CHAPTER XVIII

PHOTO-PLAYS AND HOW TO WRITE THEM

The vogue of the picture palace has created a new profession. This is the writing of plays especially for cinematographic production. In the early days the handful of producers engaged in the craft had no difficulties in meeting their needs in this direction. The producer conceived and worked out his own ideas. The market was small, the output was restricted, and it did not matter whether the plots were good, bad, or indifferent. The public was quite content with the dramatic fare supplied upon the screen, being more impressed by the novelty of the performance than by its merits.

But with the rage for picture palaces the whole business underwent a transformation. The public, having outlived the era of curiosity, and having shown by its patronage that it regarded the picture palace in the same light as a theatre or music hall, grew more and more critical. It demanded stronger plots, improved mounting and acting, as well as better photographic quality. As new firms entered the producing field, competition became acute, and the whole photo-play industry automatically transferred itself from the pioneer to the accomplished master of stage-craft. The producer, unable to prepare his scenarios himself, sought the assistance of the amateur playwright, just as the editor of a periodical solicits contributions to fill his pages.

It was a golden opportunity for the unknown struggling dramatist. Foiled hitherto by lack of chance, the power of the privileged few, and the absence of enterprise displayed by theatrical managers, he handed his work to the upstart rival, the picture-play producer. It was a wise move. The dramatist did not, indeed, secure that measure of publicity upon the screen which might have been his lot upon the boards, but the financial returns were more regular. As he developed his inclinations, and his work became appreciated, he was able to anticipate a comfortable income, owing to the steady demand that arose for his handiwork. To-day the embryo dramatist never bestows a thought upon writing for the stage; the cinematograph will absorb all that he can produce, and as rapidly as he can complete it.

No longer need a budding genius starve unknown and unappreciated in a garret. If his work possesses any merit the cinematograph will turn it to profitable account. About three hundred picture-plays are placed upon the world's market every week, and consequently the consumption of plots is enormous. What is more important from the author's point of view is the expanding nature of this market, where supply cannot keep pace with demand, and the proportionate improvement that is manifest in the scale of remuneration. Ten years ago a plot seldom fetched more than five shillings or a dollar; to-day the same material will command anything between £5 and £50--$25 to $250. In this field of activity reputation counts for nothing. The play and the play only is the thing. The picture palace is the poor man's theatre, and this class of play-goer is relentlessly emphatic in condemnation, and equally enthusiastic in praise. It appreciates novelty in plot, and that is the one point the author has to bear in mind. So it is clear that the unknown playwright has everything in his favour; in fact, his work is generally preferred to that of the skilled writer. It contains the very best efforts of its creator; the other is probably of poor quality, because the man with a name does not realise what the people want, and thinks that for the cinematograph anything is good enough.

The desire of the photo-play producer to encourage unknown writers has led to the inevitable result. He is inundated with plots and suggestions of every description, written by every type of man, woman, and child. Needless to say, a large proportion of the submitted contributions are wildly impossible, or contain plots which have been worn so thread-bare that there is no possible chance of dressing them in a new guise. Fortunately the task of sifting the wheat from the chaff is not exacting. A hurried scan of the opening lines generally suffices to show whether the subject is excellent, passable, or hopeless.

Picture-play writing is an art, science, or whatever one likes to call it, which can be cultivated. The average person, at some time or other, is sure to have an idea--it may be an idle fleeting thought--which is capable of being turned to useful account. The picture-play producer knows this very well, and accordingly holds out every inducement in the hope that sooner or later he may light upon something brilliant. A suggestion need only have some small germ of possibility, but the producer, from his experience of the theatre, and of the requirements of the picture palace, can take that germ and evolve it in the most effective manner.

Under these circumstances the question arises "How should a photo-play be prepared?" While there is no golden rule, and while each producer works in his own way, it is possible to give a few hints to the beginner. A glance at the manuscript is enough to inform the reader whether the author is a raw hand at the work or otherwise, and although every manuscript is reviewed, more interested attention is attracted by a contribution which is set out upon more or less methodical lines.

