Evening Star Newspaper, March 23, 1930, Page 96

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, MARCH 23, HEN Greta Garbo spoke in “Anna Christie,” her first talking pic- ture, she silenced even her most doubtful skeptics. They discovered that the Garbo does not depend upon a mysterious elu- siveness for charm. She is not a histrionic freak, a passive creature potent only in sex lure. But that she is very human, with a distinct individuality. And she is a striking actress, capable of gigantic dramatic heights. When the time came for the screen seductress to talk in pictures the motion picture industry and her world-wide fans waited anxiously. Would the illusion and mystery collapse that have surrounded this girl of Scandinavian heri- tage since she first caught her admirers in a web of sirenic lure? Would filmdom’s greatest star fall? Every one knew or suspected that the Garbo had an accent, but few knew how much "or how little accent she had. How her voice would fit her peculiar personality was the ques- tion upon which hung not only the curious con- jecture of her public but the fortune invested in her by her producers. 3 WHILE every one else was a-flutter, Garbo, the most concerned, alone seemed uncon- cerned—a habitual trait with her. Whartever she feels inside, her few acquaintances agree, never shows outside. What a wicked poker opponent she would make! Not. even a voice test did Greta Garbo hazard. She simply studied her lines and walked on the set. The moment she looked up and saw the microphone over her head was the most im- portant of her carcer. She was going to talk in pictures. Or she wasn't! On this critical occasion Greta Garbo is said to have betrayed not the slightest trace of anxiety. Instead, she merely nodded readiness and started talking: “Gimme a drink of whisky—ginger ale on the side—and don’t be stingy, baby!™ On and on she talked. The scene ran almost nine minutes, an unusually long dalogue scene to be screened. in one “take.” Up in the glassed monitor room the voice mixer listened intently as the words reached him through the recording system. Then he leaned back and grinned down at Clarence Brown, the director, who had glanced anxiously now and again for a sign of approval. Brown smiled back—a smile of mingled relief and elation. All over the set electricians, prop boys, cameramen and scrip girls looked at each other, faces wreathed in smiles. Garbo could talk. And what a voice! VOICE with a haunting quality; a voice deep and husky, with an occasionally heavy gutteral accent and a peculiarly contrasting musical flow of words! Garbo, head cupped in her hands, listened in the play-back room without the flicker of an eyelash. Then: * “That doesn’t sound like me, does it?” When the day’s work was developed, although agitated and nervous, she walked with her characteristic calm to the projection room to see and hear her first scenes. After that she never went again to view another foot of “Anna Christie.” ‘The usual previews in obscure theaters were held before the picture opened in Los Angeles. But the Garbo waited until the picture was shown at the downtown Criterion Theater, when she drove up in her little red roadster and, un- noticed, slipped inside to see how it turned out. With the showing of “Anna Christie,” the Los Angeles theater established a new prece- dent. Such crowds lined up outside the Cri- terion that the manager found it necessary to open at 9 o'clock in the morning and remain open’ until midnight. This means about 10 shows a day, yet after weeks the crowds are still going strong. “Anna Christie” has broken box-office history in Los Angeles. Strange, too, when you consider the somber type of picture and its metamorpho- sis of the glamorous Greta. ‘The setting of this Eugene O’'Neill monotone of the sea is a coal barge, battling the Atlantic storms. Greta herself, as Anna, the Minnesota farm girl who has been taught by men the meaning of hate and despair, is no longer the practiced seductress with lidded eyes. In man- nish sweater and skirt, slicker and boots, there is nothing of the old allure of the temptress in slinky satins and clinging velvets. Even the Garbo gestures, the clutching of her throat, the provocative raising of long arm to head, accentuating each curve of her figure, are Yet a new allure replaces the old. Aside from her deep-set, natural and native talent for the dramatic art, there clings to this amazing young Swedish actress an aura of mystery nothing will dispel. This always will make her the more in- triguing to an American public which loves its The silence of the old Garbo pictures is perhaps more responsible than any other thing for the illusion that has been built up. Her exotic appeal is entirely of cinematic making and not one scintilla deserved or justified by her own being. THOSE who have come close enough to know and study Garbo tell me that the personal- ity she submerges in her Screen roles is very different from the woman herself. interesting observation came to me from a co- worker at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios, to this effect: “Garbo herself is neither mysterious nor ex- otic. She is merely a timid girl, greatly gifted, content to gratify simple wants and to walk alone. She shrinks from the spotlight, not from temperament, but from terror. “She makes few friends, is self-sufficient, has no social ambitions whatever, loathes all pre- tense and ostentation, deplores Hollywood’s proneness toward ‘whoopee,” has neither the time nor inclination for public functions and has a very marked repugnance for conversation and conversationalists.” ‘The Garbo also has a marked aversion to re- 1930. “Not even a voice test did Greta Garbo hazard. She simply studied her lines and walked on the set.” . porters, flatly refusing to give interviews. That the studio permits her to take a Jone stand in this city of ballyhoo is not due to the fact that the more aloof she is the more intriguing. The real truth is that the Swedish star is too uncertain a quantity to antagonize. Paradoxi- cally, the tremendous burden of fame that has been shoved upon her 23-year-old shoulders doesn’t mean a tinker's dam to Greta Garbo. If she followed her own inclination, she would g0 back to the snow and ice of her beloved Sweden and stay there. The producers know this. So, when the Garbo walks off the set and says, “Greta tired; Greta goes home now,” no one stops her! When she went to Sweden for her first visit home last Summer the studio executives took precautions to insure her return by signing her to a high-powered, ironclad contract. Greta longs always for her homeland, for her mother and brother. The death of her only sister in her absence came as a dulling blow. Mauritz Stiller, her best friend and discoverer, went back to Stockholm from Hollywood a beaten man, and shortly thereafter died. The double loss decided Garbo to go home., On ar- rival, one of her first acts was to