r'ix"-^^-'"- v:r,-,"jv. . ;,';. ,.:r"»A' ,M.i 1,.... Hi'. V. I ' '.■'",', ■v: . ...'■ '' Glass- Book COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING THE FACTS AND THEORIES OF THE NEWEST ART By PETER MILNE Motion Picture critic for over six years on Motion Picture Neivs, Picture Play Magazine and Wid's {Film) Daily; and member sce- nario and production department of Famous Players-Lasky Corporation. Published and Copyrighted by FALK PUBLISHING CO., Inc. 145 West 36th Street, New York Used as a Supplementary Text in New York Institute of Photography NEW YORK CHICAGO BROOKLYN ►A t /V// lis . 9 , PyMs- Copyright 1922 by FALK PUBLISHING CO., INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. SEP » 1 1922 ©CI, A R R 1 7 2 5 CONTENTS The Great and the Less Great 8 The Picture Sense 20 Preparation for Production 29 The Method of William De Mille 37 Cecil De Mille Also Speaks 47 . When Acting Ability Helps 57 Rex Ingram on "Atmosphere" 61 Mainly About D. W., Griffith 70 Mountains and Molehills 82 Some of the Arts of Slapstick Comedy 90 Other Tricks Up Directors' Sleeves 100^ Some Words from Frank Borzage 110 What Tempo Means in Directing 120 "Overshooting" — and the serial 126 The Method of Thomas H. Ince 135 Directors Schooled by Ince 146 Who Creates a Picture 152 Music in Picture Production 1 161 Just Suppose 165 "Stealing" an Exterior 176 The Importance of the Art Director 183 Directorial Conventions 189 Ernst Lubitsch : German Director 195 Joe May : German Director 205 Illustrating the Use of Detail 213 Marshall Neilan Summarizes 219 ''Best Directed" Pictures 229 ■i^ PREFACE The observations on the art of directing motion pictures included in this book are not by any means intended as lessons for the layman with ambitions pointing him toward this goal. To teach the craft through the printed page is as impossible of accom- plishment as instructing a steeple-jack in his trade through correspondence school. "A director must be born, not made." This old adage, adapted to our present situation, is of a necessity partially false, in- asmuch as at the time of the present day directors' initial birthdays there was no such thing as motion picture production. Still it is true in a sense. Because to direct for the screen requires a personality and an ability, blending so many elements of generalship and technique that to studiously require them is next to an impossibility. Be that as it may, the motion picture of today is developing its own directors. It has reached out to all businesses and arts and drafted men who are now headed for top positions in the ranks of directorial artists. Besides it offers the most humble of the studio staff the opportunity to rise to the top. During recent years cameramen, property men, au- thors, continuity writers, artists of brush and of pen and ink, actors and business men from varying lines have become identified with the art of motion picture directing. The law of averages has declared that many of these should fall short of success. Many have. But others have succeeded, have succeeded even beyond the expectations of their sponsors. Therefore it may safely be said that the gates to the field of motion picture directing are ready to open to all-comers, pro- vided that the aspirants have the inborn abilities and personal makeup that are rigidly required. These abilities, essential qualities and characteristics are dealt with in the following chapters by the under- signed who has spent nearly ten years in the motion picture industry, serving in the capacities of critic and continuity writer. These abilities, essential qualities and characteristics are, therefore, set down here as first hand observations. But they are never intended as lessons that will produce immediate results in the way of lucrative positions. No reader of this volume can go dashing home to his eager wife with that much advertised greeting: "Dearl I've got that job 1 The New York Institute's book on directing produced 100 per cent results 1" It is hoped, however, that it will give those who have the patience to peruse it something of an insight into the tremendous responsibilities that rest on the shoulders of the conscientious director. At present most people seem to believe that that line on the screen : "Directed by " just stands for a lucky fellow having a grand and glorious fling within the walls of a motion picture studio. Peter Milne. frith grateful thanks and appreciation for the vieivs expressed therein by Marshall Neilan, William C. De Mille, Rex Ingram, Cecil B. De Mille, Frank Borzage, Edward Dillon, Ernst Lubitsch; and the representa- tives of D. JV. Griffith, Thomas H. Ince, and other artists herein referred to, n I— I o w o < 11 MOTION PI CTURE DIRECTING one introduced here will assist in illustrating the above point clearly. Now let the arc pictured illustrate the entire span of emotional experience possible for a certain man, our great director, to have undergone. Say that the line and point A represent the emotion of suffering. Our director has suffered in his early career. Per- haps he has slept on a park bench on a cold night with newspapers stuffed among his thin clothes to guard against the wind. His sleep has been fitful and in his moments of awakening he has thought the whole world against him — and roundly cursed it. In the morning he has risen with his bones aching and not even the two cents in his trousers necessary for the purchase of a cup of boiled muddy water called coffee down the line at Ben's Busy Bee. This is a not uncommon case of suffering, specially in the world of make-believe, where genius is raised from poverty to affluence sometimes within the short space of a single day. But while it is being experienced it is doubtless one of the most terrible adventures ever visited upon a human being. As a consequence in later years this experience of acute suffering remains stamped, con- sciously or subconsciously, on the individual's mind. Now to the point where this experience will tell when the individual has become a director. The di- rector is called upon to stage, we will say, the scene of Napoleon, a prisoner of the European powers on the island of St. Helena. How can the director know how Napoleon felt? 12 I— I o > o r o o l-H > > o w k; w :o M o d ■ffi o % ti«» z < H W W u 1/1 w o o en W pa m PL, V3 Q W « « W t« < W u h- 1 < N H W u o w a THE GREAT AND THE LESS GREAT What does he know about his attitude of mind? The answers are he knows everything. Back in the pho- tographic gallery of his mind he reaches for that scene of himself on the park bench. He recalls that that was the night during which he suffered, in his own mind, even to the extent that Napoleon had suffered. Therefore, still in his mind's eye, our director refers to his arc of emotional experience. The point A rep- resents the height of his suffering. He then merely extends the line A out and beyond his own emotional arc until it crosses the emotional arc of Napoleon at the point where he suffered the tortures of defeat, dis- illusionment and imprisonment. On the other hand perhaps the scene of suffering that our director will be called upon to reproduce on the screen is one less important or vivid than his own. It might be a scene of a little boy stammering out his first lesson in school. Suffering, to be sure, but not of such great magnitude. In this case the line A is merely extended downward until the little boy's emotional arc is reached. To reduce such a process of the intellect is indeed dangerous. An individual's emotional experience is no matter of diagrammatical science. However this science is purely imaginary. The whole process is carried out in the director's brain. It is only the fact that it is here reduced to cold type that makes it seem rather brutal. Perhaps certain directors will scoff at the idea but to those it may be replied that they use such a process of reasoning whether they know it or not. The whole 15 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING working out of the scheme is mechanical and subcon- scious to a certain extent. Perhaps, too, there are those among the directors who believe that their moments of supreme suffering, park bench or otherwise, were far greater than Napoleon's sufferings. Nevertheless their own arcs of emotional experience still serve their good steads. Such a director merely reverses the process and goes down the line A until he reaches what he believes the arc of Napoleon, instead of going up the line. Such conceit on the part of the director does not, however, lead to the best results. By the same process the director is able to live in his mind the greatest case of self-sacrifice that the world has ever known, provided that at one time in his career he has made a self-sacrifice that loomed of tremendous proportions at the time. His line of sacrifice, B, is followed to the point where it cuts the arc containing the greatest sacrificial act of the world. And of course on the line, B, as on all the other lines from all the other points innumerable other arcs cut across representing cases of emotion between the greatest and the humblest. And so by his own experience, no matter how small or how large it is in comparison to the experience he is to picturize, the director is able to give a realistic and sensitive representation of it on the motion picture screen. The case holds the same with all the other emotions of life. Perhaps with the case of love it is a bit different. For in the matter of other emotions the director may grant that someone else has experienced them in great- 16 THE GREAT AND THE LESS GREAT er degree than he. But with the matter of his own romance or romances — no I All directors have no hesi- tancy in claiming, only to themselves of course, that theirs is the greatest in the world. Consequently there is no line C, but just the point. It is stationary. The director follows it neither up nor down to reach out for some similar point on another arc. Thus it is that romantic scenes are quite the most frequently done realistically and properly of all the emotional scenes contrived for the screen. This time the director's con- ceit does not stand in his way. For the rest the great director's arc of emotional experience contains every emotion, every cross and mix- ture of emotions, that he has lived through during his life. His arc contains hundreds of lines, each one dis- tinguished from the other by less than a hair's breadth. And yet, when he comes to employ the arc in his work, the exact line he desires immediately stands out in bold relief from the others and the director sets to work upon it. Thus the greatest directors of today are the men who have run the greatest gamut of emotional experience. To converse with D. W. Griffith is to instantly realize that here is a man who has suffered, sacrificed, lost, loved, triumphed. His brain is a storehouse of emo- tional experience, his own particular arc contains so many points upon it that a dozen times a dozen alpha- bets would not suffice to represent them all. Thomas H. Ince has confessed to tramping Broad- way searching for work. Chance led him to the old Biograph studio. Today he is among the greatest 17 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING producers in the art. And it is a safe wager that his beginnings and struggles have not been obliterated from his mind by his success — rather they have been re- sponsible for it. Charles Chaplin, greatest comedian in the world and his own director gives evidence in each of his pic- tures, mute, grand evidence of the sufferings, the sacrifices, the little joys and triumphs of the days of his youth when he had nothing. And so does every great director today show in his pictures, whether he knows it or not, the experiences in his emotional career. And let it be said also that the less great display a remarkable lack of experience. It must be reiterated here that these chapters are not to be taken in the light of a text book. The writer would have a holy horror of having on his mind a happily married family man, who tossed up his busi- ness and his bank account to sleep on a park bench, and who tossed up his wife and children to enter upon one illicit love affair after another, just to complete his arc of emotional experience, because it has been stated here that the fullest arc produces the best results. Such experiences must come naturally. The great director is a born artist. The born artist is a natural vagabond and nine-hundred and ninety-nine people of a thousand are not natural vagabonds. After this fundamental requisite of experience come a dozen other assets that go to make the good director — the great director. The ability to handle people, to be a master of men, the knack of "visualization," to 18 THE GREAT AND THE LESS GREAT inject those little touches into a scene that perform the miraculous act of "getting under the skin," to achieve a proper and telling "atmosphere," etc., etc. These requisites will be dealt with in other chapters, some- times by the directors themselves. But no matter how important these other essentials loom it may be stated again that first of all EMO- TIONAL EXPERIENCE counts. Chapter II THE PICTURE SENSE ppVERY director who consist- ently derives a living from picture making has in more or less degree the power of visuali- zation. — Without it he would be unfit for his position. — The con- clusion that this ''power" is mere common sense applied to picture directing 20 Chapter II V All our directors are ^o) great. There would be no fun for the picture audiences if they were. Fans would be deprived of that greatest of all pleasures; writing to the magazines to point out that Marie wore silk stockings going in the door and lace filigreed hose coming out of it. But in the rank and file of directors whose work appears with regularity on the screen there are many capable and skilled men — each one, perhaps, merely waiting the chance or opportunity to step into the limelight with a pictorial masterpiece. Most of these directors are noted as "specialty men." One can do comedy-drama well, another excels at straight romance, a third has a particular turn for handling the intricacies of farce. These men are skilled artists but not great artists. Potentially great, perhaps, but the full extent of their emotional arcs has not as yet been tested. What then, a student of the screen has a perfect right to ask, determines the ability of these men? The an- swer is, that uncanny sixth sense necessary to become a director, "picture sense" or more technically, the power of visualization. The picture sense is latent in every embryo director. It can be developed, but no amount of study will ac- quire it. It seems to be born in some men just as a perfect tenor voice is born in some men. Study brings each out but cannot create either one. The "picture sense" is the art of seeing in the mind's 21 MOTION PICTURE D I R E C T I N G eye, or rather the mind's picture screen, every scene of the scenario writer's typewritten manuscript. Readers will probably recall that this accomplishment has also been set down as the scenario writer's fundamental groundwork of learning. Thus the writer and the director have much in common. And this is one reason why so many scenario writers have become successful directors. It may readily be seen that this picture sense, this ability of visualization, is constantly being used by the director. When he first reads his script he is visualiz- ing it every moment of the way. To himself he says, "Scene one will look like this, scene two will follow like this." He then conjures up before his eye what sort of a set he will work in, what properties it possesses, how his people will dress, where they will stand when they go through their emotions, how they will enter and exit from the scene, and a hundred and one other details. If, during this process of visualization, the story or one of its various scenes rings false, then the director is prepared to talk it over with the scenario writer and see what can be done to set it right. So right here it may be divined that a director with this sense of visualization developed to the utmost is a most valuable asset to any producing company. If, on the contrary, he has to wait until he sees a scene actually screened before he can detect its flaws and, seeing them, prepare to take it all over again, the waste time runs into money lost. Thus a director with a proper sense of visualization 22 ^ en > r O 70 w n H o w o §^ ■ w td ■ > w ?:) O W Cd o c I— I O W G O M 2 a < m O w < < O PS •< fe '-' o ^ H P ^ O en Q O m o w m a H °^ !::! 