Variety (May 1932)

Tuesday; May 31» 1932 P I € ¥ U R E $ VARIETY 23 Inside Stuff on Film Biz <Contlnued from page 1) | noV. . Four or Ave smart producers ■U'ho had overshot the bankroll an.' found, themselves check - racked, r just walked in an' gently laid the picture Industry in the laps of these gehtlem;en. It was the greatest sur- render since the day Sittin' Bull gave himself up, There is today, a lot of new facies. elttlnV 4n the seats of the motion picture mighty, an* 'it looks ais if thfey'i'e goin' to \3tay there.. In my article of 1927, I mentioned that old story ahoiit the goose that devel- oped the habit of layln' a golden egg an' suggested what was likely to happien. 'Variety' readers can fin- ish this sentence—for a let of 'em 'know where an' how the body was' burled. Beprintin' another 1927 para- graph: 'I'm not a business man—<jow- punchin' is my trade. But I'm not afraid to gamble any part of .$l60,QOO—an' I say this seribus- . ly—that I can take any studio' in ' Lios Angeles an' reduce its . overhead. 25% from the day they make me top sergeant of the outfit.' . An* that 1927 offer still goes in 1932-Twtth the exception that I'll increase the odds—I'll gamble the $100,006 that today i can reduce the nut or bvierhead/ 35% from the day I start in. Extravagance an* waste still are here.. Hundreds an' even thousands of dollars are weekly expfinded in a way that cpnriot possibly be re- flected in the. entertainment value of the pictures.. A little good judg- liient,' i^laln 'horse sense' exercised in the right direction, could, empty a lot of mahogany chairs and ^flll quite a few New York-bound rail- way trains, or whatever method of transportation' that at the time of- fers the cheapest rates. No Reflection .At this point, I'd. like to put In an' emphasize that what I've got to say from now on is not intended to reflect on any particular unit of the producin' Industry-^r any in- dlvidudl company—an' particularly, I want it understood that the basis of my observations has not come from the studio where I'm no-w a wbi'kin'. I've the highest respect for Uncle Garl,; Junior "an| their business judgment—in factj Mr. Laemmle lis about the Only one of the old guard left who is still 'sole owner of his name,' still slghln' the same signature to bank checks an' passih' on importd.nt tniEitters with- out r6ferrin' them to a corhmittee headed by New York stock brokers. What I've got to say covers the Industry in general—for I've been vlsltln' aroUnd a heap—hither an' yon, as it were—ah' llstenln' a,lot— keepin* my ear to tii^-«round—al- though today when so many studio executives wear soft shoes an' sneakers, it's pretty hard at times, to hear 'em comih', an' harder still to hear 'em gOIn'—^for soine of 'em now an' then, do a disappearin' act that would reflect great credit upon the late Mr. Houdlni, Three years ago I finished my last 'silent'—sonnd was comin' in. To Tony an' me it looked like the end of the wide-open spaces an' the high-class drama we -had always known. "We saw, too,' that iii the new order of things—the sound stages—there would be no more rldin' or buckih' horses, swift moun- tainside .chases nor holdin' up of stage coaches to rescue the girl. We saw that our career was comin' to an end. Looklh' around, however, we did see one consolin' thing—they ■was kickin' William Fox an' me out of the >plctures at about the same time. I had a little edge on Mr Fox, though, for I owned a horse. I've -been a-keepih' it a closed se- cret for three years, but I might as well tell it now—seein' what was facin' him an' the disadvantage of bein"- afoot at that ,same time, Mr Fox tried to buy Tony, along with a bridle, saddle ah' a good campin' blanket Beverly Hills Road House Anyway, I; decided to close my Beverly Hills esthete an' go back to my old love, the circus—an'. Inci- dentally, where I started from. My Beverly Hills estate had been built for invited an' uninvited guests, anyway, an' was the only, road house in Gallfornia operatlri' with- out a. cover Charge, so I didn't, mind closln' it for a time; An', in addi- tion, I had always missed the smell of the sawdust an' the fine, aro- matic an' exotic zephyr of the ele- phants. . Of course, ' ^ony an' - me missed the sage-dotted desert an' the cool of the canyon^, for that had been home tp us, an' for three years ■wended our", weary way with the circus. • TheA it came' to pass n-e were ■ Invited back to Hollywood to niake a few sound pictures—an* here we are. Naturally, I read 'Vs^rlety' to know what wis goln' on In the picture In- dustry, i expected, an' had a right to expect that through the influx of brokers, bankers, leather manufac-. turers,. lumber kings ,an' chewin' gum magnates, replacin' the former tailors, pants :pressers, button-hole ^akers; furriers, clothln' contractors ah' a few old