Camera (May 1922-April 1923)

CAMERA ! "The Digest of the Motion Picture Industry" Page Nine The Saeen Writers^ Page Conducted by William E. Wing Geniues on Crutches SOMEWHERE in that dear Chicago, where authors get life first-hand for their melodramas, dwells a sister who would ■write. She has written in fact and, between the dates of mailing out and the return of the prodigals, has also dug up a little war in which one dud is aimed our way. Before it explodes and removes from our xnidst one who is not handsome, but willing to be if Edna Wallace Hopper will send us her recipe, we desire to observe from our bomb-proof trench that we still stick by ■what we said in the article, disguised by the title "When Genius Walks." That outburst of enthusiasm and opinion has stirred up a bit of comment, but this is the first time the conductor has been charged with nominating a candidate in order to whittle up his liver with the family carving knife. As Miss Dolly Lapsley, the lady with the bunch of grievances, has fallen into error ■which is very common among the uninitiated, perhaps it might be well to straighten it out for the entire tribe of "wanna know." In order to drag in another victim under the supreme court ruling that misery must have company, we will single out Frank E, Woods first, easing our own case down later. She says that Mr. Woods has written her that "there is no market for amateur scripts." "Aha!" she mentally ejaculates; "if this he the truth, then why should the aspirant waste his time in studying the rules of the game." The reply is as simple as the explanation of the country merchant who wouldn't sell a shovel without a prescription. You see, someone takes the shovel and digs in his garden. Then he plants corn. He gathers the corn and after there is a lapse of time, he gathers in his friends, after which Volstead's hired man gathers in the whole flock. You couldn't sell a shovel to an editor with a thirst, but he might give you his Hollywood home for some of the real stuff. An amateur script is about as useless to a studio as a club membership to a married man. But neither Mr. Woods or anyone else has stated that there is no market for the fellow who has worked himself or herself out of the amateur class into recognition through application and native genius. We do not presume that even Shakespeare was born with a copy of his first works in his hand. He must have had to grow up a little, both bodily and as a student. Now, coming to the dud which is pursuing the conductor himself, we draw a decided line between studio readers and professional critics. The studio reader is supposed to recognize an idea when it pops out of a story and hits him between the eyes. He passes it along for what is evidently is worth. That is about the extent of his .iob. The critic studies manuscripts sent him and returns them to the author with helpful criticism, constructive criticism. Many professionals both of fiction and photoplay, employ such critics. If it were not for the knowledge of those who know, to be imparted to persons en dowed with imagination and brains, there would be no new crops of professional writers to take up the work. Success in photoplay writing makes similar demands to those of success in other professional lines. We wouldn't employ a doctor's young son to treat our canine but, later, we might invite him in to cut our leg off — if he had polished up on that sort of thing, dontcha know. "Angel-Food" Take a generous cup of Romance, Add a sprinkling, too, of Tears — Whip together until Dreamy With a teaspoonful of Fears. Sift in Love and Conflict plenty. Flavor well with Mystery — Make your Plot a cake of Laughter Which will live in History! Test the oven of your Plotting With the broomstraw of Suspense; Spread in tins of brightest Intrigue — Just enough for Common Sense! Make your Theme the sweetened frosting Which shall clothe your cake of Thought, Spread it with the knife of Wisdom Which the years to you have brought! When your cake is baked and cooling. Do not put your tins away. Bake another — bigger — better — Than the Cake of Yesterday! — Cristel Hastings Burnhani, Mill Valley, California. Is It a Comeback? IN reaching around for something to hold up during the slipping period of the cinema, England has gone back to first principles, staging a comeback that should cheer up the shade of Pop Anson, et al. England is making many one-reel dramas. Do you get that, gentle writer, who cannot find footage enough in a five-reeler for all your continuity? Dramas, I said; dramas in 1,000 feef of celluloid. I can hear the sarcastic gent in the red vest remarking: "Yeah; what they call dramas." Well, old sport, we will quote you a few, and you may decide, providing of course that you have heard that "The Merchant of "Venice," "The Scarlet Letter," "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," "Bleak House," "Jane Shore" and "The Lady of the Camelias" were published once, and seemed to have attracted attention from certain readers. Yet these great tales are among the onereel subjects filmed in England, as Camera! informed you a week ago. That does not prove anything so far as the market or conditions are concerned, but, as we listen further to our English informant, we hear that these same one-rcelers are "holding up the attendance." Now, whether the human race is on such a mental par as to cause this recipe to be one for universal use, still is a question. But America and all other countries once did a flourishing film-theater business when the program was composed entirely of single-barrelled dramas and comedies. Many wiseacres have predicted, from time to time, that the short-subject program would come back, in part at least. A certain number of writers would welcome a return of the day when they would be able to sit down and write a one-reel idea into a one-reel picture, instead of groping around in the old mind for 4,000 feet of beautiful thought, mental hitching posts, a couple of Joe Millers and a bunch of hokum in order to put it over. The exhibitor with that kind of a feature on his screen can ballyhoo his ware to the passing crowd and get many a response: "No thanks, old man; I'm walking out on one of the same right now." A public too wise and weary to be fooled by the stuffed effigy, has caused many a child to become so familiar with its parents as to recognize them on sight. And they will continue to do so under the present shower of poor pictures, to the advantage of the children, many of whom have found father and mother around the house so much that they can almost recognize them on sight. It would be a rank injustice if it was not also conceded that the grand escape has made a domestic article out of the noble game of "gulluf." A home without a stymie is an outcast indeed. One-half the complaint which has afflicted the emptying theaters, is high prices. One hardly would advocate to our comeback program, to confine all dramatic subjects to the mere 15 minutes life of the onereeler. It is quite probable that a standard might be set with a three-reeler as the "feature." Let it have the support of a single-reel comedy drama, and a single comedy, with the usual news or scenes showing. This entire program could be run in one and one-half hours and, by packing them in on a 10, 20 and 25 cent charge, all houses without ridiculous overheads could win in a walk, so the wise ones argue it. Naturally the prologue. Little Fanny, the "high class vaudeville artist" just from high school, and other claptrap would have to be given the air. But that is much better than having the audience take it. But what a boon to the writers would be the opportunity to write 'em in one, two or three reels! Bam! Right into the heart of the story. Hist! Danger and dirty doings! Boom! That was not the city hall falling down, merely the punch. Hurrah! Handsome Harold to the rescue. Ouch! The villain gets his. Gooie, gooie! Sure Mike, Harold has her in his arms violently removing the beautiful Cupid's bow from her lips with his own removable curve. Fadeout! And what more would you want for the small sum of a dime? All these arguments anent the return of low prices and mixed shorts sound very good. Now if some gent who still can make a noise like a plumber's pay-day will kindly reveal a practical example of the same, we shall see; we shall see. To keep your stories fresh, re-write them often on clean paper.