The Motion Picture Director (Sep 1925 - Feb 1926)

22 f MOTION Ml 1 mi director November Does the Public IV ant New Stories An Interview with ALBERT LeVINO —by Jimmie Starr AS a new idea any sex appeal? That is not quite the status of our story, yet it is a good opening if nothing more. Just why one should pick upon such a busy personage as Albert Shelby LeVino, I don’t know, but according to this, I did. And believe me he was the right guy. He more than hit the nail on the head — he socked it. If there was ever one who brought up the villainous heat of the lower regions into an agrument, which is all ready white hot with the various versions of pin-headed producers, then — well Battling LeVino is ready for all comeis. Tune in and listen to some high-powered broadcasting of truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Word has been gaily circulating around our fair Cinema City that the latest wail (it is that) of the many production heads of the motion picture industry is the lack of ‘ ‘new” stories. “Perhaps,” says scenarist Albert, “they are in a conspiracy to keep artistic producers— if any — and high-minded studio executives— if any again — from obtaining new stories.” Which isn’t such a bad crack, come to think of it. Just at present about ninety per cent of the studios are asking for new stories. Maybe this is ignorance — because there isn’t a new story under the sun that is commercially sound. “A short time ago,” breaks in LeVino again, “my very good friend — and at that time employer — Harry Rapf, blurted out that the industry really needed ‘not new faces, but new brains’, which included only writers and directors. “ ‘Well, Harry’, 1 asked him, ‘don’t you think you might also include some new brains as production heads?’ ” Harry Rapf chuckled good-naturedly, which was most natural for a man in that position, and he nodded his head in LeVino’s favor of suggestion. Many of these so-called “wise ones” of the movies seemingly have lost their knack of guessing just what the public wants. That is easy to analyze. “It’s the same old story, over and over again,” yells Le Vino at the top of his voice. “A love story — with that much bedamned happy ending.” Those who don’t agree can stop here. This is fair warning — if you go farther, you are apt to get yourself into a hot and heavy argument. Watch your step ! \T THAT all competent directors and VV writers know — at least we hope they know that,” says LeVino, “but what some producers and critics seemingly do not know — is that the Anglo-Saxon amusement-supporting public wants, or ever has wanted, is the same story over and over again.” Perhaps it is the fact that we all are producing the same story which will awaken in the public a desire for something else. But nothing in the literary or dramatic scope of the English speaking countries justified such an assumption. By now you are probably doubting that we are telling the same old story on the screen and always have been telling it. Let us permit LeVino again to have the floor: “The first thing we do is create a girl or woman character and present her so that the audience will like her. Then we construct her boy or man counterpart and present him so that the audience will like him. Now we bring the heroine and the hero together — and make them like each other. Simple, isn’t it? “H ere comes the dirty work. Even a scenario writer is a villain at heart and with a pen. Just at the moment when said heroine and hero would like to kiss and start to live happily ever after in spite of the whole cock-eyed world (apologies to Ben Turpin), the weaver of the yarn steps boldly forth and slaps in the conflict element. Still simple, isn’t it? “This new move separates the happy pair both mentally and physically. From then on it is a battle — a mighty one for the writer — to keep the heroic characters from getting together again in peace, amity and Hollywood. Here is the catch: The very instant the conflict element is defeated, the adult audience reaches for its collective hat and grab the children by the arm. There is only one thing to do — shove in ‘The End’ title and call it a day.” NOW that LeVino has succeeded in making himself and ideas clear, let us chatter on with other stuff. Sometimes the old formula — and it is that — is varied, seemingly by presenting the heroine and hero as a married couple. This method, some times, according to the scenario writer’s ability, may enhance the conflict element. Probably a deeper, more sincere thought is carried out. The age-old gag is used and maintained so as to part the husband and wife — and keep them apart until time for the fade out. It all narrows down to this: The only variation in the presentation of the formula lies in the treatment. There have been countless ways and means contrived by the most subtle minds of the world, which, after all, seems to be the only thing we are seeking. We are not after new stories, but forever seeking and endeavoring to discover some newer method of presenting the old idea, which is my idea of being truly original. To be a successful film wrriter you have to be fitted and able to “top” the newest gag, and ye gods, there is a new one born every minute. Once again LeVino hops up and takes the floor: “I have a beautiful, large-type copy of the Gesta Rornanorum, the book from which William Shakespeare is said to have secured seventeen of his thirty-four (or is it thirty-five?) plots. I have read the book often and most diligently, but I can not get even one plot from those old monks’ tales that will pass any studio executive. Which is only another proof, and quite an unnecessary one, that Bill Shakespeare was and still is, a better craftsman than I am.” In speaking of the Gesta Rornanorum in which are the seventeen plays, one finds that Shakespeare was really guilty of an awful lapse. He was often praised for seventeen different plots, but there is another catch. Those seventeen stories, which include all the plays ending happily, are absolutely identical in plot formula — just as all our really successful screen stories, are.