Screen Mirror (Jun 1930 - Mar 1931)

Screen Mirror For June 17 Wh„C by jack grant revealing the secret of picking pictures • Directly behind us in the theatre sat two rather talkative young ladies obviously out to “enjoy themselves.” Their unending flow of conversation continued through the newsreel and comedy until we offered prayers to Allah that, all else failing, their interest in the feature might effectively act as a silencer. But apparently even the powers of Allah are puny in comparison to the fluency of loquacious tongues. (Not an old Chinese proverb, though it might well be.) The feature title flashed upon the screen followed by the usual credits. As the frame announcing “Directed by John Cromwell” met our eyes, our ears were assailed by a femi' nine voice protesting: “I wish they wouldn’t waste so much time getting pictures started. Who cares who the director is? Let’s have Bill Powell.” “Yeah,” agreed her companion. “Who cares?” Promptly we arose and sought other seats. Perhaps if the drama we subsequent' ly witnessed in quieter surroundings had been less of an outstanding ex' ample of directorial skill that “Who cares?” might not have rankled so. The picture in question chanced to be “The Street of Chance,” and every foot of it bespoke its adroit direction. Surely, we thought, the importance of this di' rector’s fine touch is discernible to everyone in the audience. The “Who cares?” we heard voiced must be a minority opinion. It was not until we queried a number of our friends not officially connected with the motion picture industry that we learned differently. Yes, they had seen “The Street of Chance.” — What impressed them about the production?— Let’s see. — William Powell had given one of the best performances of his career of best performances. — Kay Francis was splendid — So was Regis Tooney — and that poker game was dandy. Who was the tough gambler? Oh, Stanley Fields. Well, he was great, too. Yes sir, a pip of a yarn Paramount had turned out — swell entertainment— who was the author? Not one word about John Cromwell. Not even an inquiry as to who di. rected the picture. They knew the star who generally gets the credit or blame.” names of the principal players, asked about less familiar actors and wanted to know who wrote the story. They talked of outstanding dramatic and comedy high-lights and demonstrated how well the producer’s slogan “If it’s a Paramount picture, it’s the best show in town” has been sold. But as for the director— quite apparently the girls were correct— nobody cared. • Shortly afterwards we talked with a producer about our unofficial and private census of “Street of Chance” opinions. “You professional theatre-goers sometimes get too close to your pictures,” he informed us. “Any producer or exhibitor could have immediately told you what you took the trouble to learn for yourself. The public doesn’t stop to analyze its film fare. They either like a picture or don’t like it. And it’s the According to the facts of the case, perhaps that producer is correct. Everyone, however, dreams of some Utopia, and here’s the fond hope of this picture reviewer — a public self-educated to select its own film entertainment and base its judgment upon the merits of individual directors’ work. And that isn’t quite so difficult as it may sound. Every director definitely trademarks his production in some way. It may be a slight touch — an indefinite something that characterizes his work — but it is as easily recognizable, if one looks for it, as the lion in M-G-M productions or the rooster in Pathe pic tures. A