★★***★★★★*★*★★★***
! STAR s
! DUST |
★ ★
★ Atovie • Radio *
★ *
*** By VIRGINIA VALE***
IF YOU have read Damon
Runyon’s short stories and
roared over them, or even if
you haven’t, mark down ‘‘A
Slight Case of Murder” as a
picture that will make you
laugh until you ache all over.
You may think it improbable and
incongruous that four corpses could
rouse you to such hilarity, but these
are characters that would be dis
posed of without tears in any pic
ture.
The inspired casting of the pic
ture is what makes it such fun, for
Edward G. Robinson plays a comic
gangster. Instead of the domineer
ing, swaggering, ruthless menace
that he has played so often and so
well, he plays here a blundering
mugg who just isn’t quite bright.
-*
Richard Himber gave a party for
Kay Thompson, Lou Holtz, and the
rest of the co-workers on his radio
program and ever since the CBS
studios have looked like a meeting
of the Society of Amateur Magi
cians. Himber did card tricks at
Lou Holtz
his party. Not to be outdone, Lou
Holtz learned to pick watches out
of the air. Kay Thompson is spe
cializing in those old scarf tricks
where one small handkerchief torn
to bits turns into yards and yards
of vari-colored scarfs.
-*
Robert Benchley, whose short film
comedies have been such a success,
will soon be launched on a radio
program of his own. The Stroud
twins will stay with the Bergen
MeCarthy-Ameche program through
June 19, and Frank Morgan has
cancelled a vacation trip to Europe
because fans wrote and urged that
he be kept on the Metro-Goldwyn
Mayer “Good News” hour.
_hirf_
When you hear the Radio Rubes
singing old ballads from all parts of
the country, you can be sure the
songs are authentic. Mountain mu
sic and old Southern ditties are the
special hobby of Eddie Smith and
Luke Davis of the quintet who come
from North Carolina. Zeb Turney,
who is the Rubes’ announcer, was
brought up on the Western plains.
He knew a big repertoire of cowboy
songs when he was just a young
ster.
By the time Universal gets around
to making their first picture star
ring Charlie McCarthy, Shirley
Temple may be old enough to play
the leading role. First Irene Dunne
was supposed to play the lead. Then
Margaret Sullavan was engaged.
Now the latest word is that Andrea
Leeds, the pretty heroine of “The
Goldwyn Follies,” is going to have !
the fun of making the picture.
Rudy Vallee, who from time to
time gets into battles
tographers, turned
soft-hearted recently
and helped them get
some pictures of
Bing Crosby. Bing
flatly refuses to pose
for news pictures
before or after his
broadcasts. He usu
ally wears an old
sweater or a shirt
open at the neck
and he is afraid that
too much attention Rlldy Va,lee
might be called to
his informal attire. Bing’s love for
real Maine lobsters was his down
fall. A friend had shipped some to
Vallee and he offered to share them
with Bing only if he would pose for
pictures when the presentation took
place.
_ l ;
/In
ODDS AND ENDS—When Janet
Caynor moved into a dressing room at
the Selznick-International studio to
start work on a new picture, the only
personal furnishings she brought along
were lots and lots of photographs of
Tyrone Power . . . Only a few days be
fore Tyrone had confided to l.eilu
Hyams that she was the only motion
picture star he ever wrote a fan letter
to . . . Child labor laws stand in the
way of Bobby Breen s personal appear
ances in some cities. So as not to dis
appoint fans, he stands in the lobby and
greets the customers wherever he is
not allowed to uppear on the stage . . .
Wayne Morris has named his naw po
lice dog “Kid Galahad.’’ .
» Western Newspaper Union.
MOVIE DIRECTOR ...
He’s the man who must close his eyes and dream a
motion picture before the cameras turn. He must trans
form hard, cold, typewritten words from a scenario into
an exciting, attention-compelling story that will draw cus
tomers to the box office. Every inflection in his star’s voice,
every movement of her graceful foot must pass his scrutiny
before the heartless camera records the sequence. He must
fight time to complete production speedily and keep down
expenses. He must fight his own cast sometimes, to dis
suade a temperamental player from stalking off the lot. He
commands an army of property men, technicians, extras
and featured players, depending either on personality or
brute force to keep things moving and finish his picture
according to schedule. If it holds true on the legitimate
stage, it’s also true in the movies . . . THE SHOW MUST
GO ON!
Director Van Dyke is six feet tall, weighs
160 pounds, has dark hair and blue eyes. He
would rather act than direct, successful
though he has been in the latter field. Golf is
his hobby, but he must also work, so Van
Dyke helps s t nine cameras (below) to shoot
an elaborate scene. Dressed in white suit with
dark glasses, he seems unaware of the army
of cameramen swarming about his shoulders.
Van Dyke’s favorite
contemplative pose is
with hand to chin or
nose. Above he discusses
a few more details of
“Rosalie” with Nelson
Eddy, the male star,
and Herbert Stothart,
musical director. Later,
as filming starts on a
mammoth dance se
quence, he apparently
thinks everything’s go
ing swell (right).
...W.S. VAN DYKE
The Man Who Has Been Entertaining
People Since He Was Seven Years Old
The son of a San Diego superior court
judge, W. S. Van Dyke first appeared on the
stage at the age of seven with Fred Butler
and Charles Nichols in San Francisco. He’s
come a long way since, having directed such
opposite type pictures as “Trader Horn”
and “Rosalie.” For his cinematic explora
tion work in “Trader Horn,” “White Shadow”
and “Eskimo” the Japanese government
decorated Van Dyke with the order of the
Rising Sun. “Trader Horn” was an accom
plishment, for he took a large company of
white actors and technicians into darkest
Africa and brought them all out alive. Like
a ship’s captain, Van Dyke directs every
thing about his motion picture sets. Below
he is conferring with Cedric Gibbons, left,
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer art director, and
Charles Chick, center, general production
manager, over details of “Rosalie.”
.... .I l|—Mil III ■
Van Dyke, like most other good
directors, feels that his players can’t
do a happy scene unless they’re actu
ally in a happy state of mind. Hence
he must sometimes hide his own feel
ings when things aren’t going right,
giving an occasional pep talk to keep
the ball rolling. Van Dyke must be a
master craftsman, else he couldn’t
jump from African adventure stories
to a musical romance and have each
of them “click.” Possibly he has an
adept mind like his famous cousin,
Henry Van Dyke, philosopher, writer
and former U. S. ambassador to The
Hague. He is also related to John C.
Van Dyke, art critic who wrote “Art
for Art’s Sake,” now professor of
archeology at Rutledge college. Di
rector Van Dyke may also believe in
“art for art’s sake,” but his art must
have box office appeal as well to
please the producers. Most of Van
Dyke’s pictures make money.
A few minutes to spare so he
chats with Edna Mae Oliver
(above), rehearses her lines and
shoots two close-ups. Below, he
shows Eleanor Powell how she
should emote in the next scene
while Ray Bolger (right) watches
intently. These two pictures illus
trate part of the director’s endless
job of coaxing, praising, scolding
and wheedling. Stars often have
reason to be discouraged. So does
the director. Perhaps Edna Mae
Oliver may have a sore throat to
morrow, or Eleanor Powell may
turn her ankle. Then what?