garment vendors, that the motion picture industry had at last grown up an' no longer 'was in its infancy,' But what did I-find? I found .'em still a wheelln' it around ^stlir a-fearin' for it another out- break of the cripup ah' meaisles— still an infant cryih' for ^elp an' that it still hadn't advanced. beyond the kid-snappih' age. . In great glee, the industry recently celebrated its twenty-fifth birthday. Knowledge We used to. argue, now. an' then, in the old 'silent da.ys'; but today it's Just argument pyramided on ar- .gument—an' this wouldn't be so bad if the argiifyers knew what they was argufyin* about. Where we Used to have two Or three depart- ments to argue with, now we got a dozen. In one; studio where I was a yisitin' I heard a director, with all the ripe experience of hayin' been twice to Europe, tellin' an old, .grizzled an' inuch-tatooed sailor how ah ocean scene should be shot, an' that was the way he shot it. At another studio, where they was a makih' arcirciis picture,.the studio busineiss ag^eht was tryln' to explain to Merle Evans, for .30 years a cir- cus bandmaster, that the big 40- piece circus band always walked in the parade, an', as any kid knows, the big band always rides in the big red ail' gold 40-horse bandwagon. The real cause of the argument, I. discovered, was that the rental, of the bandwagon ah' the horses was $60 a day, an' the studio wanted to get along without^-an' so the band walked. Now they. have a sound depart- ment—with more assistants, direc- tor-generals, mixers an' hired help than it used to take to make a whole picture. Todiy we're a-mak- in' ta?kih' pictures, an- yet you hear more yells for 's.ilence' than you can count in six hours. For first one thing an' another, you hear so many whistles blown that when you're on your ■way home an' a trafiflc cop whistles at you, you. just keep on a-going', ■ thinkin', as you've been thinkin' all day, that it don't mean anything. Gn the stages you hear 'interlock' an' 'turn 'em over," until you have a. hard time to keep from mixin' the words In with the dialog —^I ain't found out yet ■what it-all means. An' is . the sound department smart? . I -hope to, tell you. 'Mr, Mix,' says one obligln'- young geht, 'you'll have to tell Tony to put his feet down harder—I can't hear his hoofs in the picture.' So Tony) who's had more experience makin' pictures than any sound man, just listens an' goes on puttln' his hoofd down in the same old way. Then I get to work an' shoe Tony with heavier shoes to increase the sound —an' that's too much—'can't I make him come ,in easier an" with less noise as ° he starts the scene? Couldn't I take a few ounces from each hoof?' I told him sure I could; to get me a good file an' to come back in a coupla hours an' he'd be fixed. Then another man comes In from the sound department with the astoundin' Information that Tony walks heavier with his front feet than with his hind Ones—I don't know how Tony ever got into such a disgustin' habit, but, anyway, could r fix it? Then we got to have a sound like a cow—can anybody holler like a cow? What kind of a cow? says one of my cowboys, an' then it seems the kind of a cow he can holler-like ain't the right kind of a cow—different from the one we got in the picture—an' in the end we got to send out for a professional cow-sounder—ah' he's more or less In the dark, not bein' up on fancy cattle breedin'. An! so it goes—just the same in all studios—start an' wait—wait ah' start. . An' Dialog An' then there's the dialog depart- ment. It,, ah' Its five assistants ar- rive early on the set, carry In' two dictionaries, a coupl'a grammars, ah' later the main dialog boss comes in With a rhetoric under his arm. From what I can find out, this rhet- oric is the cuberrool of grammar. Then a new arSument breaks out— •we got to reshoot a scene made the day before, it havin' develoi>ed that one of the cowboys, who dlsgust- In'ly enough, hadn't, got past the eighth grade, had said: 'Hank, you go out an' git the team.' Accordin' to the dialog'shark. It. should have been 'get the" team,' an' for fear somebody's sensibilities might be hurt by such coarseness or the ed- ucational influence minimized if the scene were to be heard by some growin'.child, its all grot to be done over again, but' not until we've heard eight No. 1 and No. -2 argu- ments about split Infinitives an' pa.st participles—an' no ranch that I ever worked on had either one of '.em. The sound department ain't >ln love with the dialog department, an' n'elther one has much use for the scenario department, which in turn. Why Worry? Hollywood, May 30. Shoestring producer^ about to start a, picture,. iR'as re- minded that he hadn't secured a leading lady yet, 'We"ve got plenty of time,* he jinswered. 