Why Don't They Star? (1929) 🇺🇸

Often their beauty overshadows that of the stars they support, but theirs is ever the course of the flashing comet, never the fixed eminence of the star. This brilliant article explains why they are not to be pitied, but envied.

by Willard Chamberlin

This is a bouquet, or a tribute, or at least a word, for those gorgeous creatures who sometimes flash brilliantly and bewitchingly before us in a brief scene or two, giving a dash of color to a dark or drab picture. They have won their reputations by being alluring.

There are a number of first-rank stars who can usually be depended upon to be colorful, brilliant, sparkling — Gloria Swanson, Billie Dove, Greta Garbo, Norma Talmadge, and Jetta Goudal. Their pictures need no other feminine member in their casts to supply color. They are bright, vivid things. What could be dull, or in need of color, in a Mae Murray extravaganza? What is needed to overshadow the feathered grandeur of Aileen Pringle, the jeweled mystery of Jetta Goudal, the magnetic allure of Evelyn Brent, or the delicious naiveté of Olive Borden?

But all pictures are not successions of gorgeous scenes; all heroines are not perpetually beautiful. Then comes the call for contrast, and the highly painted dolls of cinema-land are called to the colors. Are these ravishing creatures appreciated? Too often they are given nothing whatever to do in the way of acting, their only task being to pose in dazzling gowns, furs, and jewels, to lend brilliance. Too often the unappreciative critics term them artificial, or pass them by unmentioned.

Who are these silken sirens and Dresden dolls?

Perhaps Myrna Loy has won as much publicity as any for her portrayal of exotic women. She has been called upon to play vamps, notoriously loose ladies. Oriental dancing girls, Chinese slaves, spies, underworld molls. Her slanting Chinese eyes and dark locks invite the complements of trailing negligees and dangling earrings. She can poise a slender cigarette holder with subtle ease, wear strikingly bizarre gowns, cast languorous glances with those exotic eyes.

"The lady known as Loy" has done well to rise above the milling throng of new faces, who are given publicity by appearing in silly poses in fan magazines. Have you not seen them, with slim legs peeping from beneath a large Valentine in the April number, perched on an enormous firecracker in the July issue, riding on a witch's broom in October, and appearing in the coat part of a Santa Claus costume in December?

These dazzling girls are used to add color to the sometimes whimsical publicity stunts of the producers, and are even lent for commercial advertising of everything from automobiles to nail polish.

Myrna Loy was subjected to such poses, wearing everything unsuitable from pajamas to a Puritan costume. But she has been given a chance to display her strange Oriental beauty in unusual creations which befit her sinuous grace. She has even starred once or twice, but alas, she is not the type to star. She must furnish always the color relief, she must trail in greens and scarlets through cushion-strewn apartments, posing — but, oh, so beautifully!

Gwen Lee, Dorothy Sebastian, and Jane Winton are all unusually attractive, are types which cause more than ordinary attention. They, too, have been subjected to the holiday poses, but have survived them by reason of their distinctive personalities. Gwen Lee, blond and vivacious, with narrow, flirtatious eyes. Can you forget the touches of color she lent to "The Actress"? Or alluring Dorothy Sebastian to "The Demi-Bride"? Or fascinating Jane Winton to "The Patsy"?

Lupe Vélez and Eve Southern both promise dramatic ability, as well as colorful personalities. Both these girls made their initial appearance in "The Gaucho." Lupe, fiery, vivid, like a flashing crimson poppy, snapping her way through a role of madcap abandon; Eve, aloof and tall, dark and dreamy — seen to excellent advantage in "The Naughty Duchess." And that glittering spark of fire, Baclanova — color, vivid, like cold sunlight, and marvelous histrionic ability.

Then there is Anna May Wong, the little Chinese-American actress. She has won fame and favor, but she can never be a star in American pictures. She must ever be the frail Oriental flower, dancing before a lacquered screen, almond eyes slanting a bit sadly behind her carved-ivory fan. But can you forget the vivid touches of color she lent to Across to Singapore, and "The Chinese Parrot"? Or as the alluring slave girl in The Thief of Bagdad?

Carmel Myers has slunk her way sinuously through more than one picture. But she cannot be a star, either. She is that type you "love to hate." The woman you love to see fall to her fate amid a swirl of fringe and a shimmer of silk. And so Carmel Myers in sweeping gowns and white wigs, will lure and be rejected. If you see Renée Adorée in peasant patches, or Norma Shearer in a tailored suit, Carmel Myers may be just around the corner as a glittering countess. Can you forget her Iras, the perfumed temptress, in Ben-Hur?

The regal Betty Blythe, who has descended from the gilded throne she occupied in "The Queen of Sheba," still finds opportunity occasionally to play ladies of color, and despite the fact that she has slipped a bit on her satin trains, the statuesque Betty still may be seen in brief scenes as a queen in Glorious Betsy, as an opera star in Greta Garbo's "The Mysterious Lady," as modistes, and those inevitable "other women."

