Inside facts of stage and screen (May 3, 1930)

PAGE FOUR INSIDE FACTS OF STAGE AND SCREEN SATURDAY, MAY 3, 1930 Picture Reviews ~ Previews ~ Shorts By A. H. FREDERICK With a surprising agility, movies in the silent days managed to avoid all controversial matter; but it is doubtful if this record can be sustained in the more rapid development of the talkies. See- ing a silent picture nowadays is a very tedious matter; the plot unfolds with a slow deliberation that is extremely out of tune with our hectic twentieth century, and affairs of little moment are put across in lengthy footage. It is the latter phase that is of interest, for, it is seen, some emo- tion, belief or ethic which formerly consumed a quarter or a half reel of closeups and medium shots can now be delivered in two lines of dia- logue. Which means that, when the inevitable time arrives for tightening up dialogue scenarios, the histrionic emotional field will be much more quickly exhausted than was the case with silent films. The trite emotions, which served the si- lents for lo, these many years, will become as passe as has finale flag-waving and resurrected wills, and the only recourse will be to complexi- ties. And right there is where the screen will be forced to abandon its attitude of a universal be- nevolent righteousness and begin to realize that the most gripping story material is by no means that which adds one more affidavit to the effect that white is white and black is black, and there are no in-between grays or mottles. And what a howl will arise when the screen is at last forced to the astounding discovery that the donning of a clerical collar doesn’t necessarily sanctify a whole life, nor does the shining forth of a red light necessarily mean a heart filled with venom and a destiny certain to end in disaster; that all millionaires are not, by the size of their bank ac- counts, sweet souls of generous impulse, and that all honest men end by winning high position and the millionaires’ daughters. The career of the screen Has been one of the most amazing atavisms of all times. Despite the educational revolution brought about by such masters as Flaubert, Zola, Becque, Brieux and others of the naturalist school, the movies suc- ceeded in turning the hands of the clock back half a century to the mid-Victorianisms of George Sand, Sardou and The Duchess, and made the people like it. But gradually there seems to be coming about a change, the two most notable examples of which currently are Universal’s “All Quiet on the West- ern Front” and the Tiffany-Gainsborough “Jour- ney’s End.” They, in their book and play form respectively, have been widely ballyhooed as great anti-war epics. They are not exactly this, not nearly so much so as Zola’s “Le Debacle” or some of Hugo’s and 'Tolstoi’s works. The real propa- ganda against war does not lie in the trenches, but in the administration buildings back in the capitals. But the pictures are pleasing and pro- gressive variants to the former screen tenet that all war pictures must climax to a glorious vic- tory for our side, and the fadeout oue-tow’d itself to a stock shot of the returning Yanks parading through New York, and then to the girl who was waiting at home. Let us at least hope that these two new type war pictures have put an end for- ever to that silliness. Of course all pictures, as well as all plays and books (speaking of those of serious import) are propaganda. We are apt to overlook this fact in the positivism of our engendered training. If a crook, sympathetically portrayed, is, to a po- liceman ,anti-social propaganda, why then it fol- lows that a glorified policeman in a picture is, to a crook, subservise propaganda. The truth prob- ably lies somewhere in between, in that broad field of story-telling where both crooks and cops are human beings, with human merits, and no less human demerits. But the movies recognize no such field. To them a fallen woman can never rise, despite 8 St. John 3-11, nor can a thief be re- deemed, despite 24 Luke 40-43, nor do heroes get slapped on the other cheek or heavies forgiven, despite the whole New Testament. The movies are not investigatory; they are purely declama- tory. A uniform makes bravery, honesty and loy- alty ; wealth makes benevolence; a sexual varie- tism wins the wages of sin; public officials are paragons of civic virtue (these movies show even in Los Angeles); judges administer fairly; and all the other balderdash which the newspapers daily puncture, even were there no novelists and playwrights of social insight. In other words, the movies are a good seventy-five years behind the times. They are still telling fairy stories about wicked giants and all-good heroes, with not a human being in a carload. Now some producer may, before he becomes body and breeches in thralldom to the power pow- ers, break over the traces and give us some real, honest-to-goodness flesh-and-blood drama. If he went about this undertaking with sincerity, de- termination and a certain amount of skill, he would doubtlessly create a furore of dimensions, and probably a financial reaping. It would be a most interesting experiment. But hardly likely in this day and age. Fundamentally and functionally all forms of en- tertainment are alike, and the difference between the chute-the-chutes of an amusement park and a movie or a play is one of mechanics only. It is the thrill that counts, and the public is willing to undergo a certain amount