Variety (January 1951)

Wednesday, January 3, 1951 By ALLEIN RIVKllN Hollywood. Q; Yoiir name, please? A: Allen Rivkin. Q: Occupation? A: I'm a scribe, Q: A scribe, sir? A: Yes, a scrib, a scrivener, a penner, scripter, dialoger, ^(laptoi*^ screenwriter. SWGer. Q; In the motion picture industry? A ; Fix biz is more accurate, Q: Where are you employed. Mi'. Ryskihd? A : culver City 'plant, where Leo roars, Metro, or just plain iVI G-M. Any of those addresses will dig me. Q: What iS: your salary^ Mr Ruskin? v A: Healthy figui’e or tops, whichever is easier for you. All us triple-threat men have solid pacts. Q: Triple threat? A: You could say I’m a peh-prod-megger— or at least my 3:way ticket calls for this. . Q : Have you always ^worked in Hollywood, Mr. Rackin? A: No, I Chiefed in from the Stem; that was, Of coiirse, before .mu coUld Super or Sky pr AA or TWA or Connie or Grci^iound in. That’s because I’m a writer. Had 1 been ail oater star I would have trekked in. Q: there’s a dilTerehce in these craft categories? A: You kidding An exhib comes by train for a loot set; of new prods: a B’way flesh-peddler will hit Coast tO sked a famous femme for top legit lead; a sales rep trods dust to hypo falling b.o.; a starlet will do a p.a. tubthumping jaunt to plug product— handled, of course, by studio flack; a niegger will pilot own craft to a NY preem; but a Pul Pri playwright checks into lot for 2 weeks’ huddle on pioperty Q: That’s very illumihating, Mr Riskin But why does the director go to New York? A: Perhaps because he brought in the biopic under sked, or perhaps he has to prep his next pix with sales execs after having got nod studio toppers, or perhaps he’s repping SDG in Vid negotiations, or perhaps he just Wants to survey TV-Tint Trix. Q: What if he failed to bring his picture in on the , budget alio /ed for it? A : He’s back. for added scenes, or so Iront-ofTice spokesman sez. . Q: Doesn’t the director get a reprimand for this? A: Sure. Sometimes he checks oft* lot after sma.sh preview or maybe jinx plagued him and he’s out with his deal settled amicably, unless he wants, to take slash for repacling. Q: To get back to writers. Mi’. Rivkin. Dp— r— ; . A: Oh, you want to know why script doesn’t jell, eh? Or \\hy dialog seems hackneyed Or pedestrian, or why snipping a thousand feet will make script bofter package? Q: No, . not quite. I was going to ask you how long you’ve been employed at your profession, A : I-m a vet. Q: Always been in good health? A : No. Fve been bedded in Cedars a few times or rushed to St. John's but tha Was only when my wife, non-pro, gave birth to what I'm sure will be a thesp. Q: Ever work in radio? ; A: I've cut a few— for the nets, that is. But I prefer the 15-minute layout to the half-hour stanza. You can prime them better for beaming. Q: i suppose you’ve had your fling at television?; A: I did some yatating with a fevv Viders but when I saw the kine, I checked. They’re still trying to ink me, though. 1 may take another gander at it when the Icnsers get better Q: Lensers, Mr. Raksln? A: 5ure-— the crankers. men behind the cam, the photoger, Q: I SCO, Are you familiar with the current loss in boxoflice revenue? A: Take is down, .vou mean? Yes. it’s probably because exhibs don’t invest enough ad coin after film is in can to hypo the b.o. Then, too, we’re getting plenty of competish from telesets, The airers are gettin.g better, too. It’s really torrid. 1 tell you. But wait till “Quo” preems. It’ll be the rebirth of heads like Biz Bouncing, Biz Nixes Doldrums. Sqcko, Terrif. Q: You think “Quo Vadis” will be that great? A: i |)romise you. Quo Kayoes ’Video. Q: Well, thank you. Mr, .Rivkin. We’ve had a Very intere.sting time. You ma.y step down noW; if you wish, .\: No vocks to tell the boy.s at the table? Q: ^yell. maybe. Tell them that there’s nothing like a hot flick to chiF TV,^ ; Agents^ , By RIISSEIL HOLMAN YPa,ra7)ioiOH's Easici’n P7’od. A'/g?’,) Among the current problems that bedevil the picture studios is the lack of good, useable stories. The same problem I'm told, worries the book publishers and t he magazine editors. A pi’ominent book publisher confided the other day that under normal conditions he Moiildn’t have accepted for publicatjohi due to lack of i^^Qrit. half of the books On his 1950 list. A magazine mogul said they were filling a large part of the current issues from the ; filed “bought by mistake” stories because they V’crc at least better than the yarns being submitted. And most of