Motion Picture Classic (Jul-Dec 1930)

Tell Us All About It .00 LETTER Talkies Don't Know How to Love Philadelphia, Pa. It's sad but true. Too bad, too bad, the talkies have taken away the thrills we used to get out of watching love scenes in the silent days. The talkies are shamefully unromantic. Maybe they're too young to know much about love, but they had better learn the tricks fast. Love scenes no longer seem real and sincere. This is truly the one and only tragic feature of the talkies. They have not been found wanting in other respects, but they do lack the good old romance stuff. In the silent days, the hero on bended knees would look soulfuUy in the eyes of his lady love, kiss her hand, put his arms around her waist or gently hug her and then they would both put a goofy look on their faces and sigh and we all thought this all beautiful and romantic. But those days are gone forever now that the hero has to put a lover's actions into words that sound like this: "I love you." "I'm mad about you." "Life wouldn't be worth living without you." "I love you, love you," etc., etc. It sounds ridiculous. It's awful. We just can't take it seriously. Everybody titters and giggles, and tee-hees, and laughs at the so-called hot love scenes and thinks it all very funny. And it is very, very funny. The passionate love scenes not only sound foolish in the talkies, but if carried too far make us squirm in our seats with embarrassment, especially if we happen to be with a gent or if children are around. No, we don't want the love scenes left out altogether, but they do need careful watching so they don't sound silly. Precautions should be taken with films that require romantic love scenes. A very little of that sort of stuff goes a long way in the talkies. Booby J. $10.00 LETTER Paging Jack London's Stuff Charlotte, N. C. I want adventure stories. I like pictures of freedom, written by the few who are free for the many who are not-stories of the beings who inhabit those spaces commonly referred to as wide open — where there are no desks, no jangling telephones, no trial balances. ■ The men who stride through the pictures I like best were never seen on land or sea; the women— delightful, lovely creatures — always being plucked out of snowdrifts or stranded upon desert islands. That's all right, but I'm sick of reality. Through adventure stories I can taste the joys, sorrows and thrills that might have been mine and I can be weary, whose shoulders have never sagged beneath the weight of heavy packs; whose arms have never swung a machete through tangled underbrush or balanced a canoe. I can climb a mountain in the glory of the morning, or ride a fleet horse through a night of black darkness and beating rain. I can stand on the prow of a lurching boat and feel the sting of salt spray on my face.. Those are the kinds of pictures we want more of. They make us forget our heartaches, our bills and our ills. Let up on the show world pictures a while and give us more adventure stories. M. Harris $5.00 LETTER Gone Are The Days Jersey City, N. J. Going to the movies nowadays has lost half the appeal that it used to have before the silent screen found its voice. No more can we go to the movies after a hard day's work, recline in one of those plush chairs, rest our jaded nerves and have the organ lull us to sleep. No more can we derive pleasure in reading sub-titles out loud, explaining what it meant to one another, and not being told to shut up, for practically everyone did it. No more can the kids shout, clap, stamp their feet, whistle and otherwise tear the roof down when the hero on his trusty steed rides to the rescue; and cheer when their strong, silent son of the open spaces says, "Curses on you, Jack Dalton. Unhand that fair Damsel!" No more can they hiss and boo and otherwise give the Bronx raspberry when the villain twirls his waxed mustache and says, "Aha there my proud beauty, 'tis I, Jack Dalton." No more can we laugh at Harold Lloyd's gags as long as we want to without fear of missing his others. No siree! No more. The talkies have changed all that. Samuel Zerinsky $1.00 LETTERS Grandma Censures The Press Alda, Nebr. I am a grandmother and a regular picture fan. I enjoy a good picture. I have seen very few pictures that I would call objectionable. However, I consider the advertising in the press and on the billboards very misleading and sometimes insulting. The press plays up all the immoral features of a play if there are any filthy features and invents immoral features when there are none as in the picture "They Had to See Paris." This picture was fine and clean in every respect and just what we expect from Will Rogers but the advertisements pictured him in a dirty scene that never occurred in the picture at all. The majority of movie fans are attracted by other things besides thrills and sex. What is the matter with the words — fun — courage — and humor — ? Douglas Fairbanks and Mary, Will Rogers, Ronald Colman, Ann Harding and many others do not play in pictures in which there are objectionable features and the public should not be misled. I am for better and truer advertising. Airs. M. G. How Times Have Changed Cleveland, Ohio I often think of the days of not very long ago and the way some of us used to sneak into the movies, afraid it would be known that we had such low tastes. Well do I remember how shocked we were at one of our friends who went to one of these places three nights a week as pianist. We all felt that it was too bad that she should stoop to so low a calling to sell her talent in that manner, after all the money that had been spent on her musical education. Compare those days with today. Now we. have some of the best of the operatic and theatrical stage actors to be seen and heard in the talkies. It gives me a great thrill to remember that I have heard people like Lawrence Tibbett at prices that I could afford to pay and in seats that I could see and hear them with all the enjoyment in the world. We owe the men who have brought the motion pictures to what they are today, a lasting debt of gratitude. They have worked untiringly to give us good entertainment and education, bringing to us pictures and news of places and people we never would have seen or heard but for the camera and screen. Miss M. Stevenson You may have S.A., but do you have S.E.? Motion Picture CLASSIC wants to know. We want you to join our free clinic, ir the tests show that you have a superior kind of S. E., you stand in line for one of three first prizes; $20 for first, $10 for second, $5 for third and $1 for every other letter published. To join the clinic all you have to do is to write a letter of, say, 200 to 250 words, about some phase of the movies, advancing an idea, an appreciation, or a criticism, without becoming ga ga or vituperative. Sign your full name and address, and mail the letter to: Laurence Reid. Editor, Motion Picture CLASSIC, Paramount Building, 1501 Broadway. New York City. No letters can be returned, and we reserve the right to print any or all that we like. Having done this much, you will perhaps be conscious, without our telling you, that you have S. E. But if you win a prize, or your letter is printed, there can be no doubt about It; you have Self-Expression. An Appeal For Varied Endings San Antonio, Tex. Monotony is awful! It is not confined to any special things. But this discussion is; it is about "monotonous screen stories" — adaptations of novels and other stories, every part of which we know before the picture begins, and the same "happy ending" stories. Few of them seem to be original and as we see it in real life. One does not get nearly as much from the picture when the plot is known, in its entirety, in advaiice. There is nothing to look forward to. Sustained interest is almost {Continued on page J05) ()