'We won't need her for a whole hour.' has ho hesitation in slippin* the in- formation thai If left alone, that di- visional, unit could finish the picture in good shape if every one in the dialog department spent the rest of the week In TIa Juana, an' most of, the sound departmeht an' a coupl'a or three - supervisors took a few days fishin'.. An' so it goes. "Today, it's me- chanics an' machinery , in the pic^ tureS,, Half the scenario writers don't know the mechanics of pic- tures an' half the picture mechanics don't know the secrets of the sce- nario guild an' don't think much of 'em anyway, I won't say that each department is jealous of the other, but ytfu don't see 'em mixin* much. Mind, I'm not sayin* there ain't a lot of scenario writers in Holly- wood who don't know their business —there are--but they get little chance these days. It's the new- ly imported writers that's a: gettln' the l>reaks. ' The Trouble ■ Comin* . down to cases—what's the ,matter with pictures—two things. They've taken the romance but of picture' makin' an* substituted cold machinery an* cold methods. Fur- ther, from a financial view, the in- dustry is topheavy. One-third of the men on any studio's pay roll could be done away -with—we got supervision an' specialties developed to the nth degree—whatever that is, but we got it. The romance! Times was, whea we loved to make pictures—the •actors—the prop boys—the gaffers— '■ the' cameranien ah' the extras—all enjoyed it. Do they enjoy it to- day? Ask any one of 'em. TO start,^ with—the actor is dis- satisfied-he resents a lot of things —an' whether he's right or wrong— he's still resehtin'. How was he hired in the first place? He was picked from a bunch of photo- graphs submitted by ah agent, none of which looked very much like him—but the agent touted him strong because of the 10% agent's commission. I used to wonder where the term 'agent' come from until I remembered what I read about Robin Hood—he was a 'road agent,* an' then I knew. The actor has been hired through the agent without personal contact' or havin' a word to say in his own behalf He's sore because he ain't igettln' what he thinks is right—he's heard Pete McGlutz, who ain't half as good an actor as he is-is gettin' $20 a week more through havin' a smarter agent with a better stand in. In fact, the actor has been hired from a: catalog, just like, down in Oklahoma, we used to buy things from the mall order books, once bought a pair of spurs that way—they looked great in the pic- ture but when the spurs came, the rowels were made of pe'wter an' busted 'the first time I tried to use 'em. ■ An' the niechanlcal crews—in all studios the mechanical workers used to get quite a bit Of ovpr- .time—a little outside gravy—a. time an' a half allowance—but not today. Prbmpfly, when the eight hours are up, the Hollywood studios shift the entire crew, all except the camera- men, slippin' in a new mechanical outfit, just to save the extra time allowance. An' so it Is the picture goes on for the rest of the day an' night ■with a new lot of boys— willin' to work but not known' what its all about, or what's been done during the day. ■The Crews In 'former- . years, vve kept the same crew—there was a loyalty amongst the boys an' even the humblest property boy took pride in the picture his outfit was makin'. No'where today, in any studio, can you find the vsathe crew loyalty- it ain't there, an' don't let. anyone tell you that crew loyalty ain't mighty helpful In picture makin'. Today, crews ain't permitted to stick together^—half the efficiency is lost becau.se of the triflin' savin' of extra time pay allowances. . In scene shobtin', loyal crews 'would ahtlcl- pate heeds—do they; do it today? - impossible because the crews don't know each, other—tlie sense of obll- gatlon; one to the Other, isn't there —not because the mechanical workln' men of the studio ain't wlll- In"—but they have never been given the opportunity to get experienced together. Now, sum up the result—you'rp a makin' pictures, but—the actoi* ain't plea.sed—the mechanical crev/s' interest ceases when ieight hour.? are up—the soimd men ain't buy- In' presents for the dialogers, who, in turn, ain't Invltlh' the scenario boys over to the Cbcoanut Grove for the evein". Cameramen realize that their salar.v is a goln* to stop the second the p'icture Is completed an' tliat the brigadier general of the exeriitives'an' the latter's assistant, tlie colonel, ape rushiri' things through on 'cm. The picture direc*- tor an' hia first, second, tliird an' fourth assistants an' their deputies have a peeve—^they didn't Ret the cast they wanted in the first ..lace— an' the sets wore wrong an* not ac- cordin' to script—the location they picked was better than the one used, even if it would have cost mort to get there—the script girl Is sore because she has to buy her own lead pencils—the leadih' lady says the -wardrobe boss scrimped on her clothes—the mechanical crew Is ,keen oh watchin' the clock—the sound department has. a grievance —the scenario unit is upset by the dialogers an' the-latter peeved at the ■ directory who, In turn, is in favor of shootln' a, coupl'a hot shots into the supervisor an'. it all is topped by a star anxious to: get back to'Mallibu Beach. Is any of that a goln- to be re- flected In the picture? Te-ah, broth- er-T-none of it's a goin' to keep out. Don't forget that one big tommer- cial creamery, with many successful millions, has found it smart busi- ness to a,dvertise that they got: "con- tejjted cows.