GENERAL FILM GOSSIP

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17027, 28 April 1923, Page 6 (Supplement)

GENERAL FILM GOSSIP

BjLINE FREDERICK.

■ agewes of her life. mimic and reW, has stalked life of Pauline Frederick Patterson in “ Phofotalented, admired and H Y«t Mias Frederick has never Perhaps it’s fate. natch a glim pee at her in you realise that tragH left it« stamp upon her exA brooding sadness hangs Im a veil, is he has the pallor with life. The folks have an expressive t ragic pensiveness. They of welteohmers, or Frederick’s face of haring suffered Pauline Frederick lad that make for happiues>. Fisher, the once said that hers was the type of American beauty. At tors' fund fair not so long ago as adjudged “ the most popular can actress," even above Maude > and Julia Marlowe, i not as if the tragedies of make>e had found their way into her i The tragedies of Pauline Fredpegan when she wa« a child. When ras twelve years old her parents [divorced. The one child of the I was aliened to choose which Ljd#'.* would follow. Pauline chose [other. i line Frederick made no sudden to fame. Success, as the world it, came after years of struggle, legun ae a chorus girl. In those jfclie chorus was a training school It light stare much as afterwards ■thing girl comedies of the screen of future kineina div Two years or more in the jx taught her all the rigours of i discipline and the ache of sup»d ambition n it was that she succeeded in ig the leap from musical comedy Sie appeared in “The r ” and “Sampson.” ding woman in “ The ragedy again touched ■ompanv was a young my Thorne. It was » should fall in love il Pauline Frederick. • rne was found dead He knew that she trried. He also knew chance for him. He ds that he could not So it was that he on his twenty-fifth une her marriage to vs, the brilliant and of the Equitable Hotel M’Alpin. They n days after his first It was a mad love consented to ins wifi; stage but he was so stage work took her ;, she said. “his ters brought me back she left the stage, id her happiness in it two yeans later behind the footlights “My husband has to ms.’’ At ail » Paris. Tt was anent “for hia health.” ecured a New York r ter wards, the arohiies«. Those who read ilk Andrews, partner .’s brother, being in y Frederick.” curious Broadway superstition iwnPtiom earlier incidents in tbe Miss Frederick. Disaster came I bur E. Bate-,, who. associated vlaw and Erlangor. bad been ted in Mias Frederick’s career roducer. Ultimately he lost his ive wife, his business success and oh of prosperity. E. R. Thomas, ung millionaire who had assisted l production of “ The Little Grey I’ met disaster, too. He sepa ratio hi* beautiful wife. Linda Lee. E» later maimed and nearly'killed W(\ torac/oi\e accident. Miss Frederick returned to just prior to her divorce, the Biblical drama. “ Joseph ' in which she played seductive wife who longed coat of many colours. It line that set Broadway wi«etheir heads. Tt was : Hpiati have loved her and hut them. I know one Frederick entered Cupid's married Willard Mack. Mack was at the crest of a star and a playwright, did not tame this talent idiosyncrasies. Mack almost hypnotic influence Mack's love for Misa ■ok is said to have been mad. Risible and even brutal. After a Hrting in the morning, it is said Hid return in the evening, hearhand* a little silver vase crimson rose. Kneeling conHt her feet he would say. you are like that to me ! ■h a wild love could not last. ■ came Miss Frederick's deterto separate from him. tragedy stalked in her V February of last year Mins ■k married Dr Oliarlsf Alton H>rd. “ Polly ” and T>r RuthHnid been boy and girl sweet■rbon they spent their summers lining farms near VI atartown, Stored away in his heart Hj boyhood levs for MS a* FredLt immediately after the mar■tiao Frederick. her friends say. her hasty action. While Dr had loved her from a disthe veers, the two were for each other. The but four months. The loved from afar for so never understood his . He never realised the desires that come tragedy left embittered. For she h»d domestic life. Twelve she had dese-ted ihe h u<\ «a;d " a substitute f«■ ■ or taiM-f 1 601 * (rT n ' w° rm ■ e ntai nsgfi

