Hollywood Spectator (1931)

14 Hollywood Spectator prostrated, stricken, agonized, tortured, and annoyed by the heat. Myself, accustomed only to the mild New York summers, have been unable to stand it. (The above is the only accurate weather report that has been printed west of Riverside in thirty years. Exhaustive researches in the Los Angeles Times, the Los Angeles Examiner and other local journals over the last few weeks have yielded hundreds of stories concerning a sixty-two year old man who died from the heat in Jacksonville, Florida. He was also run over by a street car but the Los Angeles County coroner, rushed to Jacksonville by plane, announced the death to be from sun stroke. Local weather reports are unanimously hidden in the classified ad section where they simply state the temperature for the preceding day — in three figures.) After one appallingly hot day, I consulted the Los Angeles Times and noticed on the front page a long story about the horrible conditions in the Middle West. Chicago, it seemed, was sweltering in a 94 temperature, and Fargo, North (or maybe it’s South) Dakota, was even worse. There was no intimation, however, of any tepidity in Southern California. On page 22, the Times finally broke down and confessed that it had also been 94° the day before in Los Angeles. Southern California was therefore just as hot as Northern Illinois — but it didn’t make the front page. Evidently, when the weather is terrible in Los Angeles, it isn’t news. Junior ▼▼ Having seen Raymond Massey play The Man in Possession in London — and it was a brilliant performance — I went to the Mayan Theatre two weeks ago with grave misgivings. I knew Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., to be an earnest, ambitious youth, with high ideals, and I hated to see him suffering by comparison with a really fine actor. You can imagine my consternation on discovering that this inexperienced stripling was, in most respects, just as good as Raymond Massey, and in some respects appreciably better. Young Doug has no need of experience. He was born with it. He has a sense of comedy that could not be acquired in fifty years of steady trouping, the sense that has been apparent in every performance his father ever gave, the sense that was the distinguishing feature of young Jack Barrymore in the days before he had graduated from The Fortune Hunter to the Warner Brothers. If Douglas, Junior, finds the right play, and does it in New York, he will be a sensational success — and those are words that I don’t expect to eat. Literary Lumber ▼ ▼ Two WEEKS ago, in this journal, Mr. Beaton urged the film producers to buy their stories as they buy their lumber. That is to say, not in the form of logs but in the form of planks and beams, cut to specification. He added: “I don’t see why a screen author should not be asked to do something that a sawmill does without being asked.” Now I don’t want any suggestion of friction to be apparent in the Hollywood Spectator, but overwhelming curiosity impels me to ask: “Just what does this mean?” For my part, I can’t quite see why an author should be asked to do what a sawmill does, nor why a sawmill should be asked to do what an author does. Sawmills are useful in their way, and authors are useful in theirs (though there may be some debate on this last point). But it is impossible for me to understand why either one should imitate the other. Pei’haps Mr. Beaton means that authors should heed the ancient injunction to “saw wood and say nothing” — an excellent idea which, however, fails to answer the important question: who is going to furnish the wood? ▼ ▼ Some ten years ago, Samuel Goldwyn attempted to start a classic grove at his studio in Culver City. He imported Mary Roberts Rinehart, Rupert Hughes, Rex Beach, Gouverneur Morris, Maurice Maeterlinck and other giant redwoods, and he then proceeded to reduce them to pulp. It was not a successful experiment, as Mr. Goldwyn himself will be the first and last to testify. For the trouble always seems to be that those who grow the trees can’t seem to whittle them into the tooth-picks that the movie people require. Advance Farewell ▼▼ Allusion has been made of the fact that I am about to return whence I came, and it may be another nine years before I again become a paid guest in Hollywood (which, by that time, may have sunk beneath the sea). So if Miss Garbo is as anxious to meet me as they say she is, she’d better hurry up and send around that invitation I’ve been waiting for. Once back in New York, I shall rush to the Roxy, Capitol, Paramount and Little Carnegie Playhouse and see the pictures that, for one reason or another, I have failed to catch out here, and I shall write complaining letters about them to Mr. Beaton. If it turns out that I participated in the preparation of any of the future flops, I shall keep my mouth shut. So even though I may not be here to remind you of it, don’t fail to advertise heavily in the Hollywood Spectator. And don’t think that Mr. Beaton will fail to reciprocate. If you take a quarter-page, your name will be barely mentioned in these columns; if you take a half-page, you’ll be subjected to a mild rap; but a full page will get you the panning of your life. ▼ ▼ V Economy on Film Rentals (The Allied Exhibitor ) To get by next year every exhibitor will have to economize in every way he can and especially on film rentals. The exhibitor who pays as much next year for pictures as he did this, can not hope to survive. The product is almost certain to be poorer and economic conditions will be worse. With the present depressed business conditions aggravated by the inevitable wage reductions, it is difficult to see where you are going to find your patrons. The plain meaning of all this is that the theatre owners must follow the lead of the producers and economize, and the best place to economize is on film rentals. Do not buy until after your local association has held its convention and you have had an opportunity to consult with your leaders and acquaint yourself with conditions. Shop around as much as your competitive situation will permit. Make the very best bargain you can. But above all, wait. New Screen (To-day’s Cinema, England) Mr. J. V. Bryson has once again shown his enterprise by trying out a new type of screen at the Universal private theatre. This is made of perforated zinc, coated with a white composition. The perforations are sufficiently great in proportion to the area of the screen to offer very little obstruction to the sound from behind the screen — and the screen is washable.