Owen Nares — Owen Dares (1919) 🇬🇧

On the 11th of August, 1888, Owen Nares first opened his eyes upon this world of ours. It is probable — although it has never been recorded — that the first words his nurse said were “Isn’t he lovely!”

by E. E. Barrett

At any rate, women of every class and kind, young and old, rich and poor, have systematically repeated it ever since, despite their male relatives’ envious reference to “matinee idols” and “Marcel Waves.”

For Owen has been blessed (or cursed) with far more good looks than should be the portion of any one mere male, so Fate naturally decrees that he must be a Flapper’s Idol.

Now a “Flapper’s Idol,” in the ordinary course of events, has no need to do anything on the stage but stand around and look the conventional and beautiful hero, while his admirers enthusiastically applaud. But Owen Nares, apparently, is not satisfied with this sort of thing, and he has very decided views on the subject of himself and his work.

“The worst thing in the world to live down,” he complained when I interviewed him in his dressing room at the Lyric Theatre after a performance of The River, “Is the title of ‘matinee idol.’ People won’t let you act or appear anything but just yourself on the stage or screen.

“I thoroughly enjoyed playing the part of the war-warped hero in Pinero’s The Enchanted Cottage, but I believe there were some people who objected to it on the grounds that I had made myself look crippled and ugly! The same thing happened when I played the role of the Indian prince Zahurudin in the film version of “The Indian Love Lyric.” I grew a moustache and tried to really look the part, and I had letters from all over the place begging me to shave it off because I didn’t look myself! Could anything be more annoying.”

I murmured something sympathetic and asked:

“When did you first decide on a stage career?”

“Almost before I learnt to speak, I think,” he said, laughing. “I was always keen on theatrical work. After I left school I studied for six months with Rosina Filippi, and I made my stage debut on Jan. 28th, 1908. at the Haymarket, in a play called Her Father. I shall always remember that date — even though I did only play a ‘walk on’!

“After that I was lucky enough to land a big part on tour — Harry Leyton in The Thief, and in May, 1909, I was playing at St. James’s in Old Heidelberg. But I’ve had some of my best parts just lately,” he went on reminiscently. Mark Sabre in If Winter Comes, was a fine role — my wife, Marie Polini [Marie Pollini], played with me in that. Then there was The Little Minister and just before that The Enchanted Cottage.”

“And your film work?” I enquired. “What made you take that up?”

“I played my first film role in “Just a Girl,” from the novel by Charles Garvice, more for the novelty of the experience. I don’t think I had any serious ideas on picture work at the time, but I soon found that it was as much an art as stage acting and I so thoroughly enjoyed it that I took it up in real earnest.

“I really believe I prefer film work to stage work now. For one thing it’s possible to do such a lot of work for the camera out of doors, which is something that appeals to me particularly.”

I suggested that he must miss his audience sometimes when he comes straight from a stage success to a screenplay, but he shook his head.

“Personally, I find it better without one,” he said. “An audience varies so — it is never in exactly the same mood from day to day — and the mood of my audience generally has a tremendous effect on my work.”

He spoke of the various films in which he had acted: “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor,” “The Man Who Won,” “The Edge of Beyond,” “The Sorrows of Satan,” “The Faithful Heart” (the stage version of which he also played in) and, amongst his later pictures, “Young Lochinvar” and “Miriam Rozella.”

“There was a time during the war,” he told me, “when I nearly went to America for five years. D. W. Griffith offered me a contract to star in a succession of films, but I had to refuse for several reasons. For one thing I was doing war work during the daytime, and didn’t feel I could give it up.”

As I rose to go I asked him whether he had any film plans for the future.

“Nothing definite,” he said. “I’m going to tour a stage play Cobra for a few months and after that — well, I’m really not sure what I shall do.”

I said good-bye and made for the door, but on the threshold he stopped me.

“Before you go promise me something,” he pleaded.

“Anything!” I murmured fervently.

“Don’t call me ‘a matinee idol.’”

I said I wouldn’t and I haven’t — quite. I think I shall call him the matinee idol who dares to be an actor!

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A scene from Young Lochinvar (Owen Nares and Gladys Jennings).

Owen Nares (photo by Janet Jevons).

Owen and Moyna McGill in Miriam Rozella, in which he set a fashion for movie millionaires by lighting a cigarette with a £5 note.

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Right: A favourite stage role Mark Sabre in If Winter Comes

Below: As Young Lochinvar in the film of that name

Mr. and Mrs. Owen Nares (Marie Polini), off for a few days’ holiday.

Collection: Picturegoer Magazine, September 1925