The Photo-Play Journal (Jul 1919-Feb 1921)

October, 1920 25 and saw the movies. He also aided in one of the first film productions, that of Lois Fuller doing a serpentine dance. 'There is a great future in the industry,' he used to say, and he advised me to study motion pictures. "While I was on the Sun I met a Vitagraph official. He became interested in. me when I had told him of my early interest in pictures. My training seemed to him a splendid education for screen work, so he undertook to teach me direction. Before long he asked me to write a script, pick a cast, and develop a new style of comedy. My idea was to put slapstick into artistic backgrounds and unfold a connected story. "I put these theories into practice with various comedians, but the work did not progress. They were types not suitable for every style of story. What I needed was a funny man who was not dependent upon eyebrows, moustache, funny gait, or make-up. So finally I went in and did the stunt myself. You know the result." And he has been phenomenally successful. His latest comedies, "The Head Waiter," "The Grocery Clerk," "The Fly Cop," and "School Days," are playing the country now. Everywhere they are hailed as containing all the chief elements of laughter creation. Their charm lies in the fact that every character stands out. Larry Semon harnesses the ability of every member of his company. When he occupies the center of the silver sheet there is a reason. Otherwise, various members are in the limelight. Beautiful girls, fascinating kiddies, screamingly funny comedy types, dogs, cats, rats, goats, etc., romp through his photoplays with all the abandon of comedy situations created by Larry Semon himself. And he, as a poor boob, wends his inevitable and aimless way in and out of the picture. Did you ever see Larry Semon drop spaghetti down a woman's back? Sounds simple, doesn't it? But it isn't. The art is in simulating a look of vacuous stupidity after the accident has occurred, followed by a pleased expression such as an infant would convey after blowing a mouthful of pap at its mother. Then Semon starts to pull out the strands of spaghetti with the intense expression of a woman knitting, purling two and counting one, as he coils the gooey stuff around his fingers in an endeavor to remove it. He ends with a hopeless gesture and walks off with an abstract air, leaving the poor lady to be relieved of the spaghetti by her companion, whose indignation is as funny as the star's helplessness. Through Semon we recognize our own idiosyncrasies exaggerated into a composite of other people's, and therein lies his art. Every member of his company is directed to follow his theory in all its different shades and colors. He cannot accomplish all this through lone concentration, but recognizes with real ability that life is many sided, and if he is to portray the funny side he must utilize all that is humorous in others as well as himself. I asked him to outline his methods of working, and added, "Also, give me your idea as to the future of the films." "Every member of my company is under contract. I study them and they study me. When I move my foot or adjust my hat, each one knows just what I am going to . do. .„ In this manner we are able to get spontaneous action without rehearsing punch scenes. To illustrate this we will take a scene in 'The Stage Larry is close to the top of the ladder Hand.' You recall where the manager falls from the flygallery and lands on the pile of men? They all spy me and give chase. Do you remember the little fellow that grabbed me as I was going through the door? I turned and hit him, but I never touched him. He anticipated my action, and the rest was easy. The only direction I gave for that scene was 'Boys, I'm going to run and you follow. If any one of you can catch me, do so; but look out, for I am going to let go.' The little fellow was the only one that caught me and he was ready to do his part. "Much of the comedy cannot be foreseen. Take the same feature. Do you recall the monkey looking through the hole in the curtain just before it jabs the hatpin into me? Now, no one could tell a monkey to do that and no one knew that he was going to do it. The monkey saw the hole. It had been trained to thrust the hatpin into the curtain, and, being an inquisitive individual, it got up and looked through. We shot the scene. "Comedies are largely a matter of experiment. I am always striving for something new; exploring virgin fields and aiming for spontaneous action, well -matched scenes and artistic backgrounds. In 'Solid Concrete,' tha\ long shot of the girl artists at work in the field was suitable for a dramatic production. To have ( Continued on page 58)