Are Film-Goers Halt-Wits?

Radio Record, 11 March 1938, Page 14

Are Film-Goers

Halt-Wits?

The Stage Has Grown Up: Why Not The Cinema ?

An Answer to Maros Gray by

GORDON

MIRAMS

HERE was once a tlewspaper editor who kept above his desk the picture of a half-wit who had been mixed up in some’celebrated crime. "He’s my average reader," the editor used to say, "and I try to write down to his level all the time." In his article on "Realism and the.Cinema’" in last week’s "Record," Maros Gray put forward an argument to show that motion-picture producers should unswervingly follow the same policy. Possibly Mr. Gray would like to present them with little bronze statues of morons, intended to represent the average picture-goev, which they could keep ever before them while planning our screen entertainment, Highbrow Pose Mr. Gray pinned his article to the fact that the film, "Dead Ind," chosen by the Motion Picture Academy as one .of the "ten best of the year" and now proving a remarkable box-office success, had previously been rejected for screening by a well-known New Zealand exhibiting ecoimpany. I gather that he was fully in agreement with this action, adopting the supercilious pose of the highbrow that the screen is not the place for anything above the levei of the child mind.

ham airalad that lvir. Gray himself has not grown up. Such an attitude belongs to the period of 10 to 20 years ago when "going to the pitchers" on Saturday night, was regarded as a mark of social and intelleetual inferiority. Still, Mr. Gray undoubtedly put up quite a good argument in support of his particular form of snobbishness, and there was also plenty of intrinsic truth in it. But there are also two sides to the argument -a fact which Mr. Gray, ‘with the self-assurance of his -kind, naturally ..overlooked. It so happens that bee. fore Mr. Gray’s article

‘ appeared I had a discussion with a theatre man on this very subject of "Dead End’s" rejection by one company. Ordinarily I have a high regard for his judgment of pictures, but I felt cot mpelled to disagree when he took the stand that the rejection was justified. How_ever, I can see his side of the argument also. _ L seem to have a fatal ability for doing that. This would make it impossible for me ever to be a successful politician, temperance worker or dictator-or even a Maros Gray-but I like to think that it may help to make me a better film critic, by keeping some gort of check on my private preferences and prejudices. Yet it does not prevent me from recognising that there are fallacies along with the truth in the arguments of both Mr. Gray and the theatre man with whom I discussed the question. Deeper Than Money-making R. GRAY says it is obvious that the gentleman who decided to reject "Dead End" did so because -he thought it wouldn’t attract enough average picture-goers to make money. As it happens, the signal success of the picture at the box office in Wellington has proved such reasoning to be entirely incorrect; but I think that the theatre executive responsible should possibly be given credit for having a

miotive that went rather deeper than just moneymaking. He was, I believe, also concerned with whut he conceives to be the motion picture — theatre’s duty to the publie. That, at any rate, was the attitude adopted by my film friend in the discussion I have mentioned. So far as I remember, it ‘went something like this:. E: "Dead Bnd" wasn’t what you’d call entertainment. It was too depressing anq@ ‘sordid. That sort of stuff doesn’t belong on the screen. Me: Well, that: depends on what" you mean’ by entertain- (Contd. on p. 30.),

