International photographer (Jan-Dec 1934)

Thirty-two T h INTERNATIONAL PHOTOGRAPHER June. 1934 «<^ei6E8Q. =0Ot3SLF&CU£ By Otto Phocus DESIGN FOR SOMETHING A cameraman married a film editor and this is zvhat happened when he came home for dinner. Dinner has been ready for two hours as the old master heads his car into the driveway and parks. The red porch light is burning, and while waiting for it to go out, suddenly realizes he is home, opens the door and enters. He is met by Goboe, the colored maid, and as he hands her his hat and coat he asks her for the light tests. His wife comes into the hallway and he starts to shake hands with her, but discovers his mistake and says: "Hello, Sweetheart. What is the first shot ?" "The bathroom," she answers. "Get some of that dirt off of your face. You look as though the property man had been trying to age you instead of the props. What kept you so late; you are two hours behind schedule?" "I had to make a few glass shots with the director, but I got away as soon as I could," he said. "I understand," she replied, "but I wish you would not stop to drink when you know I have dinner prepared for you. Some of the things I have for dinner have been on the stove so long they should be re-cut. This dinner was not edited for suspense and as it is I will have to order reprints on butter. It has melted." "Oh, don't worry, Honey. I'm sorry," he says as he makes a wipe dissolve with the dirt onto the clean towel. She walks over to him and he takes her in his arms and says: "Tilt your pan, dear," and kisses her, and they go into the dining room. "Gee, honey, this is swell. Framed perfect, and what composition. Wouldn't this look great on a large screen with music? Just look at the color values. And that jelly would make a swell insert. What is it?" he asked. "It is a two-color process I thought of — mint and strawberry. I hope you like it," she answered. "I get it. A 56 and 23 combination. What that can do to the blues. Get it!" he asked her. "Yes!" she agrees. "I get it, but let's get under production and have some food." Goboe, the maid, brings in the soup, and when the Mrs. sees it she apologizes: "I am sorry, dear, but these noodles have been in the soup so long they are over developed." "Pay no attention to it, honey," he tells her. "Just mark it a 'false start' and watch me reduce them," as he starts to eat. "Have a biscuit, dear," as she passes the plate. "This is a new formula I ran across. The recipe called for twenty minutes, but I made a hand test and pulled them in fifteen minutes. Do you think they were timed right?" "Yes, I do," he said, as he examined them. "I would say they were timed perfectly, but keep in mind that as you increase your temperature you must decrease your time." "I know that, dear," she replied. "Why don't you try your salad ?" "What kind is it?" "Raw stock; it is made from beets, carrots, and turnips. I used some mayonnaise for diffusion. I hope you like it." Goboe brings in the roast and sets it in front of the old master. He takes out his viewing glass and examines Please mention The International Photogra the roast through it. "I think you have over exposed the meat," but he says it with a smile. "Is that so?" from the Mrs. "If you had been in the oven as long as this roast you would be burned up, too. But don't worry — it won't be wasted. We will have cold cuts tomorrow night and then the next night we will have 'news reel'." "What's that?" he asked. "You should know — it's your gag. News reel, a little bit of everything — hash to you." "Oh, yeah, that sure is funny, but we are working that night and I won't be able to get home for dinner." "Well, you'll get it for breakfast, then. You gave me orders to cut down on the overhead and use up all the short ends around here and when I do you try to run 'out on it. You'll get hash if I have to take it out to the studio." "All right, dear," he replied. "I would just love it for breakfast. I have a six o'clock call in the morning and you know it's Goboe's day off. Nice of you to get up so early. Please dolly over the gravy." "You will get hash," she threatens, as she passes the gravy, "if I have to make a stock shot out of it and keep it in the ice box until you do come home." "All right," he replied. "But say — isn't this gravy a little thin?" "Yes, it is. I didn't start it until I heard you coming in, and I'm afraid 1 didn't carry it far enough. I can have Goboe intensify it if you want me to." "That's not necessary. It has everything in it, and she might carry it too far and make it too heavy. What happened to the potatoes?" "They were too white and I had Goboe tone them down with butter," she explained. The telephone rang, and they both yelled, "Quiet !" and when Goboe entered the room she announced it was Miss Mary calling. "Old digs and dirt," he said. "I wonder what she wants?" Then he instructs the maid : "Tell her we are having dinner and we will give her an early call." "They are having trouble again," said his wife. "Yes, I know," he said. "I saw Harry at the studio. He came in while we were making the glass shots. He had about a dozen reloads and was wound up to four times normal and reeled into the other room and did a fade-out. He was as tight as the film in a camera on a sixtyfoot buckle." "That's a shame. I'll bet his wife plays a 'heavy' when he does get home," she sympathizes. "Can you imagine the sustained suspense around that house? If he was knocked loose from a couple of those sequences and developed a Iitle more heart interest they would avoid a lot of those anti-climatic situations. As far as I can see, he has very little production value." "Nevertheless," he replied, "he is the main title. He brings home the dough." "Yes, that's true, but she rates the credit title in that production. I wouldn't be a bit surprised to see them separate. They have been out of sync for a long time." "That may be, but even if they are out of sync at times, they manage to re-record and the next time they make an appearance are an example of perfect synchronization." "Oh, well, why worry about them," she rejoined. "You look tired tonight, dear. Your eyes have dark shadows under them." 'That's this overhead lighting that causes that. A little front light will fix that up. How about a little drink?" "I have some nice white wine," she suggested. "Would you like some of that?" "No, I don't think so," he replied. "How about a little wild shot? Have we any?" "Yes," she hesitatingly admits, "there is some of that dynamite you brought home the other night." "What do you mean dynamite. "That's as smooth as a Lubitsch picture." "It would be if you could take the jumps out of it," she answered, as she arose to get the bottle and glasses. "What are you going to do tonight?" inquired the old maestro, as he pours a long one. "There is a preview at the Beverly. 'Henry the Eighth' is showing also and there is another feature. They have a Mickey Mouse and a news reel. All good pictures — and I hope they have a comedy. I'll get ready as soon as I can, dear," and she leaves the room. "Geez!" exclaims the old focuser. "T-h-r-e-e features." and he takes another drink "A news reel," as he pours another. "A Mickey Mouse," as he grabs another. "A comedy," as he drains the bottle and goes into the other room and stretches out on the davenport. The Mrs. dashes into the room and tells the old meanie she is ready. She tries to get him on his feet — and then discovers — he has emptied the bottle. Then she goes over to the closet, takes a blanket and covers him, and leaves for the picture show. As soon as she drives out he gets up and goes out to the kitchen and pours a glass of the white wine. "Goboe," he asks the maid, "do you like picture shows?" "No, suh," she replied, "Since I'se been working here I'se jest lost my taste for 'em." pher when corresponding with advertisers.