0^ Q u ■A W o u THE PICTURE SENSE is not prepared to "shoot" until he has determined that each scene will screen realistically to the best of hii knowledge. All this may sound perfectly easy to those unac- quainted with the inside of a motion picture studio. It might be surmised that to detect unrealities in a manuscript is merely a matter of common sense. But it is remarkable indeed to take notice of the many men, true artists in their particular lines and certainly possessed of a modicum ot common sense, who have experimented in the directorial field and who have failed because of this lack of picture sense, lack of the ability to visualize. One of the larger producing companies in the field today, which is constantly seeking new directorial talent, a company that is actually willing to pay intel- ligent men to learn the craft of directing, recently induced an author of national reputation to join its scenario department with a view of later becoming a director after he had become fully acquainted with the construction of manuscripts. This man never had a chance at directing because he never made good in the scenario department. He didn't, couldn't visualize. And as said "picture sense" is required every bit as much by the scenario writer as it is by the director. Whereas, this highly talented individual failed in mastering the picture craft, another man, a man who had never written a line in his life, was given a mega- phone and told to go out and "shoot" a picture. This man was a cameraman, had worked on a hundred 25 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING pictures and, having the power to visualize, had de- veloped it to a remarkable degree. The results he achieved with his first picture have earned him a posi- tion with the producing company as long as he wants it. The difference between these two "rookies" was just that difference of ''picture sense." On the one hand was a man with the inborn power of visualization, on the other hand a man with a total lack of it. The difference between success and failure. Because of these conclusions it might be pointed out that picture sense is a greater asset in the production of pictures than a general experience in human emotions. The argument might stand if it were not for the fact that the cameraman-director is not as yet great. Indeed, he is several degrees below the heights reached by the creme de la creme of the craft. As yet he has only attempted light romance on the screen, the easiest sort of picture to produce and to produce well as has been pointed out. As yet his real emotional gamut has not been brought into play. It is an unknown quantity. When it becomes known we may determine the degree of the director's greatness. Every studio has its stories regarding the amusing predicaments in which a director would have found himself had he not previously taken stock of the situ- ation and summoned his power of visualization to his assistance. It might be well to cite a simple case in point to thoroughly bring out the value of this ability. For instance, a director came upon the following sequence of scenes in a scenario he was scheduled to produce : 26 THE PICTURE SENSE Scene 45 — Interior Ballroom. Full Shot Host and hostess stand at door in f.g. receiving late guests. General dancing and ad lib activity in b.g. Run for a few feet and then bring in Mary escorted by John. They exchange greetings with host and hostess. Scene 46 — Interior Ballroom. Semi-Closeup Richard sees Mary enter and starts off toward her. Scene 47 — Interior. Medium Shot Mary turns from greeting host and hostess while John Is still talking with them. Richard enters and confronts Mary. He speaks hotly. ! . ; :;i Spoken Title' "You dare to come here, now that I've found you out?" Scene 48 — Interior Ballroom. Closeshot Richard and Mary. Richard completes title. She looks at him with scorn. He rages on a few moments and then exists. Scene 49 — Interior Ballroom. Full Shot Mary turns to John who leaves host and hostess, and the couple make their way across the dance floor. This, of course, is but a section of a script. More- over, it is as technically perfect as anyone could desire. And yet here the scenario writer has Richard denounc- ing Mary in a closeshot, denouncing her quite savagely, and right on top of this, in the next scene, she is walking serenely on with her partner, neither he nor any of the others in the crowded room having noticed the previous scene. This, of course, is an exceedingly obvious instance of how the ability to visualize comes to the director's aid. Yet there are many more subtle errors and super- ficially more realistic, that are ever lurking in a manu- script, lurking so securely as to sometimes escape notice. You may choose to say again, "Tush, the scenario writer lacked common sense when he wrote the above sequence of scenes." 27 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING And so he did. After all, common sense when ap- plied to the art of directing is none other than "picture sense," the power of visualization. And so we arrive back at the beginning of the chapter. 28 Chapter III PREPARATION FOR PRODUCTION ^HE routine attached to a director's task before he he- gins actual production, — Also some instances of stellar temper- ament, which, though mildly amusing in their relation, are something akin to tragedy in their enactment 29 Chapter III Before going further into the requirements of actual directing and the methods employed by certain direc- tors, the various processes through which a scenario goes before the actual work of production starts, can be noted with benefit. The scenario writer finishes his manuscript and the director goes into retirement for a day or two to study it and to put it through the test of visualization. In the meantime other copies of the manuscript have been placed with the various departments of production of the studio. The production department receives a copy. It is the duty of this department, first of all, to estimate the cost of the picture. So a "scene plot" is made. This consists of the description of each interior "setting" and exterior "location" called for in the story. A list is made as follows: Interiors Ball room Kitchen Living room Cafe Etc., etc. Exteriors Waterfalls Open road Large field Etc., etc. 30 PREPARATION FOR PRODUCTION After the description of each interior and exterior are placed the numbers representing the manuscript scenes that are played in each interior and exterior. The cost of production is then estimated. The pro- duction manager, the head of the studio, a man who strives to combine the ability of a business man with the feeling of an artist, perhaps sees a way whereby the kitchen scenes can be transferred to the living room. This will eliminate the cost of erecting the kitchen setting. Details such as this attended to, he will then give orders to the art and property departments to start on erecting the first setting. This is usually the one in which the greatest number of scenes are enacted. The art department makes plans for the setting. When these are passed they are given to the boss car- penter who sets his men at work on the actual prepara- tion of the set. When they have finished the art department in con- junction with the property and drapery departments "dress" the set. This is the working of fixing it up and making it look like the real thing. In the meantime the picture is being cast. Probably the star and leading man are already chosen. Then the casting director makes the list of all the actors, act- resses and "extras" needed in the production of the picture. He refers to his files and calls upon the people he needs, either upon those in the stock company which most studios of size maintain, or from the numerous agencies who manage the players. 31 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING His selections are then submitted to the director and the production manager for O. K. In the meantime the location department has se- cured a list of the exterior scenes required by the picture. The location man refers to his files containing pictures of every likely location within a reasonable distance of the studio. He must find waterfalls, open road and a large field. He selects these locations, being sure that the phy- sical action of the story can be played in those he selects and then submits them to the director. If the director has a reason for not liking any of them, the location man must jump into his automobile and tour the coun- tryside for suitable substitutes to his first selections. All rather hard and serious work. Then the director starts to work. The production department must watch him and have the next setting ready for him on time so that not a day will be wasted. If more than one or two companies are working in the studio there may not be room to erect the next setting. Then, perhaps, if weather permits, the director goes out on location. Thus he is obliged to jump from one place in the story to another. He may be shooting scenes in the last part of the picture on one day and scenes in the first part a few days later. All this is the routine work that must be gone through with the production of each picture. Then the temperament of the actors and actresses comes in — comes in very strongly for that matter. If 32 TRUE AND PENETRATING CHARACTERIZATION "FEATURES WIN DE MILLE'S "MISS LULU BETT" I^S 1 ^fc V, X^^GR^ "^SB^ liL ""r^ W^fMKm ^^■^^^ -i^^H^v^^ <^Jb ^ V .# zii^^^HmHiiHiiW ■^v ^^^^^^BR^^^^^^^^^^HI^^F jL y" ^^^^^ jjfil^^B^H ^^WBr -'-'Wi^a^BBfe'" t^- ,■■ ,, '^B^lL^kiSR ^^^^H^^B ". * i,|..; ^. **':,^' -■^ ^, ^g^: "THE LOST KOMANLE," A PICTURE DIRECTED BY WILLIAM DE MILLE, BEARS THE SAME TRUE RELATION TO THE UPPER CRUST OF THE SOCIAL PIE AS "MISS LI LU RETT" :)OES TO THE MIDDLE P.vX. PREPARATION FOR PRODUCTION the director be working with a female star she may complain as to her leading man. ''What's the matter with him?" the director will ask. "Can't he act?" "Yes, but he is not quite tall enough," answers the star, "why can't I have So-and-So-from my last pic- ture?" "Well, So-and-So is busy on another picture just now, sorry," answers the director. "I won't work without him," this from the star. Of course she will work without him. She has to. The director knows this. So does she. But he has to handle her diplomatically, to say the least. He would like to come out and say: "You will work with any leading man they give us." But he doesn't. He knows the temperament of the feminine star. /He summons all his reserve to his rescue and speaks to the lady in cooing words. He brushes her ruffled fur the right way. Exasperated husbands might take a fine example from him. After a few minutes talk he has succeeded in con- vincing the lady that Such-and-Such has So-and-So beaten eighty ways as to general ability, furthermore, his contrasting complexion shows her off to much better advantage. The^ the star, thoroughly convinced, cheers the director up with such an answer as : "Oh, all right, if you insist, but I did want So-and-So." She wouldn't dream of giving in and showing the director he was right. The director doesn't get such satisfaction. But if he's wise he doesn't bother about it, 35 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING And so the work of production can go on. One day while the director is working in the cafe setting, which may be erected to represent a Parisian cafe an extra will come up to him and tell him that it is all wrong. "Because," he will say, "I've been in a cafe in Paris." "Well, were you in all the cafes of Paris?," the di- rector will politely ask. "No, but this one didn't have — " "Back to your place then, please," answers the di- rector if he maintains his diplomacy and poise and retains his anger. Another extra will have too much makeup on. The director must know how makeup photographs, what its efiPects are with people of various complexions and under certain lights. The extra will resent being sent back to the dressing room and told to alter his face. It is a reflection on his ability. Another case where diplomacy is demanded. And so finally the director gets everything working smoothly. He gains the confidence of the star and the leading man. He shows the extras that he knows his business and is perfectly able to look out for it, without their assistance. The only trouble is that just about at this point the director has finished the picture. 36 Chapter IV THE METHOD OF WILLIAM DE MILLE pACTS regarding the manner in which the majority of pic- tures are made. — The new order of producing pictures ''in con- tinuity" with some interesting remarks on the subject from William C. De Mille, director of ''Lulu Bett" and "The Lost Romance." 37 Chapter IV One of the most highly publicized tasks which fall to the lot of the director, highly publicized be- cause of its mere freakishness, is the routine which decrees that he must often begin "shooting" his picture in the middle or at the end of his story, or at any inter- mediate point except the very first scene. Press agents delight in harping on this fact, calling attention to the mental agility of the director in being able to jump from love scene to angry outburst, omitting intervening action in the jump and coming back to it at a later date. This is due to the fact, as has just been stated, that all scenes taking place in the same set or exterior lo- cation must, for economy's and convenience's sake, be photographed at once or rather successively. The "scene plot," compiled by the production de- partment, lists the number of interior settings and ex- terior locations required by the picture and after the description of each scene in the scene plot a row of numbers, each indicating a separate scene to be played in the set or location, follows. Thus a section of a scene plot may read: LIVING ROOM: Scenes 19, 20, 21, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 159, 160, etc. DINING ROOM: Scenes 1, 2, 3, 4, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 291, 292, 293, etc. Of all the settings required let it be said that the living room contains the majority of the action to be 38 THE METHOD OF WILLIAM DE MILLE photographed. In all likelihood, then, this set is the first one to be erected by the studio production de- partment and as a result the director begins his first days work with scene No. 19 and follows it with scenes No. 20 and No. 21, which disclose closely related action. Let us say that these early scenes have to do with the first happy days of a young married couple. They dis- cover the little joys and hardships of housekeeping, etc. Well and good. But immediately after producing these scenes the director is forced to jump ahead to the sequence beginning with scene No. 81. Here is a point considerably further advanced in the story and so the director is obliged to mentally leap the action inter- vening between his first sequence and his second. Whereas Mary and John may have been perfectly con- tented in scene No. 19, they may have grown two years older and separated altogether in scene No. 81. Inas- much as he "shoots" No. 81 immediately after No. 21 it must be seen that the director is obliged to adapt his own mood to this peculiar state of affairs created by the ramifications of studio organization. He must live two years in half an hour or less. Such procedure requires mental gymnastics that are more difficult than the act of the vaudeville contortionist. It is needless to add that this jumping hither and thither and back to hither again, requires a minutely adjusted sense of continuity on the director's part. To keep his whole story and the comparative values of certain sequences straight in his mind, is no easy matter. Further complications enter when it is realized that 39 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING a sequence of exterior scenes may follow immediately after a sequence of interior scenes, these exteriors being closely identified with the interiors and requiring the same mood. But yet again the plan of work mapped out by the production department may postpone these scenes to the very last day of work. Thus the director is forced to jump back into the early mood of his