July 21, 1926: Myrna Loy, A Waking Dream

« They are ruthless negotiators! It’s impossible to reach an agreement over a drink or after a good meal. Everything is hammered out in the sterile dryness of a soulless office, between two puffs of a cigarette by a young American speaking hesitant French, who has absolutely no leeway from the home office to negotiate!»

My friend Pierre-Jean de Venloo, a film producer and distributor, has just joined me at the café where we are regulars. He is still furious with the « Warner guys, » as he calls them—Hollywood’s representatives in France. The deal is simple: you buy an entire year’s worth of Warner Bros. productions. The good films as well as the duds (two-bit westerns, idiotic comedies…). It’s take it or leave it, and if you don’t want it, another French distributor will take your place.

But then, why did he sign?

Pierre-Jean lowers his voice and leans in close so as not to be overheard. His eyes light up, as if suddenly inhabited by a childhood dream or a passion burning from within. A strange silence falls. Even the other patrons in the café seem to hold their breath as my friend opens his briefcase to pull out a precious document.

« Olivier, look at this photograph of this young woman! I would cross the Atlantic for her! She is one of the heroines of a film that is currently a massive hit in the US: Across the Pacific, a somewhat far-fetched spy story set during the Philippine-American War of 1898. I’ve seen some clips, and it’s this very young actress, Myrna Loy, who has literally captivated me. »

I steal a glance at the large-format print. The heroine’s dark, magnetic eyes accentuate her makeup, giving her skin a more matte appearance. Her defiant, guarded stance—that of a rebel who will never yield—and her « island princess » attire command immediate attention.

« You’ll see, Olivier, with this girl, I’m going to make a killing! »

Pierre-Jean has come back down to earth. He never changes, and now he is talking cash registers and projected profits. Relishing the thought and highly voluble, he informs me that he is going to retitle the film around Myrna Loy’s character (even though she only plays a supporting role) and turn her, for the French public, into a Mata Hari of the Pacific!

« You see, Olivier, in France, nobody gives a damn about the Spanish-whatever war in the Philippines! We need to invent something else. We need passion and tears, espionage and blood, women with eyes of fire, and men drawing their rifles— » Stop! I cut him off. Pierre-Jean becomes almost vulgar the moment he talks money.

I prefer to focus on the photo. That extraordinary presence of Myrna Loy. I get the impression she is moving on the print, about to lift her pouting face toward me.

Pierre-Jean leaves me. He left the photograph « with his warmest regards. »

I sip my cup down to the last drops, watching the patrons come and go in this quintessential Parisian café.

That is when a miracle happens. A young Parisian woman steps through the door, her eyes scanning the room for a friend—or perhaps her partner—whom she knows is already seated somewhere. She has regular features; her oval face is defined by large, almond-shaped eyes, a fine, straight nose, and delicately sculpted cheekbones. Her mouth, with its full, perfectly contoured lips, brings both softness and character to her harmonious features. The whole ensemble radiates an elegant beauty that is at once classic, mysterious, and timeless.

I pick up the print again and compare. I am stunned. Aside from the hairstyle, the makeup, and of course the costume, a true reincarnation of Myrna Loy has just walked in.

I set my cup down, trying not to look too flustered, lest I disturb the young lady, who is entirely blameless in this uncanny resemblance. I step out into the street, reeling, wondering if I have just been dreaming. Now, I simply cannot wait to see the film and share another magical moment with Myrna Loy!