Articoli marcati con tag ‘Hollywood’

Leslie Howard Speaks His Mind, 1933

Leslie Howard Speaks His Mind

In an interview with Doris Mackie

Every now and again something extra pleasant falls to the interviewer’s lot. It may be a talk with someone comparatively unknown, who yet has an arresting personality and a story to tell, or it may be a talk with someone famous, who turns out to be even more interesting than you had expected. Leslie Howard belongs to the latter category.
There was, to begin with, something rather interesting in the fact that he had chosen to stay at one of the smaller and older London hotels instead of one of the modern caravanserais where film stars usually congregate, although, I suppose, it only meant that he knew his London, and knew where he wanted to go.

Leslie Howard and Ann Harding in The Animal Kingdom

“With either play or novel the treatment is always the danger – everything depends on the way it is transferred to the screen.” Leslie Howard with Ann Harding in “The Woman in His House,” soon to be shown at the cinema

Full of Ideas

He was alone when I was shown up. He looked tremendously fit, and it seemed somewhat appropriate that he should be reading a book on horses. He is, as you know, long and lean and fair. His voice is particularly quiet, and he is an easy person to talk to, because he is full of ideas, and doesn’t mind putting them into words.
We began on the subject of film stories. I knew it must interest him, because he freely exercises the option his contract gives him to turn down those of which he does not approve.
“A great many of the stories filmed,” he said at once, “are entirely unsuitable for filming, let alone for any particular actor. The screen suffers because producers simply have to go on making films. No stage producer ever put a play because he has to use a theatre. But all the big film producers are absolutely forced to turn out films at a certain rate to keep their theatres supplied, and for that reason a great number of stories are filmed which should never be done at all.
“The actor must remain free if he is to survive. I didn’t realise that when I started, but after the first six months I stipulated that I should always have the final word on the stories in which I played. An actor can suffer tremendously from bad material or faulty casting.”
I asked him how he went about the selection of his stories, and he told me that he had tried to apply theatrical standards.
“For the stage you go on reading plays till you find one you like- and if you don’t find it you don’t produce it.
“I have never played in a story written for the screen, although some have been done. Most films, of course, are taken from a novel or a play. Of the two the play is more dangerous, for a photographed play is not a good film.
“The stage is a literary medium concerned with words. It should be just as interesting if the actors simply sat down and talked all the time without moving. Stage movement is entirely artificial- you cannot get real action between four walls. All the same, a good play photographed is better than a poor pictorial story.
“Of course, with either play or novel the treatment is always the danger- everything depends on the way the thing is transferred to the screen. And you’ve got to remember that when you are transferring a play it has to be seriously condensed. In ‘The Woman in His House’ we had to do the three acts in the space of two.”
Mr. Howard considers that since the introduction of talkies the art of cinema has been standing still. It should, he believes, be fifty per cent. silent; that is to say, at least fifty per cent. action.
“It’s a very fascinating medium, and a very difficult one to work in, since it is a combination of so many arts, but photography is the most important of them all. The camera is still the principal factor in making a film, although it has been grossly neglected since the talkies came in.”

Leslie Howard and Mary Pickford in Secrets

Leslie Howard and Mary Pickford in “Secrets,” which Mr. Howard likes least of all his films “partly because they changed the story”

Film He Likes Least

Going back to the story question, I asked him which of his films he liked least, and the answer came back without hesitation.
“Secrets,” he said at once, “but that was partly because they changed the story. It was originally an English play, and they turned it into an American one. Then it is old-fashioned - actually it is only twelve years old, but it might be fifty- and full of theatrical convention. also, it is very difficult, almost impossible, to put biography on the talking screen. I, personally, find it very hard to believe in the passage of an enormous number of years when I am watching a film. It was better in the silent days- before the dialogue slowed things up to such an extent you could cover more ground- and, of course, on the stage the intervals, while people talk and walk about, help to strengthen the illusion of the passage of time.
“I was a little bit hesitant about ‘Secrets’ in the first place, but I fell for it because the whole connection was so interesting. Mary Pickford is a great friend of mine. Frank Borzage is one of the best directors in the world, and was fresh from a perfect success in ‘A Farewell to Arms.’ Frances Marion, on of the best writers in Hollywood, did the scenario. But in spite of it all ‘Secrets’ didn’t quite come off.