story after he has rehearsed himself and become thoroughly satiated with all the other moods, a task imposing seem- ingly insurmountable difficulties. Time was when it used to be the boast of some di- rectors that they could produce a picture in this jump- ing about fashion just as well as if they had been permitted to "shoot" their stories in actual continuity. The method is still followed but the boasts aren't as audible. This method of production gave a fine opening to those critics who cried out that the motion pictures would always remain in the cheap state so well de- scribed in the word "movie." Really artistic results could never be secured with this eternal jumping from 4 to 11 to 44, they said. They added, quite rightly too, that a consistent, well developed, psychologically ascending character was impossible of achievement under this plan. Inasmuch as actors often had to play their climaxes first and then go back and play a scene that led up to the climax, there was considerable point to the arguments of the critics. A very few directors have now managed to arrange their work so that they can actually make their pictures in continuity, beginning with scene No. 1 and proceed- 40 THE METHOD OF WILLIAM DE MILLE ing straight through, with but slight deviations, to the end. Among these directors and leading them all in re- sults attained, stands William C. De Mille, a director responsible for such artistic successes as "The Prince Chap" and "Conrad in Quest of His Youth," both with Thomas Meighan, and "The Lost Romance" and "Miss Lulu Bett," with casts very nearly approaching the all-star state. Mr. De Mille specializes in stories containing the true and dramatic psychological development of char- acter. The artificial melodramatics and blatant heroics he subdues to unnoticeable effect or more often elimi- nates entirely. His arc of emotional experience is filled, it is more than obvious, with all the sensitive lines imaginable. In fact Mr. De Mille is one of the few artistic directors in the field today, though perhaps his name has not been as highly publicized as have those of lesser lights. Mr. De Mille states that both he and his brother, Cecil, produce their pictures in actual continuity. "With such pictures as those in which I specialize," he says, "and by this specialty I mean of course pic- tures such as "Miss Lulu Bett" and "The Lost Ro- mance," pictures that depend considerably for their value on the consistent and progressive development of character, rather than mere physical action, producing in continuity is tremendously effective as well as a great help." "To jump about in character studies of this type would be exceedingly difficult for both players and 41 MOTION PICTURE DIRE C T I N G director and in many cases, suitable results would not be obtained." Let it be inserted here that other directors may scoff at the De Mille idea, but it may also be noted by students of the screen that no other director has achieved the highly artistic results in this line of pic- tures that stand to the credit of William De Mille. Let him continue: "The method of starting with scene No. 1 and proceeding numerically to the con- clusion of the picture is of benefit to both players and director. The players characterizations become well sustained, they take a greater interest in their work as they realize it growing consistently with each day's effort. And the director is able to get a better slant on his story as he watches the whole thing grow and take definite shape from day to day." Those who ask for proof need only look at one of the four pictures mentioned above that Mr. De Mille produced. "The Lost Romance" contained four of the most real characters ever developed on the screen. As for the two pictures in which Thomas Meighan ap- peared it is safe to say that his work in them far sur- passed anything else he has done before or since with the exception of "The Miracle Man." And the basic success of these two Meighan pictures was in each case, the characterization rendered by the star. This characterization might have been achieved by other methods but it is doubtful. Certainly De Mille's method has proven itself. The production of a picture after this method neces- sitates a carefully prepared manuscript, for once again, 42 WILLIAM DE MILLE USING THE MAGNA-VOX, AN ELECTRICAL IMPROVEMENT ON THE MEGAPHONE, WHICH CARRIES HIS VOICE DIRECTLY ONTO THE "SET" AND INTO THE EARS OF HIS PLAYERS THE METHOD OF WILLIAM DE MILLE the efficiency demanded by studio organization enters into the scheme of things. "Naturally the continuity writer must take particular care in building scripts for me," Mr. De Mille continues, "for it may be seen that this arrangement of production calls for an equally careful arrangement of the different settings employed in the picture. The studio seldom permits a director to keep more than three or four settings standing at once for any considerable length of time. So it must be arranged that the early action of the picture takes place in the first three or four settings erected. In other words, the settings of the production must be progressive as well as the characterizations. It is a little mechanical trick that is much easier to utilize than it is to explain." It may be added that Mr. De Mille himself works with his writers on their scenarios and supervises all such details as this matter of mechanics as well as the more important matters that come under the head of scenario writing. To make his method easier Mr. De Mille has evolved still another production trick which is inter- esting to say the least. Many directors after they have photographed a full scene are obliged to lose valuable time in moving the camera and lights up to the prin- cipal players in order to take closeups. This time may also account for the loss of the proper mood on the part of the director and his players. To eliminate this unsatisfactory condition, Mr. De Mille has his settings built so that he can photograph them from different angles and from different distances 45 MOTION PICTURE P I R E C T I N G at the same time. So his players while acting one long scene are actually photographed in full shots, semi- closeups and closeups. The closeups cameras are "blinded" behind convenient pieces of scenery. This step of producing pictures in continuity is a big one and one in the right direction. Pictures are not perfect in this day by any manner of means but when a point is reached when all those that demand to be so treated can be produced in continuity, the results will doubtless be obviously better. Naturally, however, this method would not apply to the director working on the "action" picture such as that in which William S. Hart and Tom Mix appear. In such cases where physical action and thrills are set at a premium, it would be useless and an entire waste of time to insist on producing in continuity. Imagine calling "Halt!" on a long shot of advancing train robbers while the cameraman moved up and took a closeup of the bad man's finger pulling the trigger I And then moving back again and permitting the train robbers to proceed. Such a procedure would be as foolish as to attempt to produce one of De Mille's works in the old fashioned way. 46 Chapter V ^ CECIL DE MILLE ALSO SPEAKS TN which it is noted that the more famous De Mille, be- sides employing the method of production described by his brother, places unusual faith in the intelligence of his actors and actresses. — ** Never show them HOW but tell them WHAT" is his formula. — A case where an actor insisted on being shown 47 Chapter V Mention of one of the De Milles immediately brings to mind the other. Cecil and William are as easy to say in one breath as Anthony and Cleopatra, Nip and Tuck and Mutt and Jeff. Cecil B. De Mille is one of the few directors of today whose name carries a picture to the financial success that greets a picture bearing the name of a great star. It appears that he first rode to national fame when he inaugurated a series of pictures bearing such mandatory and interrogatory titles as "Don't Change Your Husband" and "Why Change Your Wife?" But long before this he was cutting wide swaths in the old fashioned method of directing by doing his work in a distinctly individual and better way. Pic- tures such as "The Golden Chance" and the first edi- tion of "The Squaw Man" stamped him as considerably more of an artist than the earlier pioneers in the art of directing. Cecil De Mille was, perhaps, the first director to use the method of producing his pictures in continuity, as outlined by his brother in the previous chapter. Perhaps this is the reason that he early secured such superior results to those achieved by the general run of directors in the early days. Or perhaps on the other hand it is his ability to handle actors and actresses so as to get the very utmost from their efforts. For Mr. De Mille claims that one 48 CECIL DE MILLE ALSO SPEAKS of the primal rules of directing is "never tell an actor how to play a scene." On this axiom, he states, lies the secret of achieving real characterization and absolute naturalness on the screen. This may appear to be a perfectly natural conclusion to some readers. An actor of ability knows his business and therefore knows how to develop a true character- ization. All he needs is a few words from the director as regards the timing of his transition from one emotion to another. This is becoming more and more true as the art of picture production develops but the time is easily re- called when directors boasted that they acted out every part of the picture so that their casts might secure the proper grasp of the story. I remember very well one director, a big man in his day but who has since sunk to oblivion as far as picture production goes, who used to take great delight in showing his players how to play certain scenes. After a few preliminary rehearsals he would become disgusted, or pretend to become disgusted, with the efforts of his cast and thereupon he would act out each and every role for the cast's benefit. It was rather ridiculous to see him affecting the coy mannerisms of an ingenue, then jumping quickly into the role of the hero and from there to the contrasting part of the vil- lain. He would even perform the butler with pompous dignity for the benefit of the extra who was playing the part. ' :* ^' 1 But what effect did all this play on the director's 49 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING part have on the onlooking cast? The director's per- sonality and individual mannerisms were displayed in every role. Thereafter the actors endeavored to imitate him not to enact their parts. The hero merely gave an imitation of the director giving an imitation of the hero. The ingenue gave an imitation of the director imitating the ingenue. And so on through all the parts. The results, it need hardly be pointed out, were not natural. In the end all the players gave bad imitations of the director. On top of this they endeavored to effect his mannerism and tricks of expression. As a consequence there was absolutely nothing distinctive about the completed picture. It was the director's and no one else's. The director, being conceited to a great degree, was naturally delighted with the result. But he was the only one delighted with it as is testified by the fact that he is not in the art today. This method has gradually been forced out of the studio. There are few directors who insist on acting every part out nowadays. There are some left but not many. A few more years and they will all disappear and then we will have still better pictures. Mr. De Mille evidently believes that a good many directors of the present day still adhere to the old fashioned method. It is to be hoped that he isn't alto- gether right. "Too many directors," he says, "consider it their duty to show an actor just how to play every scene in the picture. This type of director insists on acting out every role and demands that his cast shall mimic his 50 CECIL DE MILLE ALSO SPEAKS action before the camera. The results are woefully wooden, unnatural and characterless. "In the perfect photoplay each character must be distinctly itself. It must be sharply differentiated from all other characters in that particular play. This result can only be achieved by permitting each actor or actress to work out his or her own interpretation of a role. "If I show an actor how to pick up a paper or a book in a scene he will consciously strive to imitate my ac- tions. Now, what may be perfectly natural for me may be unnatural and awkward for him. At the best his attempt to copy my model will be but a poor re- production of Cecil B. De Mille on the screen. If I carried that program through with respect to each player I would have just as many weak versions of Cecil B. De Mille as there are characters in the play. "If, on the other hand, I explain to the actor what the action of the scene is and what idea or emotion I want him to convey to the spectator and then permit him to work out his own interpretation of the scene I have a distinctive, natural and far more powerful piece of work from that actor. I assume that every actor is better at creating than mimicing me. "My task comes in in my effort to perfect his inter- pretation by helpful criticism and suggestion but not by example. "Before beginning actual production on a picture I make it a rule to call together the entire cast and the technical staff. At this meeting I tell them the story with all the detail of characterization and atmosphere that I am capable of putting into it. I do not read 51 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING them the continuity scene by scene. I try to make them see and feel the story and the characters and, as every- one in the production art knows, the straight reading of a continuity is an uninteresting and tedious proposi- tion. "So when the cameras actually start to turn, each member of the cast has his or her own characterization and its relationship to the others well in mind. "At the beginning of e^ch scene I sketch out verbally what the action of the scene is to convey to picture audiences. Then comes a rehearsal and often many rehearsals before it is actually filmed. But through all these rehearsals I make a point of never showing anyone how to do a thing. If an actor does something badly or awkwardly I try to locate the cause of the awkwardness and remedy that. By way of example the scene may call for an actor to be seated at a desk thoughtfully smoking a pipe. Perhaps the actor may handle the pipe like an amateur. Inquiry may uncover the fact that he is far more at home smoking a cigar. Thereupon the cigar is supplied and the scene proceeds smoothly. "A little thing, to be sure, but between the pipe and the cigar lies the difference between a natural and an unnatural performance. "No actor worthy of his calling should have to be shown how to play a scene. He may have to be coached ; that is part of the director's task. But it is no part of the director's duties to furnish the acting model for any or every character in the play. I firmly believe that empts on the part of the directors to show actors how 52 Melbourne Spurr CECIL B. DE MILLE « < a c pa CECIL DE MILLE ALSO SPEAKS to do certain things will inevitably result in bad per- formances and consequent damage to the quality of the finished production." Mr. De Mille's comments are very interesting. It is to be supposed that he does not give copies of the picture continuity to his players that they may tho- roughly acquaint themselves with the parts they are to play before actual production work begins. Today the majority of directors like to do this. However, as Mr. De Mille says, ''I tell the story with all the detail of characterization and atmosphere that I am capable of putting into it." This appears to be an admirable course to pursue. Given the continuity an actor may get quite the wrong idea of the role he is to play. Listening to his director sketch the story, including in it his ideas as to its development, must of necessity give the actor a clear idea of his work and an idea more co-inciding with that of the director's. Thus it might appear that misunderstanding and argu- ment are well disposed of. On the other hand Mr. De Mille is fortunate in having players of general intelligence and ability to deal with. Look over any of the casts he has employed in his recent productions, "The Affairs of Anatol" for example, and you will discover that there is hardly an unknown in the entire cast. It is amusing to consider what Mr. De Mille would have done if he had had the task of producing "Cappy Ricks," a picture made by one of the directors that Mr. De Mille developed, Tom Forman. There was 55 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING the role of a Swedish sea captain, humorously called "All-Hands-and-Feet" in this picture. An old prize fighter was selected to play the role. He looked the part to perfection. But the scenario called for the star, Thomas Meighan, to engage in a fight with him and knock him out. The ancient fighter was perfectly agreeable for the fight, in fact he battered his opponent considerably but when it came time for him to be knocked out he just wouldn't fall down. The scene was tried over and over again and each time when it came to the psychological moment "All- Hands-and-Feet" positively refused to fall down on the deck after Mr. Meighan had delivered a blow on the chin. "Go down I Down!" Mr. Forman kept repeating wrathfully. "Down? Down?" queried the one time prize fighter, "I no understand what you say." Eventually Mr. Forman had to submit to the igno- miny of allowing Mr. Meighan to land on his chin and drop him on the deck. A broad grin crept over the benign countenance of "All-Hands-and-Feet" as he said, "Ah, I never bane knocked down, I see what you mean. I try to fall next time". Mr. Forman and Mr. Meighan started a movement to back "All-Hands-and-Feet" for the championship of the world. But when their subject heard of it he mysteriously disappeared. Possibly he didn't want to be taught what "down" meant in a serious way. 56 Chapter VI WHEN ACTING ABILITY HELPS ^N amusing incident of studio life that might be seen by a visitor any day in the week with the moral ''Never be shock- ed by anything you see in a motion picture studio.'' \. 