Motion Picture Classic (Jul-Dec 1930)

Glorifying The American Drunl him at the time. Every little thing is overemphasized for him. He becomes didactic, or profound or sentimental or puzzled — • according to his nature and how much and how fast he has been drinking. A Funny Way of Thinking " TUST the way a drunk walks is funny to J me. His center of balance, or something, shifts and he tips a little forward — or perhaps sways backward at the most astonishing angles. His face changes. It gets loose — the muscles sag. "But it isn't the way a drunk looks that makes him funny. It's the way he thinks. His mind soars airily about from subject to subject. Small things seem vastly important to him. He gets profound. He is solemnly illogical and absurd and fantastic. "I have always liked the story, which happens to be a true one, told by two gentlemen who were standing in front of the Lambs' Club one stifling night in New York. A drunk came walking down the street. "He wasn't terribly drunk. He was in evening clothes, well-groomed, completely unruffled — just weaving a little bit in a dignified and polite manner. He paused and asked one of my friends the time. "'Three o'clock,' he was told. He looked puzzled. "'Three o'clock?' he repeated, a little fuzzily. " ' Yes.' "'Three o'clock — when?' "'Three o'clock in the morning.' "The stranger pondered this for a moment. Then he had a bright idea. He burst into song. ' We've danced the whole night through—' he caroled. And proceeded upon his wavering way, singing merrily. A Drunk Can't Play One THAT'S the sort of thing that makes them funny. Doubtless, he had some vague purpose in asking the time — trying to orient himself, or something. Then, when he heard that familiar phrase, it suggested something else to him and he was mightily pleased when he thought of that song. He was having a swell time!" "Does it — would it — do you think it might — help you in your researches to get a little oiled, yourself, sometimes?" I suggested, with some timidity. Actors are so touchy about admitting that they ever take a drink. This one laughed. "Not a bit," he said. " In the first place, you behave in an entirely different manner when you are really drunk from the way in which you pretend to be drunk. "Besides, you are in no mood for selfanalysis when you are drinking. And even if you could achieve introspection, you wouldn't be able to remember your conclusions the next day! You certainly couldn't play drunk scenes while you were drunk, yourself — because you would forget {CoiHinued from page jj) your lines and perform all sorts of absurdities that were not in the script. Some Need It, Some Don't " ALCOHOL is funny stuff. It ruins £\_ some — weak people. It is very good for others. I know men, brilliant men, who are so inhibited, so shy, that they just don't function or assert themselves unless lun yek . [S (I On-the-side lines: driven indoors by a light rain (let's call it a mist and give the Chamber of Commerce a break) during "Rivers End," J. Farrell MacDonald gets Charles Bickford's ideas they have a drink or two. It gives them confidence, inspires them. Those people need to drink. But the ones who can't drink a wee bit and then stop — shouldn't drink at all. We all know people of both types. " But probably the thing that makes a drunk funny to a sober onlooker is the sense of slight superiority that the watcher develops. Psychologists say that it is the superiority feeling that makes people laugh. They like to see someone fall down in an undignified position. They like to see the pompous gentleman lose his silk hat. The more dignity an individual has, the more we like to see him humiliated. That's why it is such fun for the audience when the moral maiden aunt becomes inadvertently squiffed. We see her without her defenses. We catch her at something. She has been catching us at things for years (or she symbolizes someone who has) and we love to reverse it on her. If she makes a maudlin fool of herself — so much the better. "We are all subtly flattered when we catch someone without his armor." It Takes Technique CHARLES RUGGLES. Paramount's super-alcoholic, apparently has not made quite such a concentrated study of his specialty as has McHugh. He declares that playing comic drunk roles requires the sa technique that any other comedy part quires. ' "If it is a funny character — and he 1 funny situations with which to work — just the same as any other supposedly fun r61e," he remarked. "Alcohol merely the author an excuse to put his chai through amusing didoes. If he has drinking, then it is I for him to behave absu ly." Ruggles seems to be i tonished and, I suspect trifle dismayed, at bei cast so consistently for ebriated rSles in pictures "I played other thiii besides drunks onthe stap he protested, in a pain voice. "I don't see whj should stagger forever pictures — " He does not think tl dronks are funny merely cause they are druni One gathers that he actual inebriates distin MM-funny^ — even a bit di tressing — when he encoui ters them in person. Qi cannot imagine him carri ing his academic researchi to the point of gettiit oiled, himself, in the intei estsofart. Heisanearnei young man. But not M earnest ! No Longer Poison THE attitude of pictui toward liquor ha changed to a most surpru ing degree in the past tw( years. It used to be tha if a character took a drinl or was portrayed as beinf intoxicated, he must neC' essarily either come to i bad end or see the error ol his ways and reform before the final fade-out. It ii undoubtedly a reflection of the change in the general public at titude in these latter days of Prohibition, when the hero can drink himself into a semi-coma through most of the picture — and yet get the girl and triumph in the end, without a sign of any intention to re form. The Hays organization tells me that it frowns upon drinking scenes "unless they are necessary for characterization or to further the plot." Which would seem to admit almost any form of alcoholism. The Association also informs me that it views with disfavor "social drinking" upon the screen — that is, cocktail parties and things. Or anything containing the implication that constant imbibing goes on in the homes of the rich! Solitary drinking and drinking among the poor, it seems, are not considered as being bad. The organization still prefers that drink-, ers should come to bad ends — as William Powell did in " For the Defense." But the dear public, apparently, is willing for its heroes and its funny men to drink as much as they like and as long as they please — and seems to view them with a good deal of sympathy and understanding, if not a little bit of envy! One wonders what the end will be. Will our romantic leading men all be wet? 80