How an Unruly Boy Became a Good Actor.

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3400, 30 July 1932, Page 4 (Supplement)

How an Unruly Boy Became a Good Actor.

JOHN MILJAN WAS EXPELLED AS A BOY FROM A RELIGIOUS ACADEMY. John Miljan’s parents were natives of Dalmatia. His father went co America and made his way to the Black Hills of South Dakota, in the hope of profiting by the gold strike there. As soon as he could save the money he sent for h.s famiy, and John was born in the rough mining town of Lead. Those were the pioneer days, and the life of the family was no bed of roses. In the bitter co.d ■winter days they hovered around the kitchen stove tiying to keep warm and wishing for the spring to come. When John was only two years of age his mother died of pneumonia. When he was twelve his father decided to educate him for the priesthood. The boy had not manifested any religious tendencies, yet he stoically accepted this dictate, and was bundled off to St. Martins Academy. As a result of fighting another boy at the Academy he was suspended, and returned the iamily roof. His father gave him the option of going back or leaving the home. John undertook to leave home and got work in the nearest town at anything he could find to do. His brightness and energy attracted the notice of a theatrical coupie passing through the town, and when they asked him to go with them he was more than willing. During the next two years he was general handy man of the troupe, playing small roles or large ones, old men or young, distributing hand-bills at five o’clock m the morning, selling tickets, labouring as expressman or janitor or at any other work which came to hand. As he was still unable at the end of two years to get them to pay him any wages at all, he left them and earned his living doing odd jobs until he fell in with another theatrical troupe. He went from one troupe to another until he final’y reached New York. There he was reasonably successful in getting work, although, the wolf wsj oj.

close by his door. Then came the War, and John enlisted m the marine service After two years he was released, and returned again to his profession. Things being very bad in the theatrical world, he turned his gaze toward Hollywood. After a good deal of difficulty he obtained work, and life for him was comparatively easy sailing, and when the talkies came in he went halfway to meet them. There was only one period when he became a bit discouraged with his picture work, and that was when he made such a hit playing crazy men that he was given four such characters to do in succession. John is a thoroughly likeable person, clean-cut. athletic. and as fresh and as unlined of face as young Frank Albertson. ' , . He tells us how psychology helps him in his work as an actor. , . , . “ An actor can usually make a good thing out ox even the smallest part if he studies the psychology of it. I like them either way. If you get in a lot of short parts you’re in a great many pictures, and an actor becomes valuable with circulation just as a newspaper does. The advantage of many small parts is that you can do them in a brief time, and a great many people see you on the screen. Then they know you better when you play your longer roles. . “ The trick of playing a small part is to go over it and study its psychology until you hit on some little thing that will make people remember you. Maybe you can do it with a streak of grey in your hair—sometimes by working out a mannerism, like puffing your lapel all the time, or fiddling with a fountain pen. It gives something to the character. Once I broke matches all through a part. “ Nothing gives a character such definition as working

out a mannerism. It has to be something slightly noticeable. Done continually by the actor, it soon assumes huge proportions in the mind of the audience, thus giving them a distinct mental picture of what the character is really like.” . ~ Miljan, as the police inspector in “ Arsene Lupin,” did the same trick by always drumming with his fingers on the desk, and continually straightening his neck-tie, showing that the character was high-strung and nervous. In “Hell Divers” he fiddled with an unlighted cigarette. As the prosecuting attorney in “ The Beast of the City ” he ahyays jabbed at a witness with his index finger. As the defending attorney in “ Night Court ” he continually crumpled pieces of paper. ~ „, . . “it may sound rather silly.” Miljan said, but it is real'y on% of the most important secrets of acting. Details go for everything in portraying a character, and the smallest of details sometimes means the most. “ An actor should act with everything that’s in him. I remember the late Lon Chaney telling a story of a man, in a close-up, gesticulating and working hard, whi’e one hand, which was out of camera range, was hanging perfectly relaxed. Chaney said at the time he cou’dn’t see how the man could really act without clenching the other hand even if it was out of the camera’s view. Later, on the screen, he was right, for the performance didn’t * click * “ Mannerisms are often really more important than lines,” concluded Miljan. '

CALLY EILERS and Hoot Gibson have given up their cosy, swanky little apartment they both loved so well. Sally decided that Hoot’s little eight-year-old girl, Lois (by a former marriage), needed a real home. So Hoot and Sally have taken a bungalow in Beverly Hills, and Lois can have a yard to make whoopee in and go to public school like the other kids. Saffy, who isn’t too old herself, and Lois are having a swell time together.