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I
PRESS
By
Delight Evans
C The much-tall{edoj Hon that the press agent planted in a hotel room.
TP>\™
A3
EFORE Old Man Movie sends his latest celluloid ' ddy out into the cold, cruel world all done up in a nice tin can, he is apt to indulge in a few words of fatherly advice. Pa has been through it all before, and he knows what he is talking about He can tell at a glance whether the newcomer is going to turn out a black sheep or a son to be proud of. And he advises accordingly.
"My son," says he to Little Boy Film, "my son, you have Angles. They are sticking out all over you. No,"
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he hastens to add as he notices his child curling up as if overcome with shame, "don't try to hide them. They are assets, my boy — Exploitation Angles. So make the best of them. You have a fire, you have a runaway, you have — ahem — a seduction scene. I can ask no more and neither, I am sure, can your Public. For you will have your Public — I can see that. Run along, now, and don't forget — advertise your Angles. Play up that fire. Incidentally, keep away from cigarette stubs."
Sarins little celluloid chap reeled away. Pretty soon he wasNtaken up, unwound, viewed by a group of assorted hardbo.iled eggs, re-wound, argued over, panned and applauded, "and finally — he was Put Over. He was Put Over so thoroughly that he stayed there and grossed Big Box-Office Receipts. Pec^ ,£> came to see him and kept on coming. Yes, you. YcK^k ' "d paid and paid. Usually, you think you know/V ' <v<% to see a