Part 2
Anytime you see an “it” on the streets of Hollywood wearing English riding breeches wider than an embarrassed pancake, leather puttees wound round legs thinner than a producer’s heart; a waxed and pointed mustache sillier looking than shirred humming-bird’s eggs—lay a hundred to one bet that you are looking at a moving picture director pulling down a measly thousand a week. The question of the Sphinx: Must movie men of the studios look like Asses?
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These here now fillums make strange bed-fellows. “Determination” now has in its cast both Lieut. Maynard, “the Flying Parson” and Maurice Costello, who used to appear every now and then in Brooklyn police courts to answer wifey’s objections to the pugilistic form of argument. Remember when “Cos” was the shining matinee idol of the screen?
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The Unkindest Cut of All: One of our contemporaries discloses to a palpitating world the fact that Reeves Eason, the director, started life as a butcher.
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George Walsh was anxious to wind up his Fox contract while brother Raoul was hitting on all twelve cylinders as an independent producer. Wonder how George feels about it now that Mayflower’s limping progress threatens to embarrass Raoul’s activities.
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“Brewster’s Millions” is going to be made in pictures again. Producers must work on the theory that they were entirely successful in their efforts to kill off the earlier generations of fans.
“The Public Be Damned”
The high faluting talk of art for art’s sake and such high sounding expressions, placed on the lips of some picture magnates, is humorous enough to make the Gods of High Olympus crack a smile in view of the penny-grasping, public-be-damned attitude adopted when opportunity presents.
Twice within a month a big picture, meritorious in every sense, and one which the public which supports the poor pictures of the same producers should by every right have opportunity to see, has come out advertised as not to be released for general exhibition for a period of years.
Griffith started it with “Way Down East.” He stuck an exorbitant admission price down for the New York showing, and then advertised the picture would never be seen in any but the large houses in the large cities. In other words, that the real motion picture public, the real exhibitor, he of the small center, could whistle for this picture, but could pay for the inferior stuff instead.
Fox now comes forth with a masterpiece in the form of “Over the Hill.” And his ads carry a line that the picture will be seen in the first run houses only for the years 1920, 1921 and 1922.
The consummate gall of such maneuvers, even in this business where one feels like keeping a hand on his watch when in certain neighborhoods, is somewhat appalling even to those of us who should be hardened.
Mr. and Mrs. Public can see and pay for the ordinary film. But if, by chance, the lordly producer makes one of exceptional quality, then admission prices will be jacked up, exorbitant rental be demanded of the big exhibitor—and the small towner can do without.
Boosts and Boots
“PEACEFUL VALLEY” (Kane-First National). Charles Ray back to the role he can play. No real story, but none needed. Star appealing and pleasing in rustic setting. Dramatic moments interjected here and there. A hundred times better than “45 Minutes from Broadway.” We take our hat off to Ray once again.
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“BEHOLD MY WIFE” (Paramount). From Gilbert Parker story. Somewhat above the average production. Englishman of high birth marries half-breed and sinks to degradation. Unconvincing motive. Mabel Julienne Scott, as we have said before, is a real find.
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“THE BRANDING IRON” (Goldwyn). Realistic action throughout, yet rather unconvincing. Barbara Castleton excellent in part of girl who, it is feared, may become lady of easy virtue through heredity. Jimmie Kirkwood makes screen bow after long absence.
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“THE TRUANT HUSBAND” (Rockett Film). First release by this independent concern. Very human production, and will please most audiences. Mahlon Hamilton and Betty Blythe best known in cast.
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“THE FURNACE” (Realart Special). One of strongest plays of the month. Will hold any audience from start to finish. Action throughout. Special cast. See it.
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“THE GILDED DREAM” (Universal). The bunk. Minus plot, action, or playing out of the ordinary. Carmel Myers featured. Let it pass by.