A Fascinating Story

Leslie Howard and Heather Angel in Berkeley Square

“Berkeley Square is a fascinating story- the sort that is very rarely written and still more rarely put over.” Leslie with Heather Angel in the film

It seemed natural to ask him next which film he considered his most successful, and his answer was equally unhesitating.
“Berkeley Square,” he said, “the last film I made- it hasn’t been shown over here yet. I liked it best of all my stage plays, and I like it best on the screen. It is a fascinating story- the sort that is very rarely written, and still more rarely put over.
“I liked ‘Smilin’ Through’ a lot, though. I didn’t think I was going to be in it after I turned down the part of Kenneth Wayne. There are some good moments in the part, and Fredric March made a big success of it, but it didn’t appeal to me. It was more or less a straight love story, on Romeo and Juliet lines. The old man, John Carteret, had the more interesting part of the story, though it may have been less popular with the audience. I mentioned casually that I liked it, and then thy offered it to me.”
When he goes back to America he is going to do Somerset Maugham’s story “Of Human Bondage” for R.K.O.It is his own selection- he turned down so many of the stories they put up to him that in desperation they asked him to suggest something!
“I wish you would tell me something about the stories you turned down,” I said, and he very obligingly complied.
“There was that thing that Constance Bennet played in,” he said, and for a minute he couldn’t recall the name. We found it between us- “Rockabye.” The whole story struck him as a piece of nonsense, very trite and unbelievable.
“The company found that out, too,” he said. “They spent 400,000 dollars on the first edition, and didn’t like it, so they did it again, with another director and some new characters, and spent another 400,000 dollars. Altogether it must have cost them over a million, and it wasn’t any better in the end.”
Another rejection was “Three Came Unarmed,” in which it was proposed that he should play with Katharine Hepburn.
“The book was interesting,” he agreed, “but when it was boiled down to bald facts it would have been simply awful as a film. They couldn’t make anything of it, and dropped it in the end.”
A third part which he turned down was another which would have seen him with Katherine Hepburn- “Christopher Strong.”
“I didn’t like the man….”
“As a man or as a part?”
“As a man. It was a real enough part, but he was an uninteresting creature- conventional. He didn’t lead a conventional life, of course, but his very unconventionality was conventional. To be really interesting,” quoth Leslie Howard quite seriously, although his eyes were twinkling, “a part must have a little touch of madness in it. Why should an audience go to see what they can see every day? The man in ‘The Woman in His House,’” he remarked firmly, “is just a little bit cracked!”

Refreshingly Different

Katharine Hepburn

“Katharine Hepburn is refreshingly different. She doesn’t rely, as nearly all the American girls do, on sex-appeal”

I asked him what he thought of Katharine Hepburn, as he had been so near to playing with her on two occasions. He thinks she has the making of a great actress in her. Her very hardness he finds interesting, although he is not sure whether it is the crudity of youth or a New England characteristic which will remain with her always. “She is refreshingly different,” he said, “she doesn’t rely, as nearly all the American girls do, on sex-appeal.”
All the same, I think he must be fundamentally uncertain about her greatness, for a few minutes later he was telling me that he thought that seventy-five per cent. of greatness in film acting lay in sex-appeal, the rest being a compound of imagination and technique.
“And no matter how great the technique may be,” he said, “it is useless without sex-appeal- that something they call X in America…”
He told me a little about the film he is to make in this country for Gilbert Miller. so far he has read the rough draft only, which he had in the States, and not the final script, but he describes it as light, very pleasant comedy. He doesn’t know yet who his leading lady will be, although half a dozen girls in the States confided in him that they had been signed up for the part! His own idea is that it calls for someone like Yvonne Printemps, so it will be interesting to see who is the final selection.
He likes comedy as much as serious stuff, and considers it a far finer test of the actor, but, like most of the very fine player I have met, he prefers variety in his parts and stories and hates what he calls eternal sameness.

All An Actor’s Tricks

“Besides,” he said shrewdly, “it doesn’t do to stick to one type of thing too long. The public get tired of it- begin to think that they know all your tricks.”
I’d have liked to go on talking to him for hours. He is so clear-cut in his ideas, so interestingly frank in his point of view, so definite- almost mathematically so- in his statements. But Mrs. Howard (all I saw of her was a hat peeping round the door) wanted to know where the children were, and I realised that I had been monopolising him for nearly an hour, which had seemed like a quarter of that time.
I left quite sadly (for a Leslie Howard doesn’t fall to one’s lot every day), but with a very definite insight into the factors which account for his popularity and his success. He isn’t only a very fine actor- he’s a very intelligent one, and brains go a very long way indeed in this year of grace.

