The Screen Guilds’ Magazine (1934-10)

October, 1934 The Technical Advisor .... A WORD of pity for the poor Techni- ** cal Advisor ... he toils a lot, but nothing does he reap! Usually a mild and inoffensive little man, he is univer¬ sally disliked before he ever appears on the set. He is cursed as much as the average “still man” and everyone is con¬ fident that the poor creature is out to wreck his proud handiwork. The Art Director and Set Dresser have a hate of him that is almost deadly, the Prop Men could kill him, the artists dislike his in¬ terference in matters pertaining to dia¬ logue pronunciation ... the only thing anyone ever gives him is a vitriolic look! The Director knows before the picture ever gets under way that the Technical Advisor is going to get in his hair; al¬ ready he has squawked about the incor¬ rect and unethical qualities of his six major situations ... the Script Writers look at him askance because he “doesn’t understand dramatic license” ... and so, pity the wretched technical man, I say; they even think he is earning his money under false pretenses ... as if anyone in Hollywood dare suggest such an occur¬ rence-It is a question of the pot call¬ ing the kettle a colored gentleman . . lice telling each other they look lousy . .. songwriters telling their rivals that they love each others’ songs. And yet the technical man is a power¬ ful and important personage—or should be'. . . insulted, very seldom consulted, inevitably ignored, his is a tough job and I wouldn’t have it for many times his pay check, or lack of it. Knowing he is a thing of ridicule, browbeaten, he is, for the most part, a pathetic creature trying to be dignified in a job that has had the dignity razzed out of it. The only thing I don’t pity him for is that he is an “Executive” ... and he gets no sympathy from me for that! I did once know a Technical Advisor who had the courage to tell the company for whom he was working to go to Hell and then walked off the set.. . the thing was unheard of, incredible, nothing short of astounding ... but he did it. Today he is a new man . . . robust, cheery, cap¬ tain of his own soul again. He keeps a drug store and delights in poisoning film customers, otherwise the experience did not alter him much, mentally. At least he had the courage to protest; I wish more technical men would protest—it might increase the drug store trade, in turn, thin the overcrowded movie ranks! Technical advising is a tough enough job if you are doing right by the com¬ pany, but it is even tougher when vou are advising on a picture you don’t know anything about (not that they pay any more attention to you, anyway!) I knew an Englishman employed technically to advise on a London sequence for a film in the setting and locale of Limehouse (which, as you aliens know, is hardly Park Avenue!) The gentleman in ques¬ tion was a real Pukka Sahib, a blue blood and a white man ... he had never been near Limehouse and he admitted it, but nevertheless he was told to get on with it and advise! A Technical Advisor on a Malayan drammer walked onto his set not so long ago wearing a beret. He was roundly abused by a none-too-intelligent assistant and told to quit pretending he was a Big Shot, that only directors wore berets . . . which is a good enough reason for me to throw away my beret and dust off my favorite fez. In a famous London studio, recently, they built a lovely set to the everlasting joy of the production staff. It was sup¬ posed to represent a home in Stamboul. So delighted were the studio execs that, ME AND MY BALKAN FRAME By HENRY MYERS 11 By JOHN PADDY CARSTAIRS in’ their childish pleasure, eager to share their success and show off in front of somebody, they invited the Turkish Le¬ gation down to the studio for a day's outing. The members of the Embassy were delighted with the lunch, intrigued by the leading lady and fascinated by the set, which, as one of them murmured, was exactly like Sweden! ! ! ! Constern¬ ation . . . uproar . . . whispered and ex¬ cited gesticulations behind royal back¬ sides. . . . Finally someone summoned up enough courage to query the crack . . . the studio moguls were informed that charming though the set was, it was not Stamboul; and the miserable technical man, who had said so all along, was thrown out on his ear! Not that all technical men are right; there are a few hearties who automati¬ cally NG everything, killing dramatic scenes, spoiling effects, lines and so on— things that could be “got around"—in their desire to be a success, they are pests; but the average among them are trying to deliver, so why should not they be allowed to do so ? Is not that why they are being paid? (Oh, yeah, under false pretenses, of course!) Many com¬ panies employ the wrong men for the job, Chinese junk shop men (who come from San Francisco) to advise on Har¬ bin scenes. (My last trip west, the boat was full of Chinese going to China to see the place for the first time and learn the language! I was not one of these) . . . Englishmen who have lived in the States for twenty years are employed to check on London locations . . . Colonists who haven’t seen Kenya for a decade or two tell you about Nigeria ... Sing Sing men on Harvard stories (this does work out sometimes!) and Oxford graduates on West Point scripts. Aviators on sub¬ marine dramas, Girton gals on Vassar yarns and gridiron heroes figuring out golf shorts don’t really give one hundred per cent satisfaction; it is surprising how often the audience today spots mis¬ takes. British audiences can always recognize an American-made British picture. One reason is, no matter how good the Eng¬ lish atmosphere, all you Hollywood pro¬ ducers let the extras wear those very light-colored Californian hats, almost white in shade; and just try a light hat m our climate for a couple of hours sometime, will you! ? Oh, yes, and here’s another tip for you: apart from the few eccentrics and a dapper actor or two, the only people carrying walking sticks (canes to you!) in London today—are the American tourists!!