of boredom to achieve it. At the chutes, the thrill-seekers will take the long, slow ride up the grade for the sake of the brief dash down; in a movie they will sit through a deal of explanatory and slow-moving footage for the sake of one smash, climax, or, better still, a series of them. Novelists have long recognized this primary rule, and it is the very essence of short story writing, reaching its American cli- max in O. Henry. But here again the movies lag behind. The first question which any sentient story editor should ask is, What is the climax? But do they? They do not. They buy plots as a housewife buys to- matoes or beans—by the label. Someone else has made a boxoffice success with a backstage story, so willy-nilly, they too must have a backstage story. Or a gangster story. Or what have you? And so one “Broadway Melody” sprouts a back- stage crop that is still blossoming; one “Broad- way” legerdemains gangsters of every type and description; one “Front Page” fathers every va- riety of lunatic newspaper man. And the mechan- ics creak, the plots slide into weaker and weaker debility until finally the studio has just exactly what it asked for, another backstage story, an- other gangster story, or another newspaper story. And the public buys the grief. The real thrill moments of the talkie era have been almost nil, due to this lack of understanding in the purchase of stories. And yet one thrill will send a crowd away better satisfied than will a whole six reels of good but unthrilly footage. By this is not meant the trumped-up “thrills,” such as the mine explosion in “Dynamite” or the fre- quent fistic battles, but the more subtle- “good moments” which bring a lump to the throat, or a mumbled cuss word of appreciation. We might mention, just by way of example, the moment when Gary Cooper consented to take Beryl Mer- cer out with him in “Seven Days’ Leave” or George Arliss’ line in “Disraeli,” “I haven’t that power, dear child, but he doesn’t know that.” True, neither of these are the climax of the story, but they are better illustrations than any climax or denouement yet brought forth. It is a depart- ment that the movies would do well to study over. PICTURE REVIEWS “LOVE COMES ALONG” RADIO PICTURE (Reviewed at R-K-O) As a starring vehicle for Bebe Daniels this is a rather depressing anticlimax to “Rio Rita.” It is another one of those Holly- wood exotics, the story of an American showgirl stranded in a South American mosquito port, a showgirl but still pure, who sings in a hotel barroom for her board but, remaining virginial, lacks funds to pay her passage home. Comes a tramp steamer to port, releasing a horde of rough and thirsty sailors for shore leave, among whom is Lloyd Hughes, tricked out in a luminous striped sweater to set him apart from the other boys, just like Tom Mix is bannered from the cowboy mob by his snow-white tights. Lloyd, as the audience quickly and intelli; gently suspects, the minute it sees that sweater, turns out to be the two-fisted swaggering hero of the opera. In order to establish something or other, Lloyd has to be coaxed into going ashore, but he gets to the bar just right for the beauti- fully timed stagey entrance of Bebe. By the law of natural dramatic se- lection she is attracted to Lloyd, or to the sweater, one is never sure which (later it is a parrot), and he, of course, is attracted to her, being a dese and dose sailor and she being a poor small-time showgirl, although she forgets that sometimes, and imagines she is the refined Rio Rita again. All this time there has been a menace, naturally; a villainous Latin with all the powers and re- sources of a magician and the pres- tige of a king—one might almost say a King. This is Montagu Love in disguise. He has a voluptuous mistress, portrayed by Alma Tell, but when he catches her enter- taining a piccolo player he becomes vengeful (who would not?) and looks for a new queen for the fiesta. By one of those queer quirks of fate that come so often to the aid of the scenarist, Bebe is taking vocalises in the garden, unmolest- ed by the mosquitoes, and Monte, captivated by her beautiful voice, commands her as his consort for the fiesta. Big Boy Lloyd starts back to his ship, but changes his mind and returns, climbing her balcony in the most approved Romeo style, and presenting Bebe with a parrot. This brings on a love scene; he proposes—but alas and alack, Fate disposes. He sees the costume Bebe is to wear for Monte at the fiesta, gets sore and beats it. But he hangs around the fiesta and hears Bebe sing, but jealous Monte spots him and turns him over to the local army for deportation. Monte takes Bebe back to her apartment and proposes a li’l party and Bebe, peeved at Big Boy, yesses him. But she cannot help leaning up against her window and strumming on her guitar and hum- ming a love song. This is one of those remarkable Hollywood fantasies where forty- piece orchestras seem to be con- cealed behind every bush and in the nooks and crannies of antique furnishings. Bebe never opens her pretty mouth to sing but what this unseen symphony blossoms into full tonal support. It would seem that even the poverty-stricken “mosquito” (a term used in the dialogue) of the S. A. ports fur- nish splendid musical backgrounds, even in barrooms, for every wan- dering minstrel. And so, as Bebe leaned against her window pane, tears of love in her grieving eyes and a sob in her voice, an unseen symphony or- chestra