(Film Weekly, July 21, 1933)

Leslie Howard: “Cinema”, 1935


Il vero suo nome è Leslie Stainer. Era impiegato di banca quando scoppiò la guerra mondiale; e sebbene giovanissimo si arruolò volontario. Il fatto è ch’egli mordeva il freno, nel pacifico posto impiegatizio; si sentiva fatto per grandi slanci e pel movimento, voleva adoprare le sue forze – compresse ma appunto per questo più vive; ovvero, sentiva il sangue urgergli, e doveva dargli uno sfogo. La guerra fu accolta da lui come la liberazione. Finita la guerra, Leslie Stainer non volle a nessun costo tormare nella banca – ma dove, dove trovare un nuovo campo di battaglia, sul quale impegnare tutto, dopo aver bruciato dietro di sé i vascelli borghesi? Si ricordò d’un tratto che nella scuola aveva recitato, e recitato con gusto e bravura. Detto fatto: “reciterò anche nella vita”. S’avvicinò energico e coraggioso a un palcoscenico di Londra, e dopo qualche tempo, sia pure oscuramente, poté debuttare: ottenne un ruolo di due minuti esatti in Peg del mio cuore. A questa minuscola esperienza seguirono altre, sempre più decisive: la vita però era dura. Non si contavano gli insuccessi, gli alti e bassi, periodi di disoccupazione. “Ho passato mesi interi alimentandomi solo con tè, latte e pane duro. La mia famiglia stava bene e mi avrebbe aiutato ben volentieri, ma io non volevo che poi mio padre e fratelli potessero burlarsi del mio insuccesso. ” Oggi Leslie Howard, lasciato da gran tempo dietro le spalle il viso sparuto e gli occhi febbrili di Leslie Stainer in cerca di fortuna e di gloria, racconta ciò sorridendo. Lui, l’antiborghese bellicoso degli anni oscuri, è diventato un perfetto borghese – ma, questo è vero, anche un artista. Per Leslie Stainer gli anni duri furono soltanto tre o quattro; egli possedeva sicure doti pel suo mestiere avventuroso, e soprattutto una volontà incrollabile, che gli offriva continue e perenni risorse. Entrato in quell’ambiente con un guardaroba meschino, incominciò presto a essere vestito con la più sobria e albionica eleganza. Le sue giacche con le spalle scese, i suoi pantaloni diritti e stretti, le sue tube perfette – a Hollywood, come i capi di vestiario analoghi del suo compatriota Ronald Colman, sono segnati a dito come gli esempi più puri della pura eleganza inglese. Ma anche a Londra egli fu presto l’attore aristocratico per eccellenza. Fece anche del cinematografo, avendo fondato assieme a Charles Aubrey Smith (oggi famoso e impareggiabile caratterista anziano, con tratti severi e nobileschi, del cinema americano) e, se non erro, al regista Adrian Brunel, una Casa intitolata a Minerva. Howard lavorò anche come regista e soggettista, a quel tempo, poi tutto fu interrotto da una lussuosa scrittura in America – Broadway, Hollywood non ancora. Erano passati soltanto cinque anni (o pochissimi di più) dal suo ruolo di due minuti esatti in Peg del mio cuore. I teatri di Broadway lo accolsero on sommo onore, egli recitò da par suo Shakespeare, il Peer Gynt ibseniano e non so più quali altre opere. Ma tra queste, di sicuro, ce ne fu una scritta da lui stesso, Murray Hill, ch’egli seppe tenere sul cartellone per tre mesi consecutivi, e ci fu una commedia di Frederick Lonsdale (Aren’t we all) che gli procurò il più grosso trionfo novaiorchese e fu tenuta sul cartellone per due anni di seguito. Da allora gli impegni americani lo soffocarono quasi, e per un pezzo non poté ritornare in Inghilterra. Un giorno vi ritornò e i suoi compatrioti lo trovarono ancora più bravo e più raffinato: ma dopo breve soggiorno Broadway lo richiamò, per decretargli autentici onori regali in seguito alla sua più bella interpretazione (resta famosa negli annali del teatro americano), in Outward Bound. La Warner Bros. s’affrettò a fargli interpretare un film intitolato Outward Bound, tratto da quella commedia. S’era agli ultimi momenti di vita del film muto; e Howard non fu contento del suo nuovo contratto col cinema, e giurò che non avrebbe più messo piede in un teatro di posa finché lo schermo non avesse parlato. Si comprende: un attore di teatro non poteva pensare in modo diverso. Il resto è storia che conosciamo tutti.