the agents for storie.s, when you can entice them out to lunch, bewail that they haven’t sold a line to pictures tor months. ' NpwJ naturally like all agehtS We need each other so much , in Our respoctive and interlocked business. Their uisiress is our distress. So I was thinking about our mutual problem: VVJion I brokC: ihlo the production end of the picture ousine.ss in 1932 as an jEastern Story Editor, it was also 0 time of decroased grosses at the boxofTice, a lack of good f^ioiies. and the picture companies buying story* material wnrilv and as cheaply as po.ssible. And this is the way it va.s with the average top 1932 agent purveying stories 10 nictures: It was a cinch getting a look at what story maierial he Forty^fifth Anniversary PICTURES 49 had. In fact you couldn’t avoid it By messenger and through the mail he littered your desk with galleys, mss., advance copies of his clients’ books, etc. And he always wanted to see you and talk to you over the ’phone. Moreover Mr. Top 10% laid himself out a schedule of his picture customers for the Big Periodical Pitch, This worked as follows : About once every two weeks, was your turn. Having, hopefully, in the meantime softened you up Avith a good lunch he naade a date to see you in your office. He arrived armed with a bulging briefcase. He had informed himself in detail of everything among his material that had ^any remote possibility for pictures. He had briefed himself in advance about your $tars and their casting possibilities in his wares and your studio’s tastes in stories. He gave you adroit shUis as to how four or five yarns in this bag, if. they weren’t right for you as written, cpuld be adapted fpr your players and programs. This usually took .aboht an hour and a half. If it didn’t result concretely in a sale for the agent— and acquistipn for your studio— it and the surrounding chatter usually brought on something constructive-^— maybe a. personality the agent was handling, etc. In the final lfi minutes or s6 the agent might mention a rising ypung author of his who had a helluva idea or tWp in his head for pictures and could he bring himself around? (So the r.y.a, came by, and the result was an optional deal for a down payment on the basis of a verbal outline and substantially more when the 30-page treatment was bought.) The agent left your office with his briefcase depleted pf a couple of sets of galleys or so and a ms. and the advance copy of a book and pt least the prospect of a sale. Generally once a day you entertained One Big Pitching agent oi: sOv Conies the Sellers’ Market Then came World War 11 and the $o-called sellers’ market The Big Pitch yahished and the agents seldom came aroundY You had to call them. In fact they— and their material and their fledgiing authprs— became very tough indeed to dig. It got so you had to pay publishers dough to get a look at galleys or bribe readers at the magazines or book clubs. The agent for a best-selling play or book, just before you paid the fat check at 21, vvould Say that of course, in addition to the siX'-digit price he was not asking but indicating consideration of, his client would expect 25% of the picture gross, and he had to know in 48 hours. Came. 1947, the dropm picture grosses and the desperate effort to cut picture negative/ costs, including the corresponding necessity of buying story material more cagily, more cheaply and for definite purposes, so that the industry could it hoped, make a buck or stay even. Came an emphasis on re-makes and originals and magazine short stories, because they were Cheaper. And came, ironically, a dearth of good, pictureable new stories among the agents’ wares. Everything changed from ,1942-6 in the story line— except maybe most of the story agents. In 1950 most of the agents still don’t Come around much, you have to employ yoiir private FBI to dig the stuff, etc,, etc. And the agents aren’t selling many stories to pictures. Now I naturally like all agents. We need each other so much, etc. The average picture company and executive has had to reconcile himself to adjustment back to a 1932 way of doing business— or riot do business. P. S.