Picturegoer (1922)

Aii Innocents in Movieland r K.K:GTkROWNE Aome years ago I wrote a story. I It was, of course, a superlatively ^k good story, and one that for ^k sheer human interest, strength ■ of characterisation and masterly technique can rarely, if m ever, have been surpassed. ^J Nevertheless, an editor bought it, and, what is more, imbued no doubt with that sense of gracious pity common to all editors, paid me for it. It was really this incident which started me definitely upon a life of crime. When, therefore, a week or so ago I received from Quality Films an intimation of their desire to render my story immortal in celluloid, it seemed to me that Quality Films were beyond a doubt possessed of a very fine judgment and should go far. When, upon my glad acceptance, they invited me to come and see the deed perpetrated, this impression was confirmed. ■ It appeared that the ceremony was to occur at Clapham. I had never been to Clapham before, and did not even know whether the natives were hostile to travellers. So, as a precaution against snake-bite, highway robbery, and loss of memory, I prevailed upon no less a personage than the Editor of " Picturegoer " to take my hand in his and lead me to the scene. We journeyed to Clapham, regardless of expense, upon a 'bus, and, with very little trouble, thanks to an inhabitant who had a smattering of English, discovered the studio where lurked Quality Films. In the studio we came upon Mr. George Coopci, who is what the evening papers would refer to as " the genial producer." Having overcome his natural reluctance to believe that I was the man who had written such a staggering story, we entered the sacred precincts. I had never been inside a film studio before, and it looked to me more like a furniture depository than anything else. It transpired that this effect was caused by the recent dismantling of a set which had served An amusing account of an author's sensations whilst watching his dream children materialise before the eye of the movie camera. its period of usefulness. At this point I tripped over a cable, which sprawled across the floor like some overgrown snake. " Hullo ! " said Mr. Cooper. " Mind that cable. There's another one just there." I minded it. Indeed, for the first ten minutes after my arrival I did little else but mind cables. The inhabitants of the studio seemed to move about with the utmost freedom, minding cables by instinct. I, on the other hand, found it necessary to travel in a series of irregular leaps and shuffles until, as it were, I got my studio legs. " Come and have a look at vour Scenes from " The White Rat." Ernest Douglas and Sidney Folker Sidney Folker and Adelaide Hay den Coffin. Ernest Douglas as the Moneylender ,* set," invited Mr. Cooper. I accepted gladly, although uncertain in my own mind as to whether this constant talk of " sets " referred to tennis, false teeth, or dominoes. It was soon made clear to me that it referred to none of these things, but to nothing more or less than what I, in my childish innocence, had always thought of as ■" scenery." " This," explained Mr. Cooper, " is the moneylender's room." "A bit draughty, isn't it ? " I said. You know, he's supposed to be an old man, and at his time of life a room with only two walls might very easily lead to pneumonia or something equally fatal." Mr. Cooper glanced meaningly at the Editor of " Picturegoer," and raised his eyebrows. The Editor of " Picturegoer " nodded pityingly. " Don't take any notice of him," he said. " He's never been in a place like this before." "Ah ! " said Mr. Cooper. " That explains it, of course." I assumed this to be some form of private conversation, so I moved tactfully away and examined the moneylender's apartment.' It is true that it had only two walls, but those two walls were of a toughness and durability that is seldom found in a modern flat. I have a lively recollection of the earlier epoch in films when all interiors used to sway gracefully in the wind and everybody appeared quite accustomed to living in a species of home hurricane. There was nothing of this about the moneylender's room. It was the real thing. [Ccntinucd on page 60.