Film Spectator (1927-1928)

Page Six February 5, 1927 was indicated by its action in securing Pommer, Jannings and other foreigners, but that under the American system Pommer would be able to duplicate here the triumphs he achieved abroad I never for a moment believed. Art, to achieve its ultimate, must be the free expression of its creator, and the wisdom of allowing an intellect to express itself freely on the screen is something that we not yet have learned in this country. When we grow big enough to learn it Pommer may give us an American-made Faust. ♦ Screen’s Progress Helped by Germans WHATEVER advancement has been made in the technic, lighting and photograping of motion pictures during the past ten years has been the work of Germans. Only a few of their pictures have been outstanding successes in this country because they devoted most of their attention to the science of picture-making, and little to the entertainment value of their stories. Meanwhile in this country the reverse has been the rule. We give all our attention to stories and so little to the method of presenting them that all of them are alike. Pommer came to this country two years ago, went through our studios, noted our way of doing things and then returned home and so improved upon our methods that he has sent us the best half dozen pictures standing to the credit of any man in the world. In our studios we have people capable of doing everything that Pommer has done, but they are not allowed to do it and our pictures are kept down to the dead level of the capacity of our supervisors, not more than two or three of whom know anything about pictures. In any other line of human endeavor the coming of such a master as Pommer would have been welcomed cordially by those whose co-worker he was to be. He would have received the heartiest cooperation of those who were in a position to profit from contact with him or from observation of the results he accomplished. But the motion picture business is like none other on earth. When Pommer arrived he was not allowed to do the things he was brought over here to do. There is nothing else to deduce from his split with Paramount. I know nothing of the inside story of the disagreement. All I know is what I read in the papers, statements by both the studio and Pommer to the effect that they parted with the most cordial relations still existing between them, giving us occasion to thank the man who thought up the new meaning for the^word “applesauce”, I have no personal interest in Pommer, the individual. But I am interested in Pommer, the artist, because he is the biggest artist that pictures have produced. It was unthinkable that he should turn his back on Hollywood and by returning to Germany proclaim to the world that this community, that prides itself on being the film capital of the world, has no place within its borders for the greatest film mind in the world. It is to the credit of the industry that Pommer no sooner had left Paramount than he was deluged with offers of other alliances. * ♦ * Every day or so I read that some film player, who is a subscriber to The Spectator, has left for the East to make a picture. I would like all of them to know that it is no trouble for us to forward their Spectators to them while they are away. Has All the Things That Screen Can’t Do Any producer will give you a list of the things you can not do on the screen. The list is getting shorter. Stella Dallas, removed mother love from among the things the public simply won’t stand for; Beau Geste blotted out brotherly love and Flesh and the Devil will wipe friendship off the list. Among the remaining things that you can not do is the assembling of three men and a woman on a dust-laden ranch in Arizona during a drought, and in three interiors and a few drab exteriors work out a story that will interest anyone. Any producer will tell you that that can’t be done and he would be apt to shoot any author who submitted such a story. However, William K. Howard tackled such a story and has made a picture that will create a lot of talk. He has done all the impossible things, but if White Gold is not a success it will surprise me. Briefly, this is the story: Kenneth Thompson marries Jetta Goudal and takes her to his father’s ranch. The father, George Nichols, hates her; George Bancroft comes along as a ranch hand; the drought continues; the springs on NichoTs rocking chair creak; there is dust on everything; nerves are taut; Bancroft enters Jetta’s room at night when the husband is absent; she shoots him; the father, knowing his son will believe him and not his wife, says that he shot Bancroft, having discovered him in Jetta’s room. Jetta is silent. Saddened because her husband did not have enough faith in her to make it unnecessary for her to defend herself, she leaves the ranch — and that is the end of the story. To make a picture out of it was a brave thing for Bill Howard to attempt, and he scores a signal success even though he does not get all the possibilities out of the story. Perhaps Garrett Fort and Tay Garnett did not write everything into the story that might have been ■wTitten in. They did not make the most of the real menace in the story — the drought, nor did they dramatize the rain when the drought ends. But I saw the picture in a projectionroom and I believe some things were done to it after I viewed it, so I had better be careful in criticizing it for lacking something it may now contain. White Gold is a picture that is a distinct contribution to the science of making pictures. Howard takes impossible scenes and situations and makes a thoroughly intelligent picture out of them. It is a picture that no student of the screen can afford to miss. It reflects the greatest credit on Howard. He is one of our youngest directors, but he is going to be heard from. He is too much in love with his work to fail at it. He has intelligence and daring, and the daring director is the only one who will do things of value to the screen as an art. Howard even was daring enough to direct Jetta Goudal — once. ♦ ^ * “White Gold” Was A Bold Undertaking WHITE GOLD was a bold undertaking because it is a story solely of emotions, its characters restricted to one spot, and with no action in it. The biggest scene is one showing Jetta, Nichols and Thompson sitting at a table. Howard directs them with rare intelligence. They scarcely move, holding your interest only by the expressions on their faces, with the help of an occasional title when one is necessary to assist in the