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

November, 1920 13 QL GREAT UNDQAPE.D ^UAQOLD SMYTUL THE old wheeze about the motion picture being in its infancy no longer holds, for the child has discovered that it has legs and is able to use them to the best photographic advantage. So precocious, indeed, is the movie that it already is dressing — or, rather, undressing — after the fashion of its mother, the stage. Emerson, we believe, is the gentleman who said that we never progress ; we simply oscillate. Eve laid the foundation of the cloak and suit business when she put on the fig leaf. Her daughters have gone from bad to worse. They've completely covered themselves with every available fibre and texture in the world. Now comes the reaction. Dresses became shorter, and bodices have lowered until they almost kiss the skirt at the waist line. Finally, the stage, which holds the mirror up to life, began to shake its chemise. Its daughter, the photoplay, immediately shook its chemise. Now we have attained such perfection of morality that we can shake off all our clothes — that is, according to the stage and the photoplay. Which, after all, is nice, isn't it? Only the censors have a perverted idea about morality. Eve wasn't criticized for not wearing clothes, but for wearing them. Didn't the voice demand angrily, "Who told you that you were naked?" The Greeks set the standard of beauty for world fashions. They wore virtually nothing. It would appear that we are entering upon a Grecian era, led by Pierre Louys' "Aphrodite" on the Century stage. The photoplay, being young and bashful, has just discovered it has a figure. Pictures started out primly on the lawn and front porch, proceeded into the parlor, passed into the bedroom and finally landed in the bath. Betty Compson, I believe, has done more toward sanitation than any flock of health offices. She started the parade to the bathroom when she climbed into that tub in "The Miracle Man." Some people object to bathing on the screen. But is not the screen a reflection of life? It should be. Therefore, since people bathe, the mirror of life is bound to catch them at it. "Yes," complains the critic. "But why always photograph their Saturday nights?" For shame ! Now-a-days stars and other swells bathe every day — it's a function of every-day existence. Didn'1 you see Gloria Swanson, in "Male and Female?" You ma) not have seen as much of her as did Wes Berry at the keyhole, but anyhow you had a chance to note that she was pretty well palmolived before she climbed out of the tub. Cecil de Mille is nothing if not thorough. He's the greatest advocate of cleanliness in the world today. In time, if he keeps up the good work, the public may be so reformed that we will have public baths like in the old Grecian days. Then we won'1 have to spend twenty-seven cents at the movie theatre. We heard an exhibitor remark, "Give me the picture with the nude, and I'll get the crowd." He spoke for the exhibitor en masse. Now every little picture has a nudity all its own. "The Prince Chap" gave us one in model form. That was the earliest contrivance for passing the censors without drapery — the artist's model. But in "The Prince Chap" we had an electric fan in the offing to give a breeziness. It added suspense to the picture. Of course, a lol of folks were not wise to the fan. They thought the draperies of the lady were being blown by a natural wind through the window, and any moment it might turn into a whirlwind. Then, we should see what we should see ! Patience, my friends ! Better days for pictures are coming