57 Chapter VI No better illustration of the value of Mr. De Milk's foregoing remarks can be found than in the case of Charles Chaplin. Mr. Chaplin as well as being the world's greatest comedian, also directs his pictures. Suppose that Mr. Chaplin decided to rehearse in every part of his picture so that his supporting players might pattern his performances after his. The com- pleted product would show : One good Charles Chaplin and a dozen bad imitations of Charles Chaplin. Mr. Chaplin has imitators enough without going to the trouble of bringing them right into his own pictures. Incidentally the task that confronts the actor-di- rector is extraordinarily difficult. He not only is obliged to face the lights in makeup and drop his own personality in the role he is playing but he must also be able to see his own work from behind the camera, to retain his perspective from this angle of the produc- tion as well as from the acting angle. His is thus a twice difficult task and perhaps for this reason there are few surviving actor-directors. In the old days there used to be loads of them but the pictures were then too much actor and not enough director. Besides Charles Chaplin only a few survive today, prominent among them being William S. Hart and Charles Ray and it may be said that each of these stars has done his best work when directed by someone else. When they essay the dual task of acting and directing 58 WHEN ACTING ABILITY HELPS they pay too little attention to the supervision of the entire production and concentrate too largely on their own performances. Despite this criticism of the actor-director and the cry against directors showing their players how to perform a scene no one can deny that a knowledge of acting, or rather a knowledge of how to act, comes in very handy from the director's point of view. A little over a year ago I happened to visit one of the large eastern studios when John S. Robertson, probably one of the most competent men in the production craft was working there. Mr. Robertson has years of acting on the stage behind him. He played in stock for a long period and knows every role in every play of im- portance produced over a period of considerable years. However Mr. Robertson is now a director and not an actor. What was my surprise then to discover him in the midst of a highly dramatic scene. The setting was the dressing room of a stage star. Mr. Robertson was half sitting, half reclining on a luxurious chaise-lounge. The atmosphere was fairly exotic. Marc McDermott, excellent character actor that he is, stood in the background, immaculately clad in eve- ning attire. He was gazing at Mr. Robertson with the glint of evil in his eyes. The door opened and in walked Reginald Denny who immediately rushed madly to the couch on which Mr. Robertson was reclining languidly and proceeded to make violent love to him. Naturally my first impulse was to make matters known to the Department of Health but on inquiry I 59 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING soon learned that Mr. Robertson was merely playing Elsie Ferguson's role in the preliminary rehearsal of "Footlights." Miss Ferguson was a little late and Mr. Robertson was obliging for the benefit of Messrs. McDermott and Denny! So I watched them further. A long scene was enacted with Mr. Robertson playing Miss Ferguson's role exactly as the script called. And he was doing it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As for the other participants they were so engrossed in their work that they didn't seem to notice the absence of Miss Ferguson and the presence of her capable substitute. When at last she did appear the scene only needed one brief rehearsal before the cameras started to grind. Besides pointing out the value of the ability to act to the director this little tale also points another moral, to wit, never be shocked at anything you see in a motion picture studio. 60 Chapter VII REX INGRAM ON "ATMOSPHERE" ctHE director of ''The Four Horsemen of the Apoca- lypse" and ''The Conquering Power," two of the screen's greatest achievements, has some- thing to say about settings and atmosphere. — Using impression- istic methods to realistic ends is his forte. — The effort demanded to achieve convincing realism, on the screen 61 CHAPTER VII Few people who closely follow the screen will need an introduction to Rex Ingram, the young director who startled the whole screen world with the artistry of his work in "The Four Horsemen of the Apoca- lypse." Mr. Ingram is one of those to whom the screen gave one of its biggest opportunities. For a long time before "The Four Horsemen" was completed the wiseacres were prowling about, shaking their beards and stating that the young director was running wild and breaking the producing company that was spon- soring the picture. How he startled the world with a magnificent piece of work is still recent screen history. And how he fol- lowed his first big success with another great picture, "The Conquering Power," is also still fresh in the minds of picture audiences. Among many others one thing distinguished both "The Four Horsemen" and "The Conquering Power" and that was the remarkable atmosphere which Mr. Ingram had managed to inject in both subjects. It was absolutely startling in its effect. Those who hadn't stopped to bother about Mr. Ingram's early studies which included art in two forms, painting and sculp- turing, didn't know how in the world he had managed it. However, it appears from Mr. Ingram's own words that he merely used common sense and applied the methods of the older arts to the craft of picture pro- duction. 62 I— I O M W > t-H o o z o H w > O ■H > n o w W :|^ O •H a w !* O H m w u u pq O < w en o c w (4 o o [1+ u w < a X w REX INGRA M ON "ATMOSPHERE" He has some very interesting things to say regarding the value of atmosphere in motion picture production. He writes : "After sincerity of characterization and directness in story-telling, atmosphere does more to- ward making an audience accept what it sees on the screen than anything else. By accept, I mean, be enter- tained, engrossed in the subject, "While good atmosphere gives an air of reality to a picture yet the most convincing and engrossing at- mosphere is often far from realistic. This is so because the aim of the director should be to get over the ejfect of the atmosphere he desires, rather than the actual atmosphere which exists in such scenes as he may wish to portray, and which, if reduced literally to the screen would be quite unconvincing." This principle of Mr. Ingram's is the ideal one on which to work. It is the principle of other arts beside that of producing motion pictures. It is the principle of creating something by implication and suggestion rather than actual reproduction. This, how- ever, detracts not one whit from the credit that is Mr. Ingram's for being the first director to apply it to pic- ture production in a consistent and effective way. Mr. Ingram continues: "Whether a scene is being made of a beach-comber's shanty, an underworld base- ment saloon, a pool-hall, a ship's cabin, a shoe factory or a smart restaurant, not only should the aim be to convince the audience, but enough study should be given the subject, in each case, to convince the habitues of any of these places that they are in familiar sur- roundings. 65 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING "One of the most interesting sets that I have ever handled from an atmospheric standpoint was the in- terior of a derelict ship, beached, and become the hang-out of beach-combers, in "Under Crimson Skies," a production some years old. Conrad, the master writer of the sea, never offered a more wonderful opportunity for color than did this episode in the story provided by J. G. Hawks, with its thrilling climax in the battle in the surf between the white man and the black giant. "In 'The Four Horsemen,' the basement resort of the Buenos Aires bocca, or river front hang-out, fur- nished plenty of chances to make colorful pictures — yet had I been literal in the way I handled it the effect would not have been anything nearly as realistic. For I doubt if anything just like that dive ever existed in the Argentine or anywhere else for that matter. "The set was a Spanish version of a bowery cellar saloon that I used in a picture which I made several years before and re-created to suit the episode suggested in the great Ibanez novel. The signs on the wall, the types of men, in fact all the bits of atmosphere in the place were the results of painstaking efforts to get "color" and local atmosphere into the set. In one corner a sign hung which was the advertisement of a notorious 'crimp,' a sailor's boarding-house keeper, whose establishment was on the bocca for years. An old sailor who was working in the scene and who had lived in Buenos Aires came to me and said : 'I've been shanghaied by that blood-sucker.' "I have gone so far as to have my principals speak the language of the country in which the picture is 66 REX INGRAM ON "ATMOSPHERE' laid. Few of them like to go to this trouble but it helps them materially in keeping in the required atmosphere. The results on the screen are so encouraging that after they see what it has done for them the players don't mind the extra study that this course entails. "I know of no branch of a director's job that is more fascinating than getting color and atmosphere into the settings — thinking out bits of 'business,' little flashes of life which, though only on the screen for a few moments, can give an air of reality to an entire sequence of scenes, that would perhaps otherwise be lacking.^ "In screening Balzac, as I did in making 'The Conquering Power,' fine atmosphere and character- ization are of more vital importance than incident, for nine times out of ten it is the characters in a great j novel that we remember — rather than the plot." ] Mr. Ingram is going on his way, creating distinctly unusual pictures and one of the chief reasons is this great attention that he pays to atmosphere by suggestion rather than actual reproduction. Novelists call atmos- phere "background." The terms are the same. The novelist creates his background, his atmosphere, by painting pictures with words, suggesting the locale and environment of history. Thus with Mr. Ingram. He suggests scenes in his pictures and refuses to label them. In this respect he is farther advanced than most any director in the art today. This idea of suggestion can easily be carried too far, however. The German producer who turned out "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" carried it to the point of alleged futuristic "art." He aimed to suggest but 67 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING instead he puzzled completely. The producer of "The Golem," another German picture, came nearer the point. But it appears that neither of them equalled or much less surpassed the work of Mr. Ingram in his two fine productions already mentioned. Mr. Ingram is one of the very few new directors that the screen has developed in recent years. New in the sense that he has attracted attention not only within the art of picture production but without it as well. He is one of those men who have been recruited from other fields of endeavor and who has fulfilled expecta- tions and gone far beyond them. A man such as Ingram will always have an opportunity. He may have to fight for it but it's bound to come. Mr. Ingram's remarks about building settings, so that people who frequent such places in real life will in- stantly recognize them, opens an interesting field of comment. Even if a director labors painstakingly to achieve the proper atmosphere there are always some crabs in the audience who are bound to take exception. If they can't find something to criticise in the setting they criticise the way the extras play their parts. For a long time doctors have been grossly misrepre- sented on the screen. Doctors in particular have ob- jected that they never act as if possessed of diplomas. A director recently resolved to put an end to such criticism. It annoyed him particularly inasmuch as he had a friend, an M.D., who was forever poking fun at him whenever he introduced a man of medicine into a picture. 68 REX INGRAM ON "ATMOSPHERE" When the director in question completed his latest picture he took his doctor friend to see it and after it was over asked him specially how he liked the per- formance of the actor who played the doctor. "Terrible," replied his friend, "The man never saw a clinic and shows it. No real doctor would act like that." "That's funny," replied the director with a smile, "because, you see he wasn't an actor but — a doctor!" 