IN MOVIE LAND.

Shannon News, 11 October 1921, Page 1

IN MOVIE LAND.

ANGELES.

This is the one part of the world where climate is a commodity, says a correspondent of the Manchester Guardian, writing from Los Angelas, called “the roof garden of the world,” for it combines an exotic luxuriance of vegetation with an artificial and health* concerned community. There are, of course, ranchers who raise fruits and vegetables, and .there are servants ahd chaffeurs and housebuilders and plumbers, but the main industry of the whole of Southern California is climate. Everybody is consuming ■ climate or elsu trying to sell climate to the worn, liv-erish-looking people from Chicago .add New York. Its artificial existence takes the form of a vast number of churches of innumerable sects, all (tf which take their dogma with deadly seriousness. It captures the intelligentsia of Europe to lecture at intervals; it has its rivals coteries battling with deadly hatred) and in the intervals of leisure it gambles in real estate. . But there is one other industry which has settled in Los Angeles, and which already rivals the business ox climate. The kinema companies, with their dh Tectors, producers, camera men, actors and hosts of supers, have descended up: on the promised land and firmly estabt lished themselves in mamrri'oth studios and “ million dollar 1 ’ structures. It is not easy to penetrate into these studios. Nowadays kinema companies have to guard their secrets jealously. Parti-, cularly suspicious are they of the Englishman, for companies in England are emulating the best productions of America, and new methods and mechanical devices are eagerly sought after. But once through the gates the visitor wanders in a. mechanical wonderland; Childish memories of the panoramas o| Belle Vue come to the mind as you are faced with a huge structure representing a desert scene A man in shirt sleeves and with a loud voice—probably ' the result of a continuing shouting through a megaphone —begins to talk in a language delightfully incomprehensible.. • • jjl “This is a set of Luxor. It was shift yesterday by our camera-men. See that motor there? It drives an aeroplane propeller which gives the effect of a sandstorm. The set took a fortnight to erect, and less than three minutes to shoot. Believe me, we do things thoroughly here.” I was shown an - automobile which raced on rollers while scenery at the back was rapidly revolved, collapsible staircases, model trains set for a collision, and all the mechanism of a fake photography. Meanwhile '.the shirtsleeved enthusiast rolled a huge cigar about his mouth and bewildered me with technical descriptions of * close ups’ and ‘ snubs. ’ Th A studios of Los Angeles possess a jargon which even the Slade School might envy.

Then we rounded the corner of some scaffolding, and found ourselves in the quiet rural atmosphere of a Cheshire village. The road was cobbled, and on each side were cottages complete with thatched roofs and pokey windows. One of the windows displayed a notice, “Teas served here,” while a few yards away stood a sblid pretentious brickbuilt inn. I wandered up and down the cobbled street, murmuring congratulations to the producer. He took his cigar from his n\puth and began to whisper, confidentially, his great ambition. He was longing, “jest longing,” to produce Dickens, to stage the London of yesterday, and show David Copperfield taking his pint of porter from the whiskered waiter of Cruickshank’s pictures. “I spend every evening, reading Die kens, ’* he confessed. “ He’s great stuff, believe me.”

At this moment the door of the ini? was flung open, and Bill Sykes staggered into the steet. At least I imagined it was Bill Sykes, because the burly, figure, short-cropped hair, and provocative swagger could only have been possessed by him. However, he was introduced as Fred , the Tumbler. ; * * f

“I beg your pardon,” I said. “The what?”

“The Tumbler,” answered that individual, seizing my hand in his big paw. “I’m the man that takes the fall.” It was explained that the Tumbler' 1 was a man who dresses exactly like the chief comedian, and takes the responsi-' bility of being thrown over a bridge into the water, or kicked down a flight of steps, into the street. I had been shown such a flight of steps and I shuddered for the Tumbler. He undoubted-

ly earns his meagre five dollars a day. I rescued toy hand from his fierce grip. “I’m proud to make your acquaintance,” I “Yours is hidden but nevertheless noble occupa-

tion.” “It sure is,” he replied, and lurched out of the Cheshire village to-

wards the Egyptian desert. I Was next introduced to the scenario writer. He was discovered in a small ! room the walls of which were covered

with innumerable''photographs of cinema celebrities. Charlie Chaplin gazed sorrowfully at Mary j Piekf ord, while Douglas Fairbanks grinned amicably at Mary Miles Minter. Amidst this chaos of photographs sat the scenario writer, complete with typewriter, eye-shade, shirt slaves, and the übiquitous cigar.

Formerly he had been sporting editor on. one of the Hearst papers, and in that capacity had acquired a bewilderiiigs .vocabulary of slang. Try to read a baseball report in an American newspeper and you will realise his descriptive powers. In his ability to write sub-titles of amazing / slang—“subs

with pep” is the remark I translate — he was invaluable to the movie world. His scenarios Ire slender things, merely a threading, of numerous comic incidents or “stunts” that are invented by the chief comedian. Occasionally he writes a comedy, but his chief speciality is the use of vivid and picturesque slang. “This .beats 7 newspaper jvork tc/a frazzle,” he said, enthusiastically, as we all sat down and began puffing at cigars. “Did ever hear, the story of how we held up the California Limited for 15 minutes and shot the best film that . . . ?” ! But I had better not tell that story, for it involves railroad officials and might /precipitate a scandal. The gossip of studios is not to be given widespread in black and white. \ Nevertheless, there is nothing I like better than talk of “shop,’’-.whether it be that of a harassed engineer in the China Sea or a boastful director in Los Angeles. At the present moment Los Angeles mbs shoulders with many a celebrity from England, Sir James

Barrie, Somerset . Maughan, Elinor Sir Gilbert Parker, and Sir Hall j Chine—all are busy in This paTt of the t world supervising' the production of their stories. One studicr is epneehtrat- | ing on the production of Rudyardft Kfpling’s stories, so that soon we shall probably see Mrs Hawksbee posing 1 against the Californian hills, with an J overdressed American Simla at her feet. “They'sent a man to England

j to get the,contract from Kipling,” said ' the director, “and he stayed and hag- { gled a whole month. He had orders not -to return except with a contract in his pocket.” “And did he?” • “You bet he did. We don’t mind spending the dollars here provided we get the real stuff.” ~ Then there is the striry of the super and'Sir Hall Caine. The super met Sir Hall Caine wandering about the studio, and the lean features, Shakespearian beard, and slight figure roused his curiosity. He stopped and exclaimed: “Holy smoke, stranger! What part arc you guyed for in this film?” It is whispered that the English writ-

ers have been correcting the highlyimaginative scenes of English society life as given by American movie directors. “Perhaps after this lesson,”, said a cynic, “our movie directors will give us correct impressions of American life. The ‘wild and woolly West/ and the ‘easy effete East’ do not exist in

the United \ States to-day, but the

movie director knows that New York loves its cowboys and bronchos, while Texas delights in shirt fronts, dancing frocks, and cabaret life.”

It was with reluctance that I parted from these curious people. They smoke furiously, work hard, and talk of million dollar contracts with an ease that is really magnificent. They are proud, childishly proud, of their achievements, anfi are for ever building castles in the air. They have a vision of the kinema penetrating every country, bringing its shadowy world of delight to millions as yet untouched. They are dreamers, bpt behind those dreams lies the realisation of 1 business—“big business,” —and that is the great reward for the children of Los Angeles.