"THE MOVIES"

Evening Post, Volume CVII, Issue 16, 19 January 1924, Page 17

"THE MOVIES"

PERSONS IN THE PICTURES

A BOOK OF THE FILM PLAY

SAMUEL GOLDWYN'S STORIES.1

Movies have been fashionable for some time now, though not nearly for so long a period as they .were popularly enjoyed. The "San Francisco Argonaut," in reviewing Mr. Goldwyn's book, "Behind the Screen," states that the . reason is net far; to seek; it is not in any inherent love of art that all the world possesses, arid is now able to grltify at the cost of a few cents, or rather a few dimes.' It, is rather the age-old Narcissan. yearning buried deep in every human heart to see himself as others see him and fo envy—hence admire—the fortunate, favoured Narcissans who may. It is more usually attributed to the love ■oE vicariously living or loving— at a minimum cosfc-and that too enters in, but is just a variation on the Narcissan. theme. Mr.. Gpldwyn was taking no gambler's chance when .he wrote and published "Behind the 'Screen.!' It contains, a-lot of more or less dnsiile dope about everyone, from Jackie Coogan to Lou Tellegen, andvback again from Ueraldine Farrar to Mary Pickford, from Maxine Elliott to Charlie;.,everyone, in fact. Another human foible—since the very publication of this book: implies a number of them— is a weakness for knowing the depths of poverty from which our heroines and heroes . have emerged to celestial altitudes. We won't stop to analyse the obvious ■ inference: ■ Anyway, .everyone will read, this early chapter of Mary Pickford's' with -mingled feelings of sat-' isf action and 'admiration : — Several years Before I walked into the theatre- vnich' inspired me with my idea Maty Pipkford _wus working under Sir. Griffith m the Biograph Company,: which, you will remember, was a unit, in the trust. Then she was not a star. She was getting twenty-five <lo!lar3 a week,-and the most vivid reflection of those early days of hers is afforded by a woman who used to work with her. i,n' Ht°'Ti yeU i remember I'er." this woman Has told me, as she sat there in the shabby old- Biograph offices. She nearly always wore a plain lictle. blue dress with a second-hand piece of fur abuut her throat " ! " .Not long ago 1 asked Mr. Griffith this questL° U t: m ld 2?ll. lla;' c any idea ■in those days that Mary Pickford was destined for such a ne at?ve SUCI!?SSV" H' S anSW" WaS a det:ided "i'ou understand, of- course," he immediately qualified, "my mind was always on the story—not on the star. However I u al\,f Sa£ this':'lt.*as dut; to.me.that Miss Pickford was retained at all, for the management did not care for her especially. To chubb *i! ainly> they thought/.she was too I Fascinating as are the revelations in ihe.Mary Pickford chapter, the "Argonaut ,V reviewer .remarks :. We must get on toother luminaries, the most obvious choice being Mary's old rival, the dainty dancer, Marguerite Clark: "There was one time.when .Mary Pickford's suprem-: ■ acy was seriously threatened by the success of this other Famous Players' star. 'Is Mary jealous of Marguerite?' I asked Mr. Zukor-at this period. He shook his.head.- 'No/ said he.' And'then he ad-ded swiftly, .'But it .comes to the sur- . face - through ? Mrs. Pickford: and -Marguerite's .sister:'," . ■•■;■• : ;•■ •'■■■ Turning for a moment'from the purely romantic phases of {he movies to the healtkier , aspect'; of the"'''comedies', ' one'1 comes- upon our old friend,' Mack Sennett.' without whose • mention no account of moving pictures, ■ however ■ superficial, would-be 'complete :~ :- ''* .. -. '• •' ■*V '' '■■ ■•■"■ :'■ '• \' ■'!'■ '•■' ■''"■ ' * ' 'AmongWoducers of a v.ery''different type, who .had' been waxing strishg' during these Urst years of our development, was Mack bennett. Sennett, originally a chorus man earning five dollars a day,. had been associated with- Griffith in the old; Biograph st. ucll? s \, Trom these he' departed with only about five or-six hundred dollars, and he produced his first .films without any studio at all - The camera man overcame this fundamental lack, by focussing on people's front lawns and on any other part of the landscape which; locked; appealing. When at. last his financial returns- justified it „ Sennett established a studio near Los Angeles Mack's. ■ specialty had always -been comedies, and among his early stars was that noted screen comedian of: another day, ford faterlmg. At the time when the Lasky Company started, Sterling was getting a salary phenomenal for that period. ' Yet beinc a perfectly normal star, he kept wanting more, and it was in an hour when Sennett