69 Chapter VIII MAINLY ABOUT D. W. GRIFFITH ^n^HE producer and director of ''The Birth of a Nation," ''Hearts of the World," "Way Down East," and "Orphans of the Storm" works with amazing disregard of system. — Others at- tempt his methods of procedure and come more often to grief than to glory 70 Chapter VIII No volume on the subject of directing would be complete without the mention of D. W. Griffith. And yet it is utterly impossible to deal with D. W. Griffith in any comprehensive way. The producer of the first great picture "The Birth of a Nation," the man who strove for something beyond the times in "Intolerance," the artist who made "Hearts of the World" and the masterly technician who stands sponsor for "Way Down East," is singularly hard to approach from any ordinary viewpoint. There is no doubt that D. W. Griffith at intervals gives just cause to the commentators who place him at the top of the list of all directors. But at the same time he often does the most ordinary of things on the screen. In one picture he is an artist and in the next he appears in the light of a producer of hack pieces of motion picture film. The reason, no doubt, is that Mr. Griffith is a busi- ness man as well as an artist. He sinks an unusually large amount of money in a picture such as "Hearts of the World" and then realizes that, while the returns from such a subject are slowly accruing, he must needs turn out a few pot-boilers to keep the wolf from the door. Thus "Hearts of the World" was followed by two or three shorter and less pretentious war pictures of commonplace variety. Mr. Griffith is constantly exasperating people by such mixed proceedings and just when his long-suffer- 71 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING ing public has decided to forsake him forever and turn to more consistent directors and producers, he startles the world again with another masterpiece. His latest picture, for instance, "Orphans of the Storm," has proven an artistic success from almost every viewpoint, and has been quite capable of dis- posing of the bad taste left in the collective mouths of critical audiences by his recent "Dream Street." One of the most interesting things about Mr. Griffith to the lay mind is that he never uses the usual continuity that the majority of directors employ. He has his story clearly in his mind before he starts work. He has some- thing of a subconscious realization of how many dif- ferent scenes ought to be embraced in each episode and he sets about his work accordingly. This might not seem so difficult as it really is if Mr. Griffith employed the De Mille method of directing his pictures in continuity, beginning with scene No. 1 and proceeding numerically onward. But Mr. Griffith sails right along using one setting or scene after another without much regard for continuity. He takes the number of shots required in each setting and scene with but slight assistance from notes and memoranda. He works in the following order : A scene may rep- resent a room in a country home. A son is saying goodbye to his mother; he is either going away to war or going to the city to make good. There is, of course, a tearful parting. Now the average director will refer to his script and note that the scenario writer has given him, say, twelve different shots, including close- 72 D. W. GRIFFITH MAINLY ABOUT D. W . GRIFFITH ups, long shots and semi-closeups in which to get the "goodbye" scene over and done with. Mr. Griffith, on the other hand, will refer to no 'script of any kind, he will merely go about talking the sequence of scenes as they occur on the screen. There may be first a tearful closeup of the mother, then a close- up of the boy, nervous, happy, sad. Then a shot of both of them embracing and the son pulling away. Then a wider shot showing the son about to make his exit, but turning and coming back to say a last farewell to the mother. And so on and so forth. The action itself will suggest other scenes to Mr. Griffith. Of course there are many other directors who work in the same way in some respects. Such a simple se- quence as related above can be accomplished by any director without recourse to an elaborate continuity. But the majority of directors, even though they don't refer to a continuity minutely with respect to such sequences, have one handy so that they can refer to it in times when the complications of the story begin to pile up. To draw a clearer parallel, the usual director is like a motorist who has carefully studied his road map before setting out on a journey and who refers to it time and again during the trip, specially when he comes to a cross roads. Mr. Griffith never studies a road map. He just jumps into his car and starts going. When he comes to a crossing he takes the road that seems the best to him. Sometimes this road is the wrong one. More often it is right. But at least Mr. Griffith has had the fun of exploring without really knowing 75 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING what is coming next. As a consequence, his experi- ences even though at times poor with respect to picture technique, are never tedious but always refreshing. Mr. Griffith explains his aversions to a cut-and-dried continuity by saying that he doesn't want other people to think out his story for him. Rather he prefers to think it out himself. He believes that the man who works directly from a continuity is merely carrying out the plans of the scenario writer. It doesn't take any great exertion, he believes, to successfully carry out these ideas if they are good ideas. On the other hand when he himself sets to work without a continuity he has the added joy of creating something as he goes along. He is not working from some other person's brain but from his own. Mr. Griffith's method of working has its advantages and, under certain circumstances, it would have its grave disadvantages. Mr. Griffith, being his own em- ployer, can take all the time he wishes on the making of his productions. A director working on a schedule that makes some consideration of time would be quite at a loss in working without a 'script. The chances are he would become hopelessly involved before he got halfway through and wonder what he was produc- ing. And this time schedule would not permit the director to sit down and puzzle himself out of his pre- dicament for hours and hours the way Mr. Griffith does. And then, even if it did permit him so to do, the chances are again that he might not come out of the predicament with all the loose ends of his story neatly assorted the way Mr. Griffith does. After all, 76 MAINLY ABOUT D. W. GRIFFITH there is only one Griffith and attempting to apply his methods to other directors is something like walking and walking around a block and wondering why you never get farther up town. Times were, in the days of the old Biograph and Fine Arts companies, that Mr. Griffith had a number of directors working under his supervision. A number of these men, notably Chet Withey, Edward Dillon and the Franklin brothers have made marks for them- selves with other companies, working somewhat on the Griffith method but usually with a continuity to guide them. I know of one director who worked with Mr. Griffith long ago and who is still boasting of his association with him (for working with D. W., you see, grants one as much prestige in the picture world as having an ancestor that came over on the Mayflower gives one in the social world), but who has not yet made a good picture since he left his former chief. Among other boasts this director includes the one that he never used a continuity when producing a picture. I happened to be up at his studio one day when he was involved in the production of a particul- arly difficult and heavy dramatic sequence of action. There were a number of players at work on a large setting and each one of them had an important part. This director worked along fairly smoothly up to a certain point and then suddenly stopped. He was lost. Didn't know what came next. But rather than admit it to his company he sat staring at them for fully half an hour, then proceeded to pace the studio floor in great 77 MOTION P ICTURE DIRECTING agitation "seeking for the missing idea." He then an- nounced that he would retire to his private office and think the matter over quietly. About five minutes later he emerged with all his ideas straightened out. Of course, to the gullible, his disappearing act had been the signal for a great inspiration but in reality, as I found out afterwards, he had gone into his office and referred to the continuity of the story which he had carefully secreted in his desk all the time. The director's vanity would never permit him to admit this in public. He chose to be regarded as an- other Griffith. Unhappily for him his completed pic- ture proved that he was far from another Griffith or even a second-rate one. Really Mr. Griffith has a lot to answer for in this matter. Either he or the vanity of the men who formerly worked with him has to be blamed. And as Mr. Griffith is a concrete object we might as well blame him. The realization has dawned on the writer that this chapter is totally inadequate in giving any description of Mr. Griffith, apart from the small information that he works without a manuscript. Such, however, seems doomed to be the case. One cannot dissect Mr. Griffith, take him apart and explain this piece and that. This because he is considerably an artist and no real artist can tell exactly how he works and give the processes by which he achieves certain effects. A painter will begin work on a fresh canvass by putting daubs of color here, there and everywhere. The layman doesn't know what in the deuce he is up to. But in the finished product these early daubs of color 78 D. W. GRIFFITH MAINLY ABOUT D. W. GRIFFITH count largely in the efifect created by the whole mass. Even the artist himself cannot explain concisely and clearly the why and wherefore of every daub he applied early in his creation. So it is with Mr. Griffith. He probably could not explain his method of working himself. He goes ahead on his creation, putting a stroke here and another there. The why and wherefore of them are things undefinable. Perhaps when his picture is finished he can give you the whys and wherefores but the chances are that he can't. He only knows that he has striven for something and either succeeded or failed in the achievement of his ambition. And so it is with other directors, after all is said and done. Some of the methods of other directors as set down earlier in these chapters are merely ideas, small gleanings; but in themselves alone they are no more responsible for the successes of these directors than are their names. 81 Chapter IX MOUNTAINS AND MOLEHILLS JJ/UYT>. W. Griffith has been more successful in produc- ing spectacular features than other directors. — His ability to step from the mountain to the molehill with agility and delica- cy. — The futility of mob scenes that mean mob scenes and no- thing more 82 Chapter IX The foregoing words on D. W. Griffith have brought to mind the matter of motion picture spectacles, those pictures telling a personal story before a background of masses of people and monstrous settings. There is small doubt but that the spectacle is the most difficult of all motion pictures to produce. Mr. Griffith has succeeded most often with such subjects, perhaps be- cause he has attempted them more often. Rex Ingram succeeded admirably well in "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" and no doubt will succeed again when he tries further, as he most surely will. Many others have succeeded too, and many have failed, the chief reason for the failures being, it ap- pears, that the spectacle idea appealed to the director in capital letters while he forgot all about the personal element of the story. No spectacle, no matter how grand and glittering and gorgeous, no matter how heavily peopled with costumed supernumeraries, no matter how thickly smeared with money and elaborate "art" can succeed if the director forgets about his per- sonal story in the bigness of his background. He must be able to step from the mountain to the molehill with agility and with such delicacy of touch that he doesn't smash the molehill by treading on it as if it were the mountain. As an example of this appreciation of both the spec- tacular and personal elements of story, no better picture can be found than Mr. Griffith's "Hearts of the 83 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING World," his story of the European war. He brought before the eye all the horrible realities of the battle field, used them to dramatic purpose time and again. And yet in the midst of all this spectacular action he never for once lost sight of the personal element in the story, this element represented on the battle field by Robert Harron who played the part of the young soldier. How many people who saw "Hearts of the World" can forget the scene in the shell hole in which the center of attention were the young soldier and the dying negro? This was one of the most remarkable of the personal, intimate touches in the picture and yet the very next moment the spectator was plunged back into the mass horror of the tremendous conflict. This was only an instance of many. In the last scenes which looked forward to the armistice parade in Paris (looked forward to it with an uncanny amount of judgment), soldiers and citizens were seen going mad with joy in the streets of the city. A thrilling sight in itself were these mass scenes, showing thousands of people nearly breaking their own and their friends' necks with unrestrained joy at peace come at last. But even in the midst of all these scenes of thrilling revelry the four principal characters of the picture were introduced rejoicing too. And the glimpses shown of them brought the thrills of -the big scenes to a tre- mendous emotional climax. It would seem a simple matter for the clear-thinking director to produce a spectacular picture at the same time keeping his finger on the pulse of the intimate, personal story that gives color and reality to the bigness 84 o ^^m ^^^^|^^"i WJIJWjL U. 1 -.: : isiOv« .*■--. ■:■: -si;!;^ 9!^ ' ^S^^SbP^. ^aSH^P- F-'iM wB^-'-w-: l^'^i iB '"^ ^Jk^l' 4 >aiiii-' ^1 RbT^ fl^^^^^^^^^Bl^ht. ^^H^ w^ 'm '2i«^l ^Hpm^,^^ ^I!X^* ^^^^^^^^^H 1 ^^^^^^^k >i^ ^ P ^ -1^& ^^^1 1 1 m^ ■ ^^^^^M ^^1^' '_ .... :., ' "., JPBS w ^ ^BbB| A. »<^^i^gMMMH|^^H^H| C ^ "THE THREE MUSKETEERS" COMBINED THE ELEMENTS OF ROMANCE AND THRILL IN EXACTLY THE RIGHT PROPORTIONS o Q > I— I o p 2; o H < h 2 W H 2 M Q W 2; o >id H o =^ > o n^ S w 3 Q O H MOUNTAINS AND MOLEHILLS of his backgrounds. But it is more often the case than not that the director who tackles a spectacle forgets his story in the mad rush for sweeping eflfect. As a con- sequence he loses his grip on the interest of his audience. How many pictures could be named in which just mass scene after mass scene appeared on the screen, containing no dramatic purpose, no interest aside from their sheer spectacular value (an interest that soon dies if not fostered with glimpses of the personal story), just mass scene after mass scene until the spectator begins to wonder what in thunder the whole thing means? It seems offhand that any number of such pic- tures could be named. But if the director keeps his senses about him he never loses sight of the little things of the spectacle, they are as vitally important as the mass action itself. It might be appropriate to mention the recent German pictures in this connection. The German pic- ture director is noted for the production of spectacular features. In some respects he surpasses the American director, namely in the artistry of his big scenes and the effective manner in which he handles large numbers of people but on the other hand the German director has the fault of overlooking the personal story in his eagerness to get the spectacular effects. This fact is particularly noticeable in German pic- tures when they first come to this country. Of course the pictures first have to pass through the hands of experts. The titles are translated and revised to fit the styles the American public has long since expressed 87 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING itself satisfied with. But more important, much that the German director left in has to be cut out. Pictures made in Germany and shown here as five or six or seven reel features very often run eight or nine or ten reels when they first are imported here. And in these extra reels which the American cutters painlessly re- move from here, there and everywhere in the long stretch of the film, are mob scenes used just because they are mob scenes. Mob scene follows mob scene, until each scene has no particular meaning, the mass effects grow tiresome and the spectator longs for a glimpse of the story forgotten so long ago by the di- rector. The American cutter is able to eliminate much of these superfluous scenes but he can not give the intimate story the prominence that was denied it in the beginning by the German director. Probably the reason why so many directors neglect this personal element in their spectacles is because of the fact that several years ago a big scene, that is a scene containing a few dozen or a few hundred people, was supposed to impress audiences with the fact that a lot of money had been spent on the picture and that therefore, because a lot of money was spent on it, it was a work of merit. "Here," a director used to say when he had doubt in the value of the story he was working on, "Give me a big ball room set and a hundred people in evening clothes and PU give this picture real class." The argument sounds particularly false and unsound today as it was all the time. But the motion picture directors of today, a great many of them at least, still 88 MOUNTAINS AND MOLEHILLS seem to think that a picture can be made good by throwing a lot of money away on lavish settings, and settings containing a lot of people, even though they fail to regard the personal element of the story in a serious light, even though they fail to make this element convincing