Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1919)

Bcacb on tbc "lot' at Culver City, California. Pictureland Hughes .Tiurder Mrs. Aiherton and tr>' to appease AdelairJe. But the always resourceful Mrs. .Atherton. who has miraculously managed to be a lady and a genius at the same time, bade me not to worn.'. She said that she had not only endured being called the Kaiser's favorite author, but his illfL'i'imate sister as well, and that comI>arcd to such ■ slanders, it was mere baeatclle to be announ< ■ i extra lady in my matrimonial fne-star cast. Mrs. Atherton continued to be nirpris.ibl« hy nothing A BIG studii) may Ix* regarded .... as a j^rcat acaJtiny where a newart is beinj; prac ti.scd, studied, uxperimenteJ with, and developed to greater and greater iniportaiue hy artists and artis>ans who are in deadly — c>r rather lively earnest. I am proud to he admitted to the academy evei\ as a tyro." e.xcept the astounding no\ehy oi being treated by the director and the continuity writer of her new picture as a person who h.ul actually done something inlelligent and might be e.xix'cteil to do so again. >he h.id .seen several ol her brilliant novels bought for the screen and abandoned by ilic screeners, and she hail come to beliexe that she wouUI never live to create a character, construct a situation or write a line that woulii be thought worthy of celluloid reproduction. ' When she found a director, a ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ continuity writer and a group of producers all eager to translate her achievements into cellulese and all entreating her re^pc-ct fully to lenil them her brain and soul fuither in the task, .she was simply overwhelmed. In my poor, weak mans way, I was equally dazed. Few bookmakers, 1 imagine, have had more of their stuff bought by I'llm-producers and less of it used than I. There had been two or three cases where the directors had expie.sscd regnt at having to depart so far from my te.\t. but the majority of them had .seemed to me to purcha.se my plots with no more thought of making them work than a man has who lights his cigar with a live-dollar bill. It looked as if they were tying up my raw material solely with a Samaritan iilea of keeping brother proilucers from wasting tluir money in trving to film it. But the sailor ashore has little inclination for rebuking the tempests and calms that have trieil him at sea. .And 1 prefer now to bask on the sands and purr over the lu.xury of having heard continuitv writers like Miss Unsell and Mr. Scheycr trving to transport my children and their complications to the rolling photos, with only condensation and not condemnation as their guiding principle. I had known and admired T. Hayes Hunter for many years and I was delighted to learn that he had been sentenced to direct "The Cup of Fury." But I had never expected to live to hear a director rebuke a continuity writer for omitting a stormy scene from my book or for overlooking a line that would make a gooil leader. I had to go to California where luxuries are commonplace to enjoy this experience. But I got it. And is that not an adventure? Of course, travellers' tales are notoriously fanciful, but we cannot always lie. Nobody is perfect. Even in Los Angeles there are no palms without dust, and this luxury carries its penalty. It puts it up to the author. The opportunity and the hospitality impose an obligation and a responsibility. The writer thus welcomed to the crew feels that he must do his bit and must give to the picture-to-hc every eneriry and even idea he has in him. He regards the picture producer no longer as a foreigner with a blood-feud against him. but as a friend and an ally. He is speedily convinced that many things which he believed to be filmable are not proper to the screen. He learns the prevailing fashions in screen modes and these fashions are as important here as in literature, music, drama, clothes, relicions and politics. He learns new methods and devices and may be stimulated to the making of useful suggestions. Under this plan of co-operation, many authors will prove a valuable adjunct to the staff of film producers. Even a novelist does not train much and regular .success without the development of a certain :i mount of common horse sense. .All the successful men that I have ever known have proved to be men who had learned to control and iruide their imaginative faculties with a firm hand and an aler; business instinct. This does not mean that they grow any less conscientious artistically. They learn to be reasonable persons and not hysterical egoists. They welcome advice, criticism and co-opera' ion. They realize that they cannot succeed without the help of others. I have emphasized the amazement we authors felt at being treated as intelligent beings by the film folk. I was told that the amazement was mutual, and that some of the filmists were surprised to find that we regarded our work not as inspired texts, nor ourselves as anointed prophets; that we rcented only the wanton throwing overboard of material we had spent, perhaps, years of earnest labor over and the producers had spent thousancis of dollars in buying the rights to; we were very eager to see our work bettered in the translation to the screen; we were meek and lowly before problems of film construction as we had learned to be before problems of fiction construction. Bitter experience alone ha<I led us to regard directors as Ben Bolts, who made us weep with flelight if they gave us a smile, and trembled with fear at their frown. (Continued on pagr t2i)