Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-11-20

(NANA lis the world going old
fashioned? I found the second man
wearing a platinum wedding ring today
Maurice Chevalier, If you please.
bumped into him as he was coming
out of the studio first-aid station, his
right arm in sling. An accident while
he was making a ladder scene for big
revue has temporarily put the French
star out of commission and prevented
his return to the East Coast for the
opening Of his big picture.
A man who wears the ribbon of the
Legion of Honor in his buttonhole
makes light of torn hand, even though
over 1t. We fell to talking.
What do you want to do in pic
! tures?" I asked.
BE a human being that the lowliest
| man in the audience will understand,
will know, will laugh with and cry with
and sing with. That is why I do not
want a cultivated art in my songs; why
I use none of the manneriSnS of the
| actor, have no stock gestures, no tricks.
It Is SO easy to become an entertaining
puppet, so difficult to retain the human
| quality"
He explained all this in his delightful
French accent.
81 am afraid I do not make myself
clear" said Chevalier.
But he makes himself quite clear.
That Is the way to greatness in the type
| singularly fortunate with the oppor-
tunity to work with Ernest Lubitsch.
He can give Continental humor a
| turn which makes it understandable to
| American audiences" says Chevalier.
The French artist says that when he
saw his first talkie in New York he
didn't want to face the people with
whom he was having supper.
II felt like one fool" he exclaimed.
II put on my high hat, CONNIE ca, and,
zut! down Broadway like one fash"
| A good many felt like that at their
first talkie, but they're getting better
now.
A crowd who knew Weber and Fields
| in the old days were down at the village
station to welcome them into the colony
few days ago-Willie Collier, Richard
earle, j. c. Nugent, Alec Francis and
| others.
Here in this bizarre community, where
the dreams of tomorrow become an
actuality the day after tomorrow
through the miracle of money and en-
| ergy Il seem to be leaving brains out
Of it,, a group Of representatives of the
old legitimate will make a turn for a
revue to be done in the 70-millimeter
| SCTeCu OI Tie new regime.
| Fay Templeton, Louis Mann, Joseph
ine Sabel, Weber and Fields-people
who are a tradition to the young gen.
Grafton, fostered through the pleasant
"reminiscences of their parents, will steI
into a new art in its newest improve
ment, closing cycle dramatically full.
And that is as near to serious as one
cares to get. Last night on the boule-
ward small newsie was doing a rafting
business. Motors were stopping with
shrieking brakes and the evening edi-
tions were flying into outstretchec
hands. The urchin was shouting:
| Charlie Chaplin dies-his nous
tache!"
John Mccormack will be a singing
teacher in the story he is now making
in Hollywood under Frank Borsage's
direction. Il almost said baton.)
Some one once said:
John sings like an angel, but he
always looks as If he'd lent his clothes
to an elephant"
The day Of waist line is passed. When
John mentioned to william Fox the
amount he would have to pay him for
talkie Fox answered.
| Mercy! Let's make a merger Of it?"
A certain man is the husband of a
successful movie actress. He's hand
some in a portly way, and his weakness
is baby talk. His wife hates it. She
| gave him the family eye one night.
Helm dust boy-I never drew up
She (fixing her eye on his convex
waist)-You not only drew up-you
drew over.
The technique today, even among
those legitimately entitled to a discreet
coronet on the calling card, in the cor
ner Of the handkerchief or blazoned
chaStely on the cigarette case, is to
allow these tags of grandeur to become
visible as an accident before the right
persons. Word goes around. Delight
full fellow, really. Lord This and That"
The chances for being aSsimilated in
the rawly blue FLOODED state are few.
Local police records estimate that
about half a hundred fake titles have
appeared in Hollywood during the last
year. They are not doing so well as of
yore.
Time was when all young man had
to do was assemble a few hundred dol
lars, SpatS. waist-line coats, an imposing
array of luggage and superior air, and
sign himself at any smart hotel in the
vicinity as the Comte de Something or
other. Immediately he received invita-
lions to visit at homes where the pres
ence of a titled guest would add to the
publicity appeal of the moment or en-
trench the host with a layer of high
salaried artists who were in the title
hunting racket.
The hosts received few death blows