likely to meet with a mixed reception. Seaside Mayors and Town Councillors, upon whose shoulders falls the onerous task of checking up the measurements of our Carnival Queens, are expected to put up a spirited opposition to any alteration in the old dimensions. 'The 35-inch hip was good enough for our fathers," said the Mayor of Sweating Profuseleigh, Sussex, "and I guess we'll string along with them. You can tell the readers of your magazine that the Town Council and I mean to hold out for the 35-inch hip and no larking about. Any change in the dimensions of our British Girls can only be a retrograde step in a backwards direction." Mr. Herbert Baggs, a member of the Dagenham Carnival Committee, said : "An inch or two here and there is neither here nor there. Our Beauty Queens must be allowed to develop along their own lines." Snooks Grieser, whose opinion was not asked, said : "I'm in favour of bigger Beauty Queens. I like 'em curvaceous." The larger Beauty Queen is not expected to come into operation until next season, when all those coming up for their annual Lloyds Survey will be expected to conform to the new specification. The change will necessitate drastic alterations in the standard books of reference on the subject — Hinklemeyer's Strains and Stresses in Beauty Queens, and Professor Waldo Droole's masterly analysis, Ankles A weigh. An interesting study is afforded by the growth of British Beauty Queens in recent years : — Bust 4 in. increase Calf \\n. Ankle f in. ,, Compare this with the changes in the British Film Producer over the same period : Stomach ... .4 in. decrease Neck Unlimited Head Still swelling Sayings "It really is very annoying to find hikers, with scarcely anything on, wandering about one's garden." — Beverley Nichols. "Not a single hair has been cut." — Shirley Temple's mother. "I'm not a great cook, of course, but I can fix things to suit myself." — Victor McLaglen. * * H= "A boy's best friend is his mutter," as the crooner said, signing a new contract. Lump in the Throat Department Happening to glance at our neighbour's Daily Express when we were in there the other day, mending a fuse for his wife, we saw the following words, glowing like precious jewels from a column dealing with that Street of Heartbreak, that Boulevard of Frayed Trousers— Wardour Street. We think they are beautiful enough to reprint here : Two of the greatest film salesmen in the street are Maxie Thorpe, of Columbia, and Teddy Carr, of United Artists. Each is immeasurably moved at a film. At the close of the trade show of "Lost Horizon,'''' which Maxie was selling, he went up to a buyer and said, awed: "Boy, I didn't even know the picture was over. I was in a coma."" And when Teddy Carr saw "A Stall's Bom" he had a lump in his throat as big as an apple. It does one good to read words like these, for they bear out a conviction that many of us, I think, secretly cherish. Sometimes, when the futility of things threatens to overcome me and my faith in humanity is at its lowest ebb, I have the office brougham put me down at one of those quaintly carved temples where they hold trade shows. There I stand waiting, nervously fingering my rough cloth cap, and being jostled about more than somewhat by the gendarmes. (We know our Runyons.) I do not think there is a more immeasurably moving sight than that offered by the boys coming out of a trade show. The majority of them are weeping unashamedly; their shoulders are shaking with the intensity of their sobs ; they press tiny wisps of cambric to their streaming eyes. Many are leaning on the arm of a friend, if they can find one. And as for lumps in the throat, the boys look like a party of goitre cases holding their annual convention. One or two of the tougher ones, of course, manage to keep their emotions under control, but their eyes are suspiciously bright and there is a catch in their voice as they ask Ernie Fredman for a loan of his handkerchief. "It's the smoky atmosphere," they say; and one turns away, for the sight of a film-salesman in the grip of a great emotion is not one to linger over. Even when the emotion loosens its grip, he doesn't look so hot. And so I watch them drift away, to sob themselves to sleep in their garrets in Berkeley Street. Their weeping mingles with the eternal music of London and is lost . . . But then, you can't grudge the boys a quiet blubber when you see some of the stuff they have to sell. " Hope the critics will like the cocktails." Associated British Picture 29