E Leslie Howard s’è oggi ordinato quasi una doppia vita che si svolge regolare e fortunata. Da una parte le emozionanti finzioni del teatro e del cinema, alle quali egli presta tutto il suo ingegno e le sue capacità di vero artista. Da un’altra la vita famigliare più borghese e felice. E’ difficile trovare fra gli attori un marito e un padre migliore di lui. La sua giornata è tutta metodicamente divisa: giochi con la figlia decenne, lettura, polo, ozi in una vecchia e comodissima potrona di cuoio ch’egli si porta dietro da Londra a New York e viceversa, perché non potrebbe mai trovarne una simile. Il quarantenne (o poco più) Leslie quando si rifugia nella sua casa perde d’incanto ogni marzialità, fascino ed eleganza. Si affloscia beato, mette a posto la sua famosa (e un po’ buffa) collezione di fiammiferi (un dadà , un hobby squisitamente filisteo, inglese e anticombattivo), parla di cose domestiche con la buona moglie e dimentica completamente le poetiche sofferenze di Romeo e le spiritose invenzioni del professore di Pigmalione. Sorride continuamente, aprendo, nel viso da cavallo un giorno acceso di sogni, le tracce appena visibili di una malinconia antica. La quale non può più riaffiorare nella vita d’ogni giorno. Ma essa risplende sui legni del palcoscenico o davanti ai riflettori – e in quei momenti Leslie Howard è ancora un poeta, è ancora un combattente: come quando mangiava tè, latte e pane secco.

Duplice vita, ma unica e sostanziosa personalità artistica. Egli è uno dei più ammirevoli e grandi attori del nostro tempo, com’è del resto testimoniato da uno dei premi più indovinati di Venezia: quello toccatogli, per Pigmalione, come miglior attore apparso in quella Mostra.

Questo bravissimo Howard è inarrivabile se indossa un costume settecentesco. Allora ogni suo minimo atteggiamento è legato a quelle vesti leziose e trascinanti, e ne risulta una composizione assolutamente perfetta. Qualche volta egli è stato più potente, più drammatico ecc. che nella Primula rossa, ma non è stato mai così unico, così insostituibile. E altrettanto accadde in un finissimo film fantastico, La strana realtà di Peter Standish. Assolutamente un film howardiano.


(“Cinema”, n. 35, 1938)

Ecco, ho voluto qui trascrivere questo articolo, che è veramente – lui sì – unico. Nell’assordante silenzio che in quegli anni circondò Leslie Howard in Italia, resta una voce isolata e assolutamente fuori dal coro. Non so chi si celi dietro lo pseudonimo di Puck, ma certamente lo scoprirò. Per quanto pieno di inesattezze, l’articolo è comunque un tributo inatteso. Ed altrettanto inattesa fu certamente quella Coppa Volpi con la quale Leslie fu premiato alla fascistissima Mostra del cinema di Venezia per il suo Pygmalion, anche se sospetto che parte del merito di questo straordinario riconoscimento fosse dovuto alle simpatie a suo tempo espresse da  George Bernard Shaw per il fascismo italiano. Certo che sembra davvero paradossale, un riconoscimento all’ “ebreo” Howard (perché tale sarebbe stato considerato, ancorché battezzato e personalmente agnostico) alla vigilia delle leggi razziali, in un paese che l’aveva ignorato fino a quel momento e che continuò ad ignorarlo in seguito. Quanto alle inesattezze, ne ho lette di peggiori nei tardivi tributi “riparatori” scritti dopo la guerra. Ci sarebbe molto da scrivere sui rapporti (inesistenti) fra i critici cinematografici italiani e Leslie Howard…

Leslie Howard in Pygmalion

Leslie Howard in Pygmalion


The Secrets of Berkeley Square, 1933

(“Picturegoer”, September 2, 1933)

How London has been created again in Hollywood for Leslie Howard’s new film by the man who made “Cavalcade”.