* We ain't even got con- tended hams. Now these condi- tions I have mentioned.. are to he found In every.studio in Hollywood, extept one^-an' I'm just puttln' that one'in to give each studio, an alibi out. There .yiras a time when we went on location, shot scenes in happy accord—all workin' tbgether^got up early an' kept at it as long; as we had the sun. If we didn't take our families along with us, they came out Saturday night an' we spent Sunday together—mebbe the studio did get set back for a few extra meals—but they got it all back an' more in efficiency an* loyalty , an' honest coroperatlon. The men—one- ah' all—were contented,- eag^r in their wOrk—each knew his job was safe an' that he'd be wOrkln'. in the next picture. Even the actors were friends an' the scenario writer an' the director were pals. An' I. ask, what kind of pictures were made under those cohditibns? An* were the theatres filled? .Re- member, this ain*t the first depres- sion the picture industry has weathered—there was one back in 1921 that al>out swamped things, but the producers kept on turn in* out good 'pictures an' the audiences stuck with 'em. Put out a really good. i>icture to- day-Hioes it play to empty seats? Has anyone heard of a picture the- atre closln* up Just after It played one .of Marie Dressler's pictures? Miss Dressier gives the public fine, wholesome, human characters—free from suggestiveness—a lot of laughs an' a few tears—an' let me say the Tnechanical crew . boys tell me there's no grief or unhapplness about her sets—she won't.stand for it—all are keen .to work again with her—:What's the answer? • Too Mechanical Today, In picture making the real romance. Is gone—it's made mechan leal from the first stei> to the final shot—^just a machine-made, catalog product—put together with the same romance that is poured Into the making, paintin* an' delivery of an automobile—in fact, the two are meclianical cousins. An' In the stu- dios today, is there such a thing as co-operation? The man that can find it.can go out tomorrow after- noon an' locate oil -wells an' gold mines without usin' the usual lucky, willow stick, he'd be that clever. In addition, the smart boys have taken a lot of the glamour an' mys- tery out of the pictures. It's true, they've probably' saved some money in the reduction,of the star's salary, but many's the theatre seat that's been filled with both young an' old folks who came to see what the gent or lady looked like that was getting $10^000' a week—some of 'em ftot more, but we'll take the $10,000 as an example—six times as much as the president got. In the good old dayd, if you'd give the studio press agent a new typewriter that he's most anxious to try. out, he'd raise a star's salary so high A'nielia Ear- heart couldn't fly over iti Theire was always a mystery an' an eiUIcIn* glamour siirroundin* whoever got the ten-^what did they do with it ? How did they spend it? What did they do with their old clothes? an* 10,000 more questions. An' wasn't It good, smart showmanship to an- nounce the big salaries, ■n^hether they paid 'em or not. Today, is the producer fillih' up theatre seats by lettin' the public know he's just cut- Lucy McLuke's salary from $5,000 to $1,500? Says the public—'he don't think mucli of Lucy—rthat a being the case, we won't either.' Why not put the romafce, mys tery an' glamour back? It . hasn't helped any to take It out—rcturnln' 'em might be helpful, , The indu.stry Is topheavy!. On the Payroll Today, we got more supervisors, first assistant an' even fourth assist- ants, technical men,- specialty ex- perts, .story advisors, super-dialog critics—than ever In tlie industry's history.. Most of them have been brought from New York or' Europe without havin' the slightest kn'dwl- edge of picture mcchanlcK—^^an' all .seem to be drawin' tremendous sal- aries—an' not a dlrnc of this moijcy Is i-eflecled in entertainment value. And, these same birds will argue longer an' louder than a Gongrfis- slonal tax committee, about who's to get: certain screen credits. "VVhy? Doe.s Standard Oil, Ford. .Step). Transporlallon an' ollipr surcesKful industries, clutter up their nianufac« turin* costs, an' expect the' public to pay for their relatives an' neighbors, carried on the payroll? A few of our producin'" boys de.. elded to get into the theatre owln.