sadness for a lifetime. Blit Pauline Frederick has another load of bitterness to add to her bimlen. Her father, Frederick Libber. died and left his fortune to two relatives of his departed second wife. In a hitter will he said, “ I leave to my daughter, Pauline Beatrice Libbey, nothing. Lest it he construed as an unintentional leaving her out of my will. I repeat that 1 leave her nothing. " Miss Frederick received the news with tightdrawn lips. “ I am surprised that he left anything." she said. “ He was always a spendthrift. He hated me because, when he separated from my mother. I went with her.” At first she refused to contest the will. Cooler counsel, or perhaps the advice of her mother, caused her to reconsider the decision. She contested the will on the ground of undue influence. The courts have sustained the will and ordered a distribution of the estate of 35.00 d-ols. to her father’s relatives-in-law. Thus resentment reached forth from the grave to add another touch of fate to her picturesque career. Miss Frederick is back on tile speaking stage again. Her lavish house in Beverley Hills is closed. Her success as a screen personality seem to have waned at least a bit. although Miss Frederick still holds her own abroad, where they see the Hash of a fine tragic genius in her shadow reflections.

POLA AND CHARLIE.

FALL OUT BUT MAKE IT UP. The following telegram from Los Angeles, dated March appeared in the San i 4 ran cisco “Chronicle”— Pdla Negri is engaged again. For the second nine in less than four months Charlie Chaplin to-nignt placed a platinum engagement ring upon ilie linger from which Pola stripped tlic precious bauble yesterday an I informed him she could never be more than a tie voted friend to him. A paragraph appearing in a moniing newspaper here to-day quoting Tola’s “ Sharlie ” as saying lie was “ too poor to get married just now precipitated the king of comedy from the ranks of the world’s leading fiances into the limbo of ihe jilted. Tliis Miss Negri admitted at 12.fi o’clock thiq morning. As the Hollywood newsies were fill ing the air last evening with their piping cries of Pola’s giving Charlie lb.: air, “.Sharlie ” wended his way to the home of Pola. In his vest pocket, just over alieait which must have been missing on a couple of cylinders. “’ Sharlie ” carried a clipping. “ I am, too poor to get married jud now. 'Phis is a working world and we’ve all got to stay busy and keep away from climaxes of '-emtiment,” the newspaper excerpt read. Arriving at Miss Negri’s home. “Sharlie” was ushered in. A long conference ensued. \Y!i :t transpired will never be known, save that a reconciliation was effected. F.v i Mis* Negri’s maid is ignorant of ilic details. “Sharlie.” however, climbed into his limousine just before midnight, one ■ again a prospect ive benedict. Pola retired with the large and sparkling emblem of betrothal winking at her again from th«> proper finger.

WHERE PICTURES ARE MADE.

HOLLYWOOD IS NOT A DREAM CITY. \\ but do. a Holi\ wood mean to von i* To many, no non e., u 'i> sum*: - *v, Olympus where sha .owy ga.s .:».«! goddesses. j*la\ at refolding their par.u.i.: ru. dream mist-, to r>e itu;i..gcuU\ to earth. Jn i.i uth. a gc, But, the iJlu.moii must i» • sitMiLi x-u for movie ]o i k a i'e as n..0.;:n a- \o.. or 1. and Hollywood is j. s. a .t_ . - - -. little town tuciceU away at the ,■{ . a stray mountain in western ( a,norma NS hen enlning the town you .a . suddenly come upon an om ink... street, or branch uff into the wile- ... Africa. Tin.- 4 in Cities ol ar still jar off, ami India emau. j.L.scii od to Asia. In I act. the unlv uiau.a tion* of the presence ot ju.a.ia plants are ihe lain bare wcl.s ol tia studio buildings m the disfanc; Dainty bu.»gwio.vs ai> ; u:.d.ied ’ui-r anrl thrre. neatix grouped t>y -siraigi.. white roads. I he\ sum m i-.ee on ta meet the lamon> peep c wn-.-. i are sure, live ii. then.. But -ou bp disappointed were you to knock ar* .nquire tor Ciloria Swanson. Jack Hoi or Alice Brad.'. \mi wouiu. in ali ;>r«. liability, be m. by h person a ma •. or butler who is not the least bit pm fessional, and seems rather pro : i < it. “Sour grapes.” vou murmur as y«c leave your apologies beiiiroi. Suddenlv vou bold your breath h»r«. Who should be walking down tia road but the two cioßcst jials i:i all filmland—l.ois W'ilson and Ma-. M’Avov. You have recovered, but the, arc gone. Then it becomes urjte nut ural to pa*s players of ail U• unctions ; stars, character actors, leaning ladies, and so on. Many whirl b\ m rais, others seem to enjoy trie walk. A few inquiries soon elicit the i«< i that most players live in the districts outside the town. The exclusive Wiltshire district and Beverly Hills contain homes of great beauty and magnificence that have been purchased out of the large salaries earned by the popular players. It is noticeable that, unlike the movie fraternity in New York. the Hollywood colony sticks together outside the studios. 'Hiiis it is that the ; luxuries oUe feminine star surrounds herself with in her home arc usually found in the homes of many of her fellow artists who can afford them. In New York there are many outside influences to attract t-lv individual actor, and one does not see them so much to getber. Y\ hen a picture has just been finished it is the usual thing to allow the principals of the cast and any other players who care to attend to view it. At such a time one catches a glimpse of the angle at which pictures are appreciated by those who help to create them. They do not watch the story. The most thrilling climax causes not u stir But show them a consummate piece of ocbuig. a setting of beauty, or oerhaps some superb photographic effects, and the applause is deafening. Yes. strange as it mav seem, tlm most hardened picture player can be oosm waMlty ecthuetastoc over a phr>’ <•> ' w-*** Jwkat exettee bin* n, usual!;.