In the first place it is just as well to remember that the photo-play producer of to-day is a man of wide experience. In most cases he has graduated upon the stage, and has probably passed through all the phases between a touring company and a well-known theatre. As a result of this drilling he will have assumed a wide perspective. Sheer ability will have brought him to the control of the cinema-studio stage, where the work is most exacting, and where there is a very great demand for ingenuity and resource. Having mastered the intricacies and possibilities of the photo-play stage, and what can be done by photography, he will be a thorough master of craft. The greater number of the play-producers retained by the foremost firms are men who climbed to the top rung in the theatrical profession and merely went over to the motion-picture studio because it offered them greater scope for their prowess and knowledge. Indeed, one might go so far as to say that, unless a man has served his apprenticeship behind the footlights, he is an indifferent play-producer, because he will be ignorant of stage-craft and the technique of the profession.

A man of such experience and ability is able to sum up the value of a plot in an instant. Consequently the author is well advised to condense his plot into as few words as possible--the briefer the outline the better. In some instances it is not even necessary to indicate the characters, the period, or the scene. The plot is the only thing that is wanted: the producer, as he reads it, will conjure up in his mind the period, environment, atmosphere, and characters, wherewith such and such a story may best be worked out.

There is one well-known Continental producer who never asks for more than a bald statement of the plot. If it can be conveyed in six lines he is more than satisfied. On one occasion, while seated at lunch, one of the party jestingly suggested an idea. Without a word of comment the producer scribbled the suggestion upon the back of an envelope. Returning to the studio an hour or so later, he handed a note to one of his staff, indicated how he would like it worked out, the colleague fitted in the characters, evolved the scenes, period, and situations, and the next morning the play was staged.

One of the foremost French picture-play producers follows a similar practice. He has a staff of eight writers whose sole duty is the preparation of scenarios for production. Plots as they flit through the minds of these men are jotted down and pigeon-holed. The outside contributions which come in with every post are scanned, and those thought suitable are dissected, their ideas are torn out and re-committed to paper, for filing, while the author is rewarded with payment according to the merit of his work. At this establishment no lengthy scenario submitted by an unknown writer is considered. Time is too valuable when eight or ten stages have to be kept going. The staff is fully occupied upon the work in hand, and cannot wade through pages of often indecipherable hand-writing. The method of this particular producer in the case of an ordinary play is to have an abstract, prepared by the retained scenario writer, indicating the scenes, their sequence, characters, and other details, with a brief synopsis of the plot, the whole being set out upon a sheet of foolscap. Upon this material the producer works, explaining to the company the story of the play and the situations, as they progress step by step.

Many producers, however, prefer the scenario to be submitted in a more complete form, though requirements of brevity and terseness must be observed. They like the list of characters to be given, together with a suggested period and setting. The cast should be kept as small as possible, as a plethora of characters in a photo-play is apt to be bewildering. Also the producer can amplify the cast if he wishes to do so. The plot should be set out in narrative form. A bald synopsis is quite sufficient because the scenario expert will judge the merits of the manuscript from this alone. In order to assist the producer the main points and situations may be indicated. After the synopsis there should be some suggestions for working out the story scene by scene. These are not essential, but they sometimes give the reader a better impression of the story, and help him in staging the play. The chances are a hundred to one that the play never will be staged as written by the author, yet its brief evolution is often appreciated.

When the author works out his plots he must steer clear of introducing wild impossibilities or hopelessly impracticable suggestions. The producer is admittedly a clever man, and is able to get wonderful effects with the aid of the camera, nor does he hesitate to employ trickery when it will further his purpose, but there are limitations even to trick photography. There was one manuscript in which the author, after taking his villain through adventures innumerable, suggested a sensational means of eliminating him altogether. The man was speeding across a frozen river to escape the vengeance of the hero when the ice opened up suddenly, let him through, and then closed on him to hide him from sight and memory. Needless to say, this plot met with scanty consideration. In another case the plot turned upon a lady's ring. The lady was standing by a river, and the ring slipped from her finger into the water to be caught and swallowed by a fish. Some days later the hero was fishing in the same stream. He had a bite, hooked his catch, cut it open, and found the ring. It is difficult to say who experienced the most amazement, the hero when he opened his fish, or the producer when he read the story.

In the photo-play profession it is novelty of the plot which brings success. The farther the author can get away from conventionality, the bigger will be the reward. This is where the average amateur shows deficiency. He is content to follow the footsteps of others. Again, many photo-play writers, instead of striving to be original, prefer to steal ideas from a novelist or short story writer. This work, needless to say, is sheer waste of time. The producer and his staff follow the periodicals and the publishing seasons very closely, so that it is easy for them to detect a stolen plot. Moreover, it must be remembered that to-day the leading producing firms have arrangements with authors, publishers and editors, for the exclusive use of their productions. These sources form a stand-by, as it were, to be brought into use when the fount of original scenarios dries up. When novels and magazine stories are to provide fare for the screen the producer entrusts the work of adaptation to one of his staff who has a more intimate idea of what is required, and will perform the task far more satisfactorily than the ordinary contributor.

