Alice Day — The Girl Who Wouldn't Undress (An Impression of Alice Day) (1929) 🇺🇸
She caused a small sensation in a crazy city where the word "No" is only spoken in whispers or in fun, if at all. She said it right out. What's more, she repeated it. And then she said it again It cost her her job. It gave her a reputation for temperament and horrid things like that. But she stuck to it. It's her favorite word.
Alice Day, I mean. That little, soft-voiced, sweet-faced, shy thing with the big brown eyes and baby mouth. That sweet, baby girl. A girl for petting and protection. And a girl who never needed it. Alice knows her own mind and makes her own way. But she doesn't look it. And that's the trick. To be able to say "No" while looking as if she is saying "Yes" — well, that means money in Hollywood. By all the rules this little Day should be one of the yes-girls. She's cuddly, and cute, and gentle. She looks like "Yes" — and keeps on saying "No." Until strong men gnash their teeth and fume and pound their desks and pace — and much good it does 'em!
She is perfectly natural. She never has cared an awful lot about being an actress. Her clever and charming mother recognized in Alice and Marceline a potential pair of Pickfords or Talmadges and trotted them to the studios. They were welcome. They still are. They make good money and have a pretty home with cars and canines and all the trimmings. Alice remains unimpressed. She isn't crazy about picture work. Oh, she's ambitious enough; and she enjoys her work, and wants to get along. But she is also quite capable of falling sincerely in love some day and getting married and going in for a life of unadulterated domesticity. In other words, going quite, quite real. And somehow you don't always feel that about a movie girl. Alice would like, she says sometimes, wistfully, to be married and have children. The hustle and bustle of the studios don't spell life to her. She is not a member of any particular picture clique. She likes people but has few intimate friends. Not that she high-hats parties or disapproves. But she doesn't like that sort of thing. She doesn't giggle. She doesn't smoke. She acts ten years or so older than her sister Marceline. Actually, she is only about one year older.
The Historic Negative
The time she uttered her historic "No" was when Mack Sennett was going to star her in "The Romance of a Bathing Girl" or some such title. Since she first arrived on Mr. Sennett's lot she had been playing character ingénues — you remember her, half-hoyden, half-heroine, in those two-reel Alice Day pictures. She was the only girl in the comedy factory who appeared entirely clothed at all times and in all scenes and seasons. She wore funny costumes and cavorted, but always with a certain quiet dignity. There was no bathing suit in her wardrobe. Then Sennett decided to produce his feature production, with Alice Day as heroine. It was her chance to step into full-length films and she welcomed it. Her enthusiasm abated, however, when she was asked to don an abbreviated costume. She didn't like it, but she argued with herself: "Oh, well, I'm a business woman. It's part of my job." On her first appearance in the scanties before her director-boss it was suggested that the costume was much too modest. A bit off here, and a little off there and it would be better box-office. Alice wouldn't mind having it changed a little, would she? Alice had always been so earnest and hard-working and conscientious — she'd stand for it. It was then Alice spoke up: "No, Mr. Sennett. It's bad enough as it is. I won't wear it if it's any smaller." Mr. Sennett said: "Oh, yes, you will." "Oh, no, I won't," said Alice. And said it again. And she had the last word — as she walked off the lot. She never made another Sennett picture and it was a little while before she worked for any other company. In Hollywood any actress tagged "temperamental" finds the studio gates shut and bolted against her. But so much charm in such a tidy little parcel couldn't remain unclaimed in the movie city — and so Alice soon found herself working in bigger and better parts and pictures than she'd ever had before. She had said "No" — and had got away with it. It hadn't happened before and, so far as I know, hasn't happened again.
On the Brink of Yes
She was reported engaged to Carl Laemmle, Jr. Each has had crushes since but she still speaks of Junior in a wistful way. But then Alice usually seems wistful. Her most practical actions are invested with glamour and significance because of that wistfulness. She is among the most capable and self-contained of all the girls in pictures. No one has ever seen her fussed or flurried. She proceeds quaintly, quietly — and assuredly. Not even in her celebrated encounter with the famous Irishman, Mister Mack, did she waver. She does pretty much as she pleases. And she always pleases to do the right thing. This may sound as if Miss Day belongs in the category of pretty but uninteresting cuties. Hut no. The charm of this Alice is that she always looks as if she might weaken at any moment. That properly approached and impressed she may decide to say "Yes." She never has and I suppose she never will. But it means something to look like that, especially in Hollywood.
She's in a talking picture now. She came East to make speaking sequences for "Times Square" — one of the first picture girls to have her voice recorded. It was her first visit to Manhattan and she didn't want to leave. Nothing personal; just the shops and theaters and the big city feel of it. Behold one movie actress who could exist, who could even be happy, away from Hollywood. Alice would never miss it.
She has good manners and excellent taste. People who met her in New York for the first time were sufficiently impressed to pay her the Manhattanites' tribute: "She doesn't look like a movie actress." Meaning, probably, that she eschews velvets and laces and feathers and goes in for smart, simply tailored things. And that she doesn't crook her little finger.
Her voice, by the way, has a haunting quality. It's sweetly sensuous. Anyone slightly discouraged by the girlish wistfulness of her ensemble would instantly recover interest at the sound of that voice. If the microphone does right by Alice, she is in for a busy, prosperous season. Rather a nice Day.
Caricature by Armand
Collection: Motion Picture Classic Magazine, February 1929
If the titles of her last two pictures — "Phyllis of the Follies" and "Red-Hot Speed" — mark a trend, we shrink from speculating upon what the third may be.
Photo by: Lansing Brown (1900–1962)
Collection: Motion Picture Classic Magazine, January 1929