Mickey Mouse is a Perfect Star

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 962, 3 May 1930, Page 27

Mickey Mouse is a Perfect Star

OBJECT-LESSON TO HUMANS “SLAVES OF THE PUBLIC” At the risk of reducing Miss Maria Corda to bitter tears, I insist on letting her know why I regard Mickey Mouse as my favourite film star, writes Jane Doe in the London “Daily Chronicle.” Mickey isn’t married. He’s never been married. Hence, lie’s never been divorced. In the presence of reportorial notebooks he doesn’t become 100 per cent, super talkie-talkie about his private affairs. He never needs to enhance his publicity value in my ardent moviefan eyes by bleating about his Heart in relation to his Art, and why the twain never can, shall, or must meet. He doesn’t imagine lie’s painting my clouds with sunshine by giving me his comic views about companionate marriage and that other equally comic Transatlantic stable-compan-ion, companionate divorce. That/s half the reason why I adore Mickey Mouse. I know thousands and thousands of the long-suffering public will agree with me that it’s a mighty good and sound reason. A CURIOUS TRADITION Perhaps some film publicity expert will explain, then, this curious tradition which seems to insist that the moment an alien film star lands on these hospitable shores she obeys an unwritten Jaw of “Open your heart and skeleton cupboard and tell ’em everything. The public’ll eat it.” Open their hearts! As a careful

student of newspapers, from the days when the cinema first began to flourish, I now think of any film star’s beating heart, not as a centre of the emotions, but as a bit of highly efficient open plumbing. Why is it that the average screen personality, either sex, but mainly female, so dearly rejoices in a personal theme-song, on the subject of those matrimonial woes most of us in private life are only too anxious to keep decently private? We have now among us for the purpose of making a multi-lingual talkie, Miss Maria Corda, golden-haired, blueeyed Hungarian film “vamp” darling. From the look of it she wasn’t in this country more than five minutes before gems of wisdom were falling from her lips into the notebook of a more than usually credulous reporter. Having shyly admitted divorcing her

husband after a companionate max' riage, and further equally shyly admitting to be living with him again in companionate divorce, she tells ns: “An actress can never be a woman, as far as marriage is concerned —sh« is a slave of her public. “People say that I may re-marry my husband. But I do not think I shalL I have made a great sacrifice in ing him up. and that would be wasted. “So far the experiment (companionate divorce) is perfectly satisfactory.” Well, Miss Maria, as far as this member of the public is concerned, you are under no obligation to slave for me. I want you to enjoy yourself. And if you’d rather be a married woman than a film star please don’t Jet me stand in your light. There are lots of other film stars ready to take my money.