Picturegoer (1934)

April 28, 1934 Are Sex and Crime Enough ? asks Warwick Deeping WAS at Broadway, in the Cotswolds, when Jack Raymond and his unit were doing location work on Sorrell and Son. Most of the cast of the picture were also there, and an interesting discussion arose one evening when someone asked H. B. Warner why he had come specially to England to play the part of Sorrell in a British production in spite of the fact that Hollywood was still capable of offering him all the parts he needed. His reply was direct, and to me personally a little flattering. He said that it was simply the thought of re-creating the part of Sorrell which had brought him to England — and in explanation he said that he relished the prospect because the story was "different." He felt it was worth while to travel eight thousand miles to appear in a film which did not pivot upon a situation arising from sex or crime or neurosis. His remarks made me conscious of a fact which I had not previously noticed — that the world as reflected in films is a place very limited in its activity and emotions. Why are not film producers more catholic in their choice of subjects ? When I wrote Sorrell and Son I did not say to myself, "This is different." It seemed to me that the selfless love of a father for his son was a human emotion worthy of being written about, and capable of offering scope for realistic dramatic treatment. I confess to being rather amazed at the narrow limits within which most film subjects fall. I will leave aside such particular species as the musical spectacle, the supernatural or horror film, and the newspaper melodrama. But when it comes to serious drama based on the emotions of human beings, the film story seems to be almost exclusively pre-occupied with sex and crime, relieved perhaps with rare excursions into the realms of neurosis and insanity. Admittedly sex and crime are the obvious raw material of drama. Any writer or scenarist seeking a ready-made plot need actually look no further than the pages of a certain type of daily or weekly newspaper. There he will find an abun 8 Above: A dramatic scene from "Sorrell and Son, ' ' when the father watches his doctor son perform his first big operation. H. B. Warner in character as Sorrell with Margot Grahame as the wife who deserted him. dance of material straight from life. The very ease with which such material can be gathered is an incentive to regard it as the only subject matter worth bothering about. In consequence, the love tragedy, the crime passional, the "wrong turning" story, the downfall of the social butterfly, the ruin of the financial twister, the gory end of the pro fessional killer are all familiar — too familiar — to those who visit the kinema. It may be argued that the very fact of such stories being reflected in newspapers as part of everyday life is excuse enough for their introduction into film fiction. But I remember the words of Beverley Nichols, who, speaking over the radio a few weeks ago, said that a fortune awaited the newspaper which could make news of the great and decent things of life. So I believe it is with the kinema. The time has come when the kinema should look for its inspiration beyond the newspaper headlines — should look, perhaps, into the very existence of those mil lions of people who form the film public; study their problems and the dramatic difficulties with which they are often faced; extract from their lives the humour, pathos, comradeship and humanity which are there in plenty; dramatise these things and offer us a picture of that kind of reality upon which society is truly based. My attitude is not that of the self-righteous critic who suggests that the subject matter of