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“PASSION” (First National). A German made picture. Version of “Du Barry.” Releasing corporation said to be worried as to whether public will stand for German made picture. Feature is spectacular and except where anti-German feeling is still particularly strong should appeal. Pola Negri, whose reputation is known on this side, is Countess Du Barry.
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“THE SONG OF THE SOUL” (Messmore Kendall-Goldwyn). Falls short in dramatic appeal. Kendall and associates are said to be looking for an “out” in their contract with Vivian Martin. Vivian is not a star by any manner of means, though she does her best work in this. There is really material for good picture, but director and cast fall short.
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“THE LEOPARD WOMAN” (Associated Producers). Merely another opportunity for Louise Glaum to regale the public with her limbs and other physical attributes. There are other players whose physical appeal is far stronger. As usual she wears many stunning costumes, and picture is lavishly made. Falls short on entertainment.
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“THE RIDDLE WOMAN” (Associated Producers-Pathe). What a lemon this release is! Apparently made with the single purpose of keeping Geraldine Farrar continually before the camera. And she does nothing that a mechanical doll couldn’t do. Pathe much worried over picture. An awful dent in some one’s bankroll will follow in wake of this release. Farrar is passée as film attraction.
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“OVER THE HILL” (Fox). Greatest human document we have seen on the screen. Doubt if there is a player in cast drawing over two hundred a week. Puts “star” pictures to shame. Mary Carr as Mother gives greatest characterizations we have witnessed. Inside story of picture is that no one in Fox organization, even Director Harry Millarde could “see” the film when screened. Fox himself, with his showmanship instinct, alone visioned the sensation it would create. Short-sighted release policy is treated in a special article in this issue.
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“THE DEVIL’S ANGEL” (Clark-Cornelius). A strong state right attraction, depicting life of the Latin Quarter. Produced by Lejaren á Hiller. Some parts may not get by the Board of Review unless cut.
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“SO LONG LETTY” (Robertson-Cole). From the stage version of the play of Morosco’s. Replete with bathing beauties. Those who like such—and there are many—will have their fill.
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“YOU NEVER CAN TELL” (Realart). Bebe Daniels’ first for the concern. Good entertainment. Comedy-romance of check room girl who yearns for riches, finally “falls” for supposed chauffeur, only to find her dream came true and he is wealthy. Miss Daniels fulfills every demand of her part. Pleasant evening’s entertainment.
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“SWEET LAVENDER” (Realart). Just what title indicates. A sweet, homely theme that appeals. Mary Miles Minter her usual capable, charming self.
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“EVERYBODY’S SWEETHEART” (Selznick). The last appearance of Olive Thomas. Heroine from county poor farm. Pleasing though pathetic story. The past has evolved an axiom among film men that death of star almost makes pictures as yet unreleased, valueless. On good authority this picture is said to be an exception, the public crowding the house wherever shown, and will gross more than any picture this star ever made. Last scene made just before she sailed for Europe, and death.
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“HELD BY THE ENEMY” (Paramount). Though this company looks forward to big business for picture, it is doubtful if public will care for it. War play of civil war days, well produced—but still a war play. Based on William Gillette’s stage production.
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“NOMADS OF THE NORTH” (First National). Strong melodrama well and carefully produced. Ernest Shipman responsible. Sure fire anywhere.
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“ONCE TO EVERY WOMAN” (Universal). Excellent picture, realistically produced. Dorothy Phillips is better each time we see her. A refreshing production in a month of rather ordinary ones.
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“SINS OF ROSANNE” (Paramount). Better to leave this one alone. For some reason they hand Ethel Clayton poor material all the time. Unbelievable in theme. Pass it up.
[Open Book Decoration]
It’s a Stormy Life
Tempestuous winter visits its venom on the country for but a quarter of each year.
Wherefore, why cannot “Ma” Pickford take example and cast the winter out of her soul for at least a portion of the time?
