Picture Show (May-Oct 1919)

12 TIa rUlurc Show, May 3/-/, 1919. " I know that, old boy," replied Blake warmly. " A friendship like ours doesn't need (o bo talked about. First of all there's money and then a change of clothes " " Right ! I'll SCO about that at once," said Marsh quickly, taking a step towards tho door. " No, no, old boy," protested the other. " There is no desperate hurry. My idea is to stay here for the night, and — ■ — " '• Eh ? " John Marsh had wheeled round and was staring almo.st wildly at his visitor. " .Sorry, old boy, it's impossible ! " John Marsh uttered the words desperately. Tom Blake stared at him. " Impossible ? Why on earth is it impossible?" he asked, without anger, but in sheer surpri.se. " I can't explain," returned Mar.sh excitedly, and seeming to swallow sometliing that stuck in his throat. " But it's a fact. You can't stay here to-night. I'll give you money, clothes, anything you want, but you must get away." As he spoke he seemed to stagger, and caught at tho mantelpiece for .support. In a moment Tom Blalce was by his side. " Why, man, you aro ill ! " he exclaimed. A deathly pallor indeed had come into John Marsh's face. " No, no," he said. " A touch of heart. The old trouble, you. know. It, is nothing — 1 sl)all bo oil right in a few moments." He sank into a chair, breathing heavilyThen, with a feeble smile, he turned again to his friend. " You think me unreasonable, Tom ? " " Well, frankly, I do, old boy. Under the circumstances " "1 know — I know! But honestly, I can't. The truth is ' " Well " . . " I am married ! " The convict stared incredulously for a monieut, and then his eyes danced with laughter. " Married ? You ? Never ! Well, upon my word ! And yet, why not "J But I never dreamt of such, a thing. I always looked upon you as a confirmed old bachelor. So you were caught at last. Good luck to you, old son ! " " Thanks ! " " When did it occur ? " John jMarsh raised his head and fixed his companion with liis dark eyes. " Tliis afternoon. This is my wedding day ! " Tom Blake stared at the speaker wide-eyed, and for several moments could not find words. " Good lord ! " he ejaculated at length. " My dear Jack, forgive me. When I camp in at that window I had the idea— just for the moment, you know — that I wasn't welcome. And I confess I was hurt. But now I understand. You should have told me at once. An escaped convict is not exactly tho .sort of visitor one would welcome on one's wedding day. Jove, what a situation ! Look here, Jack ^\ hy, man, what's WTong ? " Then, suddenly, John Marsh uttered a deep groan and his whole body coUap.sed. Horrified, Tom Blake gazed down at him. " My God, he's dead ! " he cried. Then lie lushed to the bell to summon assistance. But just as he reached it he paused, ?tartled by a sound just outside the room. His past week's experience in avoiding capture had rendered his senses very keen. With a swift, noiseless movement, he crossed the room and stepped behind the curtains at the window. Uven as he did so there came a gentle lap at the door. Then the door softly and slowly opened, though no one appeared. ■' Jack ! Aie you there ? Jack ! " Then, when there was no answer, the .speaker appeared. She was a tall, beautiful girl, with a tumbled ma.ss of golden hair about her shoulders. Her lovely face wore a look of alarm as she peered into the apparently empty room. Then s-ho saw tho motionless figure in the cljair, and with a cry she sprang forward. " Jack ! " she cried in terror. " .lack ! Jack ! And the convict in his place of concealment <t<)od rigid like a figiu'e turned lo marble. Tho curtains were slightly apart, and between tlicm he gazed out upon the scene. His eyes, now stern and hard, were fixed on the beautiful, scared face of the woman. It was tho face of his wife 1 (Another instalment of this story next week.) WHY I LIKE AND DISLIKE FILM ACTING. By OWEN NAHES. [P/io'.u : Claude llarris. OWEN NARES. I DO both like and dislike acting before a film camera. I like it because of the relief it afford.s me from the monotony of stage work. This is particularly so if I am acting in a play which is enjoying a long run. The monotony of playing the same part night after night for two and three year.s is obvious to anyone. It also confines one to tho town (or very near^ it) where the .show is playing. Lack of variety in one's work does not tend to restfulncss. You get into a groove and, like Micawbcr, would wdqome something to turn upto jog tlie monotony. The Earth for a Stage. I ALWAYS find film work strangely restful, which is a great comfort. And only a busy actor can appreciate the real significance of a restful occupation. In the production of a film there are numberless "waits." Curiously enough, this waiting about generally gets on the nerves of most y'' artists. But I always manage to rest more during periods of taking a film tlian on a day 1 have no film engagement. Plenty of Variety. THE scenes for film productions are for the most part conducted amid beautiful pastoral sairoundings, wliich 1 thoroughly enjoy and appreciate. Further, cinema acting is intei-esthig work as opposed to stage work. • Freedom of movement alone is of tremendous a.ssistance to an actor. The average space of a stage in most of the theatres in the Kingdom is twenty square yards. In a film, space is almost illimitable, jiiroviding it is in the focus of the camera. The advantages thus gained arc inestimable, and enables actors and actresses freedom of movement they desire, but cannot obtain, on the legitimate stage. Screen acting calls for quite a different form of expression too. The eyes play an i m portant l)art, whilst without facial expression an actor who is successful on the stage would assuredly fail before the camera. Evening-Dress in the Morning. MY reasons for di.shking film acting are several. ' The horror of driving about llic; countryside Or suburbs with a yellow face, wearing evening-dress at ten o'clock in tho morning, I confess 1 do not rehsh. A yellow make-up is, of cour.^e, essential for film acting. When it is confined to tli(^ l)rccincts of a studio, comment would Ijc superfluous, but outside it — — Several " Reel " Wedding Days. I WAS once suspected of being a German spy by a dear old lady when operating in St. James's Park in a propaganda film. But far worse than this ! I have been mariied several times on the film. Once tho inevitable crowd that as.sembles to watch a film " take " thought it was a real wedding. £250,000 for Five Years* Work. IHA'VE received some tempting ofllcrs to visit the States and do film work. And I reahse the wonderful money to b.-; My best offer was made to me b v D. W. Griffith, (who offered me work there which was to reahse £250,000 in five years. I preferred to slay in England and act. earned there. ICra.'ijcr. Mr. OWEN NARES and Miss ISOBEL ELSOM in "Tinker, Tailor. Soldier, Sailor."