The Motion Picture Director (Sep 1925 - Feb 1926)

1 9 26 THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 11 r 1 "A HE announcement several months ago X that Norma Talmadge would make “Kiki” as her first contribution to motion picture theatregoers for 1926, caused a great deal of speculation within the motion picture industry. While interest was focused on the question of what Miss T a 1 m a d g e would do with a role so different from those she usually portrays, as that offered by Belasco’s sensational stage success, a wider significance attaches to the making of “Kiki” and the success or failure of an individual production. No one can doubt the ability of Miss Talmadge as an actress. If she were merely a versatile character woman, there would be no question of her ability to please the public in the role of “Kiki.” But she is more than a capable actress. She is a star whose great popularity has created two distinct Norma Talmadges. One of these Talmadges is the actress herself, apart from her reputation. The other is the formidable Norma Talmadge of the public mind, who, as one of the screen’s best-known and best-loved personalities, belongs not to herself but to her audience. It is this second personage, and not the first, who may be limited in her capacity for versatility; not by her ability but by the conception of her that dwells in the minds of this great audience. Her case is not unique. Chaplin might excel his own record of artistic achievement if he were to turn to tragedy — but could the Chaplin who lives in the public mind be replaced by another, however capable? Mary Pickford is another of several of today’s stars who are bound to a general type of role by the shackles of popularity — and one may ever go beyond the beginning of motion pictures and consider the stage for further examples. Sarah Bernhardt was always the divine Sarah of the public’s conception, a great actress whose genius deprived her of the privilege of versatility. The fact that the role of “Kiki” is so great a departure from the portrayal of the certain definite type which has made her famous, injects considerable suspense into the present speculation in film circles regarding the success of her undertaking. The question arising in their minds is, will the public accept Norma Talmadge as comedienne, and in the role of a French guttersnipe? The launching of a star of such powerful reputation into a character vehicle so different from those upon which she had built her fame is a courageous venture, and one in which the whole motion picture industry has something at stake. Her success as “Kiki” may be the means of destroying certain musty traditions now existing which have heretofore discouraged individual producers and artists from departing from “type.” A greater variety of expression, and as a result, a greater freedom from box office limitations may be established. Even if “Kiki” should not be received with favor by her public, Miss Talmadge will have achieved a definite accomplishment as well as having succeeded in a courageous venture. And the point proved will be that a star personality, built through adherence to a single general type of role until it dominates individual ambition, but continue to prevail, so that the star of outstanding reputation cannot be allowed to exceed certain limits of versatility without suffering temporary retrogression in the public favor. Norma Talmadge is playing “Kiki” as that lovable, fiery little bundle of impudence appears on the stage, and the production and technical staffs under j Director Clarence Brown are giving the screen play a background of color, atmosphere and setting that fully takes advantage of the cinema’s greater facilities in this direction. Standing, one afternoon, in the heart of the famous Montmartre section of | Paris — or to be more accu rate, standing beside the 1 cameras that were filming a very fine reproduction of that section as it had been built on the United Studio lot — the impression of the screen’s vast resources came to me with unusual force. It was a bustling street scene, filled with the polyglot, cosmopolitan crowd that throngs that section of the Parisian’s playground. The old buildings of the Montmartre shouldered each other down the street and vanished around a corner in the foreground. The narrow pavements were crowded with push carts, omnibuses, bicycles and Renaults of all vintages. On the sidewalks was a colorful mingling of various foreign types and individuals. An artist with a framed canvas under his arm hurried along close to the wall. A gendarme flirted with a saucy girl who was burdened with various hat boxes. A street gamin, feminine gender, offered papers to the passers-by, her stand the vantage point of an omnibus “Stop.” I looked around for the star, and in doing so, unconsciously looked for Norma Talmadge as I had come to know her in