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142 lies, Mr. DeMille assumed you have just read the market reports and your favorite stock has gone up a couple of points. Now, I WANT YOU TO GO CRAZY WITH JOY FOR ME. GODDAMN IT, I'M GIVING YOU THE CHANCE OF A LIFETIME TO ACT IN A DfiMlLLE PICTURE. I WANT EVERYTHING YOU ? VE GOT!" DeMille took real pleasure in, as he put it, "picking the brains of my staff," making it clear to us that he was forever mysti- fied how his operation managed to sustain itself on so little food. In the course of a day's shooting, under pressure of time and expensive sets, DeMille might be successively teacher, preacher, tyrant, imperious master, or soft-voiced ridiculer. His attack was octopuslike, and it was hard to tell when or how a tentacle would reach out for an unsuspecting victim. Seeing two assistant directors idly chatting on an important set one day, he intoned into the microphone in the matter-of-fact voice of a general briefing subordinates: Tm running a set costing $50,000 a day, and you gentlemen seem to have found time to play at marbles. If you are not quite up to this whole thing, may I suggest that you find yourself another picture, perhaps one with a kindergarten hour. Think what fun it will be not having to put up with the bad temper of an evil director/ 7 A newcomer learned quickly the difference between a "hot" and "cold" DeMille set. The distinction was enormously im- portant to his future as a DeMille man. On "cold" DeMille sets all was usually well with the world—the actresses knew their lines, the cameraman was lighting up the scenes quickly, the assistant directors marshaled their extras before the cameras with the greatest effectiveness—in a word, everything on the set was working smoothly, and DeMille was happy. On a "hot" DeMille set, DeMille was not happy. Many things or just one thing might be wrong. One could tell by his manner that his temperature was near the bursting point. It was very