Item Info

Publication Date: 5/29/1914
Media Type: House Organs
Source: Theatre Collection
Notes:

Florene Hackett

   Because she is both a gifted actress and a superlative type of womanhood Florence Hackett holds an enviable place among the circle of her intimates. The brilliant characterist of the Arthur V. Johnson photoplays is known to many by reason of her uncommonly able performances in Mr. Johnson’s two-and three-reel features, as well as in scores of his single-reel comedies and dramas. Her rise is another instance of what talent, backed by brains and determination, will accomplish. Two and a half years ago she was assigned by the Lubin management to Mr. Johnson’s company. At first she supplied “atmosphere,” played minor character bits and was always in readiness to undertake what a more important player would decline. Then second parts were regularly assigned to her, and gradually the motion-picture public came to associate her with Johnson photoplays. At this time she was given her first character lead and shortly afterward scored a series of successes in widely different roles in Mr. Johnson’s important productions. To-day Florence Hackett parts are any which demand exceptional emotional strength and the ability to efface the player’s personality completely. She is equally convincing and satisfying as a self-centered society butterfly or a grief-crazed fishwife. As Rosa, the Italian, in “The District Attorney’s Conscience,” Miss Hackett’s artistry was seen in its fullest flower. Her transformation from an American gentlewoman of to-day to the tortured, frenzied wife of Tony was a coup which raised her from a merely competent actress to the valuable artist with a fixed future. Miss Hackett treasures a memento of that role in a letter received from a prominent criminal lawyer of New Orleans who, in a practice extending over twenty-eight years, declares that he has never seen so faithful a portrayal of the Italian temperament outside the courtroom. Yet as Julia Radnor, the capitalist’s daughter, in “A Leader of Men,” she was the woman of society – selfish, luxurious, steady in her purpose to gain her own ends, with all outward signs of the wretched Italian erased, and with no suggestion of Crazy Mary, the misjudged, forsaken wife of the fisherman in “The Sea Eternal,” nor of the innocent Florence Randall in “The Parasite.”

   It is just this skill in achieving definite characterizations which makes Miss Hackett’s rank as an actress what it is, but her distinction as a woman is known only to her associates. 

   Hers is a character essentially appealing, for she embodies all the traits of ideal womanhood. T[the paper is ripped here]r, sympathetic, modest, retiring – she is an actress because of necessity, not because she enjoys the excitement and shallow rewards of the life. A score of small, unobtrusive charities – kindness, she would call them – have endeared her to the rank and file of Lubin workers. They cannot be enumerated, but to those familiar with life in the average studio there come to mind cases where a pair of warm gloves, a lift in one’s motor to an old lady, or a doctor sent hurriedly to someone in distress would have been a Godsend. Behind a personality finished, cultured, rich in variety, Miss Hackett adheres to a simple purpose – To Help.

   Fads do not seem compatible with a woman so well-poised, and if Miss Hackett has a hobby it may be said to be the study of clothes and the wearing of beautiful ones. She has original and entertaining theories regarding the science of dress and has embodied her ideas in several magazine articles. The actress’s penchant for exquisite apparel does not take the form of loading her person with as startling a display  of the couturier’s extravagance as her purse will allow, but finds an outlet in subtly expressing her own individuality through restful harmonies and lines of rich simplicity. Her love for flowers has brought Miss Hackett many hours of diversion and relaxation. In the summer a tiny garden permits countless cares and experiments in the uncertainties of floriculture, and in the winter her rooms hold many potted plants. Lately Miss Hackett has been taking lessons in the arrangement of cut flowers from one of a race who have made an art of that sort of thing – a Japanese. Both on the stage and on the screen Miss Hackett sees the poor taste shown in the use of flowers, and looks forward to the day when an artist will have charge of such details. Hyacinths in August and poppies in January are known to be incongruous, just as the half-dozen wiry roses jammed in a vase are irritating to the sensitive eye. It is in the aesthetic trifles that Miss Hackett looks for improvement in photoplay production. 

   Not often does it happen that an actress so generously endowed physically seeks to efface herself in character roles, but such are Miss Hackett’s preference. The complexion like warm ivory she delights inn covering with dark greasepaint and lining pencil; the soft brown hair gives her most satisfaction when it is drawn back under an ugly wig, and her figure she admires tremendously when it has been padded to resemble an old woman’s. And no matter what part she plays on the screen she has the joy of knowing that she is keeping secret from the public a jewel of a gift – a voice that could only belong to the woman with a heart!

Call Number: Lubin - Bulletin I:12