PICTURE PLAYS and PLAYERS

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1052, 16 August 1930, Page 25

PICTURE PLAYS and PLAYERS

Unwanted Sound Ruins a Scene

STUDIO EXPERTS MUST BE CAREFUL

NEW DAYS, NEW WAYS

There was a time, and not so long ago, when talking-picture performers worshipped a tin god with the name of microphone. It was with a good deal of trepidation that the actors, standing on a comparatively fixed spot tin a sound

stage, spoke only for the benefit of a recording apparatus and it was not uncommon for the director to urge a clearer enunciation, a better pronunciation and an immobility of action that made players resemble figures in a wax museum.

Today, in a fashion characteristic of motion pictures, a complete reversal has occurred. There is a continual hushing of lines, a naturalness of diction found only in sound-proofed rooms and a swiftness of action typical of the most spirited of the silent films. At Paramount's New York studio recently Nancy Carroll was reciting the lines in the first or second scene to be shot for her production, “Laughter.” The pitch of voice in the talking sequences was remarkably low and the inflection, recorded with every nuance by the diaphragm, was barely audible to the ear. Thus, when Miss Carroll’s slippers, the soles of which had been padded with green felt, barely scraped the floor with a sound that in real life would amount to as much importance as the beating of a fly’s \yings, the scene had to be stopped and remade because of the mechanical disadvan tage of the microphone in selection. The squeak in the completed film would have amounted to as much sound as the "Good night, dear,” of the player and would have distracted

the ear from all other important speeches. At another moment it was a matter for debate whether a knock at the door, a most padded knock that ordinarily would not have served to announce a caller, was too loud and whether a mere tapping of the finger tips would not herve as well. Soon breathing may be difficult because of the noises attendant to expiration and inhalation! The first day of production is no simple matter, the technique of filmmaking demanding that the story be broken into from almost any angle—sometimes, as in the case of "Laughter,” in the midst of a dramatic interTa l for which the players have been groomed only skimpily in an unfriendly rehearsal hall. Visitors are frequently admitted to Ibe first sets, but not tolerated for long. Players are not well enough versed in their parts, and distractions caused by visitors are de trop.

the greatest difficulty. These things to my mind, are subversive of true modesty, and make cheap and common what should be treated with restraint and reserve and regarded as one of the most sacred things in life.

“On the other hand, there is testimony that the cinema lessens the attractiveness of the publichouse, keeps young people off the streets, and, in our great cities, has considerably reduced the larrikin element.” It was said at one time that trade followed the flag, but now trade followed the film, and personally he thought that the churches were missing one of the greatest opportunities ever presented in failing to make the screen serve the interest of the Kingdom of Heaven. Some day, too, in the political sphere, either a benevolent or an unscrupulous government \yould wake up to the great possibilities that lay behind the film, and would use it for good or ill. Mr. O’Reilly said that 95 per cent, of the films came from America, and sometimes whole pieces were cut out of them —in one picture the censors cut out nearly half the film. During the years 1928 and 1929, 39 per cent, of the feature films were passed without cut; nearly 52 per cent, had pieces cut out of them; and 9 per cent, were rejected in the first instance. The final rejections amounted to 55 per cent. For the six months of this year, 37 feature films and 40 short films had been rejected; it had been found that some of the short films were getting very objectionable.

Film Record of Expedition Hailed as Epic

Antarctic Captured in Paramount Cameras “WITH BYRD AT THE SOUTH POLE” I R scenes and

ice scenes; records of explora t i o ns over white fields and glimpses of life in camp where men waited, month in and month out for the coming of con-

ditions that suited the work they were called upon to perform. . . - “With Byrd at the South Pole,” the pictorial record of the activities of the expedition in Little America, at Queen Maud Range base, is a marvelous example of the progress made in motion picture photography, says the “New York Times.” This compilation of Antarctic scenes reveals the result of experience in camera work, together with an eye for artistic lighting and shadows, a pleasing sense of humour and a narrative idea. With the exception of the scenes of the polar flight, all* the photo-