The photo-play author has one great advantage over his colleague who writes for the stage. The latter has to supply dialogue, and often the success or failure of his work turns upon this factor. In writing for the screen dialogue is a lost quantity. It is action which is required, because the spectator has to follow the play from what he sees, and not from what he hears. Accordingly the requirements of action must be kept in mind. In the average studio the actor either extemporises dialogue to fit the part or situation, or else the producer prompts him.

It is true that one or two producers stipulate that the photo-play shall be written out in detail as if it were to be played behind the footlights, but such producers may be set down as incompetent or behind the times. A few years ago one of the Continental firms insisted that every play should be written out in full, but a few months' experience showed the folly of this procedure. Plays mounted in this manner lacked that grip and movement which is necessary in photographic pantomime. The audience could not retain the thread of the story, and the interest consequently flagged. The members of the company, being compelled to learn their lines, and to rehearse continually, went through their parts like puppets. Accordingly this method of mounting and acting has been abandoned in favour of the other in which the company, absolutely ignorant of the plot and story, is taken through it step by step and maintained at concert pitch throughout.

The writer should make a point of selecting a striking or catchy title for his work. Often when the plot itself is useless the producer will buy the manuscript merely to apply the title to some other production.

A word of warning may be given to the inexperienced photo-play author. Advertisements are freely inserted in the various periodicals offering to teach the art of writing plays for the cinematograph, and to submit the plots to the various producers in the manner of a literary agency. No matter how speciously and attractively the advertisements are written, the offers they contain should not be accepted. The author will do best to submit his work directly to the producer and to treat with him alone. The art cannot be taught by schools; it can only be acquired by experience. Nor does the agency possess more favourable opportunities for getting the work accepted than the writer himself, while the so-called expert who maintains that he can lick a plot into shape is merely a charlatan. If the plot is good, whether written by a raw or a highly trained hand, it will command its price, because the producer is no respecter of persons. Also, by treating directly, the author comes into touch with the producer, and often learns points and receives encouragement which cannot be transmitted through a middle man.

How is the work rewarded? This is a question which is often asked. So far as the British market is concerned the photo-play author receives scant encouragement. British enterprise has not risen to the level of that of the United States or the Continent. The British firms neither realise the value of a good plot nor the advantages of prompt and smart business methods. Here and there may be found a firm which is keenly alive to the value of the outside worker, but they are few and far between. On the other hand the American and Continental houses give an immediate decision, treat the outside contributor kindly, extend profitable words of advice if the work is promising, and pay promptly. A plot for which a British firm considers 10_s._ 0_d._ ($2.50) to be an adequate remuneration will realise $25 (£5) in the American market. The British producer will consider £1 ($5) to be a princely price for a good plot, and so long as this impression is retained the British photo-plays will remain inferior to their competitors. On the other hand, the American firms deal liberally with their authors, and are quite prepared to pay from $25 to $150--£5 to £30. Fortunately signs of awakening are becoming evident among the British firms. Good plots, like gold nuggets, are somewhat scarce, and one or two of the latest and most progressive establishments now pay up to £10 ($50).

Picture-play producers are finding greater and greater difficulty in obtaining first-class plots. The standard of excellence has been set so high, owing to the extremely critical character of the picture palace patron, that the highest work only now stands a chance of being accepted. The rivalry among the producers has become keen, because a strong picture-play can command a world-wide sale. One Italian firm, in the effort to forge ahead of its competitors, went so far as to offer a prize of £1,000 ($5,000) for the best scenario in open competition. It is admitted among the manufacturers that within the course of the next few years the royalty system must come into operation, so that the photo-play author will be elevated to the level of his confrère writing for the theatre.

In France a society has been founded for the protection of photo-play writers. This organisation protects its members by securing higher rates of payment, by introducing the work of beginners to the film-producers, and last, but not least, by advertising the writer.

Ten years ago the picture-play author was regarded with disdain, and was considered to be little more than an indifferent literary hack. To-day he is regarded as a powerful force. From the lowest and most ill-paid level he is rising to the highest rungs, where his rewards are excellent and his opportunities unbounded.