Motion Picture News (Oct-Dec 1930)

48 Motion Picture News N ovc in be-r 22 , 19 3 0 SI IME day there will be, in all probability, a mighty rising of the movie fans against Western pictures. One of the blessings— the only one perhaps— of the early experimental talking pictures was the temporary elimination of Westerns from the production schedule. Before the technical experts had brought sound recording to the point where it could be made to select and pick up the right noises fn im the great out-of-doors and disregard those that were alien, all the talkies were made within the studios. Not being able to crowd any snow-capped peaks or outlying prairie into the studios, it was thought best to deal only with the kind of stories where the characters were permitted to wander from the drawing rooms to bedrooms and vice versa. The result, of course, was a wholesome cessation of cowboy activities on the screen. But as soon as sound recording became an open-air possibility there was an immediate rush to revive the Westerns. No one stopped to consider that the one thing which really mattered in this type of picture, namely, action, would be vitiated by the introduction of dialogue. As soon as you have cowboys chatting around a campfire you might as well eliminate the cowboys and substitute campfire girls. Though the Western pictures have shown distinct improvement in recent months, it is apparent that the directors have not yet got it into their heads that action and action and more action is the only thing that can make this type of film worth a hoot. Dialogue should be merelv a link to connect up the flow of sequences and you can't have a flow of sequences . when everybody is stumbling and pausing over the dialogue. This fact is clearlv shown in three pictures of the past week. "The Big Trail." "The Silver Horde" and "The Girl of the Golden West. Heretical as it may be to say so, the most satisfactory of the three from the sheer point of entertainment is "The Silver Horde." It might be argued that the epic qualities of "The Big Trail" place it outside the category of Western films, and in a sense that is true. Obviously it isn't meant to be sheer entertainment ; it is definitely more than that. It is, at times, a magnificent picture from a purely visual point of view, but considering the scope of its subject and the extraordinarily meticulous effort that went into its making, one certainly has a right to demand from it something more consistent in the way of achievement than it provides.—N. Y. Post. Ttieij satj One of the screen's lead:ng comedians looked out of his apartment window. Said window faced on a courtvard, arid commanded an excellent view of some hundred windows across the way. "I'm foing to have to move,' he told a friend. "Why?" "I'm iust a Peeping Tom at heart, he explained, 'and I'm unable to go to deep until every light is out." — Photoplay. Blame Andy Hollywood— Andy Clyde, who stars in Mack Sennett comedies in which he has popularized the character of oil Pop Martin, was making personal appearance tours in the south at a time when his physician had him on a strict diet. Giving his d:nner order in a San Antonio hotel, he inquired of the colored waiter: "Any calories in that soup?" 'No sar, no sar, boss," replied the servant, "nothing at all but beans." Only One Theme It is revealed that the picture companies in Hollywood own the rights to 40,000 stories, the vast majority ot which have never yet reached the screen. What a horrible thought this is! Forty thousand stories — from the pens of 15,000 of "the world's foremost authors." Forty thousand stories — aggregating a total cash value of $50,000,000. Forty thousand stories — and all of them boiling down to three brief words: "I love you." —N. Y. Post. One of this town's best known frivolous sons of wealth accepted the invitation of a certain night life hostess to visit her Hot Spot last night, and Did He Enjoy Himself! He drank his fill of what they told him was champagne, he was taken over the hurdles in every conceivable manner, and Africa never saw the like of the cootch dances that were put on for his benefit. He did an Indian War Dance on his own, while a dozen beautiful near-nudes stood in a circle and stamped and applauded. He imitated Helen Kane, and he imitated Joe Cook, and he wore funny paper hats and he wore his dinner coat turned inside out. Yes, indeed, he had a grand time. As he was about to leave, he asked for his bill, and was informed that It Was on the House. "Is this a gag?" he wanted to know, being aware that you never get anything for nothing, especially in a Night Spot. No, he was assured, it was strictly on the up-and-up, and there was nothing to pay. "I don't understand," was his dazed comment. "This has never happened to me before." "Probably not," beamed the hostess, benevolently. "But it isn't every night we take talking pictures here!" — Heathy in N. Y. Journal. "How do tlu writers of film scenarios get new ideas11 asks a writer. They don't. They use the old ones. — London Passing Show. Take it from Bob K. London, the booking agent, an actor who had been visiting his office for nearly five years, without any encouragement, finally barked: "Listen here, now! Can you book me or not?" Mr. London shook his head in the No manner. "Well, then," said the disgusted fellow, "give me back my name and address!"— Winehell in N. Y. Mirror. IT took America one year to become surfeited with talkie revues, backstage and musical pictures. England got sick of them in three months, and in Germany six pictures were enough to turn the public against them. You cannot give them away in Germany, which has now reverted to heavy, sombre, sordid subjects France is making markedly erotic and impossibly melodramatic pictures. All Europe is definitely anti-American-film. Our Hollywood producers have a big job on thtir hands to make talkies that will please everyone in the Tower of Babel. You will grasp the seriousness of this problem when you realize that for years the profits of most companies came from their foreign trade. American theatres paid the cost of production. Export was the velvet that meant dividends. — Photoplay. * * * The postman who makes the rounds of the film stars bungalows, apartments and estates out in Hollywood is a perpetual Santa Claus. Hardly a day passes, it seems, that he doesn't deposit a monkey, a home-made pie, a bowie knife or an antique French mirror on some celebrity's doorstep. Almost every gift you can possibly imagine — and a lot you can't — has been sent to some star some time. — Modern Screen. * * * Insurance policies have often been issued for strange and unusual risks, but it takes the movies to provide the most unique and amazing policies of all. George Olsen, popular orchestra leader at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood, says Miss Sharon, has taken out love insurance on his orchestra boys to compensate for desertions due to marriage. It is reported that some time ago a well-known director took out temperament insurance for Jetta Goudal during one of his large productions, while Louise Fazenda once had her two pig-tails covered by a S100.000 policy. Ann Pennington has insured her knees for $250,000, Corinne Griffith her voice for $1,000,000. Ben Turpin's crossed eyes have always been heavily insured, while "Ukelele Ike" carries earthquake, finger, dog and life insurance policies. — Modern Screen. * * * June Collyer had been wanting to ask some zvise person a question for several days. She ran into William Powell on the set the other day and put the question to him. "What has become of all the cab horses since ta.ris came out?" "If you played the races, you -would find out'' Bill answered. — Screen Play * * * "Won't you give your old uncle a nice, big kiss?" "Yes. uncle. One hke Greta Garbo, or one like Clara Bow?" — Life. * * * On Broadway geniuses are made, not horn. The only difference between a genius and a m.iii is a difference of opinion. You can classify any one on Broadway under cither heading with the same case and authority. — N. Y. News.