World Film and Television Progress (1937-1938)

COCKA Sorry you've been troubled ! "Stars are just merchandise to me — they're canned and sent all over the country; liked baked beans."— Robert D. Wilby, cinema-owner, of Atlanta, Georgia. There's only one improvement we can make to that crack, Mr. Wilby. You should have said "half-baked." But we may as well face up to the fact, kiddies, that that is just how our stars are sent all over the country. And that, also, is how they are brought to you by Uncle Exhibitor, the man who owns your cinema. Lean back, little ones, and shake the hair out of your ears while I tell you just how Uncle Exhibitor does it. Waking from a heavy stupor induced by smoking too many free cigars, he realises that it is Market Day and he must go out shopping. For there are no films in the larder and he has so many tiny mouths to feed, great big maternal thing that he is. So he takes his little shopping basket and off he skips to market, pausing only to write a few rude words on a wall or to kick some defenceless dog in the slats. Soon he is at the Film Grocer's shop (shall we call him the Distributor, just for fun ?) "Good morning, Mr. Distributor," he lisps. "Good morning, my little man," says the Distributor, smiling indulgently and patting the little man across the ear with a can of banned film. "And what can I do for you?" "I want some baked beans," says the Exhib. "Why yes," comes back the Distributor. "The same as last time, of course?" The Exhibitor sucks his thumb sulkily. "The last lot I had from you was bad," he petulates. "Oh, it was, was it?" says the other, sharp like. "It's the same as you always have." "I know. But the customers say it made them feel sick." "Listen, sweetheart," says the Distributor, stamping hard on the Exhibitor's toe; "you tell your customers they can take what I give 'em, and like it. Why, do you know there are some people who never see pictures at all? Take the Orkneys " "Couldn't you send them by your van?" asks the Exhib. "In the Orkneys they never see motion pictures, much." Here a big tear rolls down the Distributor's cheek and burns a hole in the counter. Touched by this, the Exhibitor scampers off, his little basket bulging in the most exciting way with his tins of baked beans. And once he's got them home, it takes him no time to present them to you in a big sticky glutinous meal which lasts for several hours and is guaranteed to linger for many more in that enormous hollow tooth known as the movie-goer's mind. You must excuse me now. I'm off to the Orkneys. 28 GIRLS PLEASE ! A headmistress at the recent conference of the Association of Headmistresses at Brighton, asked whether the talkies had contributed to the ruin of taste in English. "Our whole soul revolts,'" she said, "against the abbreviations of alien growth and the soulless inventions of such vulgarities as 'debunk.'' ' Monica, Monica, please, We know that your're rather a teaseBut now you're a prefect you really must take Your language in hand, for the other girls' sake. Only last Tuesday, at tea I heard you exclaiming "Sez me!" And as your Headmistress I say that it hurts When you answer my questions by saying "Aw nerts." Monica, Monica, dear, Explain to me, now that your're here What is meant by your saying "you'll debunk the Head"? Does it mean you intend to pull me from my bed? For the good of your colleagues in class I can't let such crudities pass — And I don't think it speaks very well for our coll., When you call the games-mistress a "fourflushing moll." Monica, Monica, curb The use of such horrors as "blurb" The rest of the staff and myself are not sure, But we feel that the word sounds distinctly impure. And Monica, Monica, pray What do you mean when you say That you'll make Elsie Higgins "come clean?" For our regs. Say a bath every day for the girls of St. Peg's. Monica, Monica, check Such sayings as "pain in the neck." We don't mind occasional rags in the dorm, But we do think your language a trifle too warm. For Monica, Monica, dear, It doesn't just jar on the ear — It will look oh! so bad in your English exam, And now get to hell out of here — go on scram! (Continued from Column Three) in a few years' time. All around us will be the new generation of cinemagoers — grown-ups; booing, hissing and cheering without restraint. We may be just a bunch of dumb, comatose old fluffs, but if anyone starts booing, hissing or cheering around us, there had better be a doctor in the house. One who can fix fractures. We take our films seriously. Like Miss Lejeune. "Do not disturb me." — Mae West. HOW ARE THE MEATY FALLEN ! For the Little Ones (Not you Mr. Hitchcock) Britain's children may soon have their own cinemas, with their own "C" films, and with signs posted up: "No Grown-ups Admitted.'''' — News Item. A pretty kettle of fish, I must say. After all, what's good enough for our children should be good enough for us, what? Or is this the kind of conversation we will have to listen to from our progeny as they sip a stiff Scotch apiece on their return from the movies : Michael: Pretty lousy picture, eh, Monica? Monica : Definitely erotic. But I can't say I was convinced by that drug-taking scene. Michael: Good lord, no. That woman had obviously never been really coked in her life. Monica: Rather pathetic. Not a bad jag the hero goes on, though. He got pretty nicely bazooned. Michael : Not really crying drunk, though. Like I was on Speech Day. Monica: Not so loud, old boy. Here are the parents on their way to bed. You know how they dream if we tell them anything. I've got rather a ripping chapter of Freud to finish and I'm for hitting the hay myself. It's been one hell of a day. And listen to this: "Far too many mothers fail to realise that their children would be happier going by themselves. Alone, they boo, hiss, shout, cheer and laugh without restraint. There is no danger — /'// this way — of their developing into the dumb, comatose type represented by the average cinemagoer." — An official of the British Film Institute. Well, that's just dandy. Going to the pictures is evidently going to be a lot of fun (Continued at Foot of Previous Column)