World Film and Television Progress (1937-1938)

Acting for Stage and Screen "Robert Donat is brilliant" wrote A. G. MacDonell, reviewing "Footnotes to the Film" for the Sunday Observer. We are glad to print here an extract from Robert Donat's chapter in this book for the benefit of our readers. More daft remarks are made in defence of the theatre and the cinema than in any other cause. Why should I defend the cinema, which has borrowed so blatantly from the theatre and is so slavishly dependent on it for new recruits? We are apt to forget that even the picture-frame of the cinema screen is pinched directly from the modern picture-frame stage. And the theatre? The theatre, of course, has been in the throes of death ever since films began — and earlier. Silent films having failed in the extermination, talkies were invented to deal the death blow. And now television prepares its fatal draught. Meanwhile the theatre, announcing its Positively Farewell Performances, is crammed to bursting point just as often as the fare it proffers proves irresistible to a wayward public. For myself, I shall return to the stage as often as a good play comes my way. The trouble is, good scenarios are far more plentiful than good plays — by which I mean good entertainment; and I am not ashamed of being voted at the box-office as a good entertainer. In seven years the theatre has offered me one great play, half a dozen possible plays, two exciting gambles and innumerable duds. Until something really exciting comes along, I go on making films — and enjoy making them enormously. I make my film, seeing it grow day by day until it is finished; then I have shot my bolt and I can look around for new doors to fasten. On the stage one has to try to shoot the same bolt eight times a week for as long as the damn door will remain on its hinges. Few plays are worth that dreadful grind. One of our finest actors recently complained of being in a state of coma towards the end of a run ; is it to be wondered that after 400 performances he found it just too hard a wick to keep alight? Even our own Noel Coward collapses after two short seasons playing in some of the most delightful theatricalities ever produced. There is a certain snobbery among stage actors where filming is concerned ; they look upon it as a rather boring, well-paid joke. Their performances in front of the camera, if also rather boring, are not quite so much of a joke. They give rise to the oft-repeated cry: "Where are our actors?" Then, too late, they discover they have not gone quite the right way about it. Instead of just acting "a little less" they find out that they must try to act a little better. That is why actors who are successful both on stage and screen are few and far between. It is a very serious business, but increasingly fascinating and worth while. A stock question is : "What is the difference between Stage Acting and Screen Acting— and which is the more difficult?" I am always inclined to be impatient with this query and reply: "Well, you've paid to see them both, haven't you noticed?" Wouldn't you feel a little annoyed, dear reader, if asked: "How do toffee apples compare with apple fritters?" The only sensible answer is that toffee and puddings cannot be compared — my point being that, ideally, the cinema cannot demand the same as the theatre. "The cinema can do what the theatre cannot do." This is the champion goat-getter where I am concerned ; it is about as bright and useful as comparing the flute to the Mighty Wurlitzer. I am not belittling the progress of the cinema; in terms of sheer improvement — mere technical advance — the industry has much to crow about. But its technique is limited and I would remind you of that. Speed sometimes describes circles and does not travel very far. The cinema, as a technique, has travelled quite far enough and is in fine fettle for the artist now. But "Amazing Technical Resources" is just so much bunk. Ever thought about it? The whole history of the cinema can boast no greater triumph than the theatre's achievement of running Cavalcade at Drury Lane for eleven months. It has done similar things, but nothing better. It has wielded larger crowds and used bigger lifts and rotated greater weights and lowered and lifted larger curtains, but what else? The theatre has had water tanks for years. The one into which my double dived in Monte Cristo was bigger and deeper and had a glass side, but these are gadgets which the theatre has long since scrapped. Nothing will ever erase from my memory the impression of Red Indian after Red Indian in canoe after canoe coming down a water spout as steep as the side of a house at the Manchester Hippodrome. I have seen Niagara on the screen several times since then ; comparatively it left me cold.