Close Up (Jul-Dec 1929)

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CLOSE UP jurisdiction is noisy like a gong or braying ass in the vanquished towns. The defeated stand behind windows, whispering; the pleasant towns are littered with damaged culture. The half-built houses are deserted. Xo work will be done on them, and the debris lies on discarded buildingstuff. Xone of the old machines can be heard at work any more, and there is only watching and fear. The air is full of the dust of the new jerry-buildings. Adding a voice that takes away all that people put in for themselves. Expelling imagination. The personal concept banished. The gesture that to each meant something that each alone in some way of his own created and gave to himself, must cede in favor of that to which a voice can reduce it. The accidental charm beyond a director's intention, that was imagination caught in some mesh of recognition or memorv or suggestion or joy, must go before the incredible half-wit snortings that are supposed to justify the plaster trees and unspeakable potted foliage of the studio out-of-doors. We are back with backdrops and barnstorming. * * * So thinks the ram, for he thinks of the present, not (for the moment) of the future. The waiting, waiting. The weeping artists starved from their love and their work. These matter. The back stepping of the tinfoil gladiator may be a balancing necessity for forward leap. The leap may be long and clean But certainly longer than clean. And a long time will have to pass indeed before charlatans, vulgarians and opportunists are chased from the field. For the next few years talking films mean rehash. Rehash of Somerset Maugham, of Frederick Lonsdale, of ]\Iichael