sprang to her support even as her fingers stroked the strings of her guitar. And to Big Boy, away out on the water, being rowed by lusty sailors to his ship, the plaintive love song and the guitar’s tones came wafting o’er the leagues, and hardly before the last strains had died away he was back in her room to save her from the clutches of the villainous Monte. The picture is full of quaint Hol- lywood touches. Without visible signs of wealth or means of sup- port, Monte is able to command military escorts, and puts on a fiesta featuring a huge band and a ballet of Hollywood’s prize beau- ties that would double the taxes of any ordinary country. Lloyd Hughes does the only au- thentic character drawing in the whole picture. Miss Daniels sings charmingly enough, but makes lit- tle or no effort to stay in charac- ter. The opus is full of absurdi- ties and will no doubt go down in history—away down. EXHIBITORS’ VIEWPOINT: Bebe Daniels will draw wherever “Rio Rita” has been played, but after that they will look the Dan- iels offerings over before biting again. In the cow towns and with the juveniles it will go down as a pleasing fairy story. For the so- phisticates it will provide some amusement. PRODUCERS’ VIEWPOINT: An obvious quickie, turned out to grab the Daniels boxoffice, and no credit to Director Rupert Julian and his producing associates. Sit- uations are trite where not impos- sible. “One of those things.” CASTING DIRECTORS’ VIEWPOINT: Lloyd Hughes o.k. in the romantic lead. Ned Sparks’ comedy touches were all right, but not needed in view of the general handling. His pet monkey also was well cast, but its unexplained dis- appearance after the first part of the picture'caused some concern on the part of the audience. Bebe Daniels suffered from lack of di- rection. Montagu Love made an entertaining comic opera villain and Evelyn Selbie a satisfactory lady-in-waiting for Bebe. Lionel Belmore was the right shape for an inkeeper, but did not belong in South America. Yeates. “KING OF JAZZ” UNIVERSAL ALL-COLOR (Reviewed at Criterion Theatre) The picture, which brings Paul Whiteman and his Orchestra to the screen after no little production difficulties, is opulent in produc- tion. It looks like money. But it is far from great. It’s biggest weakness is a con- sistent one with the song-and- prance epics—an amazing lack of originality. ■ There are, for instance, the fol- lowing items: The blackout where the return- ing husband bawls out the man in the closet for “scaring little chil- dren”; The blackout where the musician who has studied for years is saved from jumping out of a window be- cause he can’t get a break, only to get tossed out of the window when he proves very, very corny in a tryout with Whiteman; The familiar John Murray An- derson “melting pot,” finale; The Spanish ensemble number, and— A western number built around the tune, “Song of the Dawn,” dis- tinctly reminiscent of a recent Los Angeles musical show production. These memory-testing interpola- tions mar what could have been a very fine production. Just at the point when the audi- tor gets warmed up to the point of thinking, “This is something I shouldn’t have missed,” there is in- terjected one of those dreary, time- worn blackouts to drop the build- ing interest of the show a goodly measure. In a fast continuity revue this is a fatal weakness, for with the av- erage showgoer these poor impres- sions stand out like sore thumbs to form guidemarks to a generally low evaluation of the production. “The King of Jazz” really isn’t such a bad production, even from the most critical standpoint, as these outstandingly uninteresting items make it seem, and even at this late date, Universal could profit well by pensioning off those aged blackouts before the film gets into general circulation. It might cut the running time a few minutes, but it will immeasur- ably improve the audience reaction. The great exploitation angle, of course, is the Whiteman rendition of “The Rhapsody in Blue,” pre- sented as staged by Anderson with a kaleidoscopic rising interest that starts with a solitary figure danc- ing on a huge tom-tom and' winds up after a series of musical and op- tical effects in a compelling finale. The other production items are the conventional Spanish ensemble, built around a coaxing song, “It Happened in Monterey,” sung by John Boles with the dissolving pic- ture gag; one of those “bench-in- the-park” numbers, elaborately done; a wedding gown ensemble, also very conventional, but most superbly staged; and that “melt- ing pot” finale, done on a massive scale with hundreds of chorus peo- ple and a huge setting. Done in straight revue style, the stuff is held together by being items from Pj?ul Whiteman’s scrap-book.” This big volume has its pages turned by Charles Irwin, who handles a very straight type of master-of-ceremony role with pleasing suavity and dispatch. Onetof the outstanding items is a technicolor cartoon comedy illus- trating how Paul Whiteman was crowned “King of Jazz,” a bright idea, excellently handled. And throughout the revue the Whiteman band, with its sonorous orchestrations, its smooth musical an imadversions and dancing rhythms, and the band’s singing trio, brighten the piece and hold it together, while the rotund leader twirls his stick and taps his foot in approved Whiteman fashion EXHIBITORS’ VIEWPOINT- Despite weaknesses of a sort to be quickly caught by those wise to (Continued on Page 13)