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"Close-ups"
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"Favorite Sons" Gone One Bettor
THE "Favorite Son" show is one oi the asinine appendages ot every national political convention. Regardless oi following or fitness, there lives in every state some man with head so dead that he permits a lot
of his fatuous friends to hire the K. P. hand and toddle about the hot streets ot an alien city on their poor round feet in his presidential behalf -wasting money, time and patience which should be seriously expended upon the country's grave issues. There are never more than a tew men who could by any possibility become president of these United States; yet every man in politics seems to believe what his mother told him in primer days: that he and every other little boy have White House stuff in their make-up, and — well, who knows?
In chronicling Edwin August's "candidacy for the presidency" we feel as though some one had whispered to us on Fifth avenue that our trousers had been torpedoed in the stern. This is going too far. This is disgracing the family in church.
Why Edwin August — in particular? Why not Charlie Chaplin? He's far more popular and almost as funny. He could make an affidavit that he wasn't born an Englishman.
One Arthur Leslie is "chairman" of this grand movement, in which the motion picture actor has been formally announced. If Mr. Leslie is serious about this, Mr. August himself should gently but firmly apply a sponge full of chloroform to Mr. Leslie's nostrils and hold it there; we should say seventy or sixty minutes. If Mr. August is serious about it, he is the champion donkey of the universe.
Motion Picture Scenery
IT seems strange that no imaginative stage craftsman has yet evolved a method of employing motion picture scenery. A "drop" is a "drop," call it what you will, and a brushed backing of more or less verisimilitude certainly does not help the realism of any acted scene. The stage gets along very well with its interiors; its brocaded walls and resounding doors and real-glass windows are frequently better than the component parts of domestic edifices which have been inhabited by you and me. But it cannot portray outer distance without the aid of colored lights, and then only in the most primitive fashion. In the hands of some technical genius the animated camera is destined to become a miraculous hose of realism. With colored film, it is going to play upon the back canvas vast mountains of changing shadows, unresting sea and trees weaving in the wind. Recall the dirty, paralyzed oceans which "rolled" movelessly through every stage seascape you ever saw! Why cannot the camera resurrect this dead surf, those lifeless trees, and even the dull hillocks on which some house-painting Joshua has commanded the sun to stand?
Of course in a straight-front "throw" the actors would walk through this impalpable geography to its disaster. But there should be possibilities of side or top shots from a projector, or through a canvas from the rear.