graphy was done by Willard Van der yeer and Joseph T. Rucker. The air pictures over the Pole were filmed by Harold June, radio operator, relief pilot and mechanic on the memorable flight. It seems surprising that Mr. June showed such remarkable aptitude for pointing the lens and turning the camera crank at the right moment in these air pictures, until one learns that he had the benefit of something like a year's coaching in animated photography and thus might himself be looked upon as an expert. VOICE DESCRIPTION This is, of course, a silent film, although since the scenes were assembled from the thirty miles of negative exposed in the Antarctic they have been synchronized with a thoroughly effective music score, and those of the actual flight are accompanied by a description spoken by the voice of Floyd Gibbons, who, while ho may err in expressing himself in tile vernacular, according to those who saw this part of the film without the vocalization, enhances the dramatic effect of the sequence of Admiral Byrd’s polar flight. Messrs. Van der Veer and Rucker have done so well by their scenes, which are accompanied by ‘ cleverly written subtitles contributed by Julian Johnson, that one feels these views could not have been any more stirring had they been produced with sound. They are pictures that cause one to ponder on the hardships and risks undertaken by the members of the expedition. It seems as though they hustled to get their camera in action at the psychological moment, whether it was to picture the sudden widening of a crevasse on the Barrier, the frightful blizzards, the wrecking of a small airplane, the flashes of the huskies encrusted with hard snow or a score of other incidents.

And in extraordinary conditions, these two camera men, picked by

Emanuel Cohen, head of the Paramount Sound News Service, succeeded in making tremendously impressive flashes of these happenings. Camera Wizards

From the moment the City of New York gets out to sea one feels that on the screen there is something more than a mere picture of a moving ship. It is a small ship. It will be tossed about on the seas as it dawdles along on its long voyage. The men can’t be any too comfortable. Almost anybody might be seasick on such a vessel in a storm. And so it is in most of the sequences of this picture. It is a film that even without the subtitles would tell its story, and this proves that it is a piece of work quite out of the ordinary, thanks to the imagination of the two camera wizards. Mr. Gibbons Talks The flight jnay not have been filmed by the two experts, but the dramatic quality of this courageous achievement has rarely been equalled. Mr. Gibbons does talk a little too fast and he should have been requested to forgo such phrases as “And howl”, “Listening, listening, always listening,” which applies to the hand of men at Little America while Byrd is out on his 1,600-mile flight; “Oh, boy, what a grand and glorious feeling!” Nevertheless, he stirs up enthusiasm in other parts by his talk. One sees, as Mr. Gibbons’s voice is heard rattling along, the sights that met the eyes of the courageous quar tet on the Floyd Bennett. There are the white mountains, the vast snowcovered plains, the barriers of ice. and finally there is the polar plain, and at this moment Admiral Byrd takes a United States flag which is weighted with a stone from Floyd Bennett’s grave and drops it overboard. One sees it spinning to the snow and ice below. It is prior to this that it is decided that the airplane will have to be lightened and no fuel can be spared, so a bag of food is dropped through a hole in the bottom of the plane and is seen hurtling down. Leaving the Base One appreciates the anxiety of the men at the Queen Maud base and those at Little America. It was no time fo think of anything else but whether the flight would be successful—a sixteen-hundred-mile non-stop flight in an extraordinary temperature. Back on the Barrier the members of the expedition are waiting for news, and it is a great thrill even to those witnessing the motion picture when the message is received that Byrd has accomplished what he and the others went to the Antarctic to do.

And the spectator feels joyful when the ice-coated City of New York comes up like a tall ghost ship to carry back the adventurers. Her masts and rigging are perceived through a cloud of mist, but her hull is hidden. She is there, however, coming to take everybody home.

It is a picture that everyone ought to see, and, as one man in the audience at an early performance said, a

copy of it ought to be in every museum in the world. It is a film that will live.