and real. Some of the biggest directors in the business have this idea, strange as it may seem. These fellows, be- lieving themselves secure, take delight in poking fun at Mr. Griffith because he will stop a spectacular scene now and then to show a youngster playing with kittens. Mr. Griffith may have been inclined to pay too much attention to kittens and puppies at one time in his career but he was headed along on the right track and those who laughed at these scenes of his were then and there switched off to the wrong track. Chapter X SOME OF THE ARTS OF SLAPSTICK COMEDY ^HE director of the knock- about comedy grossly ne- glected in the parcelling out of praise. — The inventive genius of Mack Sennett, king of comedy, and a digression on the '^dis- covery" of Charles Chaplin, prompted by our present day radical and liberal writers 90 Chapter X The usual critic of the motion picture is given to prating long and seriously about the art and the business of it with relation to the Griffiths, the De Milles, the Ingrams, the German Ernst Lubitschs and the ordinary whatnots and their dramatic productions, but when approaching the producer of the slapstick-thrill com- edy, they seem to forget that this branch of produc- tion is an art too and a very high one and one to be taken just as seriously if not more so than the art of dramatic production. The picture critics of the New York and Boston newspapers, for instance, will sometimes devote a whole column to a review of an ordinary dramatic production and then close with the line: "There is also a Mack Sennett comedy on the bill." Nine times out of ten this comedy so briefly dismissed is more interesting and entertaining than the featured part of the program. Aside from Charles Chaplin (Chaplin is his own director) the critics don't regard the comedy director in his proper light — often one of high artistic achieve- ment plus a marvelous amount of ingenuity. To digress for a moment, the case of the critics and the Chaplin comedies amuses the writer and many of his acquaintance immensely. It appears that the critics, commentators and publicists of national and sectional standing have only recently "discovered" Charles Chaplin. The reviewers of the daily newspapers and the magazines now hail each effort of his as masterly, 91 MOTION PICT URE DIRECTING pointing out virtues in his performances, in his attitude on life and in his inventive genius with remarkable pride. Chaplin has become the "fashion" with those who formerly thought his name a synonym for a vulgar, pie-throwing clown. It was some seven years ago that a number of motion picture trade critics and myself first saw the comedian doing a "bit" in a Mack Sennett comedy. Somebody said his name was Charles Chapman. Somebody else said it was Chaplain. They thought so. They weren't quite sure who he was. But everyone in that little room knew then that, whoever he was, he was great. Five years afterwards, as the picture subtitle would say, some of the newspaper critics woke up to the fact that this little man was an artist. And a year later the liberals and radicals of Greenwich Village, New York, and points west, discovered that Mr. Chaplin was somewhat liberal, even radical, politically, and so made the astounding revelation to their worlds that he was a great artist. Perhaps the above is a little unfair but if Mr. Chaplin had voted a straight Republican ticket it is hardly to be supposed that he would have been heralded as such a master of his craft by these people. But we in the motion pictures knew him in his true colors from the first and so perhaps this little excursion into the realm of jealous back-biting may be pardoned. However we feel somewhat as Columbus, in his grave might feel if Marshall Foch on his recent visit to these shores, should have announced to the world that he had discovered America. 92 SOME OF THE ARTS OF SLAPSTICK COMEDY But to get back to the art of the director who makes a good slapstick comedy. The directors such as Mack Sennett and his staff of associates, such as Hal Roach who guides the destinies of the bespectacled Harold Lloyd, and such as Henry Lehrman, who follows blindly but often quite successfully in Mr. Sennett's footsteps. These men, laboring tirelessly on the inven- tion of new "gags," stunts and fooleries for the amuse- ment of the picture public are deserving of immense credit. "Slapstick" is a term that ill describes the efforts of these men. It is a hangover from the period when motion pictures were "movies" and deserved no better appellation. It suggests, besides the act of employing the old stage slapstick itself, the equally worn trick of throwing custard pies. Strange as it may seem to some whose memory of the old days in the making of pic- tures overshadows their ability to make observations in the present, pies are seldom used in a comedy studio these days, except in the dining room for purposes of conventional consumption. The throwing of a pie was ceased long since as a comedy "gag" by the high class slapstick directors. Other "gags" have replaced it. Once in a while it is resorted to, probably just for old times sake but as a rule the comedy directors and those mysterious men of the comedy studio, who can hardly be called scenario writers, men whose inspiration is often the combined effect of phonograph music and bottled spirits, arc able to hand out something newer and more amusing than mere pie-throwing. 93 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTI N G What appears to be most interesting in the produc- tion of these comedies is the amazing machinery at the director's control for the entertainment and the fooling, the funny hocus-pocus fooling, of the picture going public. Mack Sennett's studio on the western coast is probably the best equipped in this way and every mechanical contrivance he employs in the making of his pictures is guarded jealously by him and his stafif as a state secret might be guarded. Mr. Sennett doesn't believe in telling people how he performs his tricks. He works on the principle that the public is better satisfied by remaining mystified, of which more anon. So it is beyond the power of anyone outside of Mr. Sennett's confidence to set down the exact manner in which he causes to be done some of the most amazing stunts on the screen. One can hazard the guess that he makes a comedian appear to be walking on water by double exposure but, given this information, any other director would be hard put to it to do the trick success- fully. Mr. Sennett is often called upon to assist other di- rectors in producing a thrill. Most people well re- member Anita Stewart's picture of two or three years ago, *'In Old Kentucky." And those who can recall the picture will also be able to recall the scene wherein Miss Stewart, on horseback, urged her steed to jump a yawning chasm, rather wide and terrifyingly deep. It was one of the biggest thrills in the picture and it was made in Mr. Sennett's studio. Neither Miss Stewart, nor Marshall Neilan, who directed all the rest of "In 94 SOME OF THE ARTS OF SLAPSTICK COMEDY Old Kentucky" had anything to do with this particular scene. It was further said that Mr. Sennett demanded and received a sum equivalent to the yearly salary of the President of the United States, for his contribution to the old melodrama. A great part of Mr. Sennett's art lies in his inventive genius and his happy faculty of applying some basic- ally sound trick of mechanics to a ridiculous comedy situation. In this respect he proceeds from the same principle that R. L. Goldberg, the cartoonist, does. Those "easy machines" contrived by Goldberg, in- volved, intricate and ridiculous, that finally end up by scratching a man's back or slapping a mosquito, have as a basis an actual mechanical theory. So with Mr. Sennett. In a recent Ben Turpin picture the comedian appeared as a baker. He was shown "holing" dough- nuts with a mechanic's auger and going about his work in a perfectly serious fashion. A little later the sub- title "testing" was flashed on the screen, followed by the scene of the baker testing his doughnuts by slipping them over a bar and chining himself on them. The effect was utterly ridiculous, uproariously funny. And what was it? Really just an application qf^ sound scientific methods, never funny whea^ppiied correctly, but as applied to a bakery more or less of a scream. Mr. Sennett and his staff will startle audiences into fits of laughter time and again by such methods. While on the subject of Ben Turpin it is only fair to record here that Mack Sennett has never received the credit due him for developing this cross-eyed Romeo. Turpin can be, and has been, quite a tiresome 97 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING bore on the screen. He proved it a few years ago by trying to star himself without Mr. Sennett's guiding hand — and he failed. Certainly in his case direction enters into his success largely. Ford Sterling is another who once left Mr. Sennett's guidance to form his own company. But he also came back to the fold. The tricks of the slapstick producers are numerous. The familiar scene of the automobiles skidding all over a wet pavement is sometimes actually hazardous to those participating but more often it is filmed with a slow camera, the cars also skidding around rather slowly, with the result that the completed picture gives the impression of sheer and utter recklessness. In the Ben Turpin picture already mentioned the comedian endeavored to eat asparagus and just as he would get a tip near his mouth it would curl away like a snake. Of course there are such things as wires and springs. The element of surprise enters into the making of the modern comedy to a great extent. Harold Lloyd and his director, Hal Roach, employ the method of the surprise laugh to admirable effect. One of the biggest laughs that this comedian has ever been responsible for was brought on by a totally unexpected surprise. He appeared as a youth who sought suicide as a way out of all his troubles. He climbed on the railing of a bridge with a rock hung round his neck and leaped into the water below. The water was only about a foot deep and the youth came to a jarring stop when his feet hit the bottom. The laugh that followed was really to be described as an outburst. Messrs. Lloyd and Roach probably scorn the tricks 98 , SOME OF THE ARTS OF SLAPSTICK COMEDY by which scenes can be made to look thrilling, prefer- ring instead to accomplish the actual thrill, more than any other comedy producers. It may be recalled that Mr. Lloyd once caused a variety of heart afflictions by appearing in a picture in which he was seen walking in his sleep on the edge of a high building. Fake? Not a bit of itl The real thing — that is the high build- ing, not the sleep-walking. All the studios in California confined to the elaborate production of slapstick-thrill comedy have their own hospitals and their own staffs of bonesetters and doc- tors. And, in order that the public may have its fill of laughs, these hospitals often have their fill of patients. 99 Chapter XI OTHER TRICKS UP DI- RECTORS' SLEEVES PROVING that the illusion once created by the double exposure has been completely spoiled by giving it so much publicity. — And so the spoiling process is begun on a number of other tricks employed by the director to fool the public 100 .^^^^^%^ W' THE PHOTOGRAPHIC x^'OKK IN "THE COXOUERING POWER" WAS ALSO AN ACHIEVEMENT EVERY SCENE IN '"THE rOKOrERTNG POWER" CARRIED SUBTLE SUGGESTKIN IN ITS \-FRV ATMOSPHFKE Chapter XI Mack Sennett's principle of keeping the tricks of his studio to himself and not spreading them broadcast through a publicity department and acquainting audi- ences with the "how" of all his thrill scenes is basically a sound one. It is the principle followed by David Belasco with respect to his stage productions. Mr. Belasco never tells how he achieves a certain effect. P. T. Barnum proceeded on a like principle; that there was "one born every minute" and that everyone of those liked to be fooled. Mr. Belasco goes even further and strives to prevent his stars from appearing in public. This of course is exactly opposite in view to the motion picture stars' idea of doing things. The more they appear in public, the more that is printed about them, the surer they are of their popularity. It is a question as to whether audiences would care more for Mary Pickford if they didn't know the size of her shoes, what facial cream she recommends, how much money she makes and how she spends her Sunday afternoons; as to whether they would care more for Constance Talmadge if they didn't know the size of her shoes, what facial cream she recommends, how much money she makes and how she spends her Sunday afternoons; as to whether they would care more for Wallace Reid if they didn't know the size of his shoes> what hair tonic he recommends, how much money he makes and how he spends his Sunday afternoons, it is 103 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING a question that can never be answered. But in regard to giving away the mechanics of picture making, whether it is a wise or an unwise course, the question has already been answered. The pointed reference is to the case of the double exposure. This has been explained so many times (and often explained incorrectly) that now when a scene appears on a theatre screen in which the same player appears twice at one time, you can hear all around you the explanation of how it is done. As a result of all the publicity given the subject of double exposure its use to create a real illusion has practically passed. Immediately it comes on the screen an audience is snapped out of the story and confronted with the bare and unromantic machinery of picture making. John will thereupon say to Mary: "Oh, they do that by blinding half of the camera lens and dividing the scene in two. First he plays the part on the left hand side and then — " "Yes, and then," Mary will say to John, "they turn the camera back and expose the other side of the film while he's playing the other part." And there you are. All very simple. Easiest thing in the world to explain. But in the meantime Mary and John have lost track of the story, the illusion has been smashed for them and for all the people sitting around them. Therefore having proven that it is a bad thing to give away the secrets of the director and cameraman and cutter, I will now set down two or three other 104 OTHER TRICKS UP DIRECTOR'S SLEEVES secrets of the director and the cameraman and the cutter so that other illusions of yours may be spoiled when you go to the theatre. Consequently, if you desire to retain your illusions refrain from finishing this chapter. The fight on the edge of a high precipice waged between the hero and the villain of the story is a fa- vorite scene of every director's. It is usually terminated when the hero mustering all his strength, lands on the jaw of the villain and tumbles him off the precipice into the nothingness below. Now, of course villains are expensive commodities, often calling for five hundred dollars a week and more and no director can afford to let one drop over a cliflf now and then just for the sake of a thrill. Furthermore, they are usually happily married with large families and these families would be inclined to feel some venom for the director if he permitted the villains to go over the precipices. So the following course is decided upon as the next best thing to actually killing the villain. The first part of the rough and tumble fight is gone through in a natural way. Then comes the scene which begins with the hero's rush for the villain and ends with the blow that sends the unfortunate over the cliff. The villain takes his nerve with him and stands on the edge of the cliff and leans as far back as he is able. The hero then places one fist on the villains jaw and allows it to rest there lightly. Then he pulls it back suddenly. The villain follows him back to safety and they proceed to fight in a rough and tumble way again. But what has the camera been doing all the time? 105 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING Ah, the camera has been grinding backwards so that when the above scene is flashed on the screen it looks as if the hero really hit the villain on the jaw. And just at the point where the villain is shown leaning back to the farthest of his ability the film is cut and a dummy likeness of the villain is substituted for the fall, thereby saving the director's reputation and his standing with the real villain's family. Then there is the close shot of the hero's fist landing with terrific impact on the villain's jaw and sending him sprawling. Naturally no villain really wants to feel the terrific impact of the hero's fist. The two boys may be good friends in real life. So the hero lets his fist fly gently and merely taps his opponent. But, of course, this wouldn't look realistic on the screen so what does the director do or order the cutter to do? He cuts or orders to be cut every second or every third individual picture from the strip of film that shows the slowly moving fist. As a consequence of this cutting the movement of the fist is given actual speed and finally when the scene is shown on the screen it looks like the real thing 1 Of course the old trick of the baby being rescued from the onrushing train in the nick of time or the scene of the automobile just cutting across in front of the thundering express are generally understood. The action is usually taken backwards as in the fight on the edge of the precipice with most satisfactory and thrilling results when shown on the screen front- wards. And now that I have succeeded in spoiling these illu- 106 mk ■■■ - '% ^ ■' ^'Wt^^MHg ^ ^ l^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^l S ■ %i ■tt:.. if 1 i; 1^' L_k = 'fl l\ #■ H^^ ^ y' ^^'^^^v^HHRII^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 1 ^^HMHk^'i^^^L«^.c^.