— -the riame of Par’s eastern story ed is Alan Jackson, our play, editor is John Byram (same telephone number).. perior to that which they will see by sitting at home in front of their TV sets. In the past we have competed solely against other motion picture companies for the dollar of those desiring to enjoy audio Visual entertair\ment. Today \ye not only have to compete with the fine attractions of ofher motion picture companies but we must also compete with the convpiiipnf and free entertainment offered by television. :By RICHARD MEALANDi Kichard Mcialand The following is ^ purely personal list. It doesn’t take into account the b.o. potentialities of the ideas expressed, nor is it intended to be a criticism of the present output of Hpllywood. But in thinking about the pictures which do not make me stir out of the house — and there are many— said to rriyself, “All Tight, so be constructive. What would lift you off your piazza and' send yoti to the iocal cinema?” These would : The Garbo Story-^Starring Greta Garbo in a plot which tells of her early days, gives footage from the best scenes of her pictures/ and explains .why she is what she is today. (Why doesn’t somebody ask her to do it?) The Life Of the Bee-^lf it could be photographed. Maurice Maeterlinck’s masterpiece would be worth years of camera work, (But how would you ever get a microscopic lens up there in the blue on a certain, day in June when the queen finally seduces, and disembowels, the lucky male?) Maybe The Life of the Ant would be easieri. A little Communistic perhaps, but fascinating nevertheless. Seven Pillars of Wisdom— -By T. E. Lawrence, and j don’t mean the bowdlerized version called “Revolt in the Desert.” I mean the real thing with all its passion and riiystery arid depth arid strangeness. In fact, T. E. Lawrence was one of history’s most enigmatic figures. The story of h.is life would make, I think, an absorbing picture. . The Strange Case of Miss Annie 5prapg— By Louis Bronifield. This is one of Bromfield’s best, if least well known, novels. It has to do with a woman who receives the stigmata. Since such supernatural pccurrences are reported in newspapers at least once a year, I’d like to See the subject handled iiv a picture. It would, Pf course, be highly controversial. So much the better. The Diary of Samuel Pepys— The job of reducing this voluminous work to a dramatic story would be tremendous, but the ingredierits are rich. Pepys was a character, whimsical, egotistical, fickle with women, and he amused himself by playing the flageolet. But he saw the: Great Fire of London, not to mention everything else that happened in his day---and there’s never a dull moment. Gargantua and .Pantagfuel— By Francois Rabelais, This is one for Disney, but not for cliildren. I wouldn’t like to see the great Doctor Rabelais nice-nellied. Pictorial History of the Movies— Simon & Schuster had a good idea when they brought out this book of pictures. Why doesn’t the MPAA or COMPO, or whoever could organize the thing, do a bang-up job of telling the Movie Story in a play-by-play full-len.gth feature, from the earliest days to today? It would not only be a tremendous public relations job for the industry, but I have an idea it would make inoney. For whom? I wouldn’t know. The Sky-^This would be What you might call a documentary, but I’d like to see the following in one picture: a real tornado, a water.spout, some unusual storms and lightning, a hurricane, an eclipse of the sUn and moon, a clpseup of Mars, Venus and the other planets, a glimpse of the more extraordinary aspects of stars and nebulae as .seen through the highest powered telescopes, in fact anything phenomenal that can be found above our heads, . such as shooting “stars” aiid ballsmf-fire and comets and other wonders of the firmament. Now that they’ve got that 200-ihcher working at Palomar, how about letting picture audiences look through it via the movie camera? The Ascent of Sverest^\‘The White Tower” and “The White Hall of Pitz Palu” have whetted my appetite for the big thing, the highest mountain in the world. James Ramsay Ullman told me that one of the studios had considered financing a large scale assault on Everest, but I’ve heard nothing about it since. Would the Nepalese Government allow it? Would Russia object? To the last question, the answer is: Naturally. Those two little words “free” and “convenient” are big ones.. “Free” entertainment particularly in periods of economic pressure, is especially tempting. To have this entertainment also “convenient” in the sense that you can have it without leaving your fireside together with a pipe and a drink make it that much more attractive. My view as to television then is that we must: 1. Make it work for us. 2. Convince the vast potential motion picture audience our product, is in truth, the best