Type Hunting

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 532, 8 December 1928, Page 23

Type Hunting

Norma Talmadge Finds Her Screen Characters A STUDY OF WORKING GIRLS j T ; | IT fie tendency of the screen I h is to make actresses types. This is only naturalj exactly the same thing happens in the | publishing world. i When the public see the I 1 name of a film star or of an j i author whose work they pre- , j viously liked they anticipate a i “second helping of the same.” \ i ! But this does not always mean i that a screen star must tino was alwaysWr actress has a re s > / ***. putation tor char- Ta | madge actel- work, her life becomes one long study—fascinating, but arduous. How many totally different characters can you imitate from memory? asks Norma Talmadge in an article written for the London “Daily Chronicle.” The person you work for, the woman next door, the oldest inhabitant, the local butt —perhaps half a dozen all told. One Hundred Roles So far I have had to interpret more than one hundred roles on the screen and no woman, however full her life has been, can draw upon her own experience for so many parts. The experience of screen actresses, of course, is wider than most; but if they rely on chance observation and personal history alone to supply their characterisations, they soon find the public regarding them as performers rather than artists. There is only one way to “get into the skin” of a new character, and that is to go out and find it. Anywhere where the crowds are is the place where the film actress, if she is wise, does her off-screen work. The streets are a marvellous kaliedoscope of fascinating characters, but they only accord fleeting glimpses—just enough to whet the appetite for more. Consequently, when I am looking for a new character, I go to where I can find the largest numbers of preoccupied people—to the departmental stores. Originally I went there, like most people, to shop. And then I began to notice the girls behind the counters. Among Shop Girls Every one of them is an undiscovered actress. The movements of her hands, only a little short of descriptive speech; the pose of her body depicting friendliness in an attitude; the persuasive, engaging expression of her eyes; the polite shrug, the deprecating toss of the head, all these and a thousand other mannerisms are known as salesmanship, but are really natural acting. The actress has to get her personality across the footlights—but the saleswoman has to get hers over the counter, and between those two arts there is precious little difference. It is not as though salesgirls are all alike. Almost the only attribute they have in common is the desire to please; the manner of doing it differs with every salesgirl and every customer. From the showrooms l go to the restaurant —ostensibly to eat, but secretly to watch the waitresses. A good waitress is a delightful actress. Watch her hand you the menu with an attitude which is a polite invitation to be reckless. See her appreciative smile at your order; she doesn’t really care a fig at w-hat you eat, but she makes you feel that she admires your taste. There are many producers eager to find embryo stars; if the}’ would come shopping with me, l could show them half a dozen within an hour. I should be glad to do so, for the girls one sees behind store counters and serving aprons are trim, pretty, healthy, typical specimens of the best types of girlhood, and it is these that we old-timers, who have the art of the cinema very close to our hearts, so much desire to see recruited to the screen, which is—or strives to be—the mirror of the finest things in life.