HOLLYWOOD NOTES.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 40, 16 February 1929, Page 5 (Supplement)

HOLLYWOOD NOTES.

MAORI FILM.

GOSSIP OF THE STUDIOS.

(By MOLLY MERRICK.)

(Copyright to N.A.N.A. and "Auckland Star.") HOLLYWOOD (Cal.), January 8. If you're out with your telescope looking for the next bright etar, it's a fairly safe bet that you'll find it in Joan Crawford.

Now that one of the. periodical avalanches which occur in the industry is well on its way, that stardom will probably come more quickly, for there is a marked tendency on the part of the gentlemen who place names in the sky to put actresses of ten years' standing, and more, on the greased chute. The girl who learned to shake her feet so nimbly in a New York chorus has a story which parallels, to a certain extent, the beginnings of

Gloria Swanson. And in her most recent work she exhibits a technique which is individual and yet strongly reminiscent of Swanson in her best moments.

If Gloria worked in Hollywood on the Mack Sennett lot in the* pie-i hrowing days, Joan did the rounds of the casting offices as an extra. She stood in the mobs; was jostled and wearied and discouraged for a couple of years without ever getting her face before a camera.

She was_ a play girl in her hours off the lot. No Hollywood party was complete without her tremendous vitality and life and her ready laughter. Then she got a chance in a picture. And the sleeping artist woke to the realisation that she could do something with all this some day. And there be° gan the first of the changes which Hollywood has watched in Joan Crawford.

It isn't more than a year ago that she wore her hair in a poisonous nearcerise shade curled forward all over her head like a French grotesque. But the Joan Crawford who thought that was beautiful one week knew it was no good the next. This girl has moved forward rapidly. She was sewn into her dresses by her maid, so that each line of ner perfect figure would show. Each line shows now, but Joan Crawford has learned that there is such a thing as subtlety, and you do not arrive at it by sledgehammer methods.

H*r concentration on work is perhaps the keenest of any girl in the business. Since her engagement to Douglas Fairbanks, jun., she has lost interest in the show about her. Life has narrowed down to "Joan, and Dodo."

The empurpled hair is gone, and, in its place, a smartly cut.head in conservative shade. But there is nothing conservative about Joan Crawford. She scatters the largesse of her tremendous temperament extravagantly. She may be making a picture which calls for a degree of energy. But off the set or between sequences she is dancing, running about, sewing, or reading a book. Never sitting, with calm brow, gazing placidly into space, as most movie actresses do when not working

If the talkie craze progresses with importations from stageland being made at the rate they have been for the past six weeks, there will be a general demotion all through movie ranks. Players who styled themselves "bit" artists, and strictly differentiated themselves as being in a cast far above the "extra," will be grateful to do extra work while waiting for the bit parts to come along. The extra will have to fade out, being recruited from ranks of parttime workers, as a large percentage of them are now. The "extra" as a profession rarely furnished more than four days' work each week. These were the most fortunate members, with years of experience. The average extra was lucky if he or she got one or two days. The extra of to-morrow will tind unemployment such a haphazard thing that it will be wise to look about for a good old-fashioned job.

Why doesn't Joe Schenck, otic of the most astute men concerned with this business of motion picture making, go in for talkies? Mr. Schenck says talkies are the bunk. (He said it more elegantly than that, but it had the same stingo.) And he is launching Lupe Velez, Jetta Goudal and a supporting cast in a new picture, without dialogue sequences. But why? There is talk to the effect that the ladies' accents didn't jibe and couldn't be made to. Their dispositions didn't when the picture was being made. William J. Locke tells me that he has been ordered to write a story for Norma Talmadge,

without thought of a talkie angle. It is going to bo a genuine motion picture in every sense of the word. Sound effect Mr. Schenck permits. But Hollywood is mystified by his attitude towards talkies. Perhaps Mr N.'flenek has been going to the talkies. Miaow!

V lima Banky is wearing ten petticoats m her new picture. Of course, she is not portraying an American girl. But rather a Hungarian immigrant who comes to New York to work in one of the famous restaurants that have made vegetables a misery and hotcakes a delight Hollywood ladies wear a garment called a "seantie." I won't go into details, but it lives up to its name.

"Jaime Del Rio is dead," cries Hollvwood. looking up for a moment from it« teverish thumbing of galley prints as it hunts for a new and unusual storv—a story with genuine drama. The drama, the pathos, the romance of the world lies behind those four words; but the story is old to Hollvwood It is a tale of career achieved, of beauty crowned. A story of a man who could not say "no" to the woman he loved The last chapter in the biography of a broken-hearted gentleman. It is a tale with rapid tempo, and the rhythm has not changed from the first gay sentence to the last dread period The romance which ended tragicallv for a Spanish aristocrat in Berlin began in Mexico City when Jaime Del Rio, second wealthiest man in his countrv, 'arrived home from Oxford and Paris and Berlin to visit his people.. At a ball -he, saw a vision—a jet-eyed beauty, danced" the-Malaguena. Dolores

Asunsulo was just out of the convent, 17, and reared in the old Mexican tradition. What put the wildness of abandon into that Malaguena? Dolores'Asunsulo was not of the same tradition as Jaime Del Rio.

