Hollywood Spectator (1938)

Hollywood Spectator Page Seven world of the terrific box-office business being done by In Old Chicago. In San Francisco, it claims the picture was, “Blazing into second week after recordbreaking first week!” Turning one of the Variety pages I found this in the news columns about what the picture is doing in San Francisco: “7n Old Chi¬ cago (20th) (2nd week). Doing fairly well at $16,000. First week’s take $25,000, big, but not a record-breaker.’’ In their respective views of the ethics of film advertising, the Spectator seems to have the edge on Will Hays. * * * MYTHS GO ON AND ON . . . T RANGE how film myths persist. Recently George McCall broadcast to the nation that Zasu Pitts might have developed into a great dramatic star if the public had allowed her to play anything but comedy roles. George cited the incident of the laugh¬ ter which greeted her appearance in All Quiet On The Western Front in which she played a serious part, claiming it signified the public’s refusal to accept her in such a part. Several times the Spectator has come to Zasu’s defence by relating just what happened. I was present at the All Quiet preview. In the picture which preceded it on the screen, Zasu played one of her most hilarious roles, putting the audience in the mood to laugh at her when she made her first ap¬ pearance in the picture which followed immediately after the comedy. The stupidity of Universal in eliminating her from All Quiet for such an illogical reason, caused the screen to lose a great emotional actress. * * * DUELLING WITH SOUND CONTROLS . . . ECENTLY I had something to say about the manner in which Darryl Zanuck controls the sound volume at Century previews, and I have made several references to the loud noise which is a feature of previews at the Warners’ Hollywood theatre. I am told that Jack Warner handles the sound when one of his important pictures is being shown the press. That explains everything. Darryl and Jack have been feuding more or less ever since the former went to Century, and now apparently each is de¬ termined not to let the other out-do him in making a noise. Another case of innocent by-standers doing most of the suffering. ♦ * * WE AGREE ON A SCRIPT . . . HEN I wrote my review of The Adventures of Marco Polo, I had this to say about Robert E. Sherwood’s screen play: “Seldom have I been im¬ pressed so strongly with the outstanding merit of a screen play. Not only does the action glide along in an easy, logical flow, but the dialogue, too, seems to have rhythmic progression. The brilliant author of Reunion In Vienna, Idiot’s Delight, and other great stage successes, is equally at home in expressing him¬ self in cinematic terms. His dialogue is terse, to the point, and his rich sense of humor almost slyly in¬ sinuates itself into the pattern at just the right spots. ” Some time after the review appeared, a printed slip from Sam Goldwyn, attached to Frances Marion’s valuable contribution to film technical reading, How to Write and Sell Film Stories, bore this message: “We are proud to tell you that Miss Frances Marion has selected the screen play of Samuel Goldwyn’s The Adventures of Marco Polo as a perfect example of screen writing and has reproduced the scenario in her book.’’ Seems that Miss Marion and I had the same idea. * % * CAN OPINIONS BE WRONG? . . . HEN one writes as much as I do, expresses so many opinions and distributes so much advice, it is inevitable that he receive now and then a letter taking him to task. One reader draws an indictment of me, stipulating eleven instances of my being wrong in things I have written. I differ with his view of what constitutes being wrong. I write only my opin¬ ions, nothing factual: I always am right in that the opinions really are my own. The opinions may be wrong from the viewpoint of some readers, but from my standpoint they are right. However, no writer is impeccable. But even in making that simple state¬ ment I would be declared wrong by Hazlitt if he were alive. He knew impeccable writers. In one of his Table Talk essays we find, “The only impeccable writers are those who never wrote.” * * * STAGE AND SCREEN DIALOGUE . . . OME day some producer — heaven alone knows where he will come from — is going to have a simple story written for interpretation in human terms, and is going to have his players read their lines in simple, conversational tones — just talk with one another, without thought of diction or voice projection — and his picture is going to be a great box-office success. Pictures are harmed more than helped by the meticulous diction necessary on the stage, from which voices must be projected to distant seats. On the screen all a player need do is make him¬ self understandable to the person he is addressing. The microphone attends to everything else. * * * SCREEN CREDITS SUGGESTION . . . ONSIDERABLE discussion about screen credits is being heard nowadays. It certainly is absurd to start pictures with long lists of names which mean nothing to audiences outside Hollywood. Perhaps the names of two or three directors are known to the world at large, but the rest suggest nothing to the average picture goer. Members of casts, of course, mean something, but not as they are presented now, at the beginning of the film when we attach no im¬ portance to the fact that the cook is being played by Sophie Glutz. But perhaps Sophie’s part is a big one and she comes through with a performance which makes us interested in her to the extent of wishing to know who she is. Sometimes the cast is repeated at the end of the picture. It should be there always or, better still, there should be a frame in every lobby