place flowers on the grave of the man she once described as having “the most beautiful inside of any per- son I have ever seen!” In preparation for her home visit after be- coming & great star, Greta Garbo showed her first feminine interest in clothes. Just as the screen apparently consumes her emotions, so does its demand that she dress the role of a vamp drive her to the other extreme in private life. There are those who believe this Swedish girl is in reality a negative quality, the fire of almost primeval in her simplicity and natural- ness. Tillwndwerdm.emnhm her. When she walks abroad no ome would ever recognize her! With a railroad trip to New York ocean voyage in the offing, it was out question for the Garbo to go thus attired. Listening to her best friend, w! strangely enough is Lilyan Tashman, the stunning-looking woman in Hollywood, the Garbo went to Howard Greer, cinema land’s ultra-smart designer. From Mr. Greer himself the writer had an and ot fittings she chose not the black room, consid ered the proper background for blondes, but the platinum room, where the silver-haired ladies have their gowns molded. Not only the color appealed to the Garbo, but the this fitting room opened on a balcony When the Time Came for Garbo to Talk — By Mayme Ober Peak — could step out for air and lunch alone. Much of the time she stood being fitted she ate ice- cream cones. I doubt if there is a human in Hollywood who has been exposed for any length of time to its dazzling limelight and remained as totally unchanged as Greta Garbo. The first day she arrived at the station, three years ago, she modestly asked the pepole from the studio who came to meet her for a small room in a private family. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer officials had en- gaged a luxurious suite at the Ambassador for her, so the foreign star went there until she could look about. Within a few days she had found a quiet, restful spot near the ocean at Santa Monica, where she has remained ever since. The hotel she selected was an old-fashiened one, with porches and spacious grounds over- looking the sea. Greta Garbo never appeared in the public dining room, but had her meals served in her room. Recently she moved to the newly-built hotel annex, where there are apartments with kitchenette. Here she lives alone with a housekeeper. The telephone is in the housekeeper’s name. It is never answered except when she is there. No one knows when Greta Garbo slips away to Palm Springs or the mountains for a rest between pictures, at which time she ignores demands on her {ime from studio or friends. The Garbo explains her desire for somber reflextion and quiet in “The Story of My Life,”™ which appeared in a prominent picture publi= cation. Personally, the writer doubts that she expressed herself as freely as she is quoted. However, this is what is credited to her: “I always have been moody. When I was Just a little child, as early as I can remember, I have wanted to be alone. I detest crowds, don't like many people. I used to crawl into a corner and sit and think, think things over. When I wasn't thinking, wasn't wondering what it was all about, this living, I was dreaming, dreaming how I could become a player. “I always went away alone. That is what I like—to go away far into the country alone. An old couple to cook for you, look after your things for you. But there are not so many places in America where you can be alone. It is so wonderful alone in our country. In the Midsummer you can read all night long in the open. The little noises of the country, the wone derful air—ah, it gets you! “Here there are always the people; I miss it. Some people need to be with people. I need to be alone, always. ‘I am nervous and restless when I am make ing a picture. That is why I never want people to see me while I am acting. I do not let people on the set. And I stay by myself all I can while I am making a picture. I sit in one cor- ner alone or I walk outside by myself while the others are working. I cannot stand it for some one to come up and say, ‘What do you think of the foot ball game?’ as they do here in America. I cannot get back on the track, I cannot do my best work then. It is the same with every picture. I tremble inside, all over.” A‘r the studio, Greta Garbo does not come in contact with the usual employes. The hair- dressers,who could tell so many good tales about the temperamental stars they have coiffed and curled, have never touched the Garbo's pale yellow hair. Her own maid takes care of it. She eats alone in her own little portable dressing room, except on two rare occasions during the making of “Anna Christie,” when she lunched with Marie Dressler in the studio cafe. Yet by following her own whimsical tastes and having the courage to live life just as she sees it and it pleases her Grete, strangely enough, arouses no antagonism. If she makes few friends, she makes fewer enemies. Lilyan Tashman, King Vidor, Eleanor Board- man and John Gilbert are the only members of the film colony who have come close to her, The whole world knows that Jack Gilbert's passion for Greta Garbo was not confined to the screen. But just how much the Swedish sphinx cared for the dashing, black-haired Le- thario that is Gilbert no one will ever know. Members of the same company, when the famous pair of film lovers were making a pic- ture on location, told me that they frequently played together like children. Then, again, others have related an incident occurring when Greta Garbo and John Gilberc were guests on a yachting party. It seems that Gilbert imbibed a little too freely of “spiked” tea. Plunging into Catalina Bay in his bathing suit, he visited another yacht an- chored nearby. When he prolonged his visit ‘way into the afternoon, the Garbo's fury was unleashed; she is said to have blued the air with her peculiar brand of profanity. At the time Jack Gilbert eloped with Ina Claire it was not known what the status of his affair was with Greta. His friends say that undoubtedly he once wished to marry her. But that if he had done so, this Swedish girl would have remained always a mystery to him. Re- pressed, reserved, strangely fascinating, the ir- repressible Jack never would have understood her, never have known her. The only time this reporter ever saw the two together was at the premiere of their co-star- ring picture, “Flesh and the Devil.” On that night their joint appearance created a near riot in the brilliant audience and was consid- ered of sufficient importance to the downtown papers to get out extras. When the spotlight that picks out the stars on first nights fell on the Gilbert-Garbo black Drawing her ermine wrap closely about her as if to protect herself, the pale-faced Swedish star, who wears make-up - or off the . y calla ‘Beside her, ack Gilbert, kissing his hand and beaming on general, presented a terrific forgotten this picture. And I am glad, for I will never see it agsin.