Judge — August 1937 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

"They're both candid cameramen, taking a candid camera picture of a candid camerman taking a candid camera picture of a —.” ANOTHER LOST ILLUSION WE are against extremes. This goes for too reckless an indul- gence in red meat, religion, sex repres- sion, postage stamps, and the psycho. logical canvas pratt-falls of Mr. Salva- dor Dali. It also goes—and most espe- cially—for the indiscriminate lust of the Candid Camera Cuckoos. We could act a bit weak-kneed, right at the start here, and qualify our thesis by admitting that there are some fine, upstanding uses for this small black Cyclops which has invaded the private lives of the world. In nature and in the arts, for instance—in the right hands— he is often the consummate artist. He gets around. He presents the crackling sparkle of the unexpected. He grabs the beauty along with the dirt. Our chief objection is that he gets into the wrong hands—by the million. He has become the plaything of people who used to mind their own business, and who now sneak about minding that of others. Things have gotten to the state where you hardly dare enter the bath for fear of hearing a subdued 14 “click” from some photophobiac who has hidden himself in the laundry bas- ket. Sly dog, he’s after a close-up of that mole on your spine! And there's no sense in dashing out his brains with the bath brush, for another will pop right up in his place, as you stand there dripping. 'HE Lost Generation who doted and drivelled at the marvels of their off- spring on the jumpy screen of the first home movies at least confined their activities to their own get. But the Can- did Camera Boys as everywhere. They stop at nothing. This pring enterprise buys many Cadillacs for the manufac- turers of photographic gear, for so ex- tensive is the line that it can easily run you into more money than panda hunt- ing, stamp collecting, or keeping wim- men. (Well, that’s what we hear.) But for the rest of us, the net result in Beauty, information, or in the opening up of new fields might well be evalu- ated on the basis of five cents’ worth of platinum. ‘THE mill run of Candid Camera Cuckoos exhibit little more discrim. ination in their choice of subjects than the idiot boy who stole the fox. They spend hours stalking a pair of amorous houseflies in flagrante delicto on a win- dow sill. (Even the flies don’t know where to go nowadays!) They photo- gtaph a woman's beesst—God ows where they get the women!—at an angle that makes it resemble the Paramount Building. Then, crazed by the sheer genius of the idea, they spend days try- ing to photograph the Paramount Build- ing until it looks like a woman's breast. Moreover, if you fail to exclaim, “Gees, that's wongeal How did you get it?” they stamp off in a pet. They exhibit a passion for the per- sonal that is a little short of shocking, these Candid Cuckoos. One cha brought us a recent shot which looked like a light fall of snow. “Well?” we said, ““Snow—so what?” He hid his dis- appointment in a manly way. “No, not snow,” he said, testily. “Any dope can photograph snow. This is dandruff. A real candid shot of dandruff... and you call it ‘Snow’.” They dote on hairy arms. They adore : close-ups of gold inlays, and shiny skins, and oversize—or su hinds. The school which does not sub- scribe exclusively to the pursuit of the personal, or which decides that there are no more corns to conquer, goes in for what certain modern painters term ‘‘Abstractions."” These subjects, as nearly as we can tell, are selected with intent to baffle the beholder, which they do to the Duchess of York's taste. A PIECE of cornice . . . a burnt match +”... a head-on view of a paving block at rest... a soda straw in a glass . . . water, any kind (they're crazy for water) . . . a soft-focus shot of an umbrella handle. By artful ar- rangement, and the invocation of the Divine Spirit, one is supposed to be able to ierest such items Peh what the Candid Camera Cuckoos term “Sig- nificance.” Taking pictures of friends while they are dressed and shaved seems to have become passé. And no- body save the advertising boys pays much attention to beautiful girls any more; you've got to be over eighty to be “interesting.” We suppose this will run its course. We lived through “Knock-Knock,” didn’t we? But it's a tough haul at the moment. Nor do we quite know what to do about it. You can’t hide all the cameras, or kill all the Cuckoos. The government might do this, however; it might force of the millions of ad- dicts to buy a shooting license and a red flannel cap when he takes camera in hand, same as the hunters. And if a ten-second warning bell could be at- tached to the shutter, as in the rising sidewalk lifts, we'd be for that, too. —STANLEY JONES t-duty—be-_ Judge comicbooks.com