Amateur Movie Makers (Dec 1926-Dec 1927)

through your lens. You won't regret it. You'll forget the inside of a mosque in a week, but your mechanical memory will keep for you a celluloid record of the outside that will be always available. If possible, hire your own guide and automobile so that you can go where you wish. But don't overlook the fact that hiring or buying anything in Mediterranean countries has a technique all its own. If you work it right, you can rent a machine much more cheaply than at home. The better actor you are. the cheaper the price — and the more fun you have. Act disinterested, as though you didn't really want a machine. Ask the price, casually. When the driver tells you, start to walk off, remarking that you don't think you'll buy the car today. He'll call you back and ask, "How much you like to pay?" Then you've got him. Name a price far below what you really expect to give. That starts the battle. He'll get mad. and you'll get mad too. Wave your hands twice as hard as he waves his. talk twice as loud as he does, and twice as fast. At every break in the conversation start to walk away. He won't let you get far. Keep coming up a little in your price, and he'll Photograph By James Boring's Trave] Service. keep coming down. When you meet, the fight is over and you've both won. If you hire a guide, get your shopping over first, or he'll give you no peace, because part of his income is derived from the commissions which the shops pay him on your purchases. Once he knows you aren't going to buy anything more, he will allow you to escape from the shopping district and show you some sets for your pictures. The guides are getting now so they know fairly well what the movie makers want and don't want, although their taste is rotten. They continually suggest hopeless shots and sometimes have to be thoroughly snubbed before they realize that you know better than thev what vou want to do.' In some places it is essential that you have a guide to look out for your safety and keep you from getting into trouble. Anywhere in Algeria, Tunis or Syria, especially in the native quarters of cities, an Arabic speaking guide will prevent unpleasant incidents. He knows where to go ; and, what is more important, where n o t to go. And he can hear the conversation of the watching natives, favorable or otherwise, and give instant report on a change in the feeling towards you. In Cairo you need a dragoman, but in Palestine, Turkey and Greece you can go where you will and take what vou will, without molestation, always provided you don't trespass on a Mohammedan holy place. I've seen people thrown out of the Mosque of Omar on their ear. This doesn't mean that there is any actual danger anywhere. But by having a native with you. you will avoid having mud and other less savory objects thrown at you. W hen you've taken a couple of long shots and a close-up of some venerable old bird in front of a cafe, or riding a camel, give him the equivalent of a dime in our money when he comes up and demands the inevitable baksheesh. It will help the next one of us who passes that way. By Jar, Travel Ser STREET OF MYSTERY— ALGIERS Lovely Spot For A Movie Or A Murder A PLEA FOR OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES By Agnes Applesauce Of sheiks and such there is a dearth In Movyland today. But there are corners of the earth Where still they have their sway. They're not the kind with plastered hair And sex-appeal rampant Nor will they give a lady fair One casual amorous slant; These leather-skinned sheiks do their staff In climates warm and deserts rough. The matadors that thronged the screen Have flickered out and gone. And with them, all the bulls. I ween, Whose frenzied gore they'd drawn; Yet there are bulls and matadors In Spain today as then; The one still stabs, the other gores As briskly now as when Each photoplay to guard from flops Hung heros' ears with mutton-chops. Where is the rage of yester-year. And where last summer's dernier cri? Alas, the fashion's changed. I fear. Gone are the films I used to see. So here's a plea to amateurs To Spain and Algiers bound To film for me those ancient lures On their own stamping-ground. I crave a sheik and matador To worship as in days of yore. Twenty -one