* business—drive tlie small, ihdepend-* - ent playhouse owner out." In for- nier days, the nelghborhbod ther atre owner stood on the door, gift- ed his customers with a smile,.called the kids by their given natnes an' tried to give his patrons the kind^ of plctui'^s he knew they liked. What has become of him ? The chain system forced or bought him out, ' replaced hlrii by two or three young gents, uniformed like ah Admiral In the Uruguay navy—rwhich has only - got one rowboat for a battleship line. What Interest lias thesei glo- ; rlous birds of plumage got-in the ' pictures they ai*e showln'? None at all—the pictures are all picked by some smart bird sittin' in an ofllce .. a tliousohd miles or more away, an' who don't know whether the' town is filled with Mexicans,. Armenians. Greeks or just plain Americans, an' cares less. , That's, the picture he's sendin', an* they can take it or leave It—an* yet, somewhere I've' heard complaints about empty seat^ here, an' there. Now that the pro-^ duelers have sunk millions of their stockholders' money In theatre chains—^they're like the feller who had the wild cat by the tall an* is lookin* for a place to let go. Tryln' to run the little feller out, however, has sent a. few, mahogany table executives out looklh* for a new job. : " ■ Unloading F'lops If a tailor makes a bad suit ot clothes—does he make or want bis customer to-take it? If he blun» ders, he accepts the loss. If the grocer sells canned goods that have gone bad, he quickly replaces 'im. —but the picture maker, if he makes a bad picture through Ifick of Judg- ment dr -trylrf to favor some rela-, iive, does he shoulder it? Not the producia* boy—it*s the theatre own- er, art", the public that's stuck. Says the distrlbutin' exchange to the ex- hibitor—'This picture ain't so good —It 'hasn*t any box office value—the name's bad—the cast pf no, impoFf tance an' the story an' Action drag, Oui: advice to you is Just to pay for it an' not use It—put another in. Of course,, yoii can't have any of oiir good pictures until y6u.pay for this bad one—which you got to take.' . Can any other Industry succeed throwin' that line of stuff an' get away with It? If you don't believe the exchanges talk that way to the theatre owners, ask the first one you meet—an' If he hasn't heard It, I'll pay for the seats next time you go to a show—an' there'll be some empty ones ■■ as long ias they keep on doln' business in the same old way. Recently . I, read where a feller named Sidney R. K^nt made a speech at the Motion Picture Acad- emy, an* said: ' 'The industry Is facin' . ItS toughest struggle for the next three years.' That's nothln' new, even if a new- studio executive did find it out. The Industry has been a facin' its toughest struggle for the next three years ever since I first knew It—An* that's a long time ago. If the co^i- in' three is goln' to be tougher than the last three, I'd suggest we ne|ed some new supervisors an' a lot of 'em. ' Accordin' to newspapers of recent date, it seems quite a few of the big producin' boys spend a lot of time shootih' the stock market Instead of shootln' pictures, an' that some of 'em got away with some real dough, even though their own, employees, who bought the,same stock on their advice an* in good faith, are left holdin' the bag: Some might call that easy money—^but is it? I know other producers who are heavily In- terested in brokerage offices, ban1<s,' politics, antique stores, gasoline flllin* stations, lingerie, shops. 9iii' beauty parlors aa* spend a lot of time lookin' after thesie interests. All of which reminds me that lii my-original 1927 article I made, mention of . a recent trial; wherein Frank B. Kellogg, later Secretary of State but then a government attor- ney, asked an elderly :gent named Rockefeller—think John. D. was his nanie—how . he accounted for the fact his industry had-made more Qioney an' outprospered any known corporation. Without hesitation Mr. Rockefeller replied: 'Mr. Kel.-' logg, we were oil men in the morn- ing, ve were oil men at noon, wis were oil men at night—we had no other business.' "What would happen, do you sup- pose, if the Industry with which we are connected should accidentally fait into the hands of gentlemen who would be picture men in the morning, picture men at noon, pic- ture men at night—an' had no other business? . It's .sonicbody else's turn to do a little gue.ss'lh'. - Sloane's 'War Correspondent' Paul .Sloane's 11 rst directorial job for Columbia will be 'War Corre- .spondenl,' an original by Kate "Thompson and Jo Swerllng. . Sloane, last iin'^er Itartlo contract, was a war coiirespondont himself. Hali'h firnves ah'l Jack Holt are sfl for tlie leads.