The old sporting adage, "they never come back," usually applies
as surely to film stars as to boxers. Marie Dressier" came back" at the age of sixty, and her hold on the public continued unbroken until her death last week. A few months ago I came across a revival of her first screen success—Tillie's Punctured Romance— one of the early slapstick comedies which set Charlie Chaplin on the road to fame. She had then a long and variegated stage career already behind her, but not much more was heard of her at Hollywood until the talkies suddenly made her fortune. They demanded something besides brainless good looks, and her deep voice and her theatrical experience were valuable at last. Another reason I have heard suggested for her success—which began with Anna Christie in 1930—is that she suited the mood of an America struck by economic depression. She was the old war-horse who knew hard times but never gave in. So she became the grand old lady of Hollywood, and there is no need, I think, to discount as a publicity man's invention the widespread affection which was felt for her both by the public and by members of the film colony.
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