Berkeley Square

The Berkeley Square of a bygone age has been re-created in the sunshine of California

Frank Lloyd passed for a moment as Heather Angel petite and charming and looking as if she had just stepped out of the frame of an eighteenth century painting, tripped by in the direction of her dressing room.”Yes, we have taken a lot of trouble to ensure that we get the costuming right,” he went on, as my eyes followed the disappearing vision approvingly.
Mr. Lloyd is the director who made Cavalcade, in which the English atmosphere and detail were so perfect that even the most captious critics failed to pick up any holes in the settings, the dress or customs of the period covered by the story.
Now Frank has done it again in Berkeley Square, the charming John Balderston fantasy, which stars Leslie Howard, whose favourite play it is. Between scenes he was telling me the secrets of how he rebuilt a corner of eighteenth-century England on a Hollywood lot.
Again he has gone to extreme trouble to avoid incongruities and to be perfectly sure of authenticity of detail.

Leslie Howard and Heather Angel in Berkeley Square

Leslie Howard and Heather Angel in a charming setting for romance

First there was the problem of settings, and Lloyd, as he did for the reconstruction of Victoria Station and Trafalgar Square in Cavalcade, asked for hundreds of photographs to be sent from England.
From these he built a complete section of Berkeley Square, absolutely authentic down to the smallest point.
Then there was this matter of furnishing his sets and dressing the players.
Now, less than twenty miles from the outskirts of Hollywood is situated the famous Huntingdon Collection, where world-famous portraits and books are guarded day and night from international thieves by armed patrols.
Here hang “Blue Boy”, “Pinkie”, “The Duchess of Devonshire”, “Lady Hamilton” and “The Tragic Muse.”
The majority of the daily visitors, incidentally, are travellers from other states and other countries. Many of the film stars have never heard of old masters such as Romney, Lawrence, Gainsbourough and Reynolds. Few would trouble to go twenty miles to look at their work.
Fortunately, Lloyd and his costume designer, William Lambert, knew they could gain access to this valuable collection. Armed with sketch books and note pads and permission cards which allowed them in the gallery late at night when visitors had departed, they spent three weeks browsing in a Georgian atmosphere.
Lloyd is certainly a stickler. “Reference books are handy but they cannot impart information that truly smites into the brain like pictures can,” he explained.
All the knowledge accumulated at Huntingdon has been put to an excellent use in the designing of the sets and costumes.
Many of Heather Angel’s eighteenth century gowns are modifications of “Pinkie” in her high waist and coloured sash.
Juliette Compton, who plays the “Duchess of Devonshire,” wears a replica of the costume shown in the famous portrait.
Valerie Taylor has an evening gown copied from that worn in the portrait of Perdita Robinson.
Irene Browne’ swishing taffetas and muslins were inspired by those worn by Mrs. Siddons in the Sir Joshua Reynold’s famous portrait.
Sir Joshua and “The Tragic Muse” figure largely in the story of Berkeley Square.

Leslie Howard in Berkeley Square

A dramatic moment in the film

Then came the matter of furniture. Furniture and ornaments pertaining to the Georgian period are so scarce in California, Lloyd told me, that prior to the production of Berkeley Square, William Darlin the art director of the picture had to spend three months of persuasion and patience gathering together sufficient authentic “atmosphere” for his stages.
With the aid of thirty art and antique dealers, Daring scoured the coast up and down for the Georgian treasures he needed. Some were rented, some were borrowed from valuable collections.
“Fake period furniture is permissible in some pictures, where only long shots of settings are made, but in the case of a film like Berkeley Square, where so many close-up had to be photographed, fakes would have been impossible, ” the director went on.
“Even the silver vases, ink stands and candlesticks had to be real Georgian. It is quite out of the question to endeavour to reproduce the intricate designs and workmanship of the eighteenth century by cheap fakes without the camera detecting the fraud immediately.
“Practically every art treasure used on our sets was unique and could not have been replaced in case of loss or damage. Consequently, each night an extra patrol was engaged to guard the Berkeley Square stages.
“It was with a sense of great relief that I saw each valuable piece packed carefully on completion of shooting and sent back to its owners. There is something very satisfactory in knowing that authentic properties only are used in period pictures, but such treasures are a great responsibility.”
Winfield Sheehan, the Fox vice-president, lent Lloyd an eighteenth century grandfather clock from his own private collection.
Mr. Sheehan, who knows his antiques, picked up this old clock when on a recent visit in England, and thinks so highly of it that he had a special case made to take it across the Atlantic so that the sea air would not damage the fragile works.
The clock is 150 years old, still keeps perfect time and is one of those fascinating old timepieces which, in addition to telling the hour, shows the state of the tide, the date of the month and phases of the moon.
One day there arrived at Movietone City something much more engrossing than a mere jig-saw puzzle.
The “toy” in question was an eighteenth-century Georgian four-poster bed which had been lent to Jesse L. Lasky, the producer, by a friend in Santa Barbara.
It arrived in fourteen packing cases and is fitted together in eighteen different pieces. The only guidance the head carpenter had to help him in building up this piece of furniture was a copy of an old print showing the bed ready to be slept in.
It took the four carpenters the best part of twenty-four hours to get the antique assembled complete with its posts, each manufactured in for separate pieces, its chintz canopy, valance frills and dozens of intricate laths which form the mattress.

