Judge — September 3, 1921 — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

NEW MOVES IN THE MOVIES Celluloid Trade-Marks pictures were still so newly hatched that the shell they came out of lay on the ground be- side them, an estimated cost of a dollar a foot for produced pictures was regarded as sufficient. One reel, one thousand feet. One thousand feet, one thousand dollars. Five reels, one “feature.” One feat- ure, or “program picture,” five thou- sand dollars. Nowadays, when delirium tremens seems to be the rule rather than the exception, one hundred good dollars are sometimes spent in the production of a single foot of finished film—that flickers past upon the screen in some- thing less than a single second. Five reels, five thousand feet. Five thou- sand feet, five hundred thousand dollars. Ten reels, a million. When a man is getting ready to sink even the amount that it costs to produce say an average “big pro- gram” picture these days—let’s call it ten dollars a foot, one hundred thousand dollars a picture—he’s nat- urally a little nervous about getting it back. Even a single hundred thou sand looks big to some people. Of course, the fellow who’s pre- paring to put a whole hundred thou- sand into a single picture—or per- suade some perfectly good friend or enthusiast or even banker to do it, which comes to about the same thing, although not quite—the old-timer who gambled with merely five thou- sand looks like a piker. But except for a slight dif- ference in figures, the cases are much the same. In the gooden grand old days it was about as hard to get five thousand for a picture as it is to get a hundred thousand now. Some folks can borrow a mil'ion just as ea as they can a single thousand. Yessir, that’s a fact. Lot’s of ’em. I’m one. Maybe you’re an- other. Well, in the gooden grand old O NCE upon a time, when motion By Myron M. Stearns days of the movies there were lots like that in the game The money for a single picture represented then, as now, all they could get. When a man is gambling every- thing he has, or all he can get, on a motion picture, he’s particularly anx- ious to reduce the gamble. Anxious, that is, to fix it so that instead of gambling, he'll at least be sure of getting his money back. Since, before a picture is made it’s impossible to tell whether or not it’s going to be good or bad (except that sometimes it’s fairly safe to bet the latter) the only way the producer can be sure of getting his money back is to make sure that the picture will bring in, good or bad, a certain figure. In other words, if a producer knew, Pictures Worth Watching: THE FOUR HORSEMEN The first two-hour photoplay from young director named Ingram, depicting scenes from the Ibanez novel CARNIVAL An English photoplay based on a retold and up-to-date Oehello, done in Venice WITHOUT: BENEFIT: OF CLERGY One of the finest short stories ever written, that has lost almost everything except atmosphere in the telling THE CITY OF SILENT MEN Tommy Meighan escapes from & wonder- fully well-done prison with a fairly successful photoplay. THE OLD NEST Cross section of American family life, with more of sorrow than of story. WAY DOWN EAST All you can ask in the way of diversified creen entertainment. THE CONQUERING POWER Heavy drama with beautiful photog- Faphy and some real A YANKEE IN RING ARTHUR'S COURT Clever comedy-satire based on Mark Twain's famous book “Ain't we got fun with King Arthur.” GYPSY BLOOI Deep tragedy from Germany, with Car- men the Spanish Gypsy getting the knife in the neck at last. BOB HAMPTON OF PLACER Marshall Neilan vaudeville entertain- ment with a high order of scenery. EXPERIEN Morality -play of Ye Olde Englishe school retold to tempt the modern Censor. WHAT A WOMAN KNOWS A photoplay that proves man can’t suc- ceed without the help of his supposedly inferior wife. before investing, that his picture would be worth as much as it would cost to produce it, good or bad, he wouldn’t be gambling. He’d be bet- ting on a sure thing. Accordingly, since the very begin- ning, producers of motion pictures have attempted to sell their pictures “sight unseen.” And since in our well-known ultimate analysis it is the public that pays the money that buys the pictures, and since furthermore you and I and Lizzie Kellerbach con- stitute the public (or at least the best part of it) the producers have to sell their pictures to us, sight un- seen. If they can. How do they do that little thing? Partly by advertising. Partly by throwing out some particular bait, like a well-known star, or a come-on title: ““Mamie’s Mistake.” And part- ly by the use of a brand name or trade-mark. It works this way: We go to see a motion picture—just any old movie that we happen to straggle into. It’s made by the Kazoo Com pany; on lots of the subtitles we are reminded at the bottom of the screen, “Tt’s a Kazoo.” You see, a phrase may sound like a sneeze, and still be a perfectly good trade-mark. The picture, we'll say, was a pretty good one. Or if not that, it at least was run in a pretty good theatre. A week later, we feel like going to see another movie. Half way down the block there is a picture adver- tised: “It’s a Kazoo.” If we liked that first Kazoo, we'll be apt to go and see this one. If we've seen the name in lots of places, we'll be apt to want to see it. If in magazine advertising we’ve been told that the only really-truly honest-to-goodness high-class, uplifting, strictly moral and yet decidedly sensational enter- tainment is to be found in Kazoo (Continued on page 32) comicbooks.com