Evening Star Newspaper, January 25, 1942, Page 56

Theaters—Radio—Stamps Classified Ads, 10-18 EIGHTEEN PAGES. WALTER HUSTON Wears a satanic grin if ever ‘there was one. He plays a certain Mr. Scratch in “All That Money Can Buy,” motion picture ver- sion of Stephen Vincent Benet’s “The Devil and Daniel Webster.” The Critics, Poor Creatures, Are Again Being Criticized Mr. Pemberton Thinks They Should Come Only on Order, Like Groceries, and Actress Wants Them “Less Honest” By Jay Carmody. The*theater is never in a megm=s#®mic condition than when its children ask mercy for it at the hands of its best friends, the séverest critics. In recent weeks, much to the embarrassment of the sedate and non- hysterical elements of show business, the suggestion has been made again that what is wrong with the theater is the reviewers. Not the play- wrights, the producers, the actors, the stagehands, or the box office staffs, understand, just the reviewers. First to utter the complaint was Producer Brock Pemberton, who used to be a critic himself, but who has so completely forgotten that fact that in the past two years he has produced two such memorably awful items as “Glamour Preferred,” a thing about Hollywood, and “Cuckoos on the Hearth.” Mr. Pemberton broods morbidly upon the state of criticism every time he produces a failure. At such a time, it always seems to occur to | him that criticism is not what it used to be, that the boys are more dyspeptic and undiscerning than when he was one of them. Mr. Pember- ton's musiigs invariably lead him to a suggestion which has become an inevitability in a bad Pemberton year. It is that producers should have the right to decide for themselves whether their shows should be criticized, that reviewers are something which should be kept in stock in newspaper offices, ready for instantaneous delivery to any producer who puts in an order for them, Producer Claims the Critics Deny Public Entertainment. He has not said anything yet about keeping them in varying sizes, dispositions and degrees of gentleness, a concession no doubt to the press’ notion of freedom. Or, if not that, a desire perhaps to move slowly in the demolition of an old and respected institution in the theater. It is Mr. Pemberton’s idea that the critics are denying the public & lot of entertainment, and the producers a lot of profit, by not perceiving there is a difference between art and simple (sic) amusement. It is a polite and devious way of calling them incompetent and entirely overlooks the fact that a critic’s standards, preferences and prejudices are no mystery to those who read him consistently. It is one of the things that permits him to sleep at night that it takes two kinds of readers to make up his audience, those who think his judgment is sound and those who recognize him as a fool. He feels that he is equally useful to both groups as an adviser on entertainment investment, that those who believe him will go to see the play because he recommends it, that the others will stay away because they dislike everything he likes. It Is Not That Simple, But It Is Some Solace. It is not, of course, altogether that simple, but it is close enough to give a reviewer solace when he remembers the harsh things Mr. Pemberton may be thinking about him. In implying that the critic’s approach to the theate? is baleful, i ,m'. actually murderous, Mr. Pemberton does the poor creature a grave injustice. There are seasons when it takes an almost simple-minded devotion to the theater to survive the disappointments and disillusion- ments which the successive weeks bring. But the poor reporter does survive the most protracted periods of amazement that the talents of even the greatest dramatists and the luckiest producers can lead to almost endless betrayal. In the most seemingly hopeless periods, he keeps hope in his heart that Maxwell Anderson’s next play will be another “Winterset,” and that Mr. Pemberton will never make another mistake like “Cuckoos on the Hearth.” At Least Mr. Pembertion Is More Artful Than Miss Landi. He even goes on hoping that some day Mr. Pemberton will stop nagging and blaming the critics for bad business when the quality of plays is so low that the movies won’t even buy them. Perhaps it should be said of Mr. Pemberton that he is more artful in revealing his feelings about reviewers than is pretty Elissa Landi. In her gentle, artless way she made the week brighter by coming out in favor of “less honesty” on the part of drama commentators. In recommending this doffing of moral standards by reviewers Miss Landi made it clear that she did nct suggest it as a permanent policy, but “cnly until the theater again flourishes.” She was graceful enough, too, to add that she was not suggesting tempercd honesty toward actors and actresses, but for the sake of the theater. 