This woman, mother of our greatest screen actress, has occupied our pages off and on for some time—without much credit. Now, once again we feel called upon to devote a little of our space to the latest caper of what those who should know—(including son-in-law Doug) have designated as a sour disposition.
Lately the fair metropolis of New York has been graced with “Ma” Pickford, and daughter Lottie, the erstwhile Mrs. Rupp. Lottie has had a good time. Why not—Manhattan is an Oasis in the Sahara. But “Ma,” as usual, stepped off with the wrong foot.
It seems the two went east with a film in which Lottie has the principal part. And “Ma” decided to act as sales-manager—the “managerial” instinct growing stronger with age.
The second act reveals a projection room on 42nd Street. Dr. W. E. Shallenberger, President of Arrow Film Corporation and of Federated Exchanges, “Ma,” Lottie, and several members of the Arrow film offices enter down stage (though “Ma” might appear to be “up-stage”).
Reel one gets by O. K. Shortly thereafter Dr. Shallenberger with an eye to business, injects a laugh into the plot. Those who know the Doctor’s disposition insist it must have been a forced laugh, a business prop as it were, in order to inform others he did not think so much of the film— with a natural drop in the “asking” price a possible consequence.
But it didn’t work out. True to form, “Ma” pugnaciously arose, and, according to those present, irately questioned Shallenberger exactly where he “got off at” as a critic, vehemently flung a few minutes more berating from her 75 millimeter vocal channel, and then, getting warmed up and into form, proceeded to “bawl” out the head of the Arrow Film Corp. to a fare-thee-well.
Then came the startling part of the affair. “Ma” is not used to being crossed. Except for one occasion when daughter’s husband laid down the law (which was related in a past issue of FILM TRUTH) she has seen all adversaries crumple like grains of puffed rice when she really got started. This time she got another unpleasant surprise.
The Honorable Dr. Shallenberger said not a word. He arose, told the operator to shut off the projection of the film, opened the door and walked out.
So, we judge, “Ma” is now peddling her daughter’s film around other companies where the buyers have a conception of “decency” which Doc. must, in her estimation, be lacking in.
[Open Book Decoration]
The Fame That Was
Just a brief line in one or two theatrical papers recorded what is, to us, one of the most interesting events of the month.
“Kay Laurel last evening stepped into the role heretofore held by Helen Barnes in ‘Ladies’ Night’ at the Eltinge theater.”
So it read. And our mind goes back to the Kay Laurel who but a few brief years ago was the toast of Broadway. The Kay Laurel of enticing face and figure of which artists and illustrators raved. The Kay Laurel who wed Winnie Sheehan, the left bower of the Fox Film Corporation.
Kay may have been seen many times lately on Broadway with the younger Selwyn of the theatrical clan of that name. And now we find her in an A. H. Woods’ piece. Perchance, we may be pardoned for lively curiosity as to exactly why Selwyn did not place her in a large, secure part in one of his own enterprises. Especially in view of the marked interest he apparently holds for her.
And the public, not conversant with what everyone in the business knows, may ask why Winnie Sheehan, all-powerful film figure that he is, has not relented and placed her with a picture company.
But the birds of film row whisper that Winnie’s heart is hard,—that there will be no more reunions. Kay, on the other hand, protests on every opportunity that her feeling for her husband, her big Irish lover, as she calls him, is as strong as the day he led her to the altar.
So Kay stands again before the footlights, and Winnie, well, Winnie watchfully waits. And Broadway smiles.
The Drugged Awaken
The famed coat of many colors of Joseph of Biblical fame, or the ever-changing chameleon, can’t pretend to hold a candle to the editors of the Coast publication “It” for variety and shiftiness of policy.
’Twas only a few months ago that this magazine, together with one or two others put forth here in Los Angeles were rising up on their hind legs and mouthing vapid denunciation at “FILM TRUTH’S” policy of getting right down to fundamentals and digging at the cancerous sores of the industry. Now comes to hand an issue of “It” thundering against the shame of many of the movie colony, terming them drug addicts, and calling for a thorough cleansing of the Hollywood section.