Are They Haltf-wits? (Continued from page 14). ment. If you mean nothing but pleasant amusement, you may be right; but I regard a film or play as entertaining if it can manage to keep me interested, as "Dead End" certainly did. And I think quite a number of other people think the same way. He: That sort of stuff may be all right for the stage-the public expects to find it there. But not on the screen. The two are totally different, Me: Granted that they once. were. But need they always be so different? The cinema has grown up pretty fast, but I think it can now afford to forget occasionally the sweetness-and-light technique and orange-blossom endings that were once considered essential. If your argument is right, we in New Zealand ought to lose our only chance to see many of the big stage successes of England and America. That seems hardly fair or logical, Don’t forget that "Dead End’ ran two years on Broadway. He: In that case, the proper place to show pictures like this would be in a kind of special repertory picture theatre. The ordinary theatre, patronised by all comers, is not the place for them, Me: Why not? . He: Because the public wants amusement, not sordid realism. The ordinary theatre is too open. I can easily imagine that dear old ladies who saw this show might get the shock of their lives and be put off going to the pictures for a long time. Me: Well, they ought to have enough sense not to go and see it, if that’s what is likely to happen. The theatre, in its advertisements, ougkt to make clear that it’s not the kind of picture for olil ladies. He: Yes, but you’d be surprised what a lot of people go to a_ particular theatre more out of furce of habit than anything else. In this particular case, Norma Shearer, in "Smilin’ Through," had been showing the week before. There are probably people who said: "Well, my dear, [ loved ‘Smilin’ Through’ last week, so let’s go to the Same theatre again to-night.’ And what do they see?-a thoroughly grim story of the New York slums. Me: But, good heavens, man, you’jl be suggesting next rhat the manager should stand outside his theatre and warn dear old ladies to go elsewhere for the sake of their tender feelings. You can’t run the film. industry just to suit old ladies. It seems to me that if they go to pictures like that it’s their own darned fault, and they ought to take what’s coming to fhem. He: By that reasoning, I suppose if an old lady fell down now in front of that tram, you’d say it was her own darned fault, and just leave her there. Me: Well, I certainly wouldn’t abolish all trams,... You see, the argument wasn’t getting us very far. He was partly-right, and I was partly-right-so, what the heck! , I tried another tack. I asked him what were his special objections to films of the "Dead End" type, apart from their problematical effect on dear old ladies. For one thing, said my friend, "Dead End was too American for this part of the world. I countered this ly pointing out that slums and poverty (Continued on page 40.)

Are They Halfwits? (Continued from page 30). were universal, and that there were plenty of people who thought that the truth was always interesting if it was courageously and faithfully presented. He didn’t agree. He said that there were plenty of unpleasant things in the world that were true, but that didn’t make it right for the cinema to ask people to pay to hear about them: But his main objection to films like "Dead End" and "They Won’t Forget," was that they were se utterly depressing and hopeless. They presented problems, but advanced no solution. "T don’t necessarily mean that all film stories should have a happy ending," he argued, ‘but they should at lease send the audience away with some sort of feeling that something may be done to put things right. ‘Emile Zola’ is a serious picture, but it sends you out all bucked up, because Zola won hig cause. In ‘Parnell’ the hero died, but at least you had the feeling that his cause would continue and eventually win. But ‘Dead End’ got you nowhere. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we’d had a final scene, say, of a politician making a speech and promising that something would be done about the slums." HAT is where Maros Gray and my theatre friend meet on more or less common ground. The former thinks that "Dead End" did make a compromise with truth; the latter thinks it didn’t: but both are apparently agreed that the average picturegoer wants nothing but "dope," that he goes to the cinema to enjoy pleasant fairy-tales in which all serious thinking is done for him. Well, possibly he does, but if film producers had never thought of anybody but the average picturegoer, the cinema would never have past the slush and mush of ihe Mary Pickford type of romance. But it has advanced, and it’s the oceasional thoughtful, dynamic pictures like "Dead End" that have Jed the way. Maros Gray takes the obstinate stand that social drama can have no permanent place on the screen, yet admits that it can have a place on the stage. My film friend adopts much the same attitude. But why make this distinction between the functions of stage and sereen just because the screen started hundreds of years late and hasn’t yet caught up? Admittedly, the preponderant fundtions of both stage and screen must always be in the realm of make-believe and pleasurable amusement-and only an intellectual crank would have it otherwise-but I’m hanged if I can see why, if a minority of picture-goers desire it, they shouldn’t have something more solid every now and then-with the solidity increasing as the screen grows up, I fail to see what harm is done to any-body-even the dear old ladies-if one ordinary movie house out of the eight or nine in each centre goes serious for a few weeks or so by showing pictures like "Dead Ind." Mr. Gray describes this as "false pretences’: the publie who kept "Dead End" running for an extended season in Wellington apparently don’t think so,