«_ ^ HI^bK ' ^Bft m ^^ SiSiO- w ^: - H . ■ ■ .'Slt^^vr;' ■ II 3.H\ WALLY REID IN THE GEORGE FITZMAURICE PRODUCTION OF "PETER IBBETSON" OTHER TRICKS UP DIRECTOR'S SLEEVES sions for readers who have not previously had them spoiled, is it any particular wonder why Mack Sennett guards the secrets of his study with a certain amount of jealousy? 109 Chapter XII SOME WORDS FROM FRANK BORZAGE 'Y'HE director of "Humor- esque'' and '^ Get-Rich-Quick Walling ford," a born creator, an instinctive picture director, believes there is not enough true characterization on the screen today, — Audiences like to see counterparts of themselves on the screen, not highly glorified heroes and heroines, is his theory no Chapter XII Earlier in these chapters reference was made to the number of capable and skilled men, as yet unproven with respect to the extent of their emotional experience, who were eagerly awaiting the opportunity to step into the limelight with a pictorial masterpiece. In only a little over the last twelve months two such men were given the opportunity and both proved themselves, emerging from their experiences as directors whose names now stand for the best in motion pictures. Of and from one of these men, Rex Ingram, we have already heard. The other is Frank Borzage who in the short space of a year has given picture audiences "Humoresque" and "Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," both artistic and financial successes. Mr. Borzage is obviously a born director, that is a born creator, a born artist. The qualities are to be observed in him merely on a chance conversation. It is easy to see that here is a man with a great groundwork of emotional experience to serve him in his art. And Mr. Borzage is one of those who subscribe to the theory set forth in the first chapter of this book; that without a full background of emotional experience a director can never rise to the heights of his craft. Mr. Borzage's method of working may not be dis- tinctly individual with him but at least no other director has stated as clearly what he believes to be one of the secrets of making good pictures. Mr. Borzage believes 111 xMOTION PICTURE DIRECTING that behind every face he sees there is some sort of a story. Unable to find out exactly what this story is, he will draw it in part from the face itself. The face will tell him certain things, the rest will be supplied from the imagination. «^ C pq g Q w <; PS WHO CREATES A PICTURE? exterior location presents some unusual topography never seriously change the plot of the picture. The business introduced, if it is good business, enriches the plot so much the more. Then if the director wishes he may designate himself as a decorator in addition to a recreator. But despite all these words that seem to detract from the glory of the director, his work remains a high art, tremendous and difficult to master. His task of trans- lating from the printed page to the strips of film is no child's play by any manner of means. To accom- plish this work he must bring into play all his talents, his experience, his level-headedness, his judgment of story values, his ability to handle people, his knowl- edge of dramatic construction and so on and so forth. If he hasn't many talents he is liable to keenly feel the lack of them before he has progressed far on his work. — ^ The fact that the average director refers to his continuity or rather somebody else's continuity to guide him is no reflection on his own ability. It produces proper balance in the work of picture making and the director knows it. He knows too that the art of picture making is no exception to the old rule that two heads are better than one. The best scheme of things and one which is followed in many studios today is to have a director and a con- tinuity writer work hand in hand not only on the con- struction of the picture story but also on the director's end of it — the writer acting in the capacity of super- visor and advisor to the director. This method of 159 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING procedure has produced some of the best pictures re- cently made. It would be ideal if human nature in general didn't contain those qualities which make armies and navies necessary and which make cats and dogs fight. 160 Chapter XVIII MUSIC IN PICTURE PRODUCTION 'J^HE value of music in inspir- ing the proper mood in a company of players. — An argu- ment in favor of this aide to the director and the recitation of an occasion where a director went mad 161 Chapter XVIII Many directors use music to inspire from their actors and actresses the best performances. The idea is plaus- ible and often productive of the desired results. Often, too, it is carried to extremes. There is one quite famous star who needs "Hearts and Flowers" rendered in the slowest pitch of melancholy, to satisfactorily walk across a setting. She doesn't register any deep emotion in this instance either, unless walking can be so termed. It was some time in the year 1914 that music was discovered as one of the director's chief aides. A large ballroom scene was being photographed at the old Thanhauser studio in New Rochelle. Invitations were sent to members of the press to attend and watch the work. A rare innovation was promised. The innova- tion turned out to be the fact that the ballroom dancers actually danced to the strains of an orchestra! Pre- viously picture dancers had been forced to rely on their own sense of rhythm. Since then musicians have grown to be almost as vital in picture making as the cameraman or the actors themselves. At the studios in the early morning appear almost as many men carrying violin cases as there are with make-up boxes. The idea isn't at all as far-fetched as it may sound. Music, more than all the advice and coaching that a director may give his company, serves to cast them in the proper mood for a scene. National folk dances and folk songs offer proof of this. It is a familiar sight 162 MUSIC IN PICTURE PRODUCTION to see members of Latin and Slavic nations, stirred to the very depths of their souls by the familiar notes of some ancient folk song or dance. It will inspire them to forget their surroundings and break into aban- doned action. Thus, when an actor or an actress is called upon to do a particularly pathetic and emotional scene upon the screen, the proper accompaniment from musicians assists the player in striking the right note in the performance. There are comedians, too, who employ musical inspiration. However, when they are playing a burlesque scene they often call for the slow, tearful music that is used for the serious scene. It gives them a better slant on the burlesque element in the scene. Probably the director first conceived the idea of using music in the making of his pictures from the fact that it is used to such great success in the pre- sentation of the completed picture to the public. Some- times the difference in effect in seeing a picture in the bare projection room of a studio and then watching it shown in a theatre to a full orchestral accompaniment is startling. So, rightly argued the director, if music can be employed to such benefit in the exhibition of a picture, it can be employed to equal benefit in the production of it. In a studio where two or three companies are work- ing at the same time it must be confessed that the effect of the various orchestras is more or less confusing. The actors and actresses would be doing quite the right thing if they went altogether insane. I was in a large studio in the west only recently when a cabaret scene 163 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING was being filmed on one set to the wildest of jazz tunes. Immediately to one side of it there was a subduedly lighted church scene, wherein hero and heroine were, for purposes of pictures, going through the marriage ceremony. The man who was playing the little melodian for this scene was having a furious time trying to make himself heard above the ten piece jazz band only a few feet away. The director of the church scene finally decided to await the time when the director of the cabaret scene paused between "takes" of his picture. He thought he had hit the right moment and was half way through his quiet marriage when "zim-boom-bang" the jazzers were at it again. The last I saw of the poor church director he was learning the latest dance steps from the actor who played the minister. Yes, many motion picture directors turn gray pre- maturely. 164 Chapter XIX JUST SUPPOSE ]^0 you actually know what you could be up against if tomorrow you were given the opportunity to direct a picture? 'What do you know about light, camera angles, makeup, exits and entrances? Could you suc- cessfully dominate the stage before a company of wise pro- fessionals? 165 Chapter XIX Practically anyone who has given any thought, whether serious or not, to picture production, thinks deep down in his heart that he could direct just as well if not better than the fellows that are directing. In like manner, when his fancy turns in the direction of writing for the screen, he is certain that he could write a better photoplay than the "creatures of luck" who are writing photoplays. This, of course, is human nature and can never be changed. But just suppose, for the sake of argument, that you reader (you representing in this instance one of those everyones who knows he can direct as well if not better than the next fellow) ; just suppose you are given your opportunity to direct. Just suppose that tomorrow morning you are to start your first picture. You have read your continuity over and again, you have as- sembled your cast, you have seen to it that the first setting constructed in the studio is to your liking. Tomorrow you begin work on actual production. You arrive at the studio at nine o'clock (for directors have to keep hours like everyone else, you know) and you step briskly out of your limousine and proceed to your office, where, after divesting yourself of outer garments, you read again the scenes you are to begin work upon. Following this you step briskly upon the studio stage and find your company waiting for you (providing, of course, that the star hasn't decided to 166 A RACE TRACK SCENE IN "TURN TO THE RIGHT" DIRECTED BY REX INGRAM REX INGRAM DIRECTING A "BIT" OF "THE FOUR HORSEMEN" THE WHITE CANVAS SQUARE IS A REFLECTOR, USED IN EXTERIOR SCENES TO GIVE THE PLAYERS THE FULL BENEFIT OF THE SUNLIGHT Oh o S w ^S| ago W C« M fe cAi n w ^ 2 w pi ■< Fh H W t— ( w o d w H M > w o H w > > c H M O > 3 ffi > H > > r f d I— I '^ > W n M H O O n HH O Q W H U W H < •z < w K D H U I— 1 a o 5^ ^ ^ Q < > < Pi H X H u < P w r 2; Q S Pi Chapter XXVI MARSHALL NEILAN SUMMARIZES ■ — ^ Jl^R. NEILAN, whose moods run the range of human emotions, believes that many di- rectors forget to put themselves in the places of their audiences, — Loss of proper perspective results. — Mr. Neilan also sum- marizes in such complete fash- ion that he concludes the argu- ment 219 Chapter XXVI It appears after all that Cecil De Mille is the only director in the producing art who doesn't believe in showing his players how to play a scene. Here comes Marshall Neilan with some words on directing and the first thing he says is : "One of the most potent assets of the director is his own ability to act. It is a difficult matter to tell a person how to do certain things if one doesn't know how to do it one's self. It is a simple matter to stop an actor in his work and tell him he isn't doing it right, but it is another matter entirely to get out on the set and show him the error of his ways before the camera. Therefore, a director's ability to act is a first .asset." This, coming on top of the De Mille formula is disconcerting. Disconcerting because both Mr. De Mille and Mr. Neilan manage to get the utmost from their players. And they go about it in entirely different ways it would seem. As a result neither one of them can be wrong and they both must be right. A cold can be cured by repeated swallows of hot scotch but others prefer to stuff themselves full of quinine and let it go at that. The cold is done away with in both cases. Hence good performances are seen in both Neilan and De Mille pictures. y^ Mr. Neilan elaborates further on the subject thus: "By the same token it is more or less impossible to correct the portrayal of a certain piece of business if you haven't the ability to demonstrate just how it should 220 MARSHALL NEILAN SUMMARIZES be corrected. In practically every scene that a director takes he is obliged first to get out on the set and show an actor or an actress how to perform a bit of business or how to register an expression. So, naturally a di- rector must be able to act. He may be a bad actor or a good one but as long as he is able to show what he wants done and how he wants it done his work is going to be much easier. "This is specially true in the handling of children on the screen. Children, talented or not, are not possessed of years of actual stage or screen experience which is necessary to give a performer the proper finesse and polish in actual screen work. The director with the ability to act can get out before the camera and go through the child's part for him, incorporating in it the polish that he desires the child to put into it. If the child is a good mimic the rest is easy. And I am not afraid that in mimicking me the child is going to ^^give a mechanical performance." Mr. Neilan knows whereof he speaks when it comes to handling children. Two of his best pictures, "Pen- rod" and "Dinty" were stories with a boy actor, Wesley Barry, playing the principal role. In fact, it is due to Mr. Neilan's tutelage that young Barry has reached his present state of popularity. He has come under other directors besides Mr. Neilan but the teachings he received from the creator of his two best pictures still remain. Continuing on the same theme Mr. Neilan says: "The merit of an actor's performance depends in ratio on the director's ability to show him what he wants. 