fejired he would not be able to keep pace with these increasing demands that he cast about him tor some one to take Sterling's place. In this period of vigilance he chanced to go to Pantages' in Los Angeles. Among the • acts of this performance, which represented the second circuit—that employing the less costly talent of the organisation-there ' lingered in his mind the work of one comedian. Months afterwards when Sterling really seemed on the point of leaving, ■ Sennett thought immediately of the little comedian in the second circuit.. He did not,know where he was. He could not even remember his name. But'he wired to an • Eastern representative"Get in touch with fellow called Chapman or ranTcircuitT7solll"1 "^ ' ike tlmt-P'^inS seThe representative had a hard time locating the person thus vaguely defined. At last, however," in a little" Pennsylvania_ town the agent caught up with Charlie Chaplin. He was getting fifty dollars a'week for his work in vaudeville, and when Sennfett' took him on at one hundred and \ twenty-five he seemed stunned at his good fortune. And did ,he make 'good' at once in motion pictures? Mack Sennett said that he did not. " , "It was days and'days," the latter relates, "before Charlie put over anything.real. He tried all sorts of make-ups—rone-of them I remember was a fat man—and they were all about equally flat. The fact of it was that for- some time I felt a little uneasy as to whether my find was a very fortunate one.'.' An actress'whose vogue, both on and off the screen; has been very extensive is the 'doll-like dancer Mac Murray, whose conquest for the, movies was j another stroke in' making them smart as well as lucrative. Admirers of Mac's gorgeous scenic'effects will appreciate a bjt of ancient history when the star had I to haggle for a merely nominal clothes allowance.' The promise of the Belasco plays influenced favourably many a screen actor, of the time, and it was, in fact, Mr. Goldwyn's assurance to Mac Murray' that 'she' shbuldvplay' "Sweet Kitty Bellairs" 'which; weighed against more dazzling offers from' other studios. Before Mac departed for1 California she went to him with trouble clouding that \ fair young' brow. '.'I can't do it," said she. "Can't do what?" he'inquired apprehensively. "Why, this contract you've made with me; "if says that I get one hundred a week and that the company buys my clothes. Now, I can't trust anybody else to pick out what I wear. . Clothes are part of' my personality, and I'd much rather have more salary and have the privilege, of buying my own wardrobe." Mr. Goldwyn yielded the point and allowed her an extra one hundiod dollars a week tb cover this expenditure. Incidentally, Mao could not .have saved many nickels from her allowance. There* is a tradition that .one, evening at the Hollywood Hotel the charming little actress changed her evening wrap four times. She is regarded as one of the most beautifully dressed women of the .screen. The clothes-cloud was dispelled Vfrom Mac's horizon. Unfortunately, however, more sovero, storms awaited her in California. First, of aIJ, she was rent by the commands of a director whose conception of her talents had' nothing in common with Mac's own. "Be more iHamfied. Remember that you are a kdy, not a hoyden"; this was the spirit

if not the substance of guidance. At some such suggestion Mac would protest angrily. "But. I'm a dancer—that's the reason I was engaged. And now you want to turn me into something different." Mr. Goldwyn describes how during tile long rainy seasons which in California interrupt months of brilliant unflagging sunshine, the rain would drip ceaselessly from the roof of Sennet's projectionroom, and his actors> shivering from the cold dampness, used to gather together after the day's work around the" one cosy spot in the studio—4he oil-stove in Mabel Normand's dressing-room. Here, by the hour, Chaplin, a slender little fellow of twenty-two or three, attired unvaryingly in a checked'suit, used to sit and talk with Mabel about work, books, and life. They were great palp, ■these two, and whenever Charlie wanted a raise he would go to Mabel and say, "Coriie now, you! ask Mack for me." The "Argonaut" regrets that it can not go on, ad infihitum, retailing stories about the other luminaries which Mr. Goldwyn ' has treated so all-embracingly' n,nd impartially. If concludes : "We should like to dilate on the beauty of Elsie Ferguson and Maxine Elliott and the very considerable art of Charlie Chaplin—but Mr. Goldwyn has done so 1 adequately, and we refer the enttre movlie-fed public to his book."