Motion Picture Classic (Jul-Dec 1930)

The Panic Is Over HERBERT CRUIKSHANK Illustration By E I don K e I ley T |HE panic's on!" That was the roar from Hollywood a year ago. A roar that reverberated across the land to Broadway. A roar that echoed in the ears of the theater. And threatened to sweep the stage clean as a tidal wave. But things are different now. I he panic is over. Hollywood is itself again. And so is Broadway. Like the ancient platitude about Mark Twain's death, the rumor regarding the imminent demise of the theater was slightly exaggerated. I he westward hegira has ceased, and the return stub of the two-way railroad ticket is the season's vogue. As in any other gold rush, the breaks accorded the recent Hollywood argonauts was about nmety-ten. Ten per cent, found pay-dirt in the land of bilk and money. Ninety per cent, were glad to kiss the pavement in front of the Palace Theater, and to give Hollywood the chill antarctic bird. At the height of the invasion which led to the Battle of Equity and the subsequent Retreat from Malibu, there were some fifteen hundred recruits from various branches of the theater bucking the Hollywood tiger. It is safe to say that not one hundred and fifty remain to tell the tale. The Broadway season just passed has proved a particularly fertile one. Not a theater was dark. And an enormous number of plays were produced. The percentage of successes not being lower than usual— although, goodness knows, that is low enough. Clauses and Effects BRIEFLY, the prodigals have returned, the fatted calves have been fitted to sock and buskin, and all's quiet on the Eastern front. And that goes even for the musicals and revues, which were hardest hit among the "legitimate" brethren by the raiding Tartars of the Talkies. Even when Hollywood's head was whirling, it remembered the old Spanish custom of giving only shortterm contracts — an initial three months, with options for similar periods following. In the scramble for talent — histrionic, technical, directorial — it was no Fred Keating bird-cage trick to win a Hollywood holiday. And that is exactly what many a contract amounted to. At the expiration of the first three-month term, many a Broadway lad and lass bounded back to New York on the old Santa Fc without having worked a day. With the next quarter, a further weeding-out took place. Some promising prospects were retained. Others were kept around the lot as a threat to temperamental high-priced picture stars. But these were the exceptions. Hot or cold, the majority faced the rising sun. Frequently, without having had a single opportunity to prove asse^or liability. The Broadway Hordes Are Folding Their Tents And SilentlyStealing Away And at the end of the ninth month, Hollywood had given birth to some very decided, and quite sound ideas. It had discovered that a competent stage player is not necessarily a cinema sensation. The screen calls for three degrees of acting, three changes of pace. It is necessary to exaggerate action in long shots — be yourself in mediums — and use considerable restraint in close-ups. On the stage, the tempo remains always the same. The Broadway brotherhood proved unadaptable. It had discovered that in the theater a player's features ordinarily are indiscernible beyond the fifth or sixth row. But the perennial ingenues of the stage looked like Macbeth's witches under the age-disclosing eye of the close-up camera. I Home Talent Wanted T had discovered that the "star system" built by Hollywood, itself, had developed into something of a Frankenstein. The movie public knew Gloria, and Bebe, and Buddy, and Gary. Knew them and wanted them. The big names of Broadway didn't do business in that thing called "Middle West" — and many a golden egg was laid, with the producers supplying the fold. Less than fifteen blocks rom Times Square, on Broadway, Ina Claire was billed as Mrs. Jack Gilbert. That gives you an idea. Hollywood had also discovered that it hadn't given the home talent enough credit. Being [Continued on page io6) 63