entertainment value available to them in the world today. When We succeed in doing that, watch the dollars begin flow'ing into the boxoffice once again. One of the bftst ways I believe we can attract more people to our theatres is by ffoing back to the wngle feature. The double feature has become what amownts to a traditional policy in most parts of the country. The basis for this policy is the belief thait the public will buy quantity . even before quality. I believe that’s a false premise. The public can get all the quantity they want on teleyisiori; They want quality! More than that, they vvant to see the picture in which they are interested when they want to see-lt, We are an inter-dependent industry. We,/ as producerdistributors, supply many millions of dollars in risk capital to produce pictures which the talented men of Holly wood sincerely believe will find piiblic favor; The law of aver-, ages being what it is/ there are disappointments. .It is my feeling, therefore, that exhibitors whe depend up-, on the producer-distributors of this couri try to . supply them with the film that makes the continued profitable operation of their theatres possible, should recognize the fact that occasionally they are going to have to take a loss of a fe\y dollars on a picture in order to support his source of supply; , The exhibitor must remember that when, he sustains a loss the producer-distributor is suffering one that is many, many times greater, The; hard cold fact is that unless those who are supplying film to the theatres of this country are supported on all product by their customers, the day may well come when the steady flow of film, imperatiye to the suecessful operation of any theatre, will be so curtailed that our entire industry will suffer. No distrib has ever had any reM trouble in arriying at fair and equitable terms with our customers. We, as producer-distributors, want to keep as many theatres open as we possibly can and we want them to be profitable operations. I believe A Day in the Life of a Baby-^Well, maybe/ I wouldn’t stand in line for this, but my wife would. Recipe: Take one cute baby about six or seven months old, and let him (or her) be himself. If there aren’t at least 30 good bellylaughs, then I’m no father. An Ordinary Guy-— 'Now this idea is rather unusual. Like the baby picture mentioned above, it would take an ordinary guy— not art actor — ^and follow him through his day, from the time he wakes up Until he finally goes to bed at night. The trick, of course, is to find someone who can behave without self* or camera-consciousness. Candid Camera has clone this in snatches, but there’s never enough wlien it’s good, and we never have a chance to get fully acquainted with the subject. For even wider iriterest, do An Or diiiary Girl. Brave New World — By Aldous Huxley. This book still stands as one of the most furiously imaginative satires on the future yet written. Yes, it has a love story. Boy gets girl whenever he wants her. ■The story of San Michele— Axel Munthe’S; autobiography is fact and fancy all mixed up. It is also the story of Capri, than whieh there are few moi’d fascinating islands. But where’s the story? Does it matter? . A. Journey E.ouhd My Skxdl— By Frigyes Karinthy. A vivid account, by a Hungarian journalist, of how it feels to have a brain tumor, have it removed, and to recover. Oddly enough, the narrative, in spite of its interise morbidity, is told with a lively sense of humor. The author died later, but not before he’d written it all down. As a picture, it would be far more clelightfully frightening than “FrankTnsteini” ■ And I’d like to see T/ic Golem again. I can’t remember what it was about, nor whether it was a good picture, but 1 .do recall being fascinated by the; scene in which infants were feci alive to a huge fire-breathing stone idol/ Why don’t they think up nice horrors like that today? sincerely that we can do this through a mutual meeting of the hninds and an understanding. Of one another’s problems. There has been reference made to the “public apathy toward films.”. That is bad thinking— certainly poor psychology. The buhlic isp’t apathetic tovvard films. The public is just as interested in a good piece of entertainment as it always.was.! We haye that fine entertaiririient* Therefore let’s let the public know we haye it. Let’s re-awaken their enthusiasm,. Let’s pique their curiosity. Let’s get back to the fundamentals of showmanship and sell motion pictures as .they should be sold.