2 That, of course, would leave the critic free to say that the play was wonderful, that only the acting was superficial, immature or imbecilic. If Mr. Pemberton and Miss Landi would care to look they .could see at the National tomorrow night that plays with the quality to endure can survive the critics’ nastiest ways of saying they are unendurable. ‘That is what most of them said about “Tobacco Road” when it opened on Broadway, even as they said it years before about “Abie’s Irish Rose” and years later about “Hellzapoppin',” which also lived to set records for length of run, y 1 . Che Sundwy Stae WASHINGTON, D. C, JANUARY 25, 1942. THE TEAM OF THE YEAR—Eatharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy play the leading roles in “The Woman of the Year,” story of a woman columnist and @ sparts writer. soon at the Palace. Marlene Still Pins Her Faith in Mysterious Approach Thinks Public Should Not Know Too Much About the Private Habits of Stars, Including Garbo’s Passion for Juice of Carrots By Sigrid Arne, Wide World News. HOLLYWOOD. It was lunch recess during Marlene Dietrich’s first day of work in a new picture, “The Spoilers"—the old Rex Beach story. She will play—guess me and said, “That lighting’s known I as the Dietrich light. See the spot pulled her molars to get those hol- lows in her cheeks,” I said. “Not a word of truth,” chuckled |up high? That throws the nme‘ butterfly shadow under her nose.|the camerman. “It's the lighting. | That's what makes her look so | Then, she’s got sense enough to keep thin.” her figure. Look at her. She doesn’t “But there’s a story that she |wear much clothes, you know.” I what: another shady lady. This time she is the owner of a | saloon in the Yukon. But she gets her man—this time John Wayne— although he half falls for a “nice” girl in the middle of the plot. Lunch for Dietrich was a tiny sandwich and a cup of tea. She leaned against & piano nibbling, and ‘warbling in that throaty voice, some- thing about, “why can't you love me the way I love you?” She kept her big blue eyes glowing at an elderly extra at the piano. He was so pleased he squirmed. His piano lessons were taken in an ‘“ump, ump” school, but Dietrich looked as though he were Paderewski in disguise. She cooed, “It was dr-r-ead-ful-1 in the Army camp the oth-air night. I co-0-0-dent remember. It went like this—" She turned up her inch-long eye- lashes and warbled: > “When you get me in a cozy spot, “You find out I am a patri-ot.” She tossed a glance at a half dozen grip men. It must have been a left-over glance from the evening in the Army camp. The grip men shifted their feet and grinned. No- body spoke. They all waited for Dietrich. She pursed her lips, swept her lashes down, and started over again on “love.” Her Face Looked Sad. She was dressed in a gay nineties Elouse of very peekaboo white lace over flesh-colored net. I kept won- dering if it really was flesh-colored net. I suppose the grip men did, too. Her golden hair was pulled up over a pompadour rat which stood up three inches from her ‘thin fore- head. The hollows in her cheeks made big, sad shadows. She was called to the camera, so she picked up her huge black skirt, tripped daintily across the set and took an insolent pose. She bor- rowed a cigarette. The head cameraman looked at her appreciatively. He turned to Coming Attractions \ Stage. NATIONAL—“Tobacco Road,” that well-known theatrical perennial, returns again, starting a week’s engagement tomorrow night. John Barton is the Jeeter Lester this time. Screen. CAPITOL—"“Johnny Eager,” with Robert Taylor and Lana Turner teamed in the leading roles, arrives Thursday. There also will be a new variety bill on the stage. EARLE—"Bedtime Story,” new romantic comedy with Loretta Young and Melvyn Douglas, starts Friday. Sammy Kaye and orchestra will provide the stage entertainment. . KEITH'S—“Hellzapoppin’,” motion picture adapted from and in- spired by.the stage success, with Olsen aritl Johnson in the leading roles, will follow “Ball of Fire,” probably starting Thursday. LITTLE—“The King,” latest French film, starring Raimu, is set to follow “Wuthering Heights.” PALACE—“Sundown,” story of Britain’s empire with Gene Tierney and Bruce Corrections by an Expert ‘Wide World News. took the “undergrou way to a suburb of Hollywood | | # | is the handle. | | play a story of love and intrigue in- volving Joan Bennett, Franchot Tone and a Nazi general in occu- pied Holland, even though they were totally without local color. They just used their imaginations. Richard Wallace was getting ready to direct the piece when he read in a local newspaper that refugees Karlsen and his wife and two children had recently arrived here. Karlsen was summoned, in the imperious way that Hollywood gets what it wants, The idea of being an adviser ap- pealed to Karlsen "(“I am without funds”) so we will now fade out and fade in again on the scene after Karlsen has pefused the script. To put it mildly, he was shocked at the picture of Amsterdam as Wal- lace’s writers had so glibly drawn it. Too Nice to Nazis. Being new to this business (he was a textile manufacturer), Karl- sen was reluctant to tell his first interviewer how he had changed “Highly Irregular.” But assured by ‘Wallace that anything can be said about g motion picture, just so the name is spelled correctly, Karlsen detailed some faults he found. In the first place, said Karlsen— 2 young man whose only difficulty with our language is using “z” for “s”—the Hollanders in whose home on a far-flung front, Cabot, starts Thursday. Refugee’s Timely Arrival Saves Film About Holland From Errors HOLLYWOOD. 