Berkeley Square

A still that reveals the authenticity of the old world atmosphere conjured up by Frank Lloyd and his assistants

Then came the matter of wigs. Altogether thirty-two wigs were worn by the principle players during the making of the film. And each one of these took ten days to complete.
Their method of manufacture is interesting, for with the microscopic qualities of the camera bringing out the crude faults of old-fashioned wig-making, each wig had to be tailored and fitted to the individual player’s head.
To pay a visit to the Berkeley Square set is like stepping into the pages of an Oliver Goldsmith book. We find ourselves transported into an England of flounces and petticoats. There is a mellow smell of antiquity, of good old English wood and old lace. At any moment we expect the ghost of Beau Brummel himself to glide noiselessly into the room. Instead, in comes a bespectacled studio hand, hands in pockets, gum lodged in his left cheek.
“Now boys,” he says, “snap out of it.”
We pass out into the open where the hot Californian sun beats down on the sweating concrete. Everywhere is the ordered confusion that marks a film studio. . .

Wilson D’Arne

Come eliminare chili,tutte le diete

Per eliminare la pancia e veder ridotti quei chili in eccesso che ci angosciano ogni qualvolta usiamo una bilancia, esistono differenti tipologie di diete. Col passare degli anni sono succedute sempre più diete, alcune volte solo mode effimere, altrettanto spesso si sono rivelate eccellenti provvedimenti per togliere la pancia in nel minor tempo possibile.

Enumeriamo ora le più famose.Dieta Mediterranea: formatasi  dalla considerazione che il nostro stile alimentare è il più sano. In più è considerato il più efficiente per diminuire la pancia,e per il contributo salutare positivo che da.Dieta Herbalife: una dieta sostituiva,che sostituisce il pranzo con integratori dietetici.Dieta a Zona:  nasce negli anni 90,e si basa sul calcolo delle calorie.Dieta Dissociata: è dieta che si basa sulla direttiva di non consumare insieme carboidrati e proteine. Esistono modelli di questo tipo di dieta con dei cambiamenti, ma il  principio  rimane lo stesso: non mangiare cibarie di codeste due tipologie nella stessa giornata.Regime alimentare del Minestrone: sfruttata in particolare da coloro i quali devono bruciare peso per sostenere un intervento operatorio. Questo regime prevede l’assunzione di un minestrone di ortaggi liquido per molto giorni.Dieta a punti: ideata diversi anni fa e consiste nell’consegnare ad ogni alimento un certo numero di punti; codesto tipo di regime alimentare porta ad avere un calo di carboidrati.High-carb: è una dieta che favorisce zuccheri e carboidrati.Cronodieta: è un modello di dieta,ideata sul principio che i cibi, assumono in specifiche ore del giorno. Difatti diverse indagini asseriscono che determinati cibi che fanno normalmente prendere peso,se consumati in alcune ore del giorno,permettono di perdere peso.Comunque gli orari vengono scelti a seconda dei cambiamenti ormonali nel corso della giornata.

Beverly Hills: è un regime alimentare che  si basa sulla opinione che il corpo richiede caratteristici enzimi per digerire gli alimenti diversi.

Hollywood: già dal nome si intuisce da dove viene questa dieta, anzi da chi arriva. Questa dieta è diventata rinomata perchè alcuni vip  l’hanno seguito per rimanere in forma. Si stratta di assumere per due giorni necessariamente pompelmo. Nei giorni consecutivi è possibile nutrirsi necessariamente di frutta e poi si prosegue con i cibi proteici.

Regime alimentario Vegetariano: una dieta che elimina appieno l’assunzione di carne o pesce e loro derivati. Si consumano solo latticini,uova e simili.