accepted by tbe picture fan quite :u a matter of course. Meetings the stars is a terrifying experience—until you do meet them Then you find they are just human be ings who arc honestly grateful to their fans for the encouragement that ha helped so much in the arduous climb to fame. Each has his or her own individual personality, and a magnetism that is as evident in real life as it is shining out from the screen. After seeing them you spend the rest of your life longing for an opportunity to work in the studios.

SPORT OF STARS.

HOW CELLULOID CELEBRITIES KEEP KIT FOR WORK. Have you ever wondered how film stars manage to keep themselves always in the pixiK ' oi unless : A lew clays oi rue arduous life of long hours m a stifling studio, with blinding artificial lights, would speedily pm an end to the faith ol most oi us in our powers oi endurance. And if mould uo »s much with the screen players who spend yeais instead of days in such conditions, were they not more man orumai n> careful in their health. Physical exercises, sports, open-air leisure even m winter-time, these are'the ingredients w hich make up the recipe for fitness ot one and all who work in filmland. “J could never keep going at all,” says Elsie l'Vrgi.on, •il i did not spend some moment', of every day in I share this time between my two ‘physical relaxation.’ as l call it. favourite - sports - fencing and riding. “ There is nothing like fencing for keeping the body suppk and for giving grace of movement, while it has the additional advantage c>t being possible in tbe garden whenever fine - even durintloors on really fearsome days. “T always make sun oi some out-of-door relaxation by taking ai least half mi hour’s cunter every morning, whatever the weather may be. before .starting tfiy day in the studio.” Billie Burke's speeding enthusiasms run on more rigorous lj„.. s . Boxuig. in real earnest is In r to-1- b- “ studio strain.” Sl**' dons the gloves and enjoys all “ hr.*;* '--t -1 o goodness'* bout with a member ef her comer nv w hose earlier dsn's were soeul in Hie ring. To see Billie come, f/i from ber garden afterwards, glowing with freshness and, vitality, is understand ho- much better than a doctor’ l - pre-.c riptieu is, the tonic of fres]; -air and exercise. Anothei “brui.-.nig. cmtliusiast, is Marguerite C!n;;k. who .gives !,oxing a high place among her man-, forms of physical training S o ’ al.vavs' believed th-it the only wav i, loco really fit is u» take regular cs< rei : tins rnnny*' ; mV i ai:y are \ •*■' rounds tii.it -die ciiiovs with : -muds or trained boxers. IS Betty t'-ornpson. wn . y. •: ;..r:u im.vmevei v dav.’ She is addicied ‘parii' miriv to the u*e of dumb-bells, which, she declares, give the best exercises for beautifying the arms That game so popular in America

oaseball—is May Allison’s tu-vourite Jn business-like kit she plays a strong game for her studio team. “ There’s nothing,” says Alay , “ like a good sporting half-hour ol our national game for keeping one absolutely in tlie pink of perfection!” “ 1 ahould just think J. do love riding,” said Myrtle Stedman, when questioned on the subject. “ I’ve done it all my life, and it was a horse that persuaded me into the movies ! “ I was appearing in comic opera when T met Colonel Selig, who was at that moment needing a leading lady who must lx* an accomplished horsewoman. Hearing that my early days had been spent in a mining camp in the Ear West, where riding was part 'and parcel of my daily life, he made me an offer which did not attract me at all. “ He then brought along a beautiful thoroughoreu noise winch was lu be mine n l joined uie company, that settled it, and that horse and 1 have been pais ever since. fle just keeps me in lTealtli, 1 toil him, ror .1 guess I’d die without my daiiy gallops: ” Curiously enough, golf does not piay a very large part in the lives of the movie-maJ-:ers -except during holiday times. Tlie reason most players give for this is that golf takes up too much time, and is, therefore, of no real value as a dailv or weekly pastime. They all agree that ; ,s an all-round helthy exercise it lias uo equal among sports, but none can spare the time lo indulge in it freely. The uec. -sary exception to prove tiiis rule is Hope Hampton, who is to

