Reel Life (Sep 1913 - Mar 1914)

©C1.B296656 AWEEKLY MAGAZINE OF KINETIC DRAMA AND LITERATURE PUBLISHED BY MUTUAL FILM CORPORATION, NEW VORK Mew Y©rk, Jaiinary 24, 1914 CLARENCE HERBERT NEW, Editor WM. H. PECKHAM, Business Manager MUTUAL FILM CORPORATION, Publishers, 71 West 23rd Street Five Cents the Copy Circulation This Week 25,000 $2.50 by the Yeaer At a time when about every third adult person appears to be trying his or her hand at writing motion-picture scenarios, much criticism has been stirred up over the fact that so many of the film manufacturers turn back to the celebrated novels every few weeks ifor play material. Those who follow the weekly programs of motionplays with enthusiastic interest are struck by the number of dramatizations from the good old standard novels — and ask with more or less protesting emphasis why our native talent isn't given more of a chance to work out something better and more novel. People who really know something of literature and the drama wisely refrain from going into this question — but, as always, they are in the minority, and our daily mail contains a serious propoirtion of letters from would-be scenario writers who ifancy they have a grievance. Suppose we see if this point can't be made so clear that all of our correspondents, and their friends, may understand it. Taking the average theatrical season in New York City for the last twenty-five years as a basis for argfument, it should be remembered that in no single winter during that time have we seen upon the legitimate stage more than six really first-class playsplays which have sufficient vitality to reappear, season after season, in various -parts of the world. During some winters, there have been not over three or four of such plays. And those ifour — or six — ^dramatic performances have re!presented the pick — the final choice — of all the plays submitted to producing managers. Of course, many other new plays were produced, each season — but they were ephemeral and had very little basic worth. To-day, the demands of the motion picture industry are such that over one hundred new film plays are released every week in this country alone. The regular fall, winter and spring theatrical season in New York runs about thirty-two weeks. So we have a ratio of 3,200 motion-picture plays, each season, against the 6 firstnclass plays of the legitimate stage — quite a respectable difference— ^in figures. Out of the 3,200 motion-picture plays— (it is really 5,200, because there is no off-season in film production) — only a certain proportion can be considered as being in the same dramatic class as the six regular plays referred to, and it stands to reason that this proportion — really first-class work — cannot be done by amateurs. These are the permanent masterpieces — written by masters of their cralft, whether living or dead. The 5,200 scenarios must be written and produced each year. Taking even the incessant efforts of such veterans as Thos. H. Ince and Lloyd F. Lonergan, the film manufacturers cannot obtain more than two-thirds of that number — really fit for production. The balance must be made up in order to get the output — and it must be good stuff. So recourse is had to the almost inexhaustible supply of first-class books upon the library shelves — and at that point in the search for material it is very soon proved that the older standard novels and plays offer better subject-matter for motion-picture plays than the modern school. In the older novels, something always happens — from chapter to chapter. In the days when they were first read, something had to happen. People dined more liberally, drank more port, went to sleep more quickly — and the book had to keep them awake by sheer interest, or it was poor stuff. Dumas — 'Ainsworth — James — Walter Scott — Victor Hugo — Dickens — Thackeray — DeFoe — Robinson — Geo. W. M. Reynolds — all of them knew how to write a story with the punch in it. The modern school drifts more to character-study. Possibly we may be on our way to a higher iform of literature than the old masters reached. But when it comes to carrying the thread of your story in pantomime, so that an audience with limited education catches the full force of every scene, mere characterstudy fails to get across. A D'Artagnan or a Ruy Bias, or a Don Caesar de Bazan doesn't need to say a word on the screen. He is himself — and you know exactly what he's about, every minute. It isn't in the least necessary for Robin Hood to make long speeches — you see him shooting his deer in Sherwood Forest, or getting the laugh on the Sheriff of Nottingham, or embracing Maid Marian, and you get the whole action without a word of explanaition. In the Trail of the Lost Chord, you see the Padre at his organ and his whole story opens out before you. In Sapho — the story is so clear that no explanation is necessary. In Moths — the duel scene for instance — you instantly sense the tragedy of Correze being shot through the vocal cords in his throat, even if he is not otherwise seriously injured. 5,200 scenarios a year — with the number steadily increasing! The magazines and weeklies on the news-stands contain the names of perhaps 200 writers of fiction more ar less well-known to the reading public. Suppose that every one of them were to drop magazine work and turn to scenario-writing? There is no question but that they are far better equipped for the work— by technical knowledge and experience — than any amateur who ever set pen to paper or pounded a machine. Yet each of the two hundred would have to produce something over twenty-five scenarios a year — two a month — to meet even the present demand. Does any thinking person suppose that any living writer can produce twentyfive scenarios of 10,000 to 20,000 words each, in a single year, and have them all up to an acceptable standard of merit? Human brains of that sort should be in a museum — preserved for all time. Let us be thankful — if we depend upon the Movies for a large part of our entertainment — that the present supply of good old standard novels in the libraries, together with a very respectable amount of magazine fiction, isn't likely to be exhausted, as film material, in the next five or ten years. If we were obliged to depend upon our amateur playwrights for even two or three thousand "Movie"-Plays, each year, the outlook for clean acceptable entertainment would be a gloomy one.