Call It a Day (Warner Bros.) (1937)

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DELIGHTFUL COMEDY IN SERIAL FORM FICTIONIZATION A Cosmopolitan Production Released by Warner Bros., Screen Play by Casey Robinson from the Play by Dodie Smith; Featuring Olivia de Havilland, Ian Hunter, Anita Louise, Frieda Inescort, Alice Brady and Roland Young; Directed by Archie Mayo and Coming to the BS Oe Ege ems get: ert 3 Theatre ons 62 aes Fictionized by HARRY LEE CHAPTER I: Morning ‘‘Good morning, Mrs. ’Awkins! day !’’ Treacherous sort of a ‘‘Tiooks all right to me, Mrs. Milsom!’’ If the first speaker resembled a bedraggled hen—the other —as she worked in the sunlight that flooded the Hilton kitechen—looked for all the world like a plump pigeon. It was the first day of Spring —and morning—and whirlwinds of mischief, fun and flirtation lay ahead of the unsuspecting Hiltons—Roger and Dorothy— and their lively trio of in-theteens youngsters—Martin, Catherine and Ann! “Yes, Mrs. ’Awkins,” the melancholy Mrs. Wilsom agreed. “The day does look all right. That’s what’s wrong with it. Tempts people. They goes laying off things and first thing they know they’re took down with somethink!” A new maid, Vera, bearing the tea tray to the master’s room —got her first glimpse of the Hilton young folks—in the midst of a shrill fight over bathroom priority. Later, the Hilton dog started a fracas with the next door ecat—which brought a pretty blonde head over the wall—and gave Martin his first sight of Joan Collett—who, before the day was over, was to lead him a merry chase! Martin, a gangling lad of seventeen, was moping because his Dad wouldn’t let him go motoring over the Continent. Catherine, stormy, dark and eighteen, was in the throes of unrequited love for a married artist who was painting her portrait —much to his annoyance and his wife’s amusement. Eager, fragile, bright-haired Ann was reading Rosetti and believing herself a budding poet. The Hiltons finally arrived at the breakfast table—Daddy at his bluffest—Mother her loveliest and the yellow bird almost bursting his throat with song. Dad said the one thing lacking was radishes—and Mother playfully assured him he’d have them at dinner. “But I’m liable to be late,” he said, getting up briskly. “T have an appointment with Beatrice Gwynn, the actress! Income tax. Some sort of a jam about her American earnings. . “By Jove, I believe Vll walk a First Day of Spring Olivia De Havilland as Catherine Hilton (right foreground) — Bonita Granville as her younger sister Ann—Frieda Inescort as Dorothy Hilton, their mother—Peter Willes as Martin, the son of the family—-and lan Hunter as Roger Hilton, head of the house. Elsa Buchanan as Vera the maid, (left) in a scene from “CALL IT A DAY”—the Cosmopolitan picture released by Warner Bros.— which opens at the —- TIRCOLL CLO ie eee ee, bit!” he said, giving Dorothy a pat on the cheek, and was off. He stood aside to let a pretty girl get off the bus first, and she gave him such a radiant smile, that he felt twenty years younger! But that was all of that! Miss Gwynn was waiting. Mother drove Ann to school. Martin and Catherine went to their rooms moodily—and the old house was in possession of the wind, the sun, the canary, the new maid, Vera—genial Mrs. 6 CHAPTER FICTIONIZATION FREE If your editor is looking for a real Spring serial, full of action and funny dialogue, he’ll weleome this one. Comes to you in mimeograph form with 6 stills for illustration. They’re yours for the asking. If you wish the 6 mats for chapter headings order Mat No. 501 B—50ce from CAMPAIGN PLAN EDITOR 32 “West 44th St: Ne. ¥2 C. Hawkins, the cook—and doleful Mrs. Milsom who kept repeating to herself: “It is a treacherous day, so it is!” Dorothy went to the green grocer’s to get the radishes the moment after a small, dapper man with an extremely comical face —had made a couple of purchases. The two collided leaving the store—down went all the bundles—and, picking them up, the amusing little man got them mixed. This led to apologies, laughter, and the fact that Dorothy waved back with a devastating smile as she drove away —while the little man raised his hat profoundly! Mrs. Hilton did not know that the little man was the brother of her most astonishing friend, Muriel. His name was Frank West and he was just back from India! (To be continued) PICK UP HEADING The Story So Far: The First Day of Spring (The Devil’s Holiday) and the agreeable Hiltons of London—Roger, Dorothy, and their lively, in-the-teens youngsters, Martin, Catherine and Ann — feel the weather. Mother runs afoul of a comically amorous small man just back from India. Catherine thinks she is in love with the married artist who’s painting her portrait, Martin meets the blonde next door, and Dad has a date with an actress. CHAPTER II: Forenoon ‘“Good morning, Miss Lester!’’ Roger Hilton, his spirits riding high, found his rather wistful secretary arranging Spring flowers on his desk as he strode jauntily into his office. ‘‘A fine day for work, by Jove! We can roll up our sleeves and bang right through it, Miss Lester—and quit early, eh?”’ But Miss Lester was soon exeused. Roger was sniffing at the flower in his lapel and thinking of the pretty girl on the bus who had smiled at him as though he were twenty — when his wife blew in on the March wind, all ruddy with the sting of it. Wasn’t he worried a bit about Catherine’s recent nervousness? Was he sure the child should be going alone to the studio of Paul Francis to sit for her portrait? Had Beatrice Gwynn called about her income tax? “And, by the way, Roger, I bought you the radishes you asked for, and you'll be home early, won’t you?” Roger reassured her and sped her on her way with a dutiful kiss. He’d loved Dorothy for twenty years. She had barely reached home when her gushing friend, Muriel, was on the telephone. “Dorothy, darling, isn’t it the most marvelous day ever? Can’t you just feel the sap running? I can! Let’s do something different ?— Oh, bother the cleaning! You should see my house! Let’s go shopping and to a matinee—go to see Beatrice Gwynn! Well, that’s settled! I’m going to hang up before you change your mind!” Beatrice Gwynn took her own good time to keep her appointment with Roger. She came after the matinee and had no sooner caught a glimpse of the handsome’ Britisher—than she decided he was infinitely more interesting than her income tax. She at last won his reluctant promise to call at her apartment that same evening where there would be “more time to work,” as she put it. Then she willowed away—much to the disgust of Miss Lester—in a cloud of cigarette smoke — with a swooning smile. After the exhausting shopping trip, and the matinee, Muriel insisted that Dorothy stop in for a rest at the apartment of “dear brother Frank.” As they climbed the four flights, Muriel rattled on,. “Oh, he’s .a darling; Dot! Dresses for dinner every night! Thinks women are on a higher plane, you know! One of those! Just back from India, poor boy, and the rubber industry! Tm marrying him off to dear old Dot A Matter Walton! He says he’s afraid ghe’s grown stout and stodgy! He’s balky, Dot, but you’ll love him!” Dear brother Frank — on beholding the lovely lady he had collided with at the green grocer’s that very morning—was so excited that he mistook Muriel’s fluttery introduetion of Dot Hilton—as Dot Walton—and at once began astonishingly fervent love of Taxes” lan Hunter as Roger Hilton and Marcia Ralston—as Beatrice Gwynn—London actress—who has come to the goodlooking solicitor to have him adjust her income tax—and decides the adjustor himself is more interesting than the adjustment—in an amusing scene from “CALL IT A DAY,” the Cosmopolitan picture released by Warner Bros.-—which opens at the Theatre 0n eees e making. Muriel put on the shoes she had kicked off to rest her feet, picked up her bundles, and said good bye, and with a mischievous wink at Dorothy, departed. Dorothy explained that she was a married woman with three practically grown-up children! Brother Frank was quite bowled over at first by the news—but when she started down the stairs he followed, declaring that she couldn’t possibly be happily mar-. ried and suggested how dearly he would love to be invited to her house that evening to prove the truth of her statement! Dorothy, in desperation, agreed and left. At the same moment, Cather-* ine, looking like Pierrette in her fluffy things, was sitting for her | portrait in the studio of handsome, worldly Paul Francis. Catherine simply couldn’t keep her gaze from wandering from the book in her lap toward the artist’s face. When he reprimanded her with mild irritation she came toward him, pale, melodramatically quiet—a miniature edition of the woman scorned. “Oh, | Paul—Paul,” she sighed—“I wish I were dead—Paul, that morning on Primrose Hill when it was all beginning .. .” “Oh, for heaven’s sake, shut up. Beginning? Why, I never even: kissed you! Or did 1?” “You were going to, when that wretched tramp came along!” “Bless him!” Paul ejaculated —as his knowing wife entered smilingly with the tea. “I’m— going home—I—I—” stammered Catherine. (To be continued) Page Nine