Hollywood Spectator (1937-39)

Hollywood Spectator Page Three stop. Similarly, Mr. Zukor's sage observation is of no value to anyone unless coupled with the reason for the stopping. What the Reason Is . . . LOOKING for that reason, the first thing we find is that in the days of silent pictures we cared little what was showing at our favorite film theatres; we went regularly, had the habit of going; the box-office could depend upon so much revenue from us each week. The next point to settle is the reason for our indifference to what was showing. That means delving into motion picture fundamentals. We find we were (not entertained by what we saw on the screen. We entertained ourselves. We imagined the shadows on the screen were real people moving in a three dimensional world; when they conversed, our imaginations supplied the sound of their voices, and, guided by printed titles, fashioned the stories to suit ourselves. If our imaginations had not been capable of functioning in this manner, if they had not given the screen that much cooperation, motion pictures would have been so stupid, so meaningless, they never would have attracted an audience. But our imaginations did function (I have said all this before in a score of different SPECTATORS) without any help from our brains, thus making the picture house a haven of mental and physical rest, a place of escape from the real world, a dream world in which silent shadows floated past our eyes and gave our imaginations pictures to play with — a little world filled with music which only our emotions heard. The screen gave us the strongest illusion of reality ever achieved by any art, and it pleased us because we pleased ourselves with it. Then Came the Talkies . . . I I7HEN sound came to the screen, everything was Tf changed. Hollywood went into an entirely new business. It made a fundamental change in the nature of its product. It dismissed imagination, its greatest box-office ally, and itself told the stories we hitherto had told ourselves. It eliminated the music which had created the mood of what it had shown, and strived unsuccessfully to manufacture moods in its studios. It changed its form of entertainment from emotional to intellectual; it made us listen to stories with our ears instead of permitting us to tell them with our imaginations. All this made it necessary for us to shop around for such pictures as we thought would entertain us. In the silent days we took the children, for they could imagine things to please them just as we did, but we could not take them to the talkies which left nothing to the imagination. They too had to shop. The talking device, which could have been used as a practical aid to screen art, was used to murder it. And to this day not a producer who used to make silent pictures is aware of the fact that he now is in a totally different business. It is gracious of Mr. Zukor to acknowledge we now shop for our screen entertainment, but it would mean more to the holders of stock in his company if he would make an effort to ascertain and understand the reason why. * * * ONE COURAGEOUS PRODUCER . . . AJO one can accuse Hal Wallis of not having nerve. IT.The daring production chief at Warners has ordered into production a picture which is going to make fake-accident crooks awfully mad at him. He will expose them and their methods. If he comes through that unscathed, he may go as far as exposing those who cheat at croquet. Little things like war, political corruption and similar social ills, are not worth bothering about. The film industry must tackle the big things first. For instance, take the habit school children have of sticking chewing gum on the undersides of their desks. Something must be done about that before the film industry can bother about a trivial thing like an anti-war picture. * * * CRITICIZING A CRITIC . . . I TTHEN a critic records his honest opinion of the rT merits of the thing criticized, he can not be charged with being wrong even if all other critics disagree with him. If a critic of a motion picture condemns it, he is right in that to him it is a poor picture deserving condemnation. Another critic, in praising the same picture, is right for the same reason; he sees it as a good picture. A Daily Variety critic characterizes as “banal and insignificant,” The Man Who Cried Wolf, which in my criticism last week I praised highly; but I can not say the Variety critic is wrong. He is as much entitled to his opinion as I am to mine. But I am within my rights when I challenge the grounds upon which he bases his conclusions. In course of his criticism we find, “. . . dialogue painfully devoid of sparkle . . . fail to discover an inspired line or witty bit of dialogue.” The Universal picture is a serious psychological drama which derives its strength from its integrity, from its honest and consistent adherence to theme and faithful maintenance of its mood. A “witty bit of dialogue” would have disturbed its mood, would have been as much out of place as a comedy monologue at a trial for murder. A critic is not justified in condemning a thoughtful, penetrating drama on the ground that it did not make him laugh. This picture was not intended as an incitement of laughter. That is the mission of a comedy, and if the Variety critic viewed it from a comedy standpoint, I agree heartily with his conclusions. I, also, saw nothing in it to laugh at, failed also to detect an “inspired line,” heard only serious speeches which combined to be an impressive exposition of the theme of the story. Origin of Wise-Cracking . . . II l HEN we are viewing a screen offering, we should rT be conscious only of the story. Players, dialogue, settings should be blended in a manner to center our attention on the creation as a whole. Anything has a