UNSOUGHT ADVICE.

Shannon News, 16 November 1923, Page 4

UNSOUGHT ADVICE.

A MIXEDi BEGEPTION.

CONCESSIONS OF A "YES" MAN.

Harry Carr, of the staff of the •Motion Picture , Magazine," mixes freely with the great ones of filmland, and so the following article by him is exceedingly interesting. s Well, perhaps not exactly a Yes irian, A real Yes man is a sort of sublimited ' echo—an amplifier of human vanity. The great director sits in the* projecting room glowing over his * own genius and his trained Yes men sit about him like obedient police dogs. '? That is pretty good isn't it?" he saya. >

"G00d,," says i the cutter. "Good," says the scenarist. "Good," says the publicist. "Good," says the studio manager in rising crescendo. "That' girl didn't get my idea," scowls the potentate. "She is rotten." "Rotten," says the cutter. "Rotten," says the scenarist. "Rotten," saysVthe publicist. "Rotten," says the studio manager in rising crescendo. But I don't mean that kind of a Yes man.

If you have much to do with film people, they are always asking you what you think about this, that, and the other thing. ,■'-■> \

Sometimes youj feel that you have to tell them truths that are unpleasant, and this how they take it. For instance, if you suggest .to D. W. Griffith that he has made a mistake and that something he has done is punkj he is moved to emotional depths.

He grabs you by both hands . and tells you -'how"' much it means to him to have one real friend who is not afraid to tell ,him , the truth. You go away in a daze of self-apprecia-tion—uplifted: by noble emotions. The only fly 1 in the ointment is that the next time you see the picture the stuff you objected to is still there; Apparently D. W. has recognised, in you a true friend'and a punk critic.

When you point out to Douglas Fairbanks that he is all wrong, he leaps up On something and sitting like a crow; on a fence rail, furiously twists his little moustache and listens with a : sort of furious abstraction. He tells you that you are dead right, and he knew it all the time. Then he out to find Mary and tell her of your scintillant brilliance. Mary tells him you are talking through your hatband;that's that. ■ , : When you tell Mary she is wrong, she tells you that she got your note, and it was so awfully frightfully clever that she didn't dare write one back to you'and' show herself up. In the exuberance of swimming in Mary's praise., it does not occur to you until afterwards that Mary hasn't said whether or not she intends following .your suggestion. , If you say it to Mary's face, she. • listens very, very carefully and when you are done she asks you very respectfully: "If I send you a copy of my inext* scenario, will you criticise it for me?"

fiturally you-put on a deprecating of genius disguised as modesty and sayr "Well, of course, if you think my ideas would be of any value to you—etc.,, etc." Whereupon' Mary thanks you almost tearfully—and that's the end of that. You never see the scenario.

* If you tell Cecil de Mille that he is on the wrong track, he,stands looking at; you with his little twinkling eyes— they twinkle inscrutably and enigmatically. When you are through, he thanks you and says he would like to have you come and talk about it sometime, and when you come back to see him' you never can n/nd him. And that's that. v

If you ever slip one of these candid messages to June Mathias, "the wo- ■ man with the biggest job in the world," she listens more or less —until you are more or less through. Then she tells you that it reminds her of an incident that happened when she was an actress. Mack Sennett just listens to you with, a sort of suspicion—a patient suspicion. When you have it out of your system, he bites off the end of a cigar and never says Aye, Yes or No. \ Thomas H. Ince jumps right up from-his v chair and'says, in a burst of enthusiasm, "By George, I believe yuo are right. I am absolutely sure you are right. I am absolutely sure ing me a note about it and I will show it to the director." '

You sit down and write him a couple < of tons of glowing thoughts about it. The next time you see him he tells you that you certainly had a wonderful: idea only they decided in the meantime to cut out that part of the picture. And that's that. Actors are also fond of asking advice.

Dorothy Gish has a confidential way of clinging to your words that enlarges the size of your ego—until you