1t is a good thing for a certain motion picture that Alfred S. Karlsen ” out of Holland a few months ago and found his Otherwise this movie might have been so full of inaccuracies that it would have fitted its title in more ways than one. “Highly Irregular” The fellows who wrote .it never have been in Amsterdam, but it seemed to them like a good idea to¢ the Nazi officer is billeted are much too friendly with the enemy. So the script was changed; Miss Bennett is only nice when she has to be, which is when she is trying to worm military secrets from the officer. ‘The Nazi was too much of a gentleman, Karlsen held—too polite, too gracious. The Nazi officers he met, during the six weeks he was in a German prison after his mili- tary unit was captured, and later during the occupation, “were rude, not at all like the old school Ger- man officers we met during the first war.” Blackouts in Holland are complete —every night. The writers had all kinds of goings on in the streets after dark. Karlsen ruled other- ‘wise, because no one goes out after dark in Holland these nights. The writers gave the characters free use of automobiles. There are no autos, Karlsen said, because the Nazis con- fiscated them all and took them to 0 Meat, Eggs or Milk. Karlsen observed that the Hol- landers in the story were sitting down to some pretty fine meals. Well, he straightened that out. ‘There ds no such thing as a fine meal in Holland, he said—no meat, no eggs, no milk, no fruit. And the Germans don’t pay for their food and quarters, either, he added. “They gave us slips of paper, good for cash after the war,” said Karlsen bitterly. ~ He refuses to say how he got out. of Holland, but he hints that the trip was difficult and expensive. Karlsen came here because his par- ents are here; they came to visit before their homeland was invaded. Karlsen told this experience, ;l;iich was hastily added to the pt: “The Nazis came to my factory to see what they wanted. On my desk was a picture of President Roosevelt, yhom I have long ad- mired. One general said, ‘Iz that your daddy?’ I said, ‘No, hé iz my uncle—and I expect to go and visit :lem zoon.’ They didn’t know who ‘was.” 4 4 L 1t should be uh;ng looked. There wasn't a single in- | correct bulge. Dietrich has a theory about the | way actresses should act. I wanted | to know about it. | less about them, that it's a mistake for actresses to live and act just | like ordinary people. Perhaps that's why she often wears slacks over those famous legs. She looked appalled that every one | knows Garbo drinks carrot juice. | “Carrot_juice,” she repeated, “is | it exciting then?” Well, no, but what is? Marlene Didn't Know. She shrugged her shoulders and | | pouted as though it was an unan- {swerable question. Maybe those | black fishnet hose she wore in “Des- " try Rides Again”? She smiled at that. She liked the part. That was the picture where, in a harroom‘ brawl, she gets kicked. That was | supposed to be her comeback pic-{ ture after a long absence from the screen. Hollywood figures people | are interested when Dietrich ‘gets kicked. She won't be kicked in “The Spoilers.” She won't even warble. She has just finished a picture, | “The Lady Is Willing,” in which she had to handle a baby. She was injured in a fall on the set. Dietrich is the wonder of other actresses here. She’s married to Rudolph Sieber, a former German director, who seems to prefer New York. Dietrich battles lonesome- ness by showing up in the town's most expensive night clubs with whatever male star is the talk of the town. Recently it has been the French importation, Jean Gabin. He's supposed to be France's great lover. He's a gray-haired man. Gabin recently played the white- tie background for one of those appearances Dietrich evidently thinks is all that a star's public should know. It was a Hollywood opening: Spots, orchids, micro- phones, autograph hounds. Most of the younger stars ar- rived on time looking like cafe so- ciety glamour girls—dewy and bored. They were all in their seats when suddenly there was a hush in the theater, Behind me I heard Bruce Cabot whisper, ‘“Pipe Dietrich. ‘What a show!” ¢ Dietrich was trailing slowly down the right aisle, in black velvet, thin as a drainpipe. She had a 3-yard ermine stole carelessly droop- ing over her shoulders and- a black halo hat dripping in back with erminetails. Her face looked pale as a death’s-head. She sank, like a weary Quéen of Sheba, into the plush seat and then threw a bleak little smile around. The au- dience sighed and went back to talking. Evidently the entrance was too good to waste on Hollywood. In two weeks the New York papers de- Junior Star—Art—Books , Music—Dogs—Civics JUDITH ANDERSON Gets one of her most important screen roles to date in “Lady Scarface.”” She plays, as you no doubt could guess from this portrait, the title role in the gangland comedy. That Play About a Critic Pleases a Critic Highly ‘Jason,” Who Might Be G. J. Nathan, Is Hero of a Drama of Wit, Intelligence and Honesty By Ira Wolfert. NEW, YORK. Although William Saroyan hasn't been able to