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THE ACTUAL
and to build up a film industry almost unlimited capital is needed. Germany turned to her Government for support, and the response was praiseworthy. But even with State help, bank subsidies, and, later, loans from American companies, the German industry was in a constant state of fluctuation. Her films, although far better than the American output, failed to secure adequate returns, and Hollywood, quick to recognise the brains behind these productions, began to rob Germany of her directors, players, and technicians, and to turn them to her own commercial uses. Some years later many of these returned the worse for wear, and are now in their own country. Recent German productions tend to be Americanised, although some attempt has been made by Erich Pommer to combine Hollywood commercialism with the remnants of the great German school of 1919-25.
In Sweden and in France the same story can be told. For some time Sweden tried gallantly to make films of good quality, but again financial failure was the result. One by one her best directors and players drifted across to Hollywood, where their work steadily deteriorated. France, although spasmodically producing interesting but isolated films, has never succeeded in sustaining a continued output. In England also, much the same situation developed, the Americans acquiring the most promising players for their own productions, leaving British directors to do the best they could with the remainder. British directors are supposed to be renowned for their lack of intelligence and what were they to do when even the pretty faces were snatched from them?
Thus, although four countries made every effort to produce films in the face of the Hollywood movies, these pictures and their makers were doomed to eventual failure, with the inevitable result that the brains were imported into America. Instead of remaining persons of individual taste they became cogs in the great movie machine. I cannot recall one example of a European director who, on going to Hollywood, made films better or even as good as he did in his own surroundings. For example, Murnau's Four Devils and Sunrise were not comparable to Tartuffe and The Last Laugh\ Lubitsch's The Patriot came nowhere near Dubarry in dramatic power; Leni's The Man Who Laughs was a travesty compared to Waxworks; Dupont's Love Me and the World is Mine is not generally associated with his name; Seastrom's Thy Soul Shall Bear Witness
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