Evening star., 1939-06-18

he said."I would like to make a
picture with you some day"
That was all, no promise, nothing,
When Mr.. Korda had forgotten me,
I was sure, a message came to re-
port at Elstree. 1t was for another
dreaded test. For an hour I turned
this way and that. grinned, grimaced
and groaned. Right in the middle of
1t laughed, long and loud. 1t was
too funny.
Little things have such terrifying
Importance at times. That laugh
got me job in the cinema, when
everything else had failed. Later
Mr.. Korda told me he was about to
turn my test off in the projection
room. My laugh changed his mind.
Before you laughed" he admitted,
L was convinced you were cross
eyed!"
Weeks later London Films rang
me up and told me Mr.. Korda
wanted me for part in a film of
Oxford life, Men of Tomorrow
cannot truthfully report I Gre
ated great sensation in Men of
Tomorrow. But I did get parts
IN two other pictures that year,
THAT Night in London" and Cash" !"
Things were Frightening up. After
Henry VIII" in which 1 appeared
with Charles Laughton, I returned
to the stage in THE Sleeping Clergy
man." which was my first long run,
the play remaining at the Piccadilly
for seven months. I had a particu-
larly hard time of it, playing young
consumptive genius who dies in the
first act, then his descendant, first
a boy of 10, then an Army officer of
about 80, and finally scientist of
so, who saved the world from
plague. 1t was good training, al
though wasn't aware of it at the
time, for "Goodby, Mr.. Chips" in
which l 60 from a young man of "a
to very old man of 83. But that is
jumping ahead.
The terrific strain of such a part
forced me to take a holiday when
the play closed. and I went to Corn
wall, completely fatigued.
When I went away, I left instruc-
tlons that on no account was to be
disturbed by letter, telegram or
telephone. But l had been at Corn
wall only a week when I received
a letter from Mr.. Korda, asking me
to ring him up. sent him a courte-
Gus, but brief reminder that was
on a holiday, not on business.
A longer letter followed, then a
telegram Of tremendous length. beg
glng me to take the first train to
London. Very reluctantly, 1 returned,
and was taken Immediately into Mr..
korda's private room. Hello. Bob.
he said. You are wanted for Monte
Cristo.'"
1t Will be to my everlasting regret
that my first visit to Hollywood
happened Immediately after a long.
exhaustlng stage run in an eXacting
part. There I was, given the Won
derful opportunity of playing prob
ably the greatest romantic role in
all literature. l ought to have been
at the top of my form. Instead of
that, I arrived in HOLLYWOOD tired
out and overwhelmed by the seduc
tive Southern California climate, and
wanted to sleep all the time.
After The Count of Monte Cristo !"
nothing could have kept me in Hol-
lyWood. I was dreadfully homesick.
l said, No" to the offer of another
contract from Mr.. Thalberg, and
turned down Broadway run in
The Sleeping Clergyman I was
stubborn about it. which I often
have regretted. and was labeled In
dependent" "Obstinate" and even
The Garbo Man" That doesn't
matter now.
Back in England. I did a plav.
Mary Read" and then found myself
again working in film studio. with
Madeleine Carroll in Thirty Nine
Steps" directed by Alfred Hitchcock.
After that came THE Ghost Goes
West THE Ghost" was a happy
picture for many reasons. Chief of
these was being presented to Queen
Mary and the Duchess of Kent at
the premiere screening.
Play-reading was my main re-
taxation. I had on my hat and
coat, the night I picked up the
script of Red Night" and skinned
through the first three pages. I had
promised to take my wife to the
theater. but We did not go out that
evening. Instead. we read Red
Night" through to the end. In the
small hours of Sunday morning. I
rang up the author, James Lands