Well, well, well! Even Rip Van Winkle awakened in time. And so it is with “It.”
To pretend that all the men and women of Hollywood were lily white, beyond criticism, etc., has been a favored role with every publication devoted to the industry. FILM TRUTH’S entry into the ring was met with a holier-than-thou-don’t-dare-to-touch-us greeting by several publications. We have gone on our well-known way, and now we must compliment “It” for getting a little vision and editorially announcing that all is not well with our little colony.
“Two members of the colony carted off to the police station as drug addicts” is the gist of “It’s” editorial. But why stop at two? And why have certain publications risen in horror against articles appearing in a San Francisco paper giving the report of the State authorities that twenty-five per cent of the registered addicts in Los Angeles are of the movie colony?
That the use of drugs is widespread in certain quarters has been known for some time. There is nothing that is new in the fact. It is a beastly shame that such a cancerous few should smirch the clean majority; that magnates should expect the public to take its entertainment from such hands.
At the same time we compliment “It” for finally removing the smoked glasses and “don’t touch” dictum from its editorial staff. And, might we gently inquire whether the move was through sincere desire to better conditions? Or—is “It” after wider circulation, and lacking in faith in the pulling power of its several really entertaining departments?
While on the topic, we might refer to a certain fan magazine which, with great fan-fare and blowing of trumpets, announces it will expose stock-selling, fake motion picture schemes. We respectfully refer the magazine to almost any one of our issues—and trust it will be as frank as we have been in such exposés.
Without patting ourselves on the back, we do hug close the thought, as we see other magazines announce departments and articles that “tell the truth,” that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
[Open Book Decoration]
On the Toboggan
Slipping faster than automobile prices—and in the same direction—are two young ladies of the screen, yclept Mabel Normand and Mildred Harris.
In one case it’s a shame; in the other it’s the natural course of events.
When good fellows slip we are sorry.
On the other hand, water cannot run up hill, neither can matrimony make stars.
You can’t expect to find many tenants in the lofts of any screen star, but Mildred’s vacancy surpasses understanding. Hoisted by matrimony into the position of a First National star Milly fluttered along in haphazard, fashion. Now, we understand, the end has been reached. The coming Mildred Harris Chaplin productions will not be First National attractions. Some other means will be found to offer them to a not over-anxious public.
Mabel Normand’s case is more difficult of analysis. In the hands of Sennett, Mabel could have still been splitting honors with Pickford and Fairbanks. Now she’s playing on the “Maybe, yes; Maybe no” time. What’s the answer?
It seems to us that Mabel started to slip the day she got well enough acquainted with Samuel Goldwyn to call him “Sammy” and give him orders. Mabel’s orders brought her individual stardom and probably more money than the Sennett payroll afforded—but not the same pictures.
Not all the printer’s ink that artists can splash will hold a star in place if the pictures fail. High-priced vehicles and expensive productions don’t balance for the genius of a Sennett.
Now that Sammy has been erased from the affairs of the company whose name he bears there is speculation in picture circles as to what effect this will have on Mabel Normand’s status. Two years ago this discussion would have been a burning one. The loss of Mabel Normand meant considerable to any company. Now? It’s just idle speculation that doesn’t seem to be heading anywhere and caring less whether it arrives or not.
It’s too bad!
For Mabel is the original good sport of picture players. You can’t find a Mabel Normand knocker if you travel the length and breadth of studio land. (Always excepting studio hands who have felt her tongue.) And that’s going some in a business where the dearest phrase is “I knew her when——.”
Give us Mabel Normand and Pearl White on one party and we’ll guarantee to turn rivers into burning oil. You can’t step so lively or so fast that you won’t find yourself trailing Mabel.