A score of actresses have won fame as "other women." Not the type for stars, such actresses as Hedda Hopper, Lilyan Tashman, Julia Faye, Gertrude Astor, Natalie Kingston, Mildred Harris, Julanne Johnston, Seena Owen, and Margaret Livingston, have donned their most scintillating costumes and personified the feminine allure.

There are two new personalities who, although they assume, along with Pickford, Philbin, and Astor, the name of Mary, seem destined for vampire roles — Mary Nolan and Mary Duncan. One blonde, one brunette, they are arresting and unusual.

Did you see Charley Murray, in "Do Your Duty"? Did you notice the girl crook in the picture? She was interesting, and contributed a bit of color. And yet her name did not even appear in the cast. It was Yola d'Avril, the little French actress with First National. Wasted in next to needless roles, Mademoiselle d'Avril might be another Myrna Loy. Or the lovely girl appearing as a Grecian princess in the beautiful prologue of "Manhattan Cocktail"? Majel Coleman, although the cast didn't say so. And have you noticed Jocelyn Lee, portrayer of vampires de luxe? And Rose Dione, French actress, cast perpetually as a voluble modiste?

Some of our heroines can very capably handle the vamp role, and can bedeck themselves in jewels and sin with a great deal of effectiveness. Witness Anna Q. Nilsson, as Iris d'Acqila, in "The Whip," Pauline Starke, as a colorful underworld girl, in "Man, Woman, and Wife," or Estelle Taylor, in the role of Lucrezia Borgia, in "Don Juan." And Dorothy Revier, that golden blonde in The Red Dance and "Submarine."

And so the actresses denied stardom do their parts in supporting roles. You think sympathy is due them? Sympathy because their names cannot appear in foot-high electric lights? Well, perhaps they may have a few regrets, but after all, are their positions not more secure than those of the stars? Stars may come and stars may go, but there is always a demand for these colorful ladies whose public does not tire of them in their brief scenes. A few of them fade away, of course. Nita Naldi, Dagmar Godowsky, Arlette Marchal are gone, but it was through their own choosing, not because of lack of public interest. Nita Naldi might return now, if she desired — and reduced. Greta Nissen, the sparkling, naive, little blonde, is doing her luring and flirting on the stage at present, but the screen will doubtless see more of her. Anyway, there is still "Hell's Angels," and Fazil cannot be forgotten overnight.

And so they vamp and pose and dazzle! Not to be pitied, but envied. Their few feet of film are bound to be what the reviewers term an "eyeful."' Gorgeous butterflies, fascinating the fans in one picture after another. And think of the gowns they can wear!

When May McAvoy was trailing about in drab hoods and robes, in Ben-Hur. Carmel Myers was fairly dripping beads and fringe, languishing in all her peacock glory. While Marion Davies posed in the unbecoming costume of a bell hop in The Cardboard Lover, and fell into the lily pond, Jetta Goudal was parading in gowns that would make the French designers tear their latest creations into shreds. And while Marion suffered in simple, little frocks, in "The Patsy," bad Jane Winton sparkled in beaded velvet. While Bebe Daniels did her best in makeshift affairs, in "Take Me Home," Lilyan Tashman wore furs and brilliants by the car-load.

When Colleen Moore donned her Irish maid's uniform, in "Oh Kay," she had to have some naughty lady to wave her duster at, so Julanne Johnston appeared on the scene, looking chic. While Lina Basquette, leading lady in Wheel of Chance, donned a kitchen apron, Margaret Livingston, who attracted more attention than the leading lady herself, lounged about in striking negligees.

And these are the ladies of luxury, secure in their satins, perfect in their pearls, alluringly elegant, gorgeously grand!

Natalie Kingston's Spanish beauty is dazzling, but she has never been considered for stardom. Photo by: Roman Freulich (1898–1974)

Jane Winton's beauty and fascination equal that of many stars. Photo by: Edwin Bower Hesser (1893–1962)

It is Margaret Livingston's prerogative to outshine the star, and she does so with perfect ease. Photo by: Roman Freulich (1898–1974)

Seena Owen is the personification of worldly allure and sartorial gorgeousness.

Anna May Wong never fails to furnish colorful Oriental beauty to any role she plays. Photo by: Roman Freulich (1898–1974)

Myrna Loy has every attribute of stardom, but destiny denies it to her.

Carmel Myers, as Iras, in Ben-Hur, fairly dripped pearls, and since then she has never entirely ceased playing bejeweled temptresses.

Yola d'Avril is wasted on inconsequential roles.

Rose Dione, a brilliant actress, is forever cast as a voluble modiste, more comic than dramatic.

Collection: Picture Play Magazine, July 1929