get any of his | unproduced plays on our stage yet this season, his memory is being kept | green for us—this time by Samson Raphaelson who tosses a wreath upon him, making sure there are thorns in it. Mr. Raphaelson has written a play about the boy, & much wittier if less humorous play than Mr, Saroyan ever wrote and also a much more intelligent and, oddly enough, for all its gloss, dexterity and graceful manners, 2 much honester one than Mr. Saroyan ever wrote. In addition to being all this—witty, glossy, dextrous, graceful and honest . . . well, anyway, earnest—the play is interesting, too, and has the further remarkable quality of being as much a piece of criticism as it is a play involving plot and characters. No doubt, all creative work is a criticism of life, but this I think is the first criticism of the drama or, anyway, a dramatist that ever got up |on a stage and made an evening bounce. Raphaelson’s Play Hero Is an Oddly Rich Critic. She says the public should know | Mr. Raphaelson’s pleasant piece of work is called “Jason,” after the | leading character who might have been called George Jean Jason, but isn't. Mr. Jason, a fastidious and sophisticated man, cleverer than all | get out and richer than any drama critic I ever heard of, is set upon by & | Saroyanish playwright who sings of life in the heart-breaking way in which & man on a four-day drunk sings of his mother. Jason falls for the playwright with as goo-goo sounding a thud as some of our sophisticates back here fell for Saroyan. And in detailing this, Mr. Raphaelson makes the interesting point that when a sophisticate falls for the boozy, uncomprehending, unrealistic and lyric sentimentality of a Saroyan, he is completing the cyele and going beyond knowledge to adolescence. The adolescent trembles and yearns for life. He doesn’t know what life is except that it is spelled with a capital “L.” He is sure it is beautiful and wonderful, but one may doubt his love for it since he makes no attempt either to live or understand life, but is intent only on being full of storm for it. All Qualities of Adolescence, Including Stupidity, Are There. And so, according to Mr. Raphaelson, with the sophisticate—especially the brilliant kind whose mind has been dazzled to the state of numbness by itself and who finds Saroyan giving him back the vitality of adoles~ cence and also, alas, its stupidity. As stated here, this may not seem like very much of a point to you, but really it digs very deep—particularly deep into a Broadway firste night sudierfce—and is high comedy, too. Perhaps satire is the better word for it, for it takes a satirist to take the polish off a brilliant and show the apple-knocker underneath. And the point is quite important to the play. For the plot hinges on it. Jason is not only a critic numbed by his own brilliance and habit of tasting life, but he has a wife, too, and a fascinating relationship with her. He is married to her tightly enough, but he hasn't fallen in love with her yet nor has she with him. The massage the couple’s emotions receive from the healthy rhapso- dies of the playwright manage to make them fall in love with each other and, presumably, live happily ever after. Mr. Raphaelson has directed the play as expertly as he has written it, and Nicholas Conte as the Saroyan, Alexander Knox as the George Jean Jason and a new girl named Helen Walker as the wife say their words with style. Maybe I liked the play so much because it's about critics and has a lot of private, malicious shop talk in it. But I think not. I think I liked it because it is both interesting and expert. The fact of the matter is that Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s “The Rivals” is not such a much, and not even Bobby Clark at his wonderful best and Mary Boland as Mrs. Malaprop can make a riot out of the Theater Guild's revival of it. There is fun in the show and an overload of winsome charm, but the charm is of the old-fashioned music box variety—powdered-down kiss of death stuff for most modern audiences— and the fun is kind of banty-sized and bow-legged and creaky-kneed at this Jate date. (Released by North American Newspaper Alliance, Inc.) Today’s Film Schedules CAPITOL—“The Bugle Sounds,” Sergt. Beery weeps for the passing of the horse, plus stage shows; continuous afternoon and evening. COLUMBIA—"Babes on Broadway,” torrents of Rooney and Garland; continuous afternoon and evening. EARLE—“Sergeant York,” biography of a hero, plus stage shows; continuous afternoon and evening. KEITH'S—"Ball of Fire,” Barbara Stanwyck knocks the dignity out . of Gary Cooper: 1:30, 3:30, 5:35, 7:35 and 9:40 p.m. LITTLE—“Wuthering Heights,” the passionate romance, Laurence Olivier: 2, 3:55, 5:50, 7:50 and 9:45 pm. METROPOLITAN—“The Man Who Came to Dinner,” Sheridan Whiteside on the screen: 2:30, 5, 7:15 and 9:40 p.m. PALACE—“How Green Was My Valley,” movie version of Richard Llewellyn's best seller: 2, 4:30, 7 and 9:40 pm. PIX—“Girl From Leningrad,” her battle for Russia: 2:20, 4:15, 6:05, 8 and 9:55 pm. with scribed s Dietrich entrance ipto the theater. It was the same Even Gabin was there. TRANS-LUX—News and shorts; continuous from 2 o'clock.