It’s a shame to see Mabel start to slip. Won’t somebody bring forth another “Mickey”? You can’t expect Sammy to do it alone. Won’t somebody give him an idea?
He who laughs last laughs loudest. And the former Mrs. Goldfish-wyn— Jesse Lasky’s sister—is getting too many of the ha-ha lines in the script.
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The Final Touch
We are reaching the stage in this series of hints on photo play writing where our readers are beginning to drop us little notes something like this: “I think now that you have shown me how to build a story but I don’t know yet how to write it in scenario form. I have never seen a scenario and know nothing about the technical phrases. Will you please send me a sample scenario or tell us in an early issue of ‘FILM TRUTH’ how to write one?”
To which we hasten to reply: “We will not.”
And why not?
Because, aside from the correspondence school experts, no one who claims to know will let any aspiring writer spend five minutes of his time on the study of the pseudo-technical junk of a scenario. The men who make their bread and honey by convincing you that you must learn a lot of mysterious inside phrases and bunk still work the specimen scenarios. Naturally, that’s where their gasoline bills are paid.
But it isn’t done any more by those who know. So don’t let any “FILM TRUTH” readers bother with a fear of their lack of knowledge on the scenario score.
If you think you have gained an idea of the method of discovering story germs, constructing a plot from them, holding suspense and building a climax—then prepare to sit down and write your tale. It is called “writing a synopsis.” Forget the word if it sounds too technical. _Sit down and tell your story!_
I say that because at this point someone has probably asked, “How long should a synopsis be?”
Then when you set out to tell them how long most synopses are you suddenly realize what a damphool you are making of yourself. And you wind up half-exasperated with, “A synopsis should be just as long as is necessary to properly tell your story—and no longer.”
That’s the right answer. Don’t set out with the intention of telling what happens in each reel in three hundred words—or three thousand. If your story is a real story it won’t let you set limitations. If you are a real story teller you won’t run to three thousand words if fifteen hundred would really tell your plot in a manner that would hold the interest of the reader.
_Sit down and tell your story!_
Tell every bit of detail and good atmosphere that you feel adds strength to your tale; tell every bit of action that you can be sure brings screen pictures to the eyes of the reader. Don’t tell a word more.
And don’t attempt to get technical. Just because you see it done that way—and you’ve heard the word—don’t say “Fade-out on the two lovers.” That isn’t doing your story any good and it is eating up space that could add strength.
Put yourself in this position: You’re sitting before a fire-side with a close friend. You’ve got a story to tell him. You don’t want him to yawn in the middle of it. You don’t want him looking at his watch.
That’s the time you are going to tell a story naturally, but also picking every word. Every phrase and incident is going to be placed at the point where it will do the most to arouse your friend’s curiosity and interest in what is to come.
Can’t you picture the situation? Then bear it in mind when you sit down to write that synopsis. And for the best lesson ever written on the art of story telling go to any library and get a copy of the Richard Harding Davis story, “Out of the Fog.”
BACK NUMBERS OF FILM TRUTH
Scores of requests for back numbers of FILM TRUTH from its first issue of April, 1920, have been received each month from new readers.
The filling of these requests has resulted in a dwindling number of “extra” copies kept on hand, until some issues have been nearly exhausted.
A limited number of complete sets of the first six numbers, namely those dated April to September inclusive, have been made up.
These will be mailed to the first applicants at one (1) dollar for the set.
The number of sets is necessarily limited.
In the event of applications being received over and beyond the supply on hand, the publishers will return such money as is sent.
FROM 800 TO 63,000
The sale of this issue of FILM TRUTH will reach 63,000 copies.
Eight months ago when the first number of the magazine made its appearance, just 800 copies were printed.
_Then_, in but one city of one state was the magazine distributed.
_Now_, 683 cities in 29 states are served.
Volume circulation has not been forced. Rather it has been cried down, owing to the manifold difficulties that have confronted the publishers, and all publishers in general.