be found on the links at most times when she is not visible in the studio. She is in a fair way to become a Champion player. Among the fishers of the films are Tom Forman, who ha-s his own fishing preserves: Monroe Salisbury: and William 8. Hart-. Leaving the celluloid reel for the fishing reel and rod, they are to be found by the streamside in all off-duty time whenever the weather allows. Mary Pickford had to learn to fish when she was playing in “ Heart of the Hills.” Before this she had always considered it a “mussy” sport—but she was converted, and is now another of the screen stars whose hobbies have fins and scales.

WHERE DOES FILM MONEY GO? i

SURPRISING FACTS ABOUT PRODUCTION. Contrary to popular belief, actors’ salaries in the making of motion pie- - lures are not the chief items of expense, as an analysis of a single day’s costs conclusively proved (writes •• IV! orient ” in the Svclnev “ Sun da v \ Times.’’) That this test might be made under the fairest po- iblc conditions, one o' the most expensive snigle (lays’ prodmUnder present methods of better pi* - ures. every wnsiv snent in production work is carefully itemised. An examin-

ation of the cost sheet for one day’s activities in the photographincr of one episode definitely put to rout the rumour regarding actors’ salaries and their preponderance in the expense items of picture making. 1 Engaged in a single scene, constitut'ing the day's work, were fiv e distinguished principals, whose total salaries amounted to less than one-thirtieth of thq amount- expended on the one day. "What becomes of the money spent/ Picture making is costly. Who gets the money ? A further examination of this same cost sheet brought to light the fact that the larges, single item ror a day was costumes. Slightly more than onesixth of the entire amount went fot the making and renting of costumes. Another considerable item was tbe salaries paid to minor actors. The roll call of this group numbered more than throe hundred. And it included a ballet of one hundred girls. This small army of actors carried away slightly more than one-tenth of the entire amount spent. But it was th<? cost of costuming this huge group that contributed mainly tithe cost. The costumes ranged fro: gorgeous gowns of velvet, gold r

pearls to simple house frocks. Every costume wgs designed especially for the individual who wore it. Surprising as it seems the story itself provided one of the most substantial items. The amount paid to the author of the original novel plus ttre services oi the continuity writer brought the daily cost of th« story itself to the astounding total of 1145 dollars a day. The cost of making and renting “ props ’’— flowers . goblets, pillows, furniture and the thousand and one* things used in tlie filming of a scene of this magnitude—-plus the salaries of the men engaged in handling and caiing for them, contributed another sixth of the expense. And that contribution was five times the cost of th e actors’ salaries. Another twentieth of the total expens© was expended on the construction of the stage setting itself— a constantly larger sum than that earned by the stellar players. Animals contributed materially to the cost of the episode. Two tigers alone drew “ salaries ” of 250 dollars per week—collected, and presumably spent, by their trainer. A dozen horses received as much for their

services as many of the human actora. To illuminate the soene and the Dinltitude of people involved, a tremendous battery of lights and small army of electricians were required. Approximately one half of the amount spent in stars’ salaries wm needed to p*y this billThose are but some of the outstanding feature# of the cost of motion picture production. There are a host of minor charges, ajso. Tt's the ** little ” things that add together to make the grand total.

MAKING FILM STARS WEEP.