She was part Mexican and part Indian blood. The man with a great fortune and centuries of race behind him—this scion of an old' and jaded blood—went mad at the freshness and the wildness and beautv of her.

Five months later they were married. Dolores' husband showed her the Europe he had known. Then they returned to the life of a Mexican husband and his wife. Edwin Carewe, of Hollywood, a distinguished producer, offered Dolores a contract in the movies. Del Rio, the worldling, laughed. A flickering face on a screen to be viewed by every comer who had a few dimes to spend was not his idea of honour for the woman he loved. But Dolores wanted fame. Carewe ' had planted the seed of ambition and the dream of a career. Some time later they came to Hollywood, and Jaime, the man who couldn't say "no" to the woman he loved, gave permission for screen tests and interviews. Dolores got a contract. A new star loomed in

the celluloid sky; Dolores Del Rio—sad lady of the river. The die was cast. Everywhere Dolores was accompanied by her mother and her husband. She was cast for an important part. The fourth day. she worked on the lot, word was sent to Mrs. Asunsulo and Jaime Del Rio that they were not wanted inside the studio enclosure. Jaime Del Rio complied, coaching Dolores at home in the role, studying the script and trying to help in his way. But Hollywood, the brazen, had put her shameless shoulder hetween the husband and wife. They saw each other infrequently. One role followed another. Where there was not work there were public appearances to be made. The Mexican wife became a Hollywood star. Built a Spanish hacienda beneath the sycamores of movieland. Jaime Del Rio felt that her thirst for glory must be quenched; suggested they travel once more—return to their old wavs.

But fame is a fatal taste in a beauty's mouth. Dolores Del Rio refused to yield the sceptre, and movieland ironically called Jaime "Sir. Dolores Del Rio." Six months of estrangement changed into two trips to Mexico. Carewe divorced Mary Akin. Dolores Asunsulo Del Rio rid herself of the Jaime who couldn't say "no." I saw her twice just after that. A flashing beauty in cloth of gold and royal purple orchids festooned from her shoulder, she queened it at the opening of her picture, the "Trail of '98." Jaime Del Rio. wrote a play—"From Hell Came a Lady." It was good. Hollywood bought the play. The Spaniard went abroad. Began a second work, "Barricade," an ironical account of a man and a woman in movieland. Death claimed him, but he passed with Dolores' name on his lips. Her cables read: "I love you." Hollywood has given up the idea of a deathless romance between Dolores Del Rio and Edwin Carewe. Hollywood says: "Her last pictures weren't so hot."

Laura La Plautc would seem to be the queen of Latin America. Her blonde Lair, her dimples, cunning little nose and infallible charm, all make her the darling of a land where ladies and gentlemen are more apt to come in the beige, taupe and brown shades. Laura La Plante's popularity doesn't confine itself to Latin America. She is an outstanding favourite in her lative heath—Hollywood. And is one of the most widely-respected beauties in the colony. In her public appearances during the daytime she invariably wears amber glasses of the round, horn-rimmed variety. Studio lights are often very trying on the eyes, and the whiteness of this sunshine is trying. Vilma Banky is another dark-glass advocate. Xorman Kerry says he'll be a dark-glass champion if they'll put something strong in the glass.

Once agaiu the U.F.A. producers have demonstrated how a mystery can be told on the screen to intrigue curiosity to the last moment without sacrificing logic. In their latest mystery story, ""The Yacht of the Seven Sins," Brigitte Helm, the female star of "Metropolis" fame, is presented in an unusual role as the villainess. The scenes aboard the notorious yacht are said to be excellent, and Miss Helm, together with the wellknown English juvenile actor John Stuart, dominates the whole picture. Cinema Art Films will release this picture short lyt

The most fascinating little apron frocks are being shown for afternoon wear, and Fay Wray has adopted the fashion in her latest picture for Paramount, '"Through the Night." It is of orchid georgette with a small floral pattern. Over a plain skirt is a tiny little apron which has a frilled of plain orchid georgette. The apron ties in a huge soft bow at the back of the skirt. A little frill at the neck line ends in two loose ends which are knotted at the back, and the frills are again repeated on the sleeves, which are close fitting to the elbow and then flare out.

1 lie latest advices received from the studios of Universal City, California, state that the New Zealand film production featuring the Maoris, and made bv Director Lew Collins and a staff of experts from the Universal studio, lias created a wonderful impression with the American Press and public alike. The lilm. made under the title of 'Taranga." has been retitled for American presentation, "Lnder the Southern Cross." although the original title will possibly be kept for the picture presented to New Zealand audiences.

The "Hollywood Filmograph" states: " 'Under the Southern Cross,' a Universal production, pre-viewed at the Larchmont Theatre last Sunday night to a packed house, is undoubtedly the best picture of its kind that has ever been filmed. The picture fairly reeks with scenic grandeur, and should appeal strongly g to. thmj vive for something novei-*«£ o**«*<= the celluloid-line."