Judge — December 30, 1922 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

Ruth Hale’s Movie Page The Link Is Still Missing E NEVER gave a kind word more grudgingly than this we ¢ about to record on behalf of “Broken Chains,” the newspaper contest » scenario, Which Goldwyn has just “d. Everything in the world is wrong with it, except th » thing which every motion picture must have to live: the fact that it does tell its ste tothe eve. We had prepared ¢ at formal and parental address to the motion picture producers to guide them in their Year. We were brimming with helpfulness. We were going to be not merely sage, but very. firm—be were possessed with the a knew exactly what the we committed the strategic error of going to see the prize scenario, and it blew our sermon right to Ghenna., It contained the very thing upon which we were going to stake the whole future of the pictures, and yet “Broken Chains” was an abomination if one ever got onto a screen, Howe a keeps such b ny, it is still our panacea, We remind selves of what “Broken Chains” might have been without it. And, minus our gesture of ma are going right on to read ¢ ment from its fragments, nm pictures have to recognize that they are an art, and not merely an industry, They are art, w her they like it or not, though an abused and bedraggled one. And if they don’t learn more about their own ties and resources as an art than now act on—whatever they may and keep seeret—they will in se to be an industry, The time was w a great number of persons, all over the country, all over the world, in fact, went to motion pictures because they could by so doing escape boredom with themselves and cach other atanot too handsome figure. M for example, st ing with the malai of the long winter evenings, found in pic- tures an invaluable boon, Life as it is lived by a vast majority of people is probably as completely boring as could well be imagined, The hardier among us break out in rebellions either scan- the me GURST, dalous or expensive, and sometimes hoth. The rest of us have been going to the mov Cheap and respectable and diverting, though the last but feebly, they have been truly entitled to that huge patronage which has made an in- dustry of them. OW cheap and respectable they still But when they are no longer even vital or novel enough to convince their followers that they are less tiresome than staying at home, “the: ry are unfortu- sed. They must enter into a competition with other things merely cheap and respectable, many of which are even aper and) more respectable. They ve been working a thin, if flashy, v and it is panning out. They have al- ly been two or three times around r treadmill of pet stories and pet acting types. The number of new pic- tures this season which were not actually too dull to hold the most willing atten- tion can be counted—have been counted —on the fingers on one hand. In fact, among other intentions we had for this New Year number was a review of the season's best pictures. We couldn't remember enough to write a paragraph about. Presently we will return to our lists, such as they are, but meanwhile we de want to impress it on other that motion pictures y bad way. 1 th HERE is still plenty of time for some- hody to force the pictures to a new turning. Douglas Fairbanks may do and he has made the one best picture in picture history—“Robin Hood.” Henry King may do it, though he is less fastid- ious as to stor: rbanks. — Grif- fith is an acute though with an unhappy penchant for violence. Lesser has one fine picture to his credit in “Oliver Twist.” Robert Flaherty made the second best picture we hav Ss and the first best of its kind—in “Nanoc of the North.” But Flaherty’s picture, except for a possible indirect influence, can not be counted among the assets of future pictures because he made it inci- lie Chaplin still has his peak to himself, of course. Nobody has come anywhere near to him in his combination of screen acting and picture devising. But Charlie is, if he will excuse us, a lone horse. And it is mass action we are considering. 15 Nobody can imitate Charlie in his sercen performances without being at- tended by prompt and painful failure And Charlie could not invent these pic- tures of his for anybody except himself. We doubt if he would even want to. When he stops n ig pictures, one of their few great joys will stop with him. He cannot leave anything but his memory. UT we have come a considerable way from “Broken Chains.” Regretfully we must go back and acknowle standard set squarely in its midst. This prize scer of pictures, itw to you if you did not know a word of the language in which its tawdry titles are written. The whole of its drama and its excitement are built up by what you have seen, We have time for just one example. The villain builds a trick bridge, and he is shown doing it. The bridge is over a deep ravine, and is the only entrance to his place. pre is a marked board which, when stepped on, swings the bridge backwards and dumps its occupant into the depths. The first time the hero starts across, the villain’s police dog is disputing his e, and in stepping around the dog, » also steps around the board. idiculous amount of excite- ted by the simple process of watching that one board. The story itself was simply terrible, Its people were silly and un But it had been told by’ devices which left. the imagination free to create its own story, its own emotions. In other words, it’ was told by visual symbols, and could not have been told any other way. Naturally we were not spared titles. But we were spared the necessity of reading them, to know where we were at. trashy rio is a sequence There is not an incident in h would not be perfectly intelligible Tis. then, is the burden of our plea to the picture men. “Show your stories, and don’t do any that can’t be shown.” It is a poor reward to the man who in- vented pictures that would move, that the most we have been able to do with them has been to make illustrations of them. Life will flow back into the ailing pictures when, and only when, they are seen and not heard. icbooks.com