221 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING This accounts for the reason that certain actors and actresses receive flattering praise for their performances under one director while under the next director they may fail miserably. Any number of such instances could be cited but I have lots of friends among the actors and actresses and I don't want to turn them into enemies over night." I do not altogether subscribe to this statement of Mr. Neilan's. It is quite true that players have gained fame under one director and then worked with another and fallen down on the job. In fact one producing company recently elevated a certain actress to stardom because of her excellent work in one of its big pictures. But as soon as she left the guidance of the director who made this picture her ability seemed to take wings and leave her in the lurch. But blaming these sudden transitions from good to bad on the directors ability to show an actor how to work, and the next fellow's refusal or inability to show him how is not, to my way of thinking, exactly right. It may have something to do with it but after all if a director shows all his players how he wants a scene done, the result, as Mr. De Mille pointed out, would eventually result in the entire cast giving mechanical imitations of the director in a protean act. An actor does better work for certain directors, included among which is Mr. Neilan, because for such directors he has respect, he believes in their ability, they retain his con- fidence. Then too Mr. Neilan and the others inspire an actor to his greatest efforts. The enthusiasm of the artistic director is communicated to the actor. If he 222 MARSHALL NEILAN SUMMARIZES is any sort of an actor he simply can't go wrong when working under the direction of a truly artistic director such as Mr. Neilan. "The dramatic sense — the sense of dramatic con- struction" continues Mr. Neilan, "is another highly important asset of the motion picture director. This remark is, of course, somewhat obvious but in my opinion there are too many so-called directors who turn out machine-made pictures and the chief reason that they are machine-made is because their makers don't know the least thing about construction. Half of them wouldn't know a dramatic situation if it was thrust under their various noses. "It doesn't make any difference whether this drama- tic sense is a result of years of study, of the drama or whether it is just a subconscious sixth sense thrown in along with the other five. It's the same in other branches of work, creative or otherwise. Some men become great generals through long years of study and application to the science of war. Another man just steps in and is able to converse with them on even terms because he is an instinctive general. In the motion picture producing art every director who has created a position for himself has either acquired thd dramatic sense through years of study or else has it ingrained in him so deeply that he couldn't lose it even if his job were cleaning streets. "There are many of our directors in the latter class. Fellows born with the dramatic sense. The art of picture producing has recruited so many young men that perhaps the majority of them must needs be put in 223 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING this class. In the year to come I sincerely believe that the study of the creation of motion pictures will be taught as an art or craft just as playmaking is today. In fact, the scenario classes in many of the universities now are paving the way for the broader classes to come. Most of the dramatic scholars in the picture art have been recruited from the stage. These are the men who have the traditions and the teachings of drama at their finger tips. "Where does this sense help? A plain instance is the director's ability or inability to know when a situ- ation is handled correctly in a story. His dramatic sense will answer the question for him. If the situation is treated falsely he will know how to change it — he will instantly detect the fault and eliminate it." Here Mr. Neilan takes up the same line of thought that I endeavored to set down in the second chapter of ** this book, y The power of visualization, which enables a director to detect the right from the wrong, is the second most important asset of the motion picture director. Without it he is totally at a loss. This dra- matic sense, or rather this dramatic-picture sense is really nothing less than the power of visualization. The two things work to the same end and, call it what you will, no man can ever hope to be a director and live to be recognized as such without the power of visual- ization or, according to Mr. Neilan, the sixth sense. "Perhaps I should place ahead of these two requi- sites," Mr. Neilan goes on to say, "the ability of the director to put himself in the place of his audience — to view his work through not only neutral but critical eyes. 224 MARSHALL NEILAN SUMMARIZES First it is necessary to keep within the understanding of the average photoplay audience. And, don't forget, that it has been discovered that the age of the average picture audience is startlingly low — somewhere in the 'teens'. If we present things on the screen that are five years ahead of an audience we aren't the right kind of creators. It is just as bad to do this as to present something five years behind the times. "Like all directors I know there is room for im- provement in screen work. The art is young yet and has got to advance slowly, mainly because its tremen- dous and cosmopolitan following will only advance slowly. The motion picture can't afford to go too far ahead of its audience. It can keep a few paces ahead and encourage its audiences to come up those few paces but it can't go too far afield. "This matter of a director viewing his work from the vantage point of the audience has a more practical application as well. The director must retain his per- spective on his picture — must retain, that is, his first fresh perspective. So many directors become so sati- ated in their work that they lose the value of their pictures. They have gone over their stories in every scene from the scenario all through the process of di- recting and in the cutting room where they are con- fronted with the difficult task of bringing their pic- tures down to the required length they are inclined to cut out valuable story material. They know their stories so well that they forget an audience only sees them once, that an audience as a rule is in total ignor- ance of the story until it begins on the screen. There- 225 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING fore every point of value in the story must be retained. And to accomplish this the director must jump outside himself and view his picture from the standpoint of the layman every time that he has anything to do with it. "This loss of perspective is one of the reasons why we have ''jumpy" pictures and pictures that seem lack- ing in continuity." Mr. Neilan concludes the subject with these words: "Above all, I consider that the director's appreciation of the human side of life is his greatest asset. Unless a director is thoroughly human down to the very earth and appreciative of the things in life that are common to the ordinary mortal he can not hope to attain any degree of success. If he himself has suffered, if he is a close student of human nature and can reflect the the human things on the screen then he automatically becomes a successful director— I might almost say a true artist." Mr. Neilan hasn't bothered to list his own abilities which are manifold. His moods run the range of human emotions. He can transport an audience with the quiet beauty and sincere pathos of his work as he did in the best Mary Pickford picture ever made, "Stella Maris," or he can become positively Goldberg- ian in his creations and rival Mack Sennett as he did in"Dinty." Mr. Neilan is his own best answer to all the argu- ments he has set forth here. I had intended to attach a summary to this book, listing the requirements of the successful director but on beginning the task I find that I would be merely duplicating Mr. Neilan's words. He has compiled the summary. 226 MARSHALL NEILAN Q O Kl W Ph o C4 w o Pi ■< m w o H O W Pi Q W H < < I— I w 2; hJ hJ <: Pi < Chapter XXVII "BEST DIRECTED" PICTURES J LIST of contemporary pic- tures in each one of which the art of the director has been best displayed 229 Chapter XXVII I am not going to try, in conclusion, to list the best directed pictures made during the life of the picture producing art. Such a list would necessarily be over- long while those that we considered masterpieces three years ago are inferior when matched beside the worthy productions of today. The only picture that seems to have lived is "The Birth of a Nation." This first pretentious work of D. W. Griffith will naturally rank high in any list of ''best pictures." So, too, do some of the earlier Chaplin pictures which have been reissued many times under different titles. The list of best directed pictures appended therefore does not belong particularly to one period of producing activity. It does contain, however, pictures that will be as good five years from the moment of writing as they were when first shown on the screens of the pic- ture theatres. Time dims the quality of the great rank and file of pictures but it will have a difficult time rubbing the polish from these. Doubtless many others should be included. There are the delightful comedies of Constance Talmadge, the more serious works of Norma Talmadge, numbers of Mary Pickford pictures and numbers of Douglas Fairbanks pictures that will perhaps live longer than those included here. William S. Hart has immortalized himself forever yet recent pictures of his fail to react in as powerful a manner as his earlier work. Furthermore, there have been some exceedingly pop- 230 "BEST DIRECTED" PICTURES ular pictures that have been very badly directed. No effort has been made to include these. And no effort has been made to include minor pictures quite well directed. All points in the matter of direction have been con- sidered. Minor faults have been glossed over when the merits have swung the scales overwhelmingly in their direction. The list, finally, is not to be taken as anything more than contemporary. "Shoulder Arms" and "The Kid," directed by Charles Chaplin. Because, in addition to being the best comedies produced, they show a marvelous insight into human nature and because the dividing line be- tween their comedy and the tragedies that might result from the same situations, is but the width of a hair. "Way Down East," directed by D. W. Griffith. Because here is a masterly handled picturization of a famous old melodrama. Because the rough edges have been smoothed over by the master hand of the director and because it closes in the biggest thrill ever presented on the screen. "Orphans of the Storm," directed by D. W. Griffith. Because here is a masterly handled picturization of a famous old melodrama, etc. "Miss Lulu Bett" and "Midsummer Madness," di- rected by William C. De Mille. Because both pictures, dealing with classes of people remotely removed from one another, contain a penetrating and true study of character and because these characters have been welded together in both instances in potent, dramatic pictures. 231 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" and "The Conquering Power," directed by Rex Ingram. Because tragedy and spectacle has been handled in the one, and tragedy in the other, with the discriminating eye of an artist. Because each presents its director as able in creating an illusion on the screen so complete as to dissolve the theatre walls into a part of the picture itself. "The Three Musketeers," directed by Fred Niblo. Because it is the best of Douglas Fairbanks' many best. Because it displays the fact that its director knows how to apply modern technique to a classic and still preserve the worth of the classic. "Disraeli," directed by Henry Kolker. Because it is the best screen version of a celebrated play ever produced. "The City of Silent Men," directed by Tom Forman. Because it raises a crook melodrama to the level of high art. "Humoresque," directed by Frank Borzage. Because it is the most faithful presentation of racial traits and characteristics filmed. Because its director reveals in it his uncanny power of developing a screen character until you can almost hear it speak. "Sentimental Tommy," directed by John Robertson. Because a rare and beautiful story has been transferred to the screen without harm or loss and because in it its director gave one of the most eloquent answers ever given to those who claim there are no artists in the art of picture producting. "Peter Ibbetson," directed by George Fitzmaurice. 232 'BEST DIRECTED" PICTURES Because a rare and beautiful story has been transferred to the screen without harm or loss and because in it its director gave one of the most eloquent answers ever given to those who claim there are no artists in the art of picture producing. "Stella Maris," directed by Marshall Neilan. Be- cause it is the best picture in which Mary Pickford has ever appeared. / "Little Lord Fauntleroy," directed by Al Green and Jack Pickford. Because something approaching an artistic achievement has been made from this ancient too-sentimental work. "The Indian Tomb," directed by Joe May. Because, with the exception of humor, it blends every motion pictorial element in a whole so absorbing that time means nothing. "Tol'ble David," directed by Henry King. Because the spirit of the original work, a work of literary merit, has been skillfully communicated to the screen. "The Law and the Woman," directed by Penrhyn Stanlaws. Because an old plot has been translated into terms of intense melodrama through the judicious use of detail. "Scratch My Back," directed by Sidney Olcott. Be- cause it is an original, ingenious comedy done in excel- lent taste. "Over the Hill," directed by Harry Millarde. Be- cause it is a sentimental tear-jerker done in the most highly skilled fashion. "Forbidden Fruit," directed by Cecil B. De Mille. 233 MOTION PICTURE DIRECTING Because it represents its director at his exotic, most extravagant best. "Passion," directed by Ernst Lubitsch. Because it displays the art of handling big masses of people color- fully and because with its spectacular scenes there is a blending of an absorbing personal story. "Dinty," directed by Marshall Neilan. Because it is one of the most captivating, rollicking and delight- fully foolish things ever done on the screen. "Doubling for Romeo," directed by Clarence Bad- ger. Because it is one of the most captivating, rollick- ing and delightfully foolish things ever done on the screen. "The Silent Call," directed by Laurence Trimble. Because it is the best melodramatic novelty of the year. "The Miracle Man," directed by the late George Loane Tucker. Because — ^well, just because. "The Loves of Pharaoh," directed by Ernst Lubitsch. Because it is the best work of this director. Because in it he more nearly actually reaches his publicity pedestal than in any other of his pictures. 234 Other Exceptional Books on PHOTOGRAPHY AND KINDRED SUBJECTS Motion Picture Photography By CARL LOUIS GREGORY, F.R.P.S. Formerly Chief Instructor in Cinematography, Signal Corps School of Photography, Columbia University, New York. With special chapters by Charles W. Hoffman, and by Research Specialists of the Research Laboratories, Eastman Kodak Company. Price $6.00 Motion Picture Projection By T. O'CONOR SLOANE, Ph.D., LL.D. Associate Editor, Practical Electrics and Science and Invention Magazine. The above book of Motion Picture Projecting includes Electricity, Optics, Projecting Machines, and the Intermittent Movement of all kinds and the fullest details of practise. Price SS.OO Screen Acting By INEZ and HELEN KLUMPH With the assistance and advice of Lillian and Dorothy Gish, Colleen Moore, Mabel Ballin, Mae Murray, William S. Hart, Ruth Roland, and many other distinguished motion picture players, directors, cameramen, and make-up experts. Particular thanks is due Arch Reeve of the Famous Players-Lasky Corporation who supplied much valuable data. Price S3. 00 Photoplay Writing By WILLIAM LORD WRIGHT Author of "The Motion Picture Story," "The Art of Scenario Writing," formerly Editor for the Selig Polyscope Co., and Pathe Exchange, Inc.; also Western Representative for United Picture Theatres, Inc., Editor, Serials and Western Departmtnt, Universal Film Mfg. Co., Universal City, Calif. Price $3.00 Published and Copyrighted by FALK PUBLISHING CO., Inc. Department 16 145 West 36th Street, New York Used as supplementary texts in New York Institute of Photography NEW YORK CHICAGO BROOKLYN (Send all orders to the Publishers) The New York Institute of Photography gives a complete Residence Course in Photography MOTION PICTURE COMMERCIAL PORTRAITURE covering in a thorough and practical way every phase of this profitable profession For Complete Catalog and location of our most convenient School address the central office: New York Institute of Photography Department 16 141 West 36th Street NEW YORK CITY (.*t