Moving Picture World (Jan-Feb 1927)

January 1, 1927 MOVING PICTURE WORLD 21 Only the Maligned Custard P Is Truly International By Sumner Smith TVT OW, how,” asked the producer, “can I sell this South 4-51 American revolution melodrama in South America? It cost me a pile of kale, and I’ve got to cop some export money on it.” South American revolutions, with their comedy touches, are tender subjects, the trade knows, and the difficulties in this instance seemed unsurmountable. But the man addressed, he whose mission it is to edit films for foreign consumption, held his job because of his elastic mind as well as his knowledge of other peoples. “I’ll make a comedy out of it,” he said. So the transformed picture cleaned up in South America instead of eliciting roars of patriotic rage and a pacifying statement from Will Hays. “How can we translate ‘Beating Back’ into Spanish?” one company asked. The solution was a familiar Spanish proverb, “On Walking What You Have Walked Before.” It was an exact parallel for the American slang of the tramp, beating his way back home on a freight train. Reformed an Evangelist skunk, stroked in numberless comedies to the accompaniment of hysterical screams, leaves the European cold. Either the skunk must be cut out of the picture, or Europeans must be brought to this country and educated in what the skunk stands for. The former alternative is cheaper and less likely to lead to international complications. So with the American turkey, except that French gourmands know him and dream about him after a dinner of veal and truffles. Sentimental Choices Seldom does the limelight shine upon these adaptors of American pictures for foreign markets. And theirs is a fascinating work to behold, teeming, as it does, with ingenuity and human interest. This same adaptor, having conquered the revolution picture problem, proceeded to make the chief character in another feature a patent medicine salesman. Originally this character was an evangelist with a commercial turn of mind. But foreigners don’t know how these folk, whose right hand is on the Bible and whose left is ringing the cash register, flourish in America. So they wouldn’t have comprehended the picture without the change. Consider the difficulties of the adaptor, who cuts the picture and writes new titles. How is he to translate American slang? One Parisian theatre man translated the title, “Nobody Home,” into “The Family Is Absent.” It is the job of the translator in the home office to prevent such anti-climaxes. How shall he translate “Go-Getter” and “Live-Wire?” Jack Duffy, Pathe comedian, revives the grand old art of pie casting for the benefit of our European friends. What do our neighbors across the ocean and below the Panama Canal know about revival meetings, professional hoboes, Thanksgiving turkeys, birthday cakes, mistletoe, skunks, Santa Claus, Washington and the cherry tree fable, and all the other good, old standbys of American comedies? Santa Unknown Santa Claus, they say, originated in a Spanish bishop who, years ago, cleaned up in the converting business in Russia. But the people of most nations won’t understand him if they see him in baggy trousers and flowing whiskers. Out of the picture he has to come, for an explanation would be too longwinded. Or, perhaps, Santa, the most sincerely genial soul we know, is made a slapstick comedy character. Everywhere but in Nordic countries the three magi have Santa’s annual task, and without benefit of reindeer. Mistletoe puzzles European audiences. How come, they wonder, do a sprig and some berries influence kissing? What kind of people are Americans that they need an incentive to kiss ? That dauntless little champion of personal liberty, the But the American Christmas tree and the birthday cake are having better luck. Europeans are sentimental people. Both the tree and the cake seem pretty bits of sentiment, and they are being adopted abroad for the delight of the young. They aren’t being cut out of American pictures so much as formerly. Negroes are considered comic characters only in certain countries where intermarriage is not the custom and racial equality does not prevail. Any reference to a negro’s supposed facility with a razor doesn’t register in foreign countries. They consider it much more tragic than comic. The Difficulty With Names Another puzzle for the producer is the difficulty that foreign tongues have in pronouncing the names of American stars. Translations of names were tried and quickly abandoned. But it’s a tough job to popularize some American stars’ names abroad. Charlie Chaplin, known all over Europe as Chariot, is lucky. Lloyd Hughes isn’t. For instance, in Spain they stutter and stammer and finally manage to call him “Joy-ed Ookes.” Joseph Schildkraut’s name has all Europe absolutely stumped. Translating Smith The writer had an amusing experience doing an article for a Spanish magazine. It appeared with the signature “S. Herrero.” He asked why. “Oh,” the editors told him, “we can’t translate Smith, and Herrero is quite suitable because its the commonest name in the Spanish language.” Returning to the subject of comedies, many of the gags which so delight American au “The very idea! .Wearing furs with a bathing suit ! Those crazy Americans are at it again,” say Europeans on seeing Martha Sleeper, the Hal Roach-Pathe comedienne. And they probably add, “Nice figger that girl has, n’est ce pas ? Seemly curves. It’s certainly too bad she’s weak in her upper story.” diences will be a total loss abroad if not eliminated or altered. Only, it may be said, the custard pie, which gives American highbrows dyspepsia, is sure fire. And that despite the fact that Europeans know nothing about pies, except that they are a sort of indigestible breakfast dish peculiar to those “crazy Americans.” .