“ ATMOSPHERE ” IN THE STUDIO. Music is. always mixed flp with motion pictures in tbe mind of every picture goer (writes Dorothy OwstonBooth in “ Peamon’s Weekly*’). Wbat would our kinemas be without their orchestra*, their great organs aud their pianos—even though occasionally one finds himself in a “ back streeted picture show where the oeeseless. jerky tinkling on an ancient piano of cottage brand make* one wish fervently lor a silent view® Few folks, indeed, would enjoy their picture visits if muaic were not “thrown in”! Music, however, means much more to the success of a film than a mere accompaniment to it.* exhibition. The strains of violin, organ, piano «r even j a z.r. band are nearly always us essential an element in the movie studio as arc the powerful lights whose beams make it possible to photograph the acFor “atmosphere” is created by tbe aid ol music : aud without th<“ right “ atmosphere ’ m-om players, even veteran stars, find it difticult to call forth the emotions required by tbe story. On the legitimate stage the “ atmosphere ” is built up ol its own aecor-1 j by the expectant audience: the footlights: the music or the spoken word : and even by the very raising of the curtain. But :n the studio, x-’th the shirt- * sleeved camera-men and s;a_re hand:, a.l around; :lie tiny. Hut nii-seei.ig eve of the calculating cn -sera in piece •>{ an audience; the unreality of the ’ set.* and the chaos ot scene tt aud “ prop* *" within an arm's length ot the actor. >t is often extreme!v difficult rcr the player to get “ right into the part." “Music is then the order oi the director; and the studio mash ians. sejt ed just out of “ shot oi the camera, discourse there strains mo«t likeiy to gain the desired emotions in ‘ the players. A well-known director, a pioneer in the motion picture industry, was once asked whether he thought music in toestudios really helped the artists to act. His reply has become historic: “ JHome of them can’t act unless tliev have music, some can’t act with it. and some can t act at all either way! ’ However, there is scarcelv a director who dees no: rely on music for. at anr rate, the most emotional L-enes of bis film. ' The violin is generally considered fn be the best instrument to have in th-o studio when “ sob stuff ‘ is being photographed. though some players pro ter other instruments or the human voice. Doroth> Dalton confesses that without the aid oi the viol u wielded in he" studio by a famous Obfornim musician. Ruth Dicker, she would need to resort to glycerine for the portraval of tears. In one of her forthcoming films Dorothy hae te take leave ot Con - rad Nagel as her lever, with the full belief that he will never return. going away. said the director sadly. slowly. n <> vreed the heroine to register pathos. “He will never, never, never come hick to you. Oh! How yon love him. and yet vou will never see him again! You must say ‘good-bye’ ,or ever." Ruth Dicker v violin wailed ont the plaintive notes of Tost * “Good bve, ’ and Dorothv ionkeci patheticaliv uo into the face of ihv Inver «he w as losing. “Camera- readv -UghtF —take it.” whispered tlie director t-» his bench | The sobbing of the vicJir became | softer and sol ter- more and r«ore moan- ; ing anri p.inmire. Dorrthv Dalton i slowly riiseiicaged herself from her j lover s arms R-’a! ‘.ears *rre.ar'e<l down | her checks “ Good bve. see choked j out. and fieri. “ Cut! 'capped out thf> directors voice to the ,- r:«r« men. “Splendid? •Hplendid! - to the actors m the little scene. I he camera crackers blew their noses lustilv. while the ogsistam director turned suddenly very bus V over hi, payers, to hide hia reddened eve*. “ Atuiosph. re ’* f: Si! the studio! M hen M A ,-al!rd upon to depi<-t sorifi. iv '-rpm p!av.s be finds it extremclv heipf. ; t ,, b a «i’- the studio violinist—or g! » u:i hi Ingcr “ as he calls tbe u-eful musician- to dip down t-o his ivarfic. oak a ■ : Hri: ■ ihe requisite enlot i i.i to j ::c ;rfacc.*' *1 he violin r,:>«v not sudive i»r I'homas Meigban. His cm-~. .Yu cl «c-enes are always enacted ,o tfc strains oi An uie lifl-urie )daved on -he tiny studio or gan. Liia t.-c nrerers a piauu to call forth tear', mu her “sob” tune is “The Rosa v. Her early years 4>ent a» a violinist on the music bail stage made Betty Compson too familiar with the strains of the fiddle tor that a lore to induce her most on, .tional teelingt. The studio organ, plus a violin, is therefor* required on the “ set ” when Betty “ emotes ’’! Although music in the studio is so necessary to the success of a film, there have been occasions on which music has nearly wrecked whole scenes. Gloria Swanson tells how once she had just succeeded in getting he.r brimmed with tears to the accompaniment of the •• Moonlight Sonata.” and tlie camera was steatiilr recording tense. dramatic scene when—crash, bang, rattle, a inzz band burst torth with the tune of a popular fox troc ii the very next “ set where a cabaret scene was being filmed! Imagine tlie result! The • atmosphere ” was utterly lost, aud a hundred feet of film was ruined. When at length the jazz band Tired itself out. Gloria's tears had to he carefully dragged to the surface r -sin and the whole scene retaken! This is “atmosphere ” in the studios!