Exhibitors Herald (Dec 1923 - Mar 1924)

28 EXHIBITORS HERALD March 8, 1924 What the Exhibitor Did to Me By HUGO BALLIN NOTE: Hugo Ballin, 662 Lexington avenue. New York City, for years an interested reader of the "Ji'hat the Picture Did For Me" department by reason of "Vanity Fair," "East Lynnc" and other of his productions, volunteered the follon'ing article in a recent letter to the "Herald"' stating his belief that exhibitors should find a producer's criticism of exhibitor methods no less interesting than producers find exhibitors' criticisms of their productions. I'WHY do conscientious producers of '" motion pictures worry concerning their esoteric judgment, their dramatic convictions, their doctrines of humor and improvisations, their choice of design, their motivation of plot and character, their care as to detail and fear of the critical repulsions concerning anj' outstanding and glaring anachronisms, their ability to be correct in every hook and crook, their proper division of sentences by points and stops, their titular and subtitular rhetoric, their avoidance of insistent redundancies, the shunning of compound and over-dashed declaratives, their replants of imperfectly matched scenes — When the exhibitor, through bad and ignorant presentations, slaughters the lamb to the accompaniment of music that reeks of the tomcat's meow, in a poorly ventilated and unwholesome atmosphere where grown-ups read and express in raucous denunciations what "ain't so good", while the 3'oung, and more often sophisticated, cough bits of unmasticated peanuts down the back of one's ears that catch the dampened morsels as mud guards retard the progress of wet earth. As a producer, I appreciate that an exhibitor should not refuse selling tickets to the prolific vine and her accompanying babes, but wh^ do Hfe-giving women cart their broods into the theatre, irrespective to play? Couldn't the little unbroken ones be chained or checked like coats, or cars, or umbrellas? The idea is practical and safe. The Baby Checkery Insurance & Trust Company would soon pay premiums commensurate to a gusher. * * * Not long ago I heard a young flapper remark: "I love the movies, but O you kids." Lest I forget, permit me to remark that to make pictures alike for little ones and big ones, savors of a joke. I. for one, am content to entertain the grownups. The children are satisfied to see things move — if they don't get all the subtleties and nuances they will come back for more. The most successful proprietary drug manufacturer warns his consumers to give six drops to the infant and a spoonful to grandpa, but he makes his drug powerful enough to be of service to a developed system. Why do exhibitors hope to satisfy patrons in an auditorium redolent writh peanuts and gum, where even piano and organ dissonances cannot dispel the atmosphere of its foul stench, its hard seats, its bad projection, its hideous lobby displays, its insolent ushers, and countless other disturbances that the serious producer hopes never to encounter? Why better pictures if you can't give better presentations? The presentajtion in some houses is so important that the picture assumes the more modest subjection of an accompaniment. If this were not so. the producer would lose all hope. * * * Why lend an ear to the exhibitor who writes to a trade journal and complains that: "I had nineteen in my house last Saturday night, and if I don't get better pictures I'll lose those precious nineteen"; or the exhibitor who writes to a motion picture paper: *'that what my town wants are only the big ones. Westerns or Comedy Dramas"? Perhaps his playhouse suggests a "honky tonk" and one of the fundamentals of all entertainment is that you must make the guy who gives up his dough feel at home. Then this exhibitor grows introspective and finds the cause "in free band concerts, public dances, radio parties, revivals and love of a cozy warm fire", but this reaction only exists when he is running pictures that are not "Westerns and Comedy Dramas". Doesn't that prove that presentation has a great deal to do with it? I have a feeling that that exhibitor has properly synchronized music, that his ushers walk with heavy heel, that the song of the acidifying shirt and bodily smells are right for scenes laid in stable and dung heap. And another from Ivesdale, 111., tells us that his theatre has small town patronage and that there is something wrong with pictures because his house hasn't been doing well. He misquotes the apostle of repetition: "And every day in every way business gets worse and worse." In a comfy room I perused these complaints, but smelling, seeing and hearing are believing. I went to "look in", and what I beheld would, if conscientiously reported, crowd a fatter tome than the tooled levant that crushes the Pilgrim's Progress. * * * If we crave our daily bread, let us stand erect like worthwhile vertebrae and extend a hand or foot as the case demands. Poor food has a fair chance on a clean platter. An inviting picture house brings its return. We all enjoy civility, pure air, fresh paint, clean floors, chairs that do not remind us of our natural deficiencies. Piano tuners are in every village. There is a Chinese adage: "In darkness there is filth." There is a German pith}' saying that: "At night every cow is black". There is a Tunisian proverb: "The nose was born to help the eye to see", and in the Arctic the Laplander knows that where there is perpetual night the temperature is very low, for where it is difficult to see nature precautions decomposition. No house should debase a picture that has been seriously aftid conscientiously produced. The producer, as well as an audience, enjoys proper presentation. As a producer, I beg the exhibitors to project both good and bad, expensive and inexpensive pictures properly and in a building that deserves the name of theatre. * * * A splendid bit of cinema art produced by an excellent company was shown recently in and the musical obligato almost ruined the picture. It was a period story, one that called for beautiful costumes and well designed sets. In an important episode, a brass band comes down the main street of Salem. The entire scene has the quality and spirit of long ago. To this, "The Invincible Eagle" was played in perfect out-of-step syncopation, and when the scene changed, the black narcissus at the organ created more havoc floundering through three sub-titles, trying to become properly stabilized. Behind me a woman dropped something. To the right a child cried for nourishment. To the left spectators moved in and out. A curtain covering the main entrance, whenever opened bathed the screen in a soft cerulean glow. The auditorium suggested a monkey emporium; the cracking of nuts, the forced shrieks of insincere juvenile appreciation, the screen ghost that put in its appearance at the very moment when no one was anxious to see an aparition, and when the big and well played moment came, that uncalled for spectre deprived the picture of its rights. A big soft piece of fluff, that resembled a black centipede, crept over the dying woman's body to the great delectation of the young and displeasure of those sincerely interested and moved, and not until the operator beheld this new form of double exposure, which jigged through one-half reel, did he stop the machine to remove the dancing demon. He had a girl friend in the booth. He then ran the picture with that hectic impulse that is born of abject disrespect. The most beautiful work of art, if treated with contempt, will be received contemptuouslv. * + * Now, I ask you: Who is to blame? The man who makes pictures is often a bad producer, but the man who projects them has proven in many cases to be a fierce exhibitor. What could be more natural than the corner grocer when he condescends to become an exhibitor, to call the best picture "a piece of cheese"? Or, a chap who, in a snow covered town, stays in bed all day waiting for his theatre to open, looks with bleared eyes at the new picture, dismissing it with — "it's the bunk". The sun travels his diurnal course; days sail away on easy wings. A soft wind kissed the boughs of full sapped branches that moved rhythmically and whispered reverentially that we should enter the dark and chilled nave where incense-stained monoliths supported proudly a gilded roof. A dusky shaft of light crawled across the polished pavement where for one thousand years men had knelt and prayed and in their prayers had hoped for better things. In silent adoration, let us lift our heads and whisper our daily bread Brown Writes Series For ''P. R/'; Survey Increases Clientele "Public Relations" this week announces two special features for Her.\ld readers. One is a constructive discussion of "Benefits," the first of a series of articles to be written for "Public Relations" by Len S. Brown, manager of Finkelstein &: Ruben's New Astor theatre. St. Paul. Minn. Mr. Brown is an enthusiastic exponent of public relations as a vital factor in the successful operation of a theatre. The other feature details the plan of A. L. Middleon in conducting a "Motion Picture Survey" of his city. There is money in the reading of both of these articles for they offer ideas for cashing ■ in at the box ofiice.