Motography (Apr-Dec 1911)

MOTOGRAPHY Vol. VI, No. 1. seldom achieved until it is deserved, it is to a certain extent glorified and cleansed of the dross of mere notoriety. The literary worker has never felt called upon to apologize for his ambition ; on the contrary, he has regarded such desire as far more exalted than greed for wealth. So fame, perhaps, is the first inspiration of the writer. In its hope he can do things that mere monetary reward would never move him to. Give credit to his name and he will sell you his wares at half their anonymous price — and that without any of the egotism of the publicity seeker. The hack writer, it is true, is almost deaf to the siren voice of fame. He writes articles, stories, essays, scenarios, anything he can turn his hand to that will bring him his three or five or occasionally ten dollars a thousand words. But the hack writer is never inspired. He never does really great work. Some of our best hacks have done work that is almost great; but it lacks that final touch of immortality, of genius, that marks the effort of the aspirant to fame. Makers of motion pictures, if you would have really great scenarios on which to build your photoplays, you must give personal credit to your writers. In no other way can you hope to equal on the screen the great storie3 of literature. You complain that contributions of the scenario writer are mediocre, or worse. What do you offer him ? A few dollars — perhaps — and oblivion. Do you think the tender of ten, or fifteen, or even twenty-five dollars, will ever bring you anything worth immortalizing? In this marvelous industry, where thousands of dollars are spent on a single film, the most short-sighted policy possible is pursued in dealing with writers. Not only are they denied that greatest of all inspirations, a name, but they are offered the most miserable of pittances. A few days ago one of the best producers in the motion picture field, a man who has had nearly thirty years' experience in stage and photoplay directing, said emphatically that the producer was not entitled to the credit when a masterpiece is produced. The idea, he says, is everything. A bad producer can spoil a good idea ; but without the idea the best of producers is lost. So this man, with all his years of experience, puts the whole success of the photoplay up to the scenario writer — the man who evolves the original idea. There is an old story about an inventor and a promoter. The promoter was rubbing his hands gleefully and explaining to a friend how he had made ten thousand dollars that day through the sale of a patent. "And the syndicate that bought the patent," he said, "will realize a cool hundred thousand out of it." "How about the inventor?" he was asked. He looked blank for a minute. "Oh, that fellow!" he replied. "Do you know, he wil clean up nearly a thousand dollars if he is lucky?" But the scenario writer is worse off than the inventor. He sells an idea to a picture maker. The picture maker buys properties and costumes, hires actors and actresses, puts in a lot of time in rehearsals, and his expense on that picture runs perhaps to a couple of thousand dollars. He sells fifty prints and gets five thousand dolfor them. He gives the man with the idea that made the film possibly twenty dollars. A man may write a pretty good short story and not get over twenty or twenty-five dollars for it. But when it appears in the magazine it has his name attached to it ; and editors of contemporary magazines see it and remember it if it is a good story. Readers even write to the magazine publisher and comment on the story if they like it. All that is valuable to the writer. If he can "stay" — that is, if he can continue to write good and better stuff — his price will rise, of course, and he will make a name for himself. That is the only inducement he has to write good stories at twenty-five dollars apiece. The novelist, whether he has made a name or not, may get a royalty of ten per cent from his publishers. If the publishers sell five thousand dollars worth of the book, he gets five hundred dollars — and that is rather a small sale. Fancy a scenario writer getting a ten per cent royalty on the sale of fifty films ! It seems, perhaps, like a good deal of publicity to carry a man's name on a film that circulates through five hundred or more theaters and is seen by a hundred thousand people. But why not? It is his idea in the first place and who has a better right to the credit? Besides, a number of popular magazines have a larger circulation than one hundred thousand, and they do not hesitate to put the author's name over his story, in the table of contents, and possibly in the editorial comment. The present market price for scenarios is little enough, to be sure. But it is not the price that we have the greatest quarrel with at present. Pay the scenario writers twenty-five dollars apiece for their ideas ; but give them the publicity that is honestly due them. Let some of them achieve fame in the field if they can. Rest assured, the price of scenarios will not rise unless the scenarios are zvorth it. Present makers, some of them at least, are willing enough to give public credit to scenario writers who have already achieved fame in the literary field. Give the new writer the same chance. Motion picture producing is surprisingly similar to magazine publishing in many ways — but most of all in the source of its material. Even with the advantage of publicity for the writer, editors of popular fiction complain that they cannot get enough good stories. One big publisher finds that out of five thousand story manuscripts submitted every month possibly fifty are worth keeping. That amounts to one per cent. Can we wonder that the picture producers get only mediocre stuff? The marvel is that they can find so much that is really good. One cannot but speculate on the kind of material they would get if they gave the budding scenario writers a chance at fame and fortune. Doubtless the successful maker of photoplays dislikes to admit that the scenario, or its plot, is so all important. But accept the assurance of those who are somewhat familiar with the psychology that governs the writer : There will be no truly great photoplays until the author is given proper recognition and encouragement. LESSONS FROM LYMAN' HOWE. EVERYBODY knows Lyman Howe's shows. He has no difficulty in filling his house wherever he is. He charges from twenty-five cents to a dollar or more for a seat ; gives a two-hour program of motion pictures, with no music but piano, and no songs, no vaudeville ; and in big cities he changes his films but once a week. How does he get away with it? Now Howe's pictures are not different from any other exhibitor's pictures. We do not mean that his pictures are identical with other exhibitions of a similar nature, for Howe takes a